After the death of the Bruce, Stirling Castle was captured, in succession, by Edward Balliol and for King David. When the House of Stuart had evolved from a family of Norman barons, emigrants from Shropshire to improve their fortunes, and, acting as stewards in the new land, had reached royalty, Stirling Castle became the king’s dwelling-place. For centuries afterward, it was their favorite residence and the place of coronation of the Scottish kings. Here James II and James V were born and here James VI of Scotland and I of England was baptized. It was James III who added so largely to its architecture and built the Parliament House. It is in an inventory of the effects of this slaughtered king that the first mention of the thistle as the national emblem of Scotland occurs. Later this device appears on the coins of the realm, but not until James VI is found the motto, “Nemo me impune lacessit.” As we entered through the gateway and walked up through the battlemented Inner Way, we almost imagined we heard the din of clashing swords echoing the past. The palace, built by James V, in the form of a quadrangle, is in the southwestern part and is profusely decorated. Yet when ornamentation and structure are compared, two opposing systems appear to be at work. One seems to swear at the other. The critic had better not look too closely when near, if he wishes to enjoy harmony, for in this case, most decidedly, does distance lend enchantment to the view. Seen from afar, the ornaments appear rich and graceful, but when close at hand they become grotesque. Corbels and brackets are especially suggestive of agonizing exertion and the general effect is that of a nightmare. At a distance, these melt into harmonious proportions, but they lose their charm when we are close at hand. Here are hideous mixtures of human and brute life. Many of the leering faces are simply idiotic and the contortions of the bodies clustered together are horrible. As has been well said, “the wildest and least becoming of the classic legends are here embodied, without any attempts to realize beauty of form.” What terrible paradox, or love of the ugly, must have dominated the taste of the sculptor, in the same age that reared some of the glorious abbeys of Scotland! The King’s Room, which had an oaken ceiling, with richly decorated beams, and in each partition a magnificently carved head,--the fame of which had gone all over Europe,--was abolished in 1777, when the roof, from its weight, threatened to fall in.