in his writings, it is precisely that lack of repose combined with force, of dignity and weight of thought conjoined with intensity of feeling, which place him beneath the first rank equally of men of action and men of letters.

An English Invasion.

Thus ceassed nott Sathan, by all meanes, to manteane his kingdome of darkness, and to suppresse the light of Christis Evangell. But potent is he against whome thei faught; for when thay wicked war in greatast securitie, then begane God to schaw his anger. For the thirde day of Maij, in the year of God Jm. Vc. xliiij yearis, without knowledge of any man in Scotland, (we meane of such as should haif had the care of the realme,) was seene a great navye of schippis arryving towardis the Firth. The postis came to the Governour and Cardinall, (who boith war in Edinburgh,) what multitud of schippis ware sene, and what course thei took. This was upoun the Setterday befoir nune. Questioun was had, what should thei meane? Some said, 'It is no doubt but thei ar Englismen, and we fear that thei shall land.' The Cardinall scripped [mocked] and said, 'It is but the Island flote [fleet]: thei ar come to mak a schaw, and to putt us in feare. I shall lodge all the men-of-ware into my eae [eye], that shall land in Scotland.' Still sittis the Cardinall at his dennare, eavin as that thare had bene no danger appearing. Men convenis to gase upoun the schippis, some to the Castell Hill, some to the Craiggis, and other places eminent. But thare was no questioun, 'With what forces shall we resist, yf we be invadit?' Sone after sax houris at nycht, war arryved and had casten anker in the Read [Roads] of Leyth, mo then two hundreth sailles. Schort lie thare after the Admirall schot a flote boite, which, frome Grantoun craigis till be east Leyth, sounded the deipe, and so returned to hir schippe. Heirof war diverse opinionis. Men of judgement foresaw what it ment. But no credite

was geavin to any that wold say, 'Thei mynd to land.' And so past all man to his rest, as yf thei schippis had bene a gard for thare defence.

Upone the poynt of day, upon Sounday, the fourt of Maij, addressed thei for landing, and ordered thei thare schippis so that a galay or two lade thare snowttis to the craiggis. The small schippis called pinaces, and light horsmen approched als neir as the could.

The great

schippis discharged thare souldiouris in the smallare veschellis, and thei by bottis, sett upon dry land befoir ten houris ten thousand men, as was judged, and mo. The Governour and Cardinall seing then the thing that thei could nott, or att least thei wold nott beleve befoir, after that thei had maid a brag to feght, fled as fast as horse wold cary them; so that after, thei approched nott within twenty myllis of the danger. The Erle of Anguss and George Dowglas war that nycht freed of ward, (thei war in Blakness.) The said Schir George in merynes said, I thank King Hary and my gentill Maisteris of England.'

The Engliss army betuix twelf and one hour entered in Leyth, fand the tables covered, the dennaris prepared, such aboundance of wyne and victuallis, besydis the other substance, that the lyik riches within the lyik boundis was nott to be found, neyther in Scotland nor England. Upone the Mononday, the fyft of Maij, came to thame from Berwik and the Bordour, two thowsand horsmen, who being somewhat reposed, the army, upoun the

Wednisday, marched towardis the Toune of Edinburgh, spoyled and brynt the same, and so did thei the Palice of Halyrud-house. The horsmen took the House of Cragmyllare, and gatt great spoyle tharein; for it being judged the strongast house near the Toune, other then the Castell of Edinburgh, all man sowght to saif thare movables thairin. But the stoutness of the Larde gave it over without schote of hackque-boote, and for his reward was caused to merch upoun his foote to Londoun. He is now Capitane of Dumbar and Provest of Edinburgh. (From Book i. of the Historie.)

An Interview of Knox and Mary. The Queyn looked about to some of the reaportaris, and said, 'Your wourdis ar scharpe yneuch as ye have spocken thame; but yitt thei war tald to me in ane uther maner. I know (said sche) that my Uncles and ye ar nott of ane religioun, and thairfoir I can nott blame you albeit you have no good opinioun of thame. But yf ye hear any thing of my self that myslyikis you, come to my self and tell me, and shall hear you.'

'Madam,' quod he, ' I am assured that your Uncles ar enemyes to God, and unto his Sone Jesus Christ; and that for manteanance of thair awin pompe and worldlie glorie, that thei spair not to spill the bloode of many innocents; and thairfoir I am assured that thair interpryses shall have no better successe then otheris haif had that befoir thame have done that thei do now. But as to your awin personage, Madam, I wold be glade to do all that I could to your Graces contentment, provided that I exceed nott the boundis of my vocatioun. I am called, Madam, to ane publict functioun within the Kirk of God, and am appointed by God to rebuk the synnes and vices of all. I am not appointed to come to everie man in particular to schaw him his offense; for that laubour war infinite. Yf your Grace please to frequent the publict sermonis, then doubt I nott but that ye shall fullie understand boyth what I like and myslike, als weall in your Majestie as in all otheris. Or yf your Grace will assigne unto me a certane day and hour when it will please you to hear the forme and substance of doctrin whiche is proponed in publict to the Churches of this Realme, I will most gladlie await upoun your Grace's pleasur, tyme, and place. But to waitt upoun your chalmer-doore, or ellis whair, and then to have no farther libertie but to whisper my mynd in your Grace's eare, or to tell to you what otheris think and speak of you, neather will my conscience nor the vocatioun whairto God hath called me suffer it. For albeit at your Grace's commandiment I am heare now, yitt can not I tell what other men shall judge of me, that at this tyme of day am absent from my book and wayting upoun the Courte.'

'You will not alwayis,' said sche, 'be at your book,' and so turned hir back. And the said Johne Knox departed with a reasonable meary countenance; whairat some Papistis offended said, 'He is not effrayed.' Which heard of him, he answered, 'Why should the pleasing face of a gentill woman effray me? I have looked in the faces of many angrie men, and yit have nott bene effrayed above measure.' And so left he the Quene and the Courte for that tyme. (From Book iv.)

Knox and Mary's Ladies-in-Waiting. Heirwith was the Quene more offended, and commanded the said Johne to pass furth of the cabinet, and to abyd farther of hir pleasur in the chalmer. The Laird of Dun taryed, and Lord Johne of Coldinghame cam into

the cabinet, and so thei boyth remaned with hyr neyr the space of ane houre. The said Johne stood in the chalmer, as one whom men had never sein, (so war all effrayed,) except that the Lord Ochiltrie bayre him companye and thairfoir began he to forge talking of the ladyes who war thair sitting in all thair gorgiouse apparell; whiche espyed, he mearelie said, 'O fayre Ladyes, how pleasing war this lyeff of yours, yf it should ever abyd, and then in the end that we myght passe to heavin with all this gay gear. But fye upoun that knave Death, that will come whitther we will or not! And when he hes laid on his areist, the foull wormes wilbe busye with this flesche, be it never so fayr and so tender; and the seally sowll, I fear, shalbe so feable, that it can neather cary with it gold, garnassing, targatting [tasseling], pearle, nor pretious stanes.' And by suche meanes procured he the cumpany of women; and so past the tyme till that the Laird of Dun willed him to departe to his house quhill new advertisement. (From Book iv.)

See The Works of John Knox, collected and edited by David Laing; M'Crie, Life of John Knox (1812); Hume Brown, John Knox: a Biography (1895); The History of the Reformation of Religion in Scotland within the Realm of Scotland, written by John Knox, edited [modernised and abridged] for popular use by Sheriff C. J. Guthrie (1898).

P. H. B.

George Buchanan.—As far as his contribution to English or Scottish literature is concerned, George Buchanan would call but for the most cursory notice in the present work. Of the two folio volumes which make up his published writings, some twelve pages contain all that he wrote in the vernacular-the rest being in classical Latin, prose and verse. Yet for learned Scots, from his own day till this, Buchanan has been one of the most interesting and important figures in the literary history of their country. His Latin paraphrase of the Psalms has been for three centuries the delight of cultivated Scottish readers, and the same book, studied in Scottish schools for at least two centuries, formed the taste and ministered to the faith of the successive generations of Scottish youth. By his History of Scotland also-hailed at the time of its appearance as the most successful reproduction of classical models - he made the annals of his native country known to educated Europe. Moreover, the inspiration of his name and example, as of the greatest scholar whom Scotland has produced, has been of the most potent efficacy in determining a special line. of culture followed by his countrymen; for to Buchanan it is mainly due that the study of Latin came to hold its peculiar place in the higher education of Scotland. No man,' says Calderwood, writing of Buchanan in the seventeenth century— 'no man did merit better of his nation for learning, nor thereby did bring it to more glory;' and Hill Burton, in the nineteenth, could still write that 'there are not, perhaps, above three or four names holding so proud a place in the homage of his countrymen as Buchanan's.' Such being the acknowledged name and influence of Buchanan, it would seem that in the reckoning of the literary

achievements of his country he must command an interest peculiarly his own.

It

The life of Buchanan is a typical chapter from the history of the Revival of Letters. The scholars of the Renaissance were the veritable knights-errant of their time, and few of them had a more varied and adventurous career than Buchanan. Born in February 1506, at Killearn in Stirlingshire, he received the elements of his education in various schools of his native country. In his fourteenth year he was sent to the University of Paris through the good offices of his maternal uncle, James Heriot. Paris had for centuries been the dream of the studious youth of Scotland; and at the date (1520) of Buchanan's first sojourn there the university was passing through a critical period of its history. A double conflict was engaging the best minds in its schools. The teaching of Luther was clashing with the religion of Rome; and the study of Latin and Greek in the new spirit of the Italian Renaissance was asserting itself in opposition to the traditional curriculum of the Middle Ages. was doubtless during the two years he now spent in Paris that Buchanan acquired that special bent of mind and of intellectual interest which gave him his distinctive character as a typical personality of his age. Henceforward the study of the classics, and specially of Latin, became the engrossing aim of his life, and he pursued it with such natural aptitude and such industry as finally won for him the admiration of learned Europe and the first place among the scholars of his age. Illhealth and the failure of means through the death of his uncle forced Buchanan to return to Scotland after some two years' sojourn in Paris. When next we hear of him, it is as a volunteer in an expedition led by the Regent Albany against England. The result of his experience in soldiering was not encouraging, as in consequence of his hardships he was bedridden for the ensuing winter. Apparently convinced that the career of scholar was his true vocation, he resumed his studies, but on this occasion at the University of St Andrews, where he had for his principal teacher the most famous literary Scotsman of his generation, John Major, the author of a History of Great Britain and of several folios of scholastic theology. It was the meeting of the old world and the new. Buchanan, who had in Paris been initiated into the intellectual ideals of the new generation, found in the highest degree uncongenial mere logical subtleties which in the later Middle Age had become so barren and unprofitable. After a session at the feet of Major, therefore, Buchanan, on taking his degree of Bachelor of Arts, returned (1526) to Paris, where he was to make his home for the next ten years.

The Scots College in Paris, founded in 1326 by the Bishop of Moray, was his first home, and thence he graduated M.A. in 1528. Being thus qualified to act as regent or tutor, Buchanan chose the profession of teaching as the means of earning

lost sight of him, he found it advisable to follow his fortunes elsewhere. For some years, during which he suffered much from ill-health, he resided in various parts of France; but in 1547 he received an offer which led to the most notable experience in his varied career. This was to make one of a band of scholars chosen to act as professors in the University of Coimbra in Portugal. On the way to his destination he passed a few days at Salamanca, famous for its great university. It

Buchanan which, according to his own testimony, determined his whole future. At the request of the king he wrote a satire (Franciscanus) against the great Order of the Franciscans, which made Scotland too hot for him and drove him to seek refuge in England. Even in England, where, in his own words, he found Henry VIII. 'burning Protestant and Catholic alike on the same day and in the same fire,' Buchanan was not safe, and after a stay of six months he once more sought a refuge in France (1540). Here for the next three years we find him acting as a master in a large school recently founded at Bordeaux, where, it is worthy of note, he had among his pupils the great essayist, Montaigne. Again his sarcastic humour seems to have brought him into trouble. A satirical dialogue on monasteries created some sensation in the city, and, as the Franciscans of Scotland had never

was the season of Lent; the only fish to be had were conger eels; the bread of the town was detestable; and Buchanan's digestion, as we know, was of the feeblest. In an evil hour for himself he ate meat in the sacred season. The sin

was discovered, and was not forgotten. Within little more than

a year Buchanan found himself in the dungeons of the Inquisition at Coimbra on a general charge of heresy, and speci

ally of eating meat in Lent. After a trial which was protracted through a year and a half, he was confined in a monastery by way of penance for his

past unsatisfactory conduct as a true son of the Church; and it was during his enforced seclusion that he mainly accomplished his famous Latin paraphrase of the Psalms. On his release (1552) he again, after a brief visit to England, settled in France; for, though he had spoken so freely regarding the doctrines of the Church and the morals of the clergy, he was still at heart a Catholic. His last years in France were spent in the capacity of tutor to the son of the Maréchal de Brissac; and on the expiry of this engagement there were special reasons for his seeking a final home in his native country (1561). By further study of the questions at issue between Protestantism and Rome he had become convinced that the truth lay with the former, and by the date when he saw fit to change his religion Protestantism had triumphed in Scotland.

Though Buchanan was in his fifty-sixth year at the date of his return, and though his health, never robust, disabled him from playing a great part in public affairs, the various offices he successively filled prove the esteem in which he was held as the most famous literary Scotsman of his day. He read Livy with Queen Mary, he took a prominent part in the business of successive General Assemblies of the new religion, and he acted for a time as Principal of the College of St Leonard's in St Andrews. The part he played in the arraignment of Queen Mary for the murder of Darnley belongs to his history of the time, and is embodied in his terrible indictment known as the Detectio. On the dethronement of Mary he was entrusted with the education of her son, afterwards James VI.; and during the regency of Lennox he filled successively the offices of Director of Chancery and Keeper of the Privy Seal. His last years were occupied in the writing of his History of Scotland, which was published the year after his death on 28th September 1582. The circumstances of his end are memorable in the history of letters; he died so poor that his means were insufficient to defray the expenses of his funeral.

With Buchanan's two Latin folios before us the question inevitably suggests itself What would have been his literary achievement had he chosen Scots or English as his vehicle of expression? That his work would have been memorable there can be no manner of doubt. In the range and variety and quality of his gifts-displayed, it is to be remembered, through the hampering medium of a foreign tongue-he is indubitably superior to the most distinguished of the early Scottish vernacular writers-Dunbar, or Douglas, or Henryson, or Lyndsay. He has passion, wit, humour, and playful fancy; and in such productions as his Epithalamium (on the marriage of Mary Stuart with the Dauphin of France), as well as in many of his Psalms, he rises to the heights of pure imaginative feeling. As to his genius he added the most varied experience of life and all the accomplishments of his time, he would have approached his themes with advantages far beyond those of any early Scottish writer. As it is, the few pages in the Scots tongue which he has written only prove that, had he chosen to use it, he had the perfect command of all its capacities. Even from the two brief letters here quoted it will be seen that he handles the language with a deftness and precision which is unequalled in any specimens of early Scots that have been preserved; while the extract from the Admonitioun proves that on higher themes he could produce a harmony and symmetry in the old Scots tongue which recalls the periods of Cicero or Livy.

To his singular freynd M. Randolph, maister of postis to the Queinis Grace of Ingland.

I resauit twa pair of lettres of you sens my latter wryting to you. Wyth the fyrst I resavit Marinus [sic] Scotus, of quhylk I thank you greatly, and specialy that your

In

inglessmen ar fund liars in thair cronicles allegyng on hym sic thyngs as he never said. I haif beyne vexit wyth seiknes al the tyme sens, and geif I had decessit ye suld haif lesit [lost] bath thankis and recompens. Now I most neid thank you, bot geif wear [war] brekks vp of thys foly laitly done on the border, than I wyl hald the recompense as Inglis geir, bot gif peace followis and nother ye die seik of mariage or of the twa symptomes following on mariage quhylks ar jalozie and cuccaldry, and the gut [gout] cary not me away, I most other find sum way to pay or ceise kyndnes or ellis geifing vp kyndnes pay yow with evil wordis; and geif thys fasson of dealing pleasit me I haif reddy occasion to be angry with you that haif wissit me to be ane kentys man, quylk in a maner is ane centaure, half man, half beast. And yit for ane certaine consideration I wyl pas over that iniury, imputyng it erar [rather] to your new foly, than to ald wysdome. For geif ye had beine in your rycht wyt, ye being anis escapit the tempestuous stormes and naufrage of mariage had never enterit agane in the samyn dangeris. For I can not tak you for ane Stoik philosopher, havinge ane head inexpugnable with the frenetyk tormentis of Jalozie or ane cairless hart that taks cuccaldris as thyng indifferent. thys caise I most neidis præfer the rude Scottis wyt of capitane Cocburne to your inglis solomonical sapience, quhylk wery of ane wyfe deliuerit hir to the queyne againe; bot you deliuerit of ane wyfe castis your self in the samyn nette, et ferre potes dominam saluis tot restibus ullam. And so capitane Cocburne is in better case than you for his seiknes is in the feitte and yowris in the heid. I pray you geif I be out of purpose thynk not that I suld be maryit. Bot rather consider your awyn dangerouse estait of the quhylk the speking has thus troublit my braine and put me safar out of the way. As to my occupation at thys present tyme, I am besy with our story of Scotland to purge it of sum Inglis lyis and Scottis vanite. As to maister Knoks his historie is in hys freindis handis, and thai ar in consultation to mitigat sum part the acerbite of certaine wordis and sum taintis quhair in he has followit to muche sum of your inglis writaris, as M. Hal et suppilatorem eius Grastone, &c. As to M. Beza I fear that eild [old age] quhylk has put me from verses making sal delivre him sone a scabie poetica, quhylk war ane great pitye, for he is ane of the most singular poetes that has beine thys lang tyme. As to your great prasyng gevin to me in your lettre: geif ye scorne not, I thank you of luif and kyndnes towart me; bot I am sorie of your corrupt iugement. Heir I wald say mony iniuries to you war not yat my gut [gout] commandis me to cesse and I wyl als spair mater to my nixt writings. Fairweal and god keip you. At Sterling the sext of August. G. BUCHANAN.

1 The allusion is to the old story that the men of Kent had tails. 2 Grafton was the continuator of the chronicler Hall.

2

To Maister Randolf Squiar, Maister of Postes to the Quenis Grace of Ingland. Maister, I haif resavit diverse letters frome you, and yit I have ansourit to naine of thayme; of the quhylke albeit I haif mony excusis, as age, forgetfulnes, besines, and disease, yit I wyl use nane as now, except my sweirness [laziness], and your gentilnes; and geif ye thynk nane of theise sufficient, content you with ane confession of the falt, without fear of punitioun to follow on my onkindnes. As for the present, I am occupiit in writyng of our historie, being assurit to content few, and to displease mony thar throw. As to the end of it, yf ye gett

it not or thys winter be passit, lippen not for it [do not depend or count on it], nor nane other writyngs from me. The rest of my occupation is wyth the gout, quhilk haldis me besy both day and nycht. And quhair ye say ye haif not lang to lyif, I traist to god to go before yow, albeit I be on fut, and ye ryd the post; praying you als [also] not to dispost my hoste at Newwerk, Jone of Kelsterne. Thys I pray you, partly for his awyne sake, quhame I thocht ane gud fellow, and partly at request of syk as I dar nocht refuse. And thus I tak my leif shortly at you now, and my lang leif quhen God pleasis, committing you to the protection of the almychty. At Sterling xxv. day of August, 1577. Yours to command with service,

G. BUCHANAN.

Exhortation to the Lords of the Privy Counsell agaynst the Hamiltons.

It may seame to our lordships that I melling [meddling] with hie materis of governing of commoun weill pas myne estait being of sa meane qualitie and forgettis my devoir geving counsale to the wysest of this realme. Nochtyeles seing the miserie sa greit apperand and ye calamitie sa neir approcheand, I thocht it lesse falt to incur the cryme of surmonting my priuat estait nor the blame of neglecting the publict dangeare. Thairfoir I chosit rather to underly the opinioun of presumptioun in speking than of tressoun in silence, and specialie in sic thingis as seme presentlie to redound to perpetuall schame of our lordships, distructioun of this royall estait, and rewyne of ye haill commoun weill of scotland. On this consideratioun I haif tane at this tyme on hand to aduerteis gour honors of sic thingis as I thocht to pertene bayth to our lordships in speciall and in generall to ye haill communitie of yis realme in punitioun of traitors, pacificatioun of troubles amangis our selffis, and continewatioun of peace with our nychtbouris. Of the quhilk I haif tane the travell to wryte and remittis the jugement to our discretioun, having that hoip at the leist that gif my wit and foirsicht can not satisfie 3ow my gude will sall not displeis zow-of the quhilk aduertisement the summar is this. First to considder how godlie is the actioun that ze haif tane on hand to writ. The defence of 3our king, ane innocent pupill, the establissing of religioun, punitioun of thevis and tratouris, manteinance of peace, and quietnes amangis our selffis and with forayne nationis. remembir how 3e haue vindicat this realme out of thraldome of strangearis, out of domestik tyranne, and out of ane publict dishonour anentis all forayne nationis; quhair we wer altogidder estemit ane people murtherare of kingis, impacient of lawis and magistrattis-in respect of ye murthour of ye lait king Henry within ye wallis of ye principall towne, the greittest of ye nobilitie being present with ye Quene for the tyme. And how eftir 30ur power je tryit out ane part of ye cheif tratouris frome amangis the trew subjectis and constranit strangearis to prays eftirwart als mekill our justice as thai had afoir condampnit wrangusle zour injustice.

Nixt to

The vernacular writings of Buchanan, as far as is known, consist of the two letters given above; The Chamæleon, a satirical allegory on the career of Maitland of Lethington; and the Admonition to the True Lords, a political pamphlet addressed to the Protestant nobles of Scotland. The Scots translation of the Detectio is prob ably by another hand. The most satisfactory edition of Buchanan's Latin works is that of Ruddimann (1715). His vernacular writings are published by the Scottish Text Society. During Buchanan's sojourn in Bordeaux he wrote four Latin tragedies for acting by the It is interesting to know that two of these-the Baptistes and the Jephthes, translated into German after 1570-set in Gerinany

students.

the example of treating sacred subjects in the severer style of the classical tragedy, somewhat on Senecan lines. See Irving's Life of George Buchanan (2nd ed. 1817), and Hume Brown's George Buchanan, Humanist and Reformer (1890).

Robert Lindesay, tenant rather than laird of Pitscottie, near Ceres in Fife, is gratefully remembered as the gossiping chronicler of Scottish history, the 'auld Pitscottie' who was Sir Walter Scott's authority for many a vivid passage in his prose and verse-as, for instance, the story in Marmion of James IV.'s vision in Linlithgow kirk before Flodden; 'for quaint interest, the Herodotus of Scotland,' Mr Lang calls him. For the dates of his birth and death, c.1500-c.1565, formerly accepted by him, Dr Mackay on no very convincing grounds substituted in 1899 c.1532c.1578. Pitscottie belonged to a branch of the noble family of Lindsay; but though, like all Scotsmen in this 'romantic' age, he was a strong partisan, he took no conspicuous part in public affairs. His sympathies were with the English

or Protestant party throughout, and he is manifestly unable to be fair to the other side. He is apt to be wonderfully wrong in his dates; he sometimes exasperates us by giving the driest and briefest annals in years full of great events for which he might rank as a contemporary authority. But when it does occur to him to tell a story in full, he does it with a will, and is both graphic, humorous, ample in striking details, and eminently quaint. He proposed to himself to be the continuator of Boece and Bellenden, and his first book is a translation, with additions, from Boece. The first printed edition-that of 1728-was 'modernised;' that of 1814 was well meant but uncritical. And all before that of the Scottish Text Society (2 vols. 1899) were incomplete. Of sixteen MSS. examined for that edition by Sheriff Mackay, only one (which came to light in 1896) contained any account of the events of the interesting decade 1565-1575, which saw the murder of Darnley, the Bothwell marriage, Queen Mary's flight, the regency of Murray, the deaths of Knox and Lethington. Dr Mackay is convinced the newly discovered portion is Pitscottie's own, suppressed in the other MSS. because the scribes were afraid to copy Pitscottie's frank account of these critical. times. Pitscottie thus recounts the escape of the Duke of Albany, the brother of James III., from Edinburgh Castle, to which, after a rebellion in 1479, the king had committed him:

Sone efter this they consallit the king to iustiefie the Duik of Albanie his brother, thinkand gif they war quyte of him they suld do witht the king quhat they pleissit ; ffor they stude in sic aw of the Duik of Albanie they durst not mell witht the king nor put hand in him, so lang as the said Duik was on lyue. Quhairfor thir consperatouris desyrit at all tymes to haue this Duik put to deid, trustand the better to come to thair purpois of the king. Althocht the conspiratouris thocht to have this matter that is above specifyit in quyetnes, yet nochtwithtstanding the king of France gat wit of the samin tressoun be moyen of sum that fawored the Duik of Albanie; and