From a place so named near Nantes. Or it may have been an opprobrious nickname. “Maltalant,” an obsolete term found in the Chanson de Roland, signifies, as rendered in modern French, “méchant”(i.e. spiteful, ill-natured). Charlemagne says to the traitor Ganelon - “Trop avez maltalant.” “Ralph Maltenant, c. 1135, witnessed a charter in York (Mon. 192): as did Gilbert Mantalent, temp. Hen. I. (Ibid. 733). The family was seated in York in 1165, when Richard Maltalent held half a knight’s fee from Vesci of Alnwick, of which he had been enfeoffed by Eustace FitzJohn (Liber Nig.): and also half a fee from Percy. He witnessed a charter of Eustace Fitzjohn (Mon. ii. 592) to Alnwick Priory. Richard Maltalent paid a fine to the Crown in Northumberland, 1231 (Hodgson, iii. 163). Thomas de Maltulent, a younger brother, settled in Scotland, temp. William the Lion (Chart. Mailros), and died 1228. His son William witnessed charters of Alexander II., and died c. 1250.” - The Norman People. Sir Richard de Matulent, William’s son, first possessed, among other baronies, the territory of Thirlestane, still the seat of his descendants, and gave some part of it to the monks of Dryburgh. Here, not far from the town of Lauder, he built his castle on the river Leader, the “darksome house” in Lammermuir spoken of in the old ballad that bears his name. This recounts how the English, led by the King’s nephew, crossed the Border, and first lighting their torch on the Tweed, fired all Merse and Teviotdale, till, in passing up Lammermuir, their advance was barred by a grey-bearded knight who refused to surrender his fastness, and beat them back after a fortnight’s leaguer. “Auld Maitland,” it further tells us, was the father of three sons, then at school in France, who, some time after, to their grief and shame, perceived on the English standard the arms of Scotland, which Edward had quartered with his own. They cried out in dismay - “Gin a’ be true yon standard says, We’re fatherless a’ three!”

and making their way disguised into the English camp, stabbed the standard bearer, and carried off the standard. The angry King swore that some French man must have done the deed; but the three brave brothers came resolutely forward to avow it, declared their name and lineage, and offered to match themselves against any three Englishmen he might name, boasting - “Nor is there men in a’ your host Daur meet us three to three.”

The King accepted the challenge, and selected three of his best and bravest knights, promising a special guerdon to the victor: “For every drap o’ Maitland blude, I'll gie a rig o’ land.”

The Scotsmen disposed of all three champions, and “maul’d them cruellie”: then young Edward, the King’s nephew, vowing that he would bring one of them bound to his feet, sprung forward with his pole-axe, clove asunder the elder Maitland’s head-piece, and “bit right nigh the brayne.” When Maitland saw his blood flow, he dropped his weapon, gripped his antagonist by the throat, lifted and threw him, and laid him, half-throttled, on the ground.

“‘Now let him up,’ King Edward cried, ‘And let him come to me! And for the deed that thou hast done, Thou shalt have erldomes three!’ “‘It’s ne’er be said in France, nor e’er In Scotland, when I’m hame, That Edward once lay under me And e’er got up again!’”

So saying, Maitland drew his dagger, and stabbed his prostrate foe to the heart.

Though all else in the tale be false, it is at least true as a picture of the wild savagery of Border warfare; of the spirit that breathes in the lines of Blind Harry: “I better like to see the Southron die, Than gold or land, that they can gie to me.”

This furious hostility, fed by ever-recurring raids and deeds of blood, rankled on, unmitigated and unrelenting, for many centuries; and only slowly died out after the Union of the two countries. Even as late as 1517, when Sir Anthony Darcy, the brave Warden of the Marches, was slain in a peat moss near Dunse, into which his horse had floundered, by Sir David Home of Wedderburn and his men, “Sir David cut off Darcy’s long flowing locks, and plaiting them into a wreath, knit them as a trophy to his saddle-bow. Nothing more strongly marks the ferocity of the time.” - Ridpath's Border History.

Ninth in descent from “Auld Maitland” was another Sir Richard, employed for upwards of seventy years in different public offices, having, as King James VI. wrote, “served his grandsire, goodsire, goodame, mother, and himself dutifully and honestly,” and outlived his own son for thirteen years. This son, William, for many years Secretary of State, was a man of remarkable ability, and through life the faithful and devoted adherent of the unfortunate Mary Queen of Scots; constantly acting for her on embassies and negotiations; and “the soul of the Queen’s party” during her long imprisonment in England. He was himself placed in duresse by the Regent Morton, but rescued by Kirkaldy of Grange, who sheltered him in Edinburgh Castle, where he stood the famous siege of 1573. When the place at last surrendered, the chivalrous Kirkaldy, who had so gallantly defended it, was hung for treason on the market-place, and Maitland, dreading a similar fate, “ended his days after the old Roman fashion”by his own hand. He was the elder brother of the first Lord Maitland of Thirlestane, who received his title in 1590. The next in succession was created Earl of Lauderdale in 1624; and John, second Earl, was further promoted to a Dukedom by Charles II. Clarendon describes him as “insolent, imperious, flattering, and dissembling, fitted for intrigues and contrivances by the experience and practice he had in the committee of both kingdoms in their darkest designs; with courage enough not to fail when it was absolutely necessary, and no impediment of honour to restrain him from doing anything that might gratify any of his passions.” He began life as a zealous Covenanter, high in trust with the Scottish parliament, and several times their emissary to treat with the King. In 1647 - for some cause or other - he shifted his allegiance, joined the Duke of Hamilton in raising troops for the rescue of the King, and was sent over to Holland to invite the Prince of Wales to join them. His terms proved unacceptable; and on his return home he found that matters had so far changed that he could not even land in his own country, but had no resource except to sail straight back to Holland. When he next went to Scotland in 1650 with Charles II., the States would not allow him to show himself either at court or in the council chamber till he made public “satisfaction”in the church at Largs, for his accession to the so-called “Engagement” He followed the King to England; was taken prisoner at Worcester; thrown into the Tower; and only set free by Monk nine years afterwards.

While so many honest men who had ruined themselves in the King’s cause were left unrewarded at the Restoration, it is startling to read of the honours heaped upon Lauderdale. The whole power and patronage of Scotland was at once placed in his hands. He was Constable of Edinburgh Castle, and Lord High Commissioner for the Crown, and made his progresses through the country with almost regal pomp and ceremony. In England, he held the highest offices of the State (his initial supplied the letter L to the famous CABAL ministry), as well as an office at Court; he was Duke of Lauderdale, Marquess of March, and a Knight of the Garter in 1672; Earl of Guilford and Lord Petersham in the peerage of England in 1674. But he did not play his cards with equal success to the end. He fell into disgrace after having voted for the condemnation of Lord Stafford, lost all his offices and pensions, and “sunk under the weight ot vexation” in 1682. Though he had been twice married, he left only one child, Anne Marchioness of Tweeddale; and thus all his new-born honours expired with him. His brother Charles succeeded to the Scottish Earldom; and the eighth Earl, on the dissolution of the Pitt Administration in 1806, received an English peerage by the title of Baron Lauderdale of Thirlestane Castle.