Life of Mary Queen of Scots Volume I Part 2

In the following year, one of the first outrages which the Reformers committed in Scotland, took place in Edinburgh. On occasion of the annual procession through the city, in honour of the tutelar Saint--St Giles, the image of that ill.u.s.trious personage, which ought to have been carried by some of the priests, was amissing,--the G.o.dly having, beforehand, according to John Knox, first drowned the idol in the North Loch, and then burned it. It was therefore necessary to borrow a smaller saint from the Gray-Friars, in order that this "great solemnity and manifest abomination"

might proceed. Upon the day appointed, priests, friars, canons, and "rotten Papists," a.s.sembled, with tabors, trumpets, banners, and bagpipes.

At this sight, the hearts of the brethren were wondrously inflamed; and they resolved, that this second dragon should suffer the fate of the first. They broke in upon the procession; and though the Catholics made some slight resistance at first, they were soon obliged to surrender the image into the hands of the Philistines, who, taking it by the heels, and knocking, or, as the reformed historian says, _dadding_ its head upon the pavement, soon reduced it to fragments, only regretting, that "the young St Giles" had not been so difficult to kill as his father. The priests, alarmed for their personal safety, sought shelter as quickly as possible, and gave Knox an opportunity of indulging in some of that austere mirth which is peculiarly remarkable, because so foreign to his general style.

"Then might have been seen," says he, "so sudden a fray as seldom has been seen among that sort of men within this realm; for down goes the cross, off go the surplices, round caps, and cornets with the crowns. The Gray-Friars gaped, the Black-Friars blew, and the priests panted and fled, and happy was he that first got the house; for such a sudden fray came never among the generation of Antichrist within this realm before." The magistrates had some difficulty in prevailing upon the mob to disperse, after they had kept possession of the streets for several hours; and the rioters escaped without punishment; for "the brethren a.s.sembled themselves in such sort in companies, singing psalms, and praising G.o.d, that the proudest of the enemies were astounded."[4]

The Commissioners who, about this time, were sent into France, and the motives of their emba.s.sy, will be spoken of afterwards. But the remarkable circ.u.mstance, that four of them died when about to return home,--one at Paris, and three at Dieppe,--had a considerable influence in exciting the populace to still greater hatred against the French party,--it being commonly suspected that they had come by their death unfairly. The Congregation now rose in their demands; and among other things, insisted that "the wicked and scandalous lives" of churchmen should be reformed, according to the rules contained in the New Testament, the writings of the ancient fathers, and the laws of Justinian the Emperor. For a while, the Queen Regent temporized; but finding it impossible to preserve the favour of both parties, she yielded at length to the solicitations of the Archbishop of St Andrews, and determined to resist the Reformers vigorously. In 1559, she summoned all the ministers of the Congregation, to appear before her at Stirling. This citation was complied with, but not exactly in the manner that the Queen wished; for the ministers came not as culprits, but as men proud of their principles, and accompanied by a vast mult.i.tude of those who were of the same mode of thinking. The Queen, who was at Stirling, did not venture to proceed to Perth; and the request she made, that the numbers there a.s.sembled should depart, leaving their ministers to be examined by the Government, having been refused, she proceeded to the harsh and decisive measure of declaring them all rebels.

The consternation which this direct announcement of hostilities occasioned among them, was still at its height, when the great champion of the Scottish Reformation, John Knox, arrived at Perth. This celebrated divine had already suffered much for "the good cause;" and though his zeal and devotion to it were well known, it was not till latterly that he had entertained much hope of its final triumph in his native country. He had spent the greater part of his life in imprisonment or exile; he had undergone many privations, and submitted to many trials. But these were the daily food of the Reformers; and, whilst they only served to strengthen them in the obduracy of their belief, they had the additional effect of infusing a morose acerbity into dispositions not naturally of the softest kind. Knox had returned only a few days before from Geneva, where he had been solacing his solitude by writing and publishing that celebrated work, which he was pleased to ent.i.tle, "The first blast of the trumpet against the monstrous regiment of women." This treatise, directed princ.i.p.ally against Mary of England, not forgetting Mary Queen of Scots and her mother of Guise, rather overshot its own purpose, by bringing the Reformer into disrepute with Elizabeth, who came to the crown soon after its appearance. To pacify that Queen, for it appears even Knox could temporize occasionally, he gave up his original intention of blowing his trumpet thrice, and his first blast was his last.[5]

The day after the ministers and their friends, had been declared rebels, Knox delivered at Perth what Keith terms "that thundering Sermon against Idolatry." The tumult which ensued at the conclusion of this discourse, has been attributed by some historians to accident; but Keith's suspicion, that Knox had a direct intention to excite it, seems well founded, when we consider the ferment in which the minds of his audience were at the time, and the peculiar style in which he addressed them. Buchanan is of the same opinion, though he would naturally have leant to the other conclusion. He says that Knox, "in that ticklish posture of affairs, made such a pathetic sermon to the mult.i.tude who were gathered together, that he set their minds, which were already fired, all in a flame." If, in addition to this, the usual manner of Knox's eloquence be considered, it will hardly be questioned but that the outrage of that day was of his doing. His vehemence in the pulpit was at all times tremendous; indeed, in so far as the effect he produced upon his hearers was concerned, he seems to have trusted almost as much to the display of his physical as of his mental energies. Many years after the period now alluded to, when he was in his old age, and very weak, Melville tells us, that he saw him every Sunday go slowly and feebly, with fur about his neck, a staff in his hand, and a servant supporting him, from his own house, to the parish church in St Andrews. There, after being lifted into the pulpit, his limbs for some time were so feeble, that they could hardly support him; but ere he had done with his sermon, he became so active and vigorous, that he was like "to ding the pulpit in blads, and flie out of it."[6] What he must have been, therefore, in his best days, may be more easily imagined than described.

On the present occasion, after Knox had preached, and some of the congregation had retired, it appears that some "G.o.dly men" remained in the church. A priest had the imprudence to venture in among them, and to commence saying ma.s.s. A young man called out that such idolatry was intolerable, upon which it is said that the priest struck him. The young man retorted, by throwing a stone, which injured one of the pictures. The affair soon became general. The enraged people fell upon the altars and images, and in a short time nothing was left undemolished but the bare walls of the church. The Reformers throughout the city, hearing of these proceedings, speedily collected, and attacking the monasteries of the Gray and Black Friars, along with the costly edifice of the Carthusian Monks, left not a vestige of what they considered idolatrous and profane worship in any of them. The example thus set at Perth was speedily followed almost everywhere throughout the country.

These outrages greatly incensed the Queen Regent, and were looked upon with horror by the Catholics in general. To this day, the loss of many a fine building, through the zeal of the early Reformers, is a common subject of regret and complaint. It is to be remembered, however, that no revolution can be effected without paying a price for it. If the Reformation was a benefit, how could the Catholic superst.i.tion be more successfully attacked, than by knocking down those gorgeous temples, which were of themselves sufficient to render invincible the pride and inveterate bigotry of its votaries? The saying of John Knox, though a homely, was a true one,--"Pull down their nests, and the rooks will fly away." It is not improbable, as M'Crie conjectures, that had these buildings been allowed to remain in their former splendour, the Popish clergy might have long continued to indulge hopes, and to make efforts, to be restored to them. Victories over an enemy are celebrated with public rejoicings, notwithstanding the thousands of our fellow-countrymen who may have fallen in the contest. Why should the far more important victory, over those who had so long held in thraldom the human mind, be robbed of its due praise, because some statues were mangled, some pictures torn, and some venerable towers overthrown?[7]

With as little delay as possible, the Queen Regent appeared with an army before Perth, and made herself mistress of the town. The Reformers, however, were not to be intimidated; and their strength having, by this time, much increased, it was deemed prudent by the Regent not to push matters to an extremity. Both parties agreed to disband their forces, and to refer the controversy to the next Parliament. As was to be expected, this temporary truce was not of long duration. Incessant mutual recrimination and aggression, soon induced both sides to concentrate their forces once more. Perth was re-taken by the Reformers, who shortly afterwards marched into Edinburgh. After remaining there for some time, they were surprised by a sudden march which the Queen made upon them from Dunbar, and were compelled to fall back upon Stirling.

A belief was at this time prevalent at the court of France, that the Prior of St Andrews, who was the princ.i.p.al military leader of the Congregation, had views of a treasonable nature even upon the crown itself, and that he hoped the flaw in his legitimacy might be forgotten, in consideration of his G.o.dly exertions in support of the true faith. A new reinforcement of French soldiers arrived at Leith, which they fortified; and the French amba.s.sador was commanded to inform the Prior, that the King, his master, would rather spend the crown of France, than not be revenged of the seditious persons in Scotland.

The civil war now raged with increased bitterness, and with various success, but without any decisive advantage on either side for some time.

The Reformers applied for a.s.sistance to Queen Elizabeth, who favoured their cause for various reasons, and would, no doubt, much rather have seen Murray in possession of the Scottish crown, than her own personal rival, Mary. The Congregation having found it impossible, by their own efforts, to drive the French out of Leith, Elizabeth, in the beginning of the year 1560, fitted out a powerful fleet, which, to the astonishment of the Queen Regent and her French allies, sailed up the Firth of Forth, and anch.o.r.ed in the Roads, before even the purpose for which it had come was known. A treaty was soon afterwards concluded at Berwick between the Lords of the Congregation and Elizabeth's Commissioner, the Duke of Norfolk, by which it was agreed, on the part of the former, that no alliance should ever be entered into by them with France; and on that of the latter, that an English army should march into Scotland early in spring, for the purpose of aiding in the expulsion of the French troops.

This army came at the time appointed, and was soon joined by the forces of the Reformers. The allies marched directly for Leith, which they invested without loss of time. The siege was conducted with great spirit, but the town was very resolutely defended by the French. So much determination was displayed upon both sides, that it is difficult to say how the matter might have ended, had not the death of the Queen Regent, which took place at this juncture, changed materially the whole aspect of affairs. She had been ill for some time, and during her sickness resided in the Castle of Edinburgh. Perceiving that her end was approaching, she requested an interview with some of the leaders of the Congregation. The Duke of Chatelherault, the Prior of St Andrews, or the Lord James, as he was commonly called, and others, waited upon her in her sick-chamber. She expressed to them her sincere grief for the troubles which existed in the country, and advised that both the English and French troops should be sent home. She entreated that they would reverence and obey their native and lawful sovereign, her daughter Mary. She told them how deeply attached she was to Scotland and its interests, although by birth a Frenchwoman; and at the conclusion, she burst into tears, kissing the n.o.bles one by one, and asking pardon of all whom she had in any way offended. The day after this interview, Mary of Guise died. Her many excellent qualities were long remembered in Scotland; for even those who could not love, respected her. In private life, if this term can be used with propriety when speaking of a Queen, she appears to have been most deservedly esteemed. She set an example to all her maids of honour, of piety, modesty, and becoming gravity of deportment; she was exceedingly charitable to the poor; and had she fallen upon better days, her life would have been a happier one for herself, and her memory more generally prized by posterity. Her body was carried over to France, and buried in the Benedictine Monastery at Rheims.[8]

Very soon after the death of the Queen Regent, Commissioners arrived both from France and England, with full powers to conclude a treaty of peace between the three countries. By the loss of their sister, the Princes of Lorraine had been deprived of their chief support in Scotland, and, being actively engaged in schemes of ambition nearer home, they found it necessary to conciliate, as they best could, the predominating party there. The important treaty of Edinburgh, which will be mentioned frequently hereafter, was concluded on the 14th of June 1560. It was signed on the part of France by the two plenipotentiaries, Monluc, Bishop of Valence, and the Sieur Derandon, reckoned two of the best diplomatists of the day; and, on the part of England, by Wotton, Dean of Canterbury, and Elizabeth's prime minister, Cecil, one of the ablest men of that or any age. The interests of the Congregation were intrusted princ.i.p.ally to the Lord James. In consequence of this treaty, the French troops were immediately withdrawn. The fortifications of Leith and Dunbar were destroyed, and a Parliament was held, whose acts were to be considered as valid as if it had been called by the express commands of the Queen. In that Parliament, the adherents of the Congregation were found greatly to out-number their adversaries. An act of oblivion and indemnity was pa.s.sed for all that had taken place within the two preceding years; and, for the first time, the Catholics, awed into silence, submitted to every thing which the Reformers proposed. A new Confession of Faith was sanctioned; the jurisdiction of the Ecclesiastical Courts was abolished; and the exercise of worship, according to the rites of the Romish Church, was prohibited under severe penalties--a third act of disobedience being declared capital.

Thus, the Reformation finally triumphed in Scotland. Though as yet only in its infancy, and still exposed to many perils, it was nevertheless established on a comparatively firm and const.i.tutional basis. The Catholics, it is true, aware of the school in which Mary had been educated, were far from having given up all hope of retrieving their circ.u.mstances; and they waited for her return with the utmost impatience and anxiety. But they ought to have known, that whatever might have been Mary's wishes, their reign was over in Scotland. A Sovereign may coerce the bodies, but he can never possess a despotic sway over the minds of his subjects. The people had now begun to think for themselves; and a belief in the mere mummeries of a fantastic system of Christianity, and of the efficacy of miracles performed by blocks of wood and stone, was never again to form a portion of their faith. A brief account of one of the last, and not least ludicrous attempts which the Popish clergy made to support their sinking cause, will form a not improper conclusion to this chapter.

There was a chapel in the neighbourhood of Musselburgh, dedicated to the Lady of Loretto, which, from the character of superior sanct.i.ty it had acquired, had long been the favourite resort of religious devotees. In this chapel, a body of the Catholic priests undertook to put their religion to the test, by performing a miracle. They fixed upon a young man, who was well known as a common blind beggar, in the streets of Edinburgh, and engaged to restore to him, in the presence of the a.s.sembled people, the perfect use of his eyesight. A day was named, on which they calculated they might depend on this wonderful interposition of divine power in their behalf. From motives of curiosity, a great crowd was attracted at the appointed time to the chapel. The blind man made his appearance on a scaffold, erected for the occasion. The priests approached the altar, and, after praying very devoutly, and performing other religious ceremonies, he who had previously been stone blind, opened his eyes, and declared he saw all things plainly. Having humbly and gratefully thanked his benefactors, the priests, he was permitted to mingle among the astonished people, and receive their charity.

Unfortunately, however, for the success of this deception, a gentleman from Fife, of the name of Colville, determined to penetrate, if possible, a little further into the mystery. He prevailed upon the subject of the recent experiment to accompany him to his lodgings in Edinburgh. As soon as they were alone, he locked the chamber-door, and either by bribes or threats, contrived to win from him the whole secret. It turned out, that in his boyhood, this tool, in the hands of the designing, had been employed as a herd by the nuns of the Convent of Sciennes, then in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh. It was remarked by the sisterhood, that he had an extraordinary facility in "flyping up the lid of his eyes, and casting up the white." Some of the neighbouring priests, hearing accidentally of this talent, imagined that it might be applied to good account. They accordingly took him from Sciennes to the monastery near Musselburgh, where they kept him till he had made himself an adept in this mode of counterfeiting blindness, and till his personal appearance was so much changed, that the few who had been acquainted with him before, would not be able to recognise him. They then sent him into Edinburgh to beg publicly, and make himself familiarly known to the inhabitants, as a common blind mendicant. So far every thing had gone smoothly, and the scene at the Chapel of Loretto might have had effect on the minds of the vulgar, had Colville's activity not discovered the gross imposture.

Colville, who belonged to the Congregation, instantly took the most effectual means to make known the deceit. He insisted upon the blind man's appearing with him next day, at the Cross of Edinburgh, where the latter repeated all he had previously told Colville, and confessed the iniquity of his own conduct, as well as that of the priests. To shelter him from their revenge, Colville immediately afterwards carried him off to Fife; and the story, with all its details, being speedily disseminated, exposed the Catholic clergy to more contempt than ever.[9]

CHAPTER III.

MARY'S BIRTH, AND SUBSEQUENT RESIDENCE AT THE FRENCH COURT, WITH A SKETCH OF THE STATE OF SOCIETY AND MANNERS IN FRANCE, DURING THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.

Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots, was the third child of James V. and his wife, Mary of Guise. That lady had born him previously two sons, both of whom died in infancy. Mary came into the world on the 7th of December 1542, in the Palace of Linlithgow.[10] She was only seven days old when she lost her father, who at the time of her birth lay sick in the Palace of Falkland. James died, as he had lived, with a kingly and gallant spirit.

In the language of Pitscottie, he turned him upon his back, and looked and beheld all his n.o.bles and lords about him, and, giving a little smile of laughter, kissed his hand, and offered it to them. When they had pressed it to their lips for the last time, he tossed up his arms, and yielded his spirit to G.o.d. James was considered one of the most handsome men of his day. He was above the middle stature; his hair flowed luxuriantly over his shoulders in natural ringlets, and was of a dark yellow or auburn colour; his eyes were gray, and very penetrating; his voice was sweet toned; and the general expression of his countenance uncommonly prepossessing. He inherited a vigorous const.i.tution, and kept it sound and healthy by constant exercise, and by refraining from all excesses in eating or drinking. He was buried in the Royal Vault in the Chapel of Holyrood House, where his embalmed body, in a state of entire preservation, was still to be seen in the time of the historian Keith.

The young Queen was crowned by Cardinal Beaton at Stirling, on the 9th of September 1543. Her mother, who watched over her with the most careful anxiety, had been told a report prevailed that the infant was sickly, and not likely to live. To disprove this calumny, she desired Janet Sinclair, Mary's nurse, to unswaddle her in the presence of the English Amba.s.sador, who wrote to his own court that she was as goodly a child as he had seen of her age.

Soon after her birth, the Parliament nominated Commissioners, to whom they intrusted the charge of the Queen's person, leaving all her other interests to the care of her mother. The two first years of her life, Mary spent at Linlithgow, where it appears she had the small-pox, a point of some importance, as one of her historians remarks, in the biography of a beauty and a queen.[11] The disease must have been of a particularly gentle kind, having left behind no visible traces. During the greater part of the years 1545, 46 and 47, she resided at Stirling Castle, in the keeping of Lords Erskine and Livingstone. Here she received the first rudiments of education from two ecclesiastics, who were appointed her preceptors, more, however, as matter of form, than from any use they could be of to her at so early an age. When the internal disturbances of the country rendered even Stirling Castle a somewhat dangerous residence, Mary was removed to Inchmahome, a sequestered island in the Lake of Monteith.

That she might not be too lonely, and that a spirit of generous emulation might present her with an additional motive for the prosecution of her studies, the Queen Dowager selected four young ladies of rank as her companions and playmates. They were each about her daughter's age, and either from chance, or because the conceit seemed natural, they all bore the same surname. The four Maries were, Mary Beaton, a niece of Cardinal Beaton, Mary Fleming, daughter of Lord Fleming, Mary Livingstone, whose father was one of the young Queen's guardians, and Mary Seaton, daughter of Lord Seaton.

Mary having remained upwards of two years in this island, those who had, at the time, the disposal of her future destiny, thought it expedient, for reasons which have been already explained, that she should be removed to France. She was accordingly, in the fifth year of her age, taken to Dumbarton, where she was delivered to the French Admiral, whose vessels were waiting to receive her, and attended by the Lords Erskine and Livingstone, her three natural brothers, and her four Maries, she left Scotland.

The thirteen happiest years of Mary's life were spent in France. Towards the end of July 1548, she sailed from Dumbarton, and, after a tempestuous voyage, landed at Brest on the 14th of August. She was there received, by Henry II.'s orders, with all the honours due to her rank and royal destiny. She travelled, with her retinue, by easy stages, to the palace at St Germain En Laye; and to mark the respect that was paid to her, the prison-gates of every town she came to were thrown open, and the prisoners set free. Shortly after her arrival, she was sent, along with the King's own daughters, to one of the first convents in France, where young ladies of distinction were instructed in the elementary branches of education.

The natural quickness of her capacity, and the early acuteness of her mind, now began to manifest themselves. She made rapid progress in acquiring that species of knowledge suited to her years, and her lively imagination went even the length of attaching a more than ordinary interest to the calm and secluded life of a nunnery. It was whispered, that she had already expressed a wish to separate herself forever from the world; and it is not improbable, that had this wish been allowed to foster itself silently in her bosom, Mary might ultimately have taken the veil, in which case her life would have been a blank in history. But these views were not consistent with the more ambitious projects entertained by Henry and her uncles of Lorraine. As soon as they were informed of the bent which her mind appeared to be taking, she was again removed from the convent to the palace. To reconcile her to parting with the vestal sisters, Henry, whose conduct towards her was always marked by affection and delicacy, selected, from all the n.o.ble Scotch families then residing in France, a certain number to const.i.tute her future household. The tears which Mary shed, however, upon leaving the nunnery, proved the warmth of her young heart; and that her feelings were not of merely momentary duration, is evinced by the frequent visits she subsequently paid this asylum of her childhood,--and by the altar-piece she embroidered with her own hands for the chapel of the convent.

In no country of Europe was education better understood than it then was in France. Francis I., who remodelled, upon a magnificent scale, the University of Paris, only followed the example which had already been set him by Louis XII. The youth of all countries flocked to the French schools. The liberal principles which induced the government to maintain, at its own expense, professors, who lectured to as many students as chose to hear them, was amply repaid by the beneficial consequences arising from the great influx of strangers. A competent knowledge of Latin, Greek, Hebrew, Mathematics, Moral Philosophy and Medicine, could be acquired in France for literally nothing. Nor was it necessary, that he who sought for the blessings of education, should profess any particular system of religious faith. The German Protestant, and the Spanish Catholic, were allowed, in these n.o.ble inst.i.tutions, to take their seat side by side.

Henry supported the church as an engine of state, whilst he detested the arrogant pretensions and empty insolence of many of the clergy, and was determined that they should not interfere with the more enlightened views which he himself entertained. In this, he only followed the opinions of his ill.u.s.trious father, Francis, who used to remark, that monks were better at teaching linnets to whistle, playing at dice, tippling, and gormandizing, than in doing good either to religion or morality.

The host of authors, and men of genius, who flourished in France about this period, was another cause of its literary eminence. "Learning," says Miss Benger, "far from being the badge of singularity, had become the attribute of a superior station." "There was," observes the ingenious Pasquier, "a glorious crusade against ignorance." Many of the names then celebrated have since, it is true, pa.s.sed into oblivion, but the mult.i.tude who cultivated letters, show the spirit of the times. Beza, Seve, Pelletier and others, led the van in the severer departments of intellect; whilst Bellay, Ronsard and Jodelle, showed the way, to a host of followers, in the cultivation of poetry, and the softer arts of composition.

Nor must the great statesmen and warriors, whose presence lent a l.u.s.tre to the court, be forgotten in this view of the existing pre-eminence of France. The two Houses of Bourbon and Guise, had each given birth to many names destined for immortality. The present chiefs of Bourbon were Anthony, Duke of Navarre, and Louis, known in the history of the world as the first Prince of Conde. There were six brothers of the Guises, of whom the two most ill.u.s.trious were Francis Duke of Guise, and Charles Cardinal of Lorraine. But they all held the very highest offices in the church or state; one was a Cardinal, and another a Grand Prior; a third, the Duke d'Aumale, commanded the army then in Italy; and the fourth, the Marquis d'Elbeuf, was intrusted with the charge of the French troops in Scotland.

But he who held the balance of power between all these contending interests, was the great Montmorency, Constable of France. He had, by this time, become a veteran in the service of the French monarchs. Louis XII.

had acknowledged his virtues, and Francis I. looked to him for advice and aid in every emergency. Henry felt almost a filial affection and reverence for so distinguished a statesman and patriot; and Diana de Poictiers herself, the fascinating widow of the Duke de Valentinois, frequently found that she possessed less influence with the monarch than the venerable and unostentatious Montmorency. The minister was at all times surrounded by a formidable phalanx of friends and supporters. Of these his own sons were not the least considerable; and his nephews, the two Colignys, need only to be mentioned, to awaken recollections of some of the most remarkable events of French history.

Neither must we omit to mention the two ladies who held the highest places in the French Court. The sister and the wife of Henry II. resembled each other but faintly, yet both secured the admiration of the country. The Princess Margaret had established herself by her patronage of every liberal art, and her universal beneficence, in the hearts of the whole people. Her religion did not degenerate into bigotry, and her charity, whilst it was at all times efficient, was without parade. She became afterwards the d.u.c.h.ess of Savoy; but till past the meridian of life, she continued constantly at her brother's Court,--a bright example of all that was virtuous and attractive in female character. To her, France was indebted for discovering and fostering the talents of its great Chancellor Michel L'Hopital; and the honourable name by which she was universally known was that of Minerva. The King's wife, Catherine de Medicis, was more respected for her talents than loved for her virtues. But as yet, the ambition of her nature had not betrayed itself, and little occasion had been afforded for the exercise of those arts of dissimulation, or the exposure of that p.r.o.neness to envy and resentment, which at a later period became so apparent. She was still in the bloom of youth, and maintained a high character, not without much show of reason.

Such being the general aspect of the country and the Court, it cannot fail to become evident, that so far from being a just cause of regret, nothing could have redounded more to Mary's advantage than her education and residence in France. If bigotry prevailed among the clergy, it was not countenanced at the Court, for Henry cared little about religion, and his sister Margaret was suspected of leaning to the Reformed opinions. If Parisian manners were known to be too deeply tinctured with licentiousness, the palace of Catherine must be excepted from the charge; for even the deportment of Diana herself was grave and decorous, and for his sister's sake, the King dared not have countenanced any of those grosser immoralities in which Henry VIII. of England so openly indulged.

The Cardinal of Lorraine, who was at the head of the Parisian University, quickly discovering Mary's capabilities, directed her studies with the most watchful anxiety. She was still attended by the two preceptors who had accompanied her from Scotland, and before she was ten years old, had made good progress in the French, Latin, and Italian languages. French was all her life as familiar to her as her native tongue; and she wrote it with a degree of elegance which no one could surpa.s.s. Her acquaintance with Latin was not of that superficial kind but too common in the present day. This language was then regarded as almost the only one on whose stability any reliance could be placed. It was consequently deemed indispensable, that all who aspired at any eminence in literature, should be able to compose in it fluently. Mary's teacher was the celebrated George Buchanan, who was then in France, and who, whatever other praise he may be ent.i.tled to, was unquestionably one of the best scholars of his time. The young Queen's attention was likewise directed to Rhetoric, by Fauchet, author of a treatise on that subject which he dedicated to his pupil,--to history by Pasquier,--and to the delightful study of poetry, for which her genius was best suited, and for which she retained a predilection all her life, by Ronsard.

Nor must it be imagined that Mary's childhood was exclusively devoted to these more scholastic pursuits. She and her young companions, the Scotch Maries and the daughters of Henry, were frequently present at those magnificent galas and fetes, in which the King himself so much delighted, and which were so particularly in unison with the taste of the times, though no where conducted with so much elegance and grace, as at the French Court. The summer tournaments and fetes champetres, and the winter festivals and masquerades, were attended by all the beauty and chivalry of the land. In these amus.e.m.e.nts, Mary, as she grew up, took a lively and innocent pleasure. The woods and gardens also of Fontainbleau, afforded a delightful variation from the artificial splendours of Paris. In summer, sailing on the lakes, or fishing in the ponds; and in winter, a construction of fortresses on the ice,--a mimic battle of snow-b.a.l.l.s,--or skating, became royal pastimes. Mary's gait and air, naturally dignified and n.o.ble, acquired an additional charm from the attention she paid to dancing and riding. The favourite dance at the time was the Spanish minuet, which Mary frequently performed with her young consort, to the admiration of the whole court. In the livelier gailliarde, she was unequalled, as was confessed, even by the beautiful Anne of Este, who, in a pas des deux, acknowledged that she was eclipsed by Mary.

The activity of her body indeed, kept, upon all occasions, full pace with that of her mind. She was particularly fond of hunting; and she and her maids of honour were frequently seen following the stag through the ancestral forests of France. Her attachment to this amus.e.m.e.nt, which continued all her life, exposed her, on several occasions, to some danger.

So early as the year 1559, when hunting in France, some part of her dress was caught by the bough of a tree, and she was cast off her horse when galloping at full speed. Many of the ladies and gentlemen in her train pa.s.sed by without observing her, and some so near as actually to tread on her riding-dress. As soon as the accident was discovered, she was raised from the ground; but, though the shock had been considerable, she had too manly a spirit to complain, and, readjusting her hair, which had fallen into confusion, she again mounted her horse, and rode home smiling at the accident.[12]

Another, but more sedentary amus.e.m.e.nt with Mary, was the composition of devices. To excel in these, required some wit and judgment. A device was the skilful coupling of a few expressive words with any engraved figure or picture. It was an art intimately connected with the science of heraldry, and seems to have suggested the modern seal and motto. The composition of these devices was, as it is somewhere called, only "an elegant species of trifling;" but it had something intellectual in it, which the best informed ladies of the French court liked. An old author, who writes upon this subject, elevates it to a degree of importance rather amusing. "It delights the eye," he says, "it captivates the imagination, it is also profitable and useful; and therefore surpa.s.seth all other arts, and also painting, since this only represents the body and exquisite features of the face, whereas a device exposes the rare ideas and gallant sentiments of its author; it also excels poetry, in as much as it joineth profit with pleasure, since none merit the t.i.tle of devices unless they at once please by their grace, and yield profit by their doctrine."

Mary's partialities were commonly lasting, and when in very different circ.u.mstances, she frequently loved to return to this amus.e.m.e.nt of her childhood. Some of the emblems she invented, betray much elegance and sensibility of mind. On the death of her husband Francis, she took for her device a little branch of the liquorice-tree, whose root only is sweet, all the rest of the plant being bitter, and the motto was, _Dulce meum terra tegit_. On her cloth of state was embroidered the sentence, _En ma fin est mon commencement_; "a riddle," says Haynes, "I understand not;"

but which evidently meant to inculcate a lesson of humility, and to remind her that life, with all its grandeur, was the mere prologue to eternity.

The French historian, Mezeray, mentions also that Mary had a medal struck, on which was represented a vessel in a storm, with its masts broken and falling, ill.u.s.trated by the motto, _Nunquam nisi rectam_; indicating a determination rather to perish than deviate from the path of integrity.[13] When she was in England, she embroidered for the Duke of Norfolk a hand with a sword in it, cutting vines, with the motto _Virescit vulnere virtus_. In these and similar fancies, she embodied strong and often original thoughts with much delicacy.

In the midst of these occupations and amus.e.m.e.nts, Mary was not allowed to forget her native country. Frequent visits were paid her from Scotland, by those personally attached to herself or her family. In 1550, her mother, Mary of Guise, came over to see her, accompanied by several of the n.o.bility. The Queen-dowager, a woman of strong affections, was so delighted with the improvement she discovered in her daughter's mind and person, that she burst into tears of joy; and her Scottish attendants were hardly less affected by the sight of their future Sovereign. Henry, with his young charge, was at Rouen, when the Queen-dowager arrived. To testify his respect for her, he ordered a triumph to be prepared, which consisted of one of those grotesque allegorical exhibitions then so much in vogue; and, shortly afterwards, the two Queens made a public entry into Paris.

Mary of Guise had there an opportunity likewise of seeing her son by her first husband, the Duke de Longueville, Mary's half-brother, but who seems to have spent his life in retirement, as history scarcely notices him. It may well be conceived, that the widow of James V. returned even to the regency of Scotland with reluctance, since she purchased the gratification of her ambition by a final separation from her children.[14]

It was about the same time that Mary first saw Sir James Melville, who was then only a few years older than herself, and who was sent over in the train of the Bishop of Monluc, when he returned after signing the Treaty of Edinburgh, to be one of Mary's pages of honour. Sir James was afterwards frequently employed by the Queen as her foreign amba.s.sador, and his name will appear more than once in the sequel. We have spoken of him here for the purpose of introducing an amusing anecdote, which he gives us in his own Memoirs, and which ill.u.s.trates the state of manners at that period. Upon landing at Brest, the Bishop proceeded direct to Paris. But Sir James, who was young, and could hardly have endured the fatigue of this mode of travelling, was intrusted to the care of two Scotch gentlemen, who had come over in the same ship. Their first step was to purchase three little "naigies," on which they proposed riding to Paris, any thing in the shape of a _diligence_ being out of the question. To ensure greater safety on the journey, three others joined the party,--two Frenchmen, and a young Spaniard, who was on his way to the College at Paris. On the evening of the first day, they arrived at the town of Landerneau, where all the six were lodged in one room, containing three beds. The two Frenchmen slept together in one, the two Scotsmen in another, and Melville and the Spaniard in the third. The company on the whole does not appear to have been of the most respectable kind; for, as Melville lay awake, he heard "the twa Scotchmen devising how they were directed to let him want naething; therefore, said they, we will pay for his ordinair all the way, and shall count up twice as meikle to his master when we come to Paris, and sae shall win our ain expenses." The two Frenchmen, on their part, thinking that n.o.body in the room understood French, said to each other, "These strangers are all young, and know not the fashion of the hostelries; therefore we shall deal and reckon with the hosts at every repast, and shall cause the strangers pay more than the custom is, and that way shall we save our expenses." At all this Melville, as he tells us, could not refrain from "laughing in his mind," and determined to be upon his guard. "Yet the twa Scotch young men," he adds in his antique phraseology, "would not consent that I should pay for myself, hoping still to beguile the Bishop, but the Spaniart and I writ up every day's compt." The Frenchmen being foiled in their swindling intentions, had recourse to a still bolder manoeuvre. One day, as the party were riding through a wood, two other Frenchmen, who had joined them a short time before, suddenly leapt off their horses, and, drawing their swords, demanded that the others should deliver up their purses. Melville and his Scotch friends, however, were not to be thus intimidated. They also drew their swords, and prepared for resistance; on seeing which, the Frenchmen affected to make a joke of the whole affair, saying that they merely wanted to try the courage of the Scotchmen, in case they should have been attacked by robbers. "But the twa last loons," says Melville, "left us at the next lodging; and the twa Scotch scholairs never obtenit payment frae the Bishop for their pretendit fraud." Sir James arrived in safety at Paris, having taken thirteen days to ride from Brest to the capital.[15]

Thus diversified by intercourse with her friends and with her books, by study and recreation, Mary's early life pa.s.sed rapidly away. It has been already seen, that whatever could have tended to corrupt the mind or manners was carefully removed from the young Queen. As soon as Mary entered upon her teens, she and her companions, the two young princesses, Henry's daughters, spent several hours every day in the private apartment of Catherine de Medicis, whose conversation, as well as that of the foreign amba.s.sadors and other persons of distinction who paid their respects to her, they had thus an opportunity of hearing. Conaeus mentions, that Mary was soon observed to avail herself, with great earnestness, of these opportunities of acquiring knowledge; and it has been hinted, that the superior intelligence she evinced, in comparison with Catherine's own daughters, was the first cause of exciting that Queen's jealousy. It was perhaps at some of these conferences that Mary imperceptibly imbibed, from her future mother-in-law, and her not unfrequent visitor, Nostradamus, a slight portion of that tendency to superst.i.tious belief then so prevalent.

One of the most remarkable characters about Henry's court, was Nicolas Cretin, or Nostradamus, as he was more commonly called, who combined in his own person the three somewhat incongruous professions of physician, astrologer, and philosopher. He a.s.serted, that he was not only perfectly acquainted with the laws of planetary influence, but that, by the inspiration of divine power, he could predict the events of futurity. The style of his prophecies was in general sufficiently obscure; yet such was the reverence paid to learning in those days (and Nostradamus was a very library of learning), that he was courted and consulted even by the first statesmen in France. Mary had far too lively a fancy to escape the infection; and the force of this early bias continued to be felt by her more or less all her life.

CHAPTER IV.

MARY'S MARRIAGE, PERSONAL APPEARANCE, AND POPULARITY.

The time now approached when Henry began to think of confirming the French authority in Scotland, by consummating the contract of marriage which had so long existed between Francis and Mary. This was not, however, to be done without considerable opposition from several quarters. The Constable Montmorency, and the House of Bourbon, already trembled at the growing influence of the Guises, plainly foreseeing, that as soon as the niece of the Duke and Cardinal of Lorraine became wife to the Dauphin, and consequently, upon Henry's death, Queen of France, their own influence would be at an end. It is not improbable that Montmorency aimed at marrying one of his own sons to Mary. At all events, he endeavoured to persuade Henry that he might find a more advantageous alliance for Francis. The Guises, however, were not thus to be overreached; and the King more willingly listened to their powerful representations in favour of the match, as it had long been a favourite scheme with himself. It would be uncharitable to ascribe to the agency of any of those who opposed it, an attempt which was made some time before by a person of the name of Stuart, a Scottish archer in the King's guards, to poison Mary.

Stuart being detected, was tried, condemned, and executed, but made no confession which could lead to any discovery of his motives. It is most likely that he had embraced the reformed religion, and was actuated by a fanatical desire to save his country from the dominion of a Catholic princess.