Melville was scarcely the man to take the measure of Buchanan on the more important side of his character, but he may be trusted to have given an honest view of him according to his lights--which, in some serious respects, were darkness--as well as of the impression which Buchanan had made on better judges of remarkable men than was the worthy Sir James himself. The latter’s preface is a charming piece of _naïveté_. He tells us that though a courtier he had dealt faithfully and not flatteringly with ‘princes,’ but had not found it a paying procedure, and hints that if he had it to do over again, he might sail on the opposite tack. He had advised the Laird of Carmichael to do so, who profited greatly by the advice, both for himself and his friends, but did not show much gratitude to his counsellor, as the latter complains--rather unreasonably, one would say, since, if you corrupt a man’s _morale_, you must not be disappointed if he treats you accordingly. Perhaps Sir James recovers his honest standing by the honest simplicity with which he confesses his leanings to dishonesty, like the M. de Bussy whom he quotes as also bewailing, too late, the honesty of his courtier career, but excusing himself on the ground that he could not help it, as it was his ‘nature to.’ All the more trustworthy, however, is probably the distinction Sir James draws between Peter Young and Buchanan. ‘Mester Peter’ was evidently no Nathanael in his critic’s view, and his subsequent good fortune, as attested by history, shows that his character had been accurately enough diagnosed. There is no reason to doubt, accordingly, that Sir James is equally correct in describing Buchanan as one who ‘looked not far before the hand.’ That is, he was not a calculating person, and set his duties above his interests; did his work to the best of his ability, and took his reward if, as, and when it came, but was really less anxious about securing the reward than about doing the work as it ought to be done. _A Faithful Mentor_ His whole connection with James makes this plain. It begins with his _Genethliacon_ or Birthday Ode, in which, after apostrophising the infant prince as the hope of all who desired the unity and consequent tranquillity of the two kingdoms, he addresses the _felices felici prole parentes_ (‘parents to be felicitated on an offspring born to a felicitous career’), and under guise of a sketch, in verse of Virgilian elevation and beauty, of the standard of character up to which they should train their child, lays down with ‘faithful’ outspokenness the lines of duty on which their own lives should run, and warns them of the ruin which neglect of his counsel would bring. It is not, except in style, a courtly production. Darnley probably could not, but Mary certainly both could and would see the poet’s drift, and happy would it have been for both had they avoided the faults against which the poet directed his pointed admonition.