Life of Mary Queen of Scots, Volume 1 (of 2)

The portrait of Mary, which forms the frontispiece to the present volume, and on which we place greater reliance than on any with which we are acquainted, is an engraving executed expressly for this work, from an original picture of much merit.[20 - This picture originally belonged to Lord Robert Stuart, Earl of Orkney, one of Mary’s natural brothers, and is now in the possession of William Trail, Esq. of Woodwick, Orkney, into whose family it came, together with other relics of the Earl, by the marriage of an ancestor of Mr Trail, to one of his descendants. Vide Appendix A.] It was painted when Mary was in France, by an Italian artist of eminence, who flourished as her cotemporary in the sixteenth century, and whose name is on the canvas. It would have been impossible to say at what precise age it represented Mary, though, from the juvenility of the countenance, it might have been concluded that it was taken a year or two before she became Dauphiness, had not the painter fortunately obviated the difficulty, by inserting immediately after his own signature the date, which is 1556, when she was just fourteen. It is upon this picture that we have chiefly founded our description of Mary’s personal appearance. What gives us the greater confidence in its authenticity and accuracy, is, that it very exactly corresponds with two other portraits, believed on good grounds to be originals. This is a strong circumstance, for it is a very common and just remark, that almost no two likenesses of Mary agree. The paintings to which we allude are, first, one at the seat of Logie Almond, which represents Mary at the same age, but in a religious habit. It gives precisely the same view of the left side of the face as the engraving in this volume does of the right. From the style and other circumstances, it is very probable, that both pictures were painted by the same artist. The second is in the possession of his Grace the Duke of Hamilton, and is in one of the private apartments at Hamilton palace. It represents Mary at a somewhat more advanced period of life, but the features are quite the same. There is still a third picture, said to be an original, in the collection of the Marquis of Salisbury, at Hatfield House, and which has been engraved for Miss Benger’s Memoirs, which very closely resembles our own. To be yet more assured, we have carefully examined the heads upon Mary’s gold and silver coins. Some of these are inaccurate, but they have all a general resemblance to each other. A silver coin, of 1561, and the gold real stamped in 1562, agree minutely with our picture, – a circumstance which cannot but be considered a strong corroboration of its truth. It is unnecessary to make any apology to the reader for having entered thus minutely upon a subject of so much general interest.[21 - It is to the kindness of John Watson Gordon, Esq. deservedly one of the most eminent portrait-painters in Scotland, that we are indebted, both for the use of the painting from which the engraving has been made, and for several of the facts we have stated above. Mr Gordon has executed three copies of the picture – all of them exceedingly beautiful and accurate – possessing the merits, without any of the dusky dimness, which time has thrown over the original.]

With regard to the asseverations of cotemporary writers, as to the effects which Mary’s beauty produced, many of them are almost too extravagant to be believed. They prove, nevertheless, that, whatever beauty may be, whether a mere fortunate arrangement of material atoms, or a light suffused upon the face, from the secret and etherial mind, it was a gift which Nature had lavishly bestowed on Mary. A year or two previous to her marriage, when walking in a religious procession, through the streets of Paris, with a lighted torch in her hand, a woman among the crowd was so struck with her appearance, that she could not help stopping her to ask, – “Are you not indeed an angel?” Brantome, with more questionable sincerity, compares her, at the age of fifteen, to the sun at mid-day. He tells us also, that the brother of Francis, afterwards Charles IX., never saw even a picture of Mary, without lingering to gaze upon it, declaring passionately, that he looked upon Francis as the happiest man on earth, to possess a creature of so much loveliness. Nay, Brantome even goes the length of asserting, that no man ever saw Mary who did not lose his heart to her. He is pleased, likewise, with some naïveté, to pay her several high compliments at the expense of her native country. It appears that Mary, amidst all the gaieties of the French Court, had not forgot her early residence at Inchmahome, in the quiet lake of Monteith. Actuated by these recollections and other motives, she delighted to testify her regard for Scotland in various ways; and, among others, by frequently wearing in public the graceful Highland costume. The rich and national Stuart tartan became her exceedingly; and Brantome, who seems to have been greatly puzzled by the novelty of the dress, is nevertheless forced to declare, that when arrayed after “the barbarous fashion of the savages of her country, she appeared a goddess in a mortal body, and in a most outré and astonishing garb.” Mary herself, was so fond of this costume, that she wore it in one of the portraits which were taken of her in France. If she appeared so beautiful thus “habillée à la sauvage,” exclaims Brantome, “what must she not be in her rich and lovely robes made à la Française, ou l’Espagnole, or with a bonnet à l’Italienne; or in her flowing white dress, contending in vain with the whiteness of her skin!” Even when she sung, and accompanied herself upon the lute, Brantome found occasion to discover a new beauty, – “her soft snowy hand and fingers, fairer than Aurora’s.” “Ah royaume d’Escosse!” he touchingly adds, “Je croy que, maintenant, vos jours sont encore bien plus courts qu’ils n’estoient, et vos nuits plus longues, puisque vous avez perdu cette Princesse qui vos illuminoit!” The historian, Castelnau, in like manner, pronounces Mary “the most beautiful and accomplished of her sex;” and Mezeray tells us, that “Nature had bestowed upon her every thing that is necessary to form a complete beauty;” adding, that “by the study of the liberal arts and sciences, especially painting, music, and poetry, she had so embellished her natural good qualities, that she appeared to be the most amiable Princess in Christendom.” On the occasion of her marriage, not only were the brains of all the jewellers, embroiderers, and tailors of Paris put in requisition, but a whole host of French poets felt themselves suddenly inspired. Epithalamiums poured in from all quarters, spiced with flattery of all kinds, few of which have been borne down the stream of time so honourably for their author’s abilities as that of Buchanan, who, having long struggled with poverty, had at last risen to independence, under the patronage of Cardinal Lorraine. This poem is well known, but is not more complimentary than that of Joachim du Bellay, who, after comparing Mary to Venus, concludes his song with these lines: —

“Par une chaîne à sa langue attachée
Hercule à soi les peuple attiroit;
Mais celle ci tire ceux qu’elle voit
Par une chaîne à ses beaux yeux attachée.”

Homage, so general, cannot have been entirely misplaced, or very palpably exaggerated.

In Scotland, through the instigation of the Queen Regent, Mary’s nuptials, which were far from being agreeable to a numerous party, were celebrated with probably less sincere, and certainly much more homely expressions of pleasure. Orders were sent to the different towns “to make fyres and processions general.” Mons-Meg, the celebrated great gun of Edinburgh Castle, was fired once; and there is a charge of ten shillings in the treasurer’s accounts of that year paid to certain persons for bringing up the cannon “to be schote, and for the finding and carrying of her bullet after she was schote frae Wardie Muir to the Castel of Edinburgh,” – a distance of about two miles. A play was also enacted, but of what kind it is difficult to say, at the expense of the city of Edinburgh.

CHAPTER V.

MARY THE QUEEN DAUPHINESS, THE QUEEN, AND THE QUEEN DOWAGER OF FRANCE

Shortly after the espousals, Mary and her husband retired to one of their princely summer residences. Here she unostentatiously discharged the duties of a respectful and attentive wife, in a manner which gained for her the admiration of all who visited them. Delightful as society and amusements must at that age have been to her, she readily accommodated herself to the peculiar temper of Francis, and seemed willing, for his sake, to resign all the gaieties of the court.

But the intriguing and restless ambition of her uncles could not allow her to remain long quiet. About this time, Mary Tudor, who had succeeded Edward VI. on the English throne, died; and although the Parliament of that country had declared that the succession rested in her sister Elizabeth, it was thought proper to claim for Mary Stuart a prior right. The ground upon which they built this claim was the following. Henry VIII. married for his first wife Catharine of Arragon, widow of his brother Arthur, and by her he had one child, Mary. Pretending after having lived with her eighteen years, that his conscience rebuked him for making his brother’s wife the partner of his bed, he procured a divorce from Catharine for the purpose of marrying Anne Boleyn, by whom he had also one daughter, Elizabeth. Growing tired of this new wife, she was sent to the scaffold to make way for Jane Seymour, by whom he had one son, Edward. Of this uxorious monarch’s other three wives, it is unnecessary to speak. Henry had procured from the British Parliament a solemn act, declaring both his daughters illegitimate, and he left his crown to Edward VI., who accordingly succeeded him. Upon Edward’s death, the Parliament, rescinding their former act, in order to save the nation from a civil war, called to the throne Henry’s eldest daughter Mary, – not, however, without a protest being entered in behalf of the Scotch Queen by her guardians. Upon Mary’s death, the opportunity again occurred of pressing the claims of the daughter of James V. The mother of that king, it will be remembered, who married his father James IV., was the eldest daughter of Henry VII., and sister, consequently, of Henry VIII. Henry was, therefore, Mary’s maternal grand-uncle; and if his wives, Catharine and Anne Boleyn, were legally divorced, she had certainly a better right to the English Crown than any of their illegitimate offspring. Soon after the accession, however, of Edward VI., the Parliament, complying with the voice of the whole nation, had declared them legitimate; and as Elizabeth now quietly took possession of the throne, and could hardly by any chance have been dispossessed, it was, to say the least, extremely ill-advised to push Mary forward as a rival claimant.

For various reasons, however, this was the policy which the Guises chose to pursue. Nor did they proceed to assert her right with any particular delicacy or caution. Whenever the Dauphin and his Queen came into public, they were greeted as the King and Queen of England; and the English arms were engraved upon their plate, embroidered upon their scutcheons and banners, and painted on their furniture.[22 - The coat of arms borne by Francis and Mary is worth describing. The coat was borne Baron and Femme; – The first contained the coat of the Dauphin, which took up the upper half of the shield, and consisted of the arms of France. The lower half was impaled quarterly. In one and four the arms of Scotland, and in two and three those of England. Over the whole was half an escutcheon the sinister half being obscured or cut off, to denote that the English crown was in the possession of another, to the bearer’s prejudice. Under the arms were four lines in French, thus wretchedly translated by Strype, in his “Annals of Queen Elizabeth.”“The arms of Mary Queen Dauphiness of France,The noblest lady in earth for till advance,Of Scotland Queen and of England, alsoOf France, as God hath providet it so.”Keith, p. 114. Chalmers, vol. 2d, p. 413. A painting (probably a copy) containing these arms, and the above motto, is preserved in Mary’s apartments at Holyroodhouse.] Mary’s favourite device, also, at this time, was the two crowns of France and Scotland, with the motto, Aliamque moratur, meaning that of England. The prediction made by the Duke of Alva, on observing this piece of empty parade, was but too fatally fulfilled, – “That bearing of Mary Stuart’s,” said he, “will not be easily borne.”

About this time Mary seems to have been attacked with the first serious illness which had overtaken her in France. It was not of that acute description which confined her to bed, but was a sort of general debility accompanied with a tendency to frequent fainting. It is mentioned in Forbes’s State Papers, that on one occasion, to prevent her from swooning in church, her attendants were glad to bring her wine from the altar. There were some at the French Court who would have felt little grief had this illness ended fatally, considering how serious a blow Mary’s death would have been to the too predominating influence of the House of Guise. In England, the news would have been particularly agreeable to Elizabeth, whose ambassador at Paris eagerly consoled her with the intelligence that Mary was not expected to be of long continuance. The natural strength of her constitution, however, soon restored her to her former health and spirits.

But it was destined that there was to be another and more unexpected death at the French Court. Henry II., while exhibiting his prowess at a tournament, on the occasion of the marriage of his daughter Elizabeth to Philip of Spain, in July 1559, received a wound in the head from the spear of his antagonist, the Count Montgomery, which, though apparently not of much consequence at first, occasioned his dissolution eight days afterwards. A considerable change immediately took place in the aspect of the Court. The stars of the Duchess de Valentinois, and of the Constable Montmorency, set at once; and that of Catharine de Medicis, though not entirely obscured, shone lower in the horizon. She was now only the second lady in France, Mary Stuart taking the precedence. The Guises reigned along with her, and the House of Bourbon trembled. Catharine, who could bear no superior, more especially one young enough to be her own daughter, could ill disguise her chagrin. As a guardian, however, of her late husband’s younger sons, the presumptive heirs to the crown, she was entitled to maintain her place and authority in the Government. There is a curious little anecdote of her which shows how much the change in her situation was preying on her mind. As she was leaving the Palace of the Tournelles, to accompany Francis to the Louvre, where he was to appear as the new Sovereign, she fell into a reverie, and in traversing the gallery, took a wrong turn, and was entirely separated from her party before she discovered her mistake. She soon overtook them, however, and as they passed out, said to Mary, – “Pass on, Madam, it is now your turn to take precedence.” Mary accepted the courtesy, but with becoming delicacy insisted that Catharine should enter the carriage first.[23 - Miss Benger, Vol. II. p. 7.] There is something more affecting in the change which Henry’s death produced in the condition of the venerable Montmorency and his family. He whom three monarchs had loved and respected, who had given dignity to their counsels, and ensured success to their arms, was not considered worthy of remaining in the palace of the feeble and entrammelled Francis. With a princely retinue, he retired honourably to his mansion at Chantilly.

Mary was now at the very height of European grandeur. The Queen of two powerful countries – and the heir-presumptive of a third, – in the flower of her age, – and, from her superior mental endowments, much more worshipped, even in France, than her husband, she affords at this period of her history as striking an example as can be found of the concentration of all the blessings of fortune in one person. She stood unluckily on too high and glorious a pinnacle to be able to retain her position long, consistent with the vices vitæ mortalium. Whilst she conducted herself with a prudence and propriety altogether remarkable, considering her youth and the susceptibility of her nature, she began to be regarded with suspicion at once by France, England, and Scotland. In France, she was obliged to bear the blame of many instances of bigotry and over-severity in the government of her uncles; – in England, Elizabeth took every opportunity to load with opprobrium a sister Queen, whose descent, birth, station, and accomplishments, were so much superior to her own; – in Scotland, the Reformers, inspired by James Stuart, who, with ulterior views of his own, was contented to act as the tool of Elizabeth, laboured to make it be believed that Mary was an uncompromising and narrow-minded Catholic.

In September 1559, Francis was solemnly crowned at Rheims; and during the remainder of the season, he and Mary, attended by their nobles, made various progresses through the country. In December, Francis, whose health was evidently giving way, went, by the advice of his physicians, to Blois, celebrated for the mildness of its climate. It affords a very vivid idea of the ignorant superstition of the French peasantry to learn, that on his journey thither, every village through which he passed was deserted. An absurd story had been circulated, and was universally believed, that the nature of Francis’s complaints were such, that they could only be cured by the royal patient bathing in the blood of young children. Francis himself, although probably not informed of the cause, observed with pain how he was every where shunned; and, notwithstanding the soothing tenderness of Mary, who accompanied him, is said to have exclaimed to the Cardinal Lorraine, “What have I done to be thus shunned and detested? They fly me; my people abhor me! It is not thus that the French used to receive their King.”[24 - Miss Benger, vol. ii. p. 43.]

Misfortunes, it is said, never come singly. Whilst Mary was performing the part of an affectionate nurse to her husband, she sustained an irretrievable loss in the death of her mother, the Scottish Regent, in June 1560; and in the December following, her husband, Francis, died at Orleans, in the 17th year of his age, and the 17th month of his reign.[25 - Miss Benger erroneously antedates the death of Francis, on the 28th of November. See her Memoirs, vol. ii. p. 74. Chalmers, who is the very historian of dates, gives a copy of the inscription on the tomb of Francis, which of course settles the point, vol. ii. p. 124. Miss Benger does not appear to have seen this inscription.] Feeling that his exhausted constitution was sinking rapidly, and that his death was at hand, almost the last words he spoke were to testify his affection for Mary, and his sense of her virtues. He earnestly beseeched his mother to treat her as her own daughter, and his brother to look upon her as a sister. He was a prince, says Conæus, in whom, had he lived, more merit would probably have been discovered than most people suspected.[26 - Conæus in Jebb, vol. ii. p. 19.] The whole face of things in France was by this event instantly changed again. Francis the Little, as he was contemptuously termed by the French, in opposition to his father Francis the Great, was succeeded by his younger brother, Charles IX. He being still a minor, his mother, Catharine, contrived to get herself appointed his guardian, and thus became once more Queen of France, the nobility, as Chalmers remarks, being more inclined to relish a real minority, than an imaginary majority. Catharine’s jealousy of Mary Stuart, of course extended itself, with greater justice, to her uncles of Guise. It was now their turn to make way for Montmorency; and the Cardinal of Lorraine, one of the most intriguing statesmen of the age, retired, in no very charitable mood of mind, to his archbishopric at Rheims, where, in a fit of spleen, he declared he would devote himself entirely to religion.

There is something exceedingly naïve and amusing in Sir James Melville’s account of this “gret changement.” “The Queen-mother,” says he, “was blyth of the death of King Francis, her son, because she had na guiding of him, but only the Duke of Guise and the Cardinal, his brother, by raisoun that the Queen, our maistress, was their sister’s dochter. Sa, the Queen-mother was content to be quit of the government of the house of Guise; and for their cause (sake) she had a great mislyking of our Queen.” Of Montmorency, who, as soon as he heard of the illness of Francis, commenced his journey towards the Court, he says, – “The Constable, also chargit to come to the court, looked for na less, and seamed to be seak, making little journees, caried in a horse-litter, drew time sae lang by the way, that the King, in the meantime, died. Then he lap on horsbak and cam freely to the Court and commandit, like a Constable, the men of war that gardit the Croun, by the Duke of Guise commandement, to pack them aff the toune. The Queen-mother was also very glaid of his coming, that by his autority and frendship with the King of Navarre, she mycht the better dryve the house of Guise to the door.” Of Mary, who, it may well be supposed, felt this change more than any one, Melville says, – “Our Queen also, seeing her friends in disgrace, and knawing hirself no to be weil liked, left the Court, and was a sorrowful widow when I took my leave at hir, in a gentilman’s house, four myle fra Orleans.” To this “gentilman’s house,” or chateau, in the neighbourhood of Orleans, Mary had retired to shed in private those tears, which the death of her husband called forth. In losing Francis, she had lost the playmate of her childhood, the husband of her youth, and what, by many women, would be considered as serious a loss as either, the rank and title of Queen of France. It was here, probably, that she composed those verses to the memory of her deceased husband, which her biographers have so frequently copied, and which are so full of gentle and unaffected feeling.

Mary, however, was at this time a personage of too much importance in the politics and affairs of Europe, to be left long unmolested to the indulgence of that sincere, but commonly temporary, sorrow of a widow of eighteen. New suitors were even now beginning to form hopes of an alliance with her; and two of the earliest in the field were, Don Carlos of Spain, and the King of Navarre. But Mary was determined to listen to no proposals of a matrimonial nature, till she had arranged the plan of her future life. France was no longer for her the country it had once been. Her affectionate father-in-law Henry, and her amiable, though weak, husband Francis, both of whom commanded for her the first rank in the State, were dead; her mother would never visit her more, for her tomb had already been erected at Rheims, and her proud uncles had been banished from the Court. Mary had too high a spirit, and knew her own superiority too well, to brook for a moment the haughty control of Catharine de Medicis. She felt that not all the blood of all the merchants of Italy, could ever elevate the Queen-Dowager to an equality with one who, as it is said she herself once expressed it, drew her descent from a centinary line of Kings. Catharine felt this painfully, and the more so, that when Mary once more made her appearance at Court, she perceived, in the words of Miss Benger, that “the charms of her conversation, her graceful address, her captivating accomplishments, had raised the woman above the Queen.”

In the mean time, by the Reformed party in Scotland, the news of the death of Francis was received with any thing but sorrow. Knox declared triumphantly that “his glory had perished, and that the pride of his stubborn heart had vanished into smoke.” The Lord James, her natural brother, was immediately deputed by the Congregation to proceed to France, to ascertain whether the Queen intended returning to her native country, and if she did, to influence her as much as possible in favour of the true gospel and its friends. Nor were the Catholics inactive at this critical juncture. A meeting was held, at which were present the Archbishop of St Andrews, the Bishops of Aberdeen, Murray, and Ross, the Earls of Huntly, Athol, Crawfurd, and Sutherland, and many other persons of distinction, by whom it was determined to send as their ambassador to Mary, John Lesly, afterwards Bishop of Ross, and one of the Queen’s staunchest friends, both during her life and after it. He was of course instructed to give her a very different account of the state of matters from that which the Lord James would do. He was to speak to her of the power and influence of the Catholic party; and to contrast their fidelity both to her and to her mother, with the rebellious proceedings of those who supported the covenant.

The Lord James went by the way of England, and Lesly sailed from Aberdeen for Holland. Both made good speed; and Lesly arrived at Vitry in Champagne, where Mary was then residing, only one day before the Prior of St Andrews. He lost no time in gaining admission to the Queen; and though there is little doubt that his views were more sincere and honourable than those of her brother, it is at the same time very questionable whether the advice he gave her was judicious; and it is probably fortunate that Mary’s good sense and moderation led her to reject it. Lesly commenced with cautioning her against the crafty speeches which he knew the Lord James was about to make to her, assuring her that his principal object was to insinuate himself into her good graces, to obtain the chief management of affairs, and crush effectually the old religion. The Prior, Lesly assured her, was not so warm in the cause of the Reformers, from any conviction of its truth, as from his wish to make it a stepping-stone for his own ambition. For these reasons, he advised her to bring with her to Scotland an armed force, and to land at Aberdeen, or some northern port, where the Earl of Huntly and her other friends would join her with a numerous army, at the head of which she might advance towards Edinburgh, and defeat at once the machinations of her enemies. The Queen, in reply to all this, merely desired that Lesly should remain with her till she returned to Scotland, commanding him to write, in the mean time, to the Lords and Prelates who sent him, to inform them of her favourable sentiments towards them, and of her intention to come speedily home.[27 - Keith, p. 157 and 160.]

The day after Lesly’s audience, Mary’s old friend the Lord James (for it will be remembered, that thirteen years before he had come to France with her, and he had in the interval paid her one or two visits) obtained an interview with his sister. He had every desire to retain the favourable place which he flattered himself he held in her estimation; and, though so rigid a Reformer among his Scottish friends, his conscience does not seem to have prevented him from paying all the court he could to his Catholic Sovereign. In the course of his conversation with her, he carefully avoided every subject which might have been disagreeable to Mary. He beseeched her to believe, that she would not find the remotest occasion for any foreign troops in Scotland, as the whole nation was prepared faithfully to obey her. This assurance was true, as it turned out; but it is not quite certain whether the Prior of St Andrews was thinking, at the time, so much of its truth, as of its being convenient, for various reasons, that Mary should have no standing force, at her command, in her own kingdom. Mary gave to her brother the same general sort of answer that she had previously given to Lesly. At the same time, she was secretly disposed to attribute greater weight to his arguments, and treat him with higher consideration, for a reason which Melville furnishes. It appears that the French noblemen, who, on the conclusion of peace with England had returned from Scotland, had all assured her, that she would find it most for her interest to associate in her councils the leaders of the Reformers, – particularly the Prior himself, – the Earl of Argyle, who had married her natural sister, the Lady Jane Stuart, – and Maitland of Lethington.

It is worthy of notice, that, affairs of state having been discussed, the Prior ventured to speak a word or two for his own interest. He requested that the Earldom of Murray might be conferred on him, and the Queen promised to attend to his request on her return to Scotland. Having thus prudently discharged his commission, the Lord James took his leave, visiting Elizabeth on his way home, as he had already done before passing over into France. About the same time, many of the Scotch nobility, in anticipation of her speedy return, came to pay their duty to the Queen, and, among them, was the celebrated Earl of Bothwell.[28 - Keith, p. 160, & seq.]

CHAPTER VI.

MARY’S RETURN TO SCOTLAND, AND PREVIOUS NEGOTIATIONS WITH ELIZABETH

Elizabeth being informed of Mary’s intended movements, thought the opportunity a favourable one, for adjusting with her one or two of their mutual disagreements. Mary’s refusal to ratify the celebrated treaty of Edinburgh, had particularly galled the English Queen. Most of the essential articles of that treaty had already been carried into effect; and as Francis and Mary had sent their ambassadors into Scotland with full powers, they were bound according to the ordinary laws of diplomacy, to agree to whatever concessions their plenipotentiaries made. But, as Robertson has remarked, Cecil “had proved greatly an overmatch for Monluc.” In the sixth article, which was by far the most offensive to the Scottish Queen, he had got the French delegates to consent to a declaration, that Francis and Mary should abstain from using and bearing the title and arms of the kingdom of England, not only during the life of Elizabeth, but “in all times coming.” There was here so palpable a departure from all law and justice, that, if there was ever a case in which a sovereign was justified in refusing to sanction the blunders of his representatives, it was this. Robertson’s observations on the point are forcible and correct. “The ratification of this article,” says he, “would have been of the most fatal consequence to Mary. The Crown of England was an object worthy of her ambition. Her pretensions to it gave her great dignity and importance in the eyes of all Europe. By many, her title was esteemed preferable to that of Elizabeth. Among the English themselves, the Roman Catholics, who formed at that time a numerous and active party, openly espoused this opinion; and even the Protestants, who supported Elizabeth’s throne, could not deny the Queen of Scots to be her immediate heir. A proper opportunity to avail herself of all these advantages, could not, in the course of things, be far distant, and many incidents might fall in to bring this opportunity nearer than was expected. In these circumstances, Mary, by ratifying the article in dispute, would have lost that rank which she had hitherto held among neighbouring princes; the zeal of her adherents must have gradually cooled; and she might have renounced, from that moment, all hopes of ever wearing the English crown.”

Mary, therefore, cannot be, in fairness, blamed for her conduct regarding this treaty. But, as has been already said, she allowed herself to be persuaded to a very great imprudence, when she advanced, what she declared to be a present and existing claim on the English Crown. This was an aggravation of the offence, which Elizabeth could never pardon. She determined to retort upon Mary, as efficiently though not quite so directly. She found means to hint to her friends in Scotland, that it would not be disagreeable to her, were the Earl of Arran, eldest son of the Duke of Chatelherault, and, after his father, presumptive heir to the throne, to propose himself to her as a husband. This was accordingly done, and must have touched Mary very closely, especially as she had no children by her husband Francis. But as Elizabeth had never any serious intention of accepting of Arran’s proposals, she was resolved upon taking another and much more unjustifiable method of harassing Mary.

Knowing that she possessed the command of the seas, the English Queen imagined that she had it in her power to prevent, if she chose, Mary’s return to her own kingdom. Before granting her, therefore, as in common courtesy she was bound to do, a free passage, she determined on seizing the opportunity for again pressing the ratification of the treaty of Edinburgh. With this view, she desired Sir Nicolas Throckmorton, her ambassador at Paris, to wait on the Queen of Scots, ostensibly to congratulate her on her recovery from an attack of ague, but in reality to press this matter upon her attention. The audience which Mary granted to Throckmorton upon this occasion, together with another which she gave him a few weeks afterwards, introduce us to her, for the first time, acting for herself, in her public and important capacity of Queen of Scotland. All historians unite in expressing their admiration of the talented and dignified manner in which she conducted herself, though only in her nineteenth year. We have fortunately a full account of both conferences, furnished by Sir Nicolas Throckmorton himself, in his letters to the Queen of England.

The ambassador, on his first interview, having expressed Elizabeth’s happiness at Mary’s recovery, proceeded to renew the demand which had so frequently been made to her regarding the treaty of Edinburgh. Mary, in answer, said, that she begged to thank the Queen her good sister for her congratulations, and though she was not yet in perfect health, she thanked God for her evident convalescence. As to the treaty of Edinburgh, she begged to postpone giving any final answer in the affair until she had taken the advice of the nobles and estates of her own realm. “For though this matter,” she said, “doth touch me principally, yet doth it also touch the nobles and estates of my realm; and, therefore, it is meet that I use their advice therein. Heretofore they have seemed to be grieved that I should do any thing without them, and now they would be more offended if I should proceed in this matter of myself without their advice.” She added, that she intended to return home soon, and that she was about to send an ambassador to Elizabeth, to require of her the common favour of a free passage which princes usually ask of each other in such cases. In a spirit of conciliation and sound policy, she concluded with these words. “Though the terms wherein we have stood heretofore have been somewhat hard, yet I trust, that from henceforth we shall accord together as cousins and good neighbours. I mean to retire all the Frenchmen from Scotland who have given jealousy to the Queen my sister, and miscontent to my subjects; so that I will leave nothing undone to satisfy all parties, trusting the Queen my good sister will do the like, and that from henceforth none of my disobedient subjects shall find aid or support at her hands.” – Seeing that Mary was not to be moved from the position she had taken regarding this treaty, Throckmorton went on to sound her upon the subject of religion. His object was to ascertain what course she intended to pursue towards the Scottish Reformers. Mary stated to him distinctly her views upon this important matter, and there was a consistency and moderation in them hardly to have been expected from the niece of the Cardinal of Lorraine, had we not been previously aware of the strength of her superior mind. “I will be plain with you,” said she to the ambassador. “The religion which I profess I take to be most acceptable to God; and indeed, I neither know, nor desire to know, any other. Constancy becometh all people well, but none better than princes, and such as have rule over realms, and especially in matters of religion. I have been brought up in this religion, and who might credit me in any thing if I should show myself light in this case.” “I am none of those,” she added, “that will change their religion every year; but I mean to constrain none of my subjects, though I could wish that they were all as I am; and I trust they shall have no support to constrain me.” It will be seen, in the sequel, whether Mary ever deviated for a moment from the principles she here laid down. Throckmorton ventured to ask, if she did not think many errors had crept into her church, and whether she had ever seriously weighed the arguments in support of the Reformed opinions. “Though I be young, and not well learned,” she replied modestly, “yet have I heard this matter oft disputed by my uncle, – my Lord Cardinal, with some that thought they could say somewhat in the matter; and I found no great reason to change my opinion. But I have oft heard him confess, that great errors have come into the church, and great disorder among the ministers and clergy, of which errors and disorders he wished there might be a reformation.” Here this conference concluded.[29 - Keith, p. 165, et seq.]

Elizabeth, as soon as she understood that Mary waited for the advice of her Privy Counsellors and her Parliament, before ratifying the treaty of Edinburgh, addressed a letter to the “States of Scotland,” as she was pleased to term them, but, in point of fact, only to her old allies the Lords of the Congregation. The object of this letter was to convey, in haughty and even insolent terms, a threat that, unless they secured their Queen’s assent to the treaty, they might cease to look for any aid or protection from her. In other words, its meaning was this: – Through my interference, you have been able to establish the new Gospel; your Queen you know to be a Catholic; and as it is not unlikely that she may associate in her councils your old enemies the Catholic nobility, it is in me you trust to enable you to rebel successfully against your lawful Sovereign. But I have no intention to give you my support for nothing; and unless your reformed consciences will permit of your insisting that Mary Stuart shall sign away her hereditary right of succession to the English throne, I shall henceforth have nothing more to do with you. No other interpretation can be put on such expressions as the following, couched in terms whose meaning sophistry itself could not hide. “In a matter so profitable to both the realms, we think it strange that your Queen hath no better advice; and therefore we do require ye all, being the States of that realm upon whom the burden resteth, to consider this matter deeply, and to make us answer whereunto we may trust. And if you shall think meet, she shall thus leave the peace imperfect, by breaking of her solemn promise, contrary to the order of all princes, we shall be well content to accept your answer, and shall be as careless to see the peace kept, as ye shall give us cause; and doubt not, by the grace of God, but whosoever of ye shall incline thereto, shall soonest repent. You must be content with our plain writing.”

To this piece of “plain writing,” the Reformers, probably at the instigation of the Lord James, sent a submissive and cringing answer. “Your Majesty,” they say, “may be well assured, that in us shall be noted no blame, if that peace be not ratified to your Majesty’s contentment.” – “The benefit that we have received is so recent, that we cannot suddenly bury it in forgetfulness. We would desire your Majesty rather to be persuaded of us, that we, to our powers, will study to leave it in remembrance to our posterity.” In other words, – Whatever our own Queen Mary may determine on doing, we shall remain steady to your interests, and would much rather quarrel with her than with you. To this state of mind had Elizabeth’s machinations contrived to bring the majority of the young Queen’s subjects.[30 - Keith, p. 167, et seq.]

In the meantime, Mary had sent an ambassador into England to demand a safe conduct for her approaching voyage. This was expressly refused; and Throckmorton was again ordered to request an audience with Mary, to explain the motives of this refusal. “In this conference,” observes Robertson, “Mary exerted all that dignity and vigour of mind of which she was so capable, and at no period of her life, were her abilities displayed to greater advantage.” Throckmorton had recourse to the endless subject of the treaty of 1560, or, as it is more commonly called, the treaty of Edinburgh, as the apology his mistress offered for having, with studied disrespect, denied the suit made by Mary’s ambassador, in the presence of a numerous audience, – a direct breach of courtly etiquette. Mary, before answering Throckmorton, commanded all her attendants to retire, and then said, – “I like not to have so many witnesses of my passions as the Queen, your mistress, was content to have, when she talked with M. D’Oysel. There is nothing that doth more grieve me, than that I did so forget myself, as to require of the Queen, your mistress, that favour, which I had no need to ask. I may pass well enough home into my own realm, I think, without her passport or license; for, though the late king, your master, used all the impeachment he could, both to stay me and catch me, when I came hither, yet you know, M. l’Ambassadeur, I came hither safely, and I may have as good means to help me home again, if I could employ my friends.” “It seemeth,” she added, with much truth, “that the Queen, your mistress, maketh more account of the amity of my disobedient subjects, than she doth of me, their sovereign, who am her equal in degree, though inferior in wisdom and experience, her nighest kinswoman, and her next neighbour.” She then proceeded very forcibly to state, once more, her reasons for refusing to ratify the treaty. It had been made, she said, during the life of Francis II., who, as her lord and husband, was more responsible for it than she. Upon his death, she ceased to look for advice to the council of France, neither her uncles nor her own subjects, nor Elizabeth herself, thinking it meet, that she should be guided by any council but that of Scotland. There were none of her ministers with her; the matter was important; it touched both them and her; and she, therefore, considered it her duty to wait, till she should get the opinions of the wisest of them. As soon as she did, she undertook to send Elizabeth whatever answer might appear to be reasonable. “The Queen, your mistress,” observed Mary, “saith that I am young; she might say that I were as foolish as young, if I would, in the state and country that I am in, proceed to such a matter, of myself, without any counsel; for that which was done by the King, my late lord and husband, must not be taken to be my act; and yet I will say, truly, unto ye, and as God favours me, I did never mean otherwise, unto the Queen, your mistress, than becometh me to my good sister and cousin, nor meant her any more harm than to myself. God forgive them that have otherwise persuaded her, if there be any such.”

It may seem strange, that as the sixth article was the only one in the whole treaty of Edinburgh, which occasioned any disagreement, it was not proposed to make some alteration in it, which might have rendered it satisfactory to all parties. Mary would have had no objection to have given up all claim upon the Crown of England, during the lifetime of Elizabeth, and in favour of children born by her in lawful wedlock, – if, failing these children, her own right was acknowledged. There could have been little difficulty, one would have thought, in expressing the objectionable article accordingly. But this amendment would not by any means have suited the views of Elizabeth.[31 - Robertson says, that the amendment would not have been approved of by “either Queen.” He alleges that Mary had only “suspended” the prosecution of her title to the English Crown; and that “she determined to revive her claim, on the first prospect of success.” That Robertson has, in this instance, done injustice to Mary, is evident, from the exact consistency of her future conduct, with what will be found stated in the text. —Robertson, Vol. ii. p. 200.] To have acknowledged Mary’s right of succession would have been at once to have pointed out to all the Catholics of Europe, the person to whom they were to pay their court, on account not only of her present influence, but of the much greater which awaited her. Besides, it might have had the appearance of leaving it doubtful, whether Elizabeth’s possession of the throne was not conceded to her, more as a favour than as a right. This extreme jealousy on the part of the English Queen, originated in Mary having imprudently allowed herself to be persuaded to bear the arms of England, diversely quartered with her own, at the time Elizabeth was first called to the crown. At the interview we have been describing, Throckmorton, being silenced with regard to the ratification of the treaty, thought he might with propriety advert to this other subject of complaint.

“I refer it to your own judgment, Madam,” said he, “if any thing can be more prejudicial to a prince, than to usurp the title and interest belonging to him.” Mary’s answer deserves particular attention. “M. L’Ambassadeur,” said she, “I was then under the commandment of King Henry my father, and of the king my lord and husband; and whatsoever was then done by their order and commandments, the same was in like manner continued until both their deaths; since which time, you know I neither bore the arms, or used the title of England. Methinks,” she added, “these my doings might ascertain the queen your mistress, that that which was done before, was done by commandment of them that had power over me; and also, in reason, she ought to be satisfied, seeing I (now) order my doings, as I tell ye.” With this answer Throckmorton took his leave.[32 - Keith, p. 170. et seq. Robertson says, that at the period of these conferences, Mary was only in her eighteenth year; but, as they both took place in 1561, she must have been in her nineteenth year, which Keith confirms, who says (page 178), “The readers having now perused several original conferences, will, I suppose, clearly discern the fine spirit and genius of that princess, who was yet but in the 19th year of her age.”]

Seeing that matters could not be more amicably adjusted, Mary prepared to return home, independent of Elizabeth’s permission. Yet it was not without many a bitter regret that she thought of leaving all the fascinations of her adopted country, France. When left alone, she was frequently found in tears; and it is more than probable, that, as Miss Benger has expressed it, “there were moments when Mary recoiled with indescribable horror from the idea of living in Scotland – where her religion was insulted, and her sex contemned; where her mother had languished in misery, and her father sunk into an untimely grave.” At last, however, the period arrived when it was necessary for her to bid a final adieu to the scenes and friends of her youth. She had delayed from month to month, as if conscious that, in leaving France, she was about to part with happiness. She had originally proposed going so early as the spring of 1561, but it was late in July before she left Paris; and as she lingered on the way, first at St Germains, and afterwards at Calais, August was well advanced before she set sail. The spring of this year, says Brantome poetically, was so backward, that it appeared as if it would never put on its robe of flowers; and thus gave an opportunity to the gallants of the Court to assert, that it wore so doleful a garb to testify its sorrow for the intended departure of Mary Stuart.[33 - Brantome in Jebb, vol. ii. p. 82.] She was accompanied as far as St Germains by Catharine de Medicis, and nearly all the French Court. Her six uncles, Anne of Este, and many other ladies and gentlemen of distinction, proceeded on with her to Calais. The historians Castelnau and Brantome were both of the Queen’s retinue, and accompanied her to Scotland. At Calais she found four vessels, one of which was fitted up for herself and friends, and a second for her escort; the two others were for the furniture she took with her.

Elizabeth, meanwhile, was not inattentive to the proceedings of the Scottish Queen. Through the agency of her minister, Cecil, she had been anxiously endeavouring to discover whether she would render herself particularly obnoxious either to Catharine de Medicis, or the leading men in Scotland, by making herself mistress of Mary’s person on her passage homewards, and carrying her a prisoner into England. Her ambassador, Throckmorton, had given her good reason to believe that Catharine was not disposed to be particularly warm in Mary’s defence.[34 - Keith, p. 175. Throckmorton writes, “Thereto the Queen-mother said, The King, my son, and I, would be glad to do good betwixt the Queen, my sister, your mistress, and the Queen, my daughter, and shall be glad to hear that there were good amity betwixt them; for neither the King, my son, nor I, nor any of his Council, will do harm in the matter, or show ourselves other than friends to them both.”] As to Scotch interference, Camden expressly informs us, that the Lord James, when he passed through England on his return from France, warned Elizabeth of Mary’s intended movements, and advised that she should be intercepted. This assertion, though its truth has been doubted, is rendered exceedingly probable by the contents of two letters, which have been preserved. The first is from Throckmorton, who assures Elizabeth that the Lord James deserves her most particular esteem; – “Your Majesty,” he says, “may, in my opinion, make good account of his constancy towards you; and so he deserveth to be well entertained and made of by your Majesty, as one that may stand ye in no small stead for the advancement of your Majesty’s desire. Since his being here (in France), he hath dealt so frankly and liberally with me, that I must believe he will so continue after his return home.”[35 - Keith, p. 164.] The other letter is from Maitland of Lethington, one of the ablest men among the Scotch Reformers, and the personal friend and co-adjutor of the Lord James, to Sir William Cecil. In this letter he says; – “I do also allow your opinion anent the Queen our Sovereign’s journey towards Scotland, whose coming hither, if she be enemy to the religion, and so affected towards that realm as she yet appeareth, shall not fail to raise wonderful tragedies.” He then proceeds to point out, that, as Elizabeth’s object, for her own sake, must be to prevent the Catholics from gaining ground in Scotland, her best means of obtaining such an object, is to prevent a Queen from returning into the kingdom, who “shall so easily win to her party the whole Papists, and so many Protestants as be either addicted to the French faction, covetous, inconstant, uneasy, ignorant, or careless.” – “So long as her Highness is absent,” he adds, “in this case there is no peril; but you may judge what the presence of a prince being craftily counselled is able to bring to pass.” “For my opinion,” he concludes, “anent the continuance of amity betwixt these two realms, there is no danger of breach so long as the Queen is absent; but her presence may alter many things.”[36 - Keith, Appendix, p. 92.]

To make assurance doubly sure, Cecil desired Randolph, the English resident in Scotland, to feel the pulse of the nobility. On the 9th of August 1561, only a few days before Mary sailed from France, Randolph wrote from Edinburgh an epistle to Cecil, in which he assures him that it will be a “stout adventure for a sick crazed woman,” (a singular mode of designating Mary), to venture home to a country so little disposed to receive her. “I have shewn your Honour’s letters,” he says, “unto the Lord James, Lord Morton, Lord Lethington; they wish, as your Honour doth, that she might be stayed yet for a space; and if it were not for their obedience sake, some of them care not tho’ they never saw her face.” – And again – “Whatsomever cometh of this, he (Lethington), findeth it ever best that she come not.” Knox also, it seems, had been written to, and had expressed his resolution to resist to the last Mary’s authority. “By such letters as ye have last received,” says Randolph, “your Honour somewhat understandeth of Mr Knox himself, and also of others, what is determined, – he himself to abide the uttermost, and others never to leave him, until God hath taken his life.” – “His daily prayer is, for the maintenance of unity with England, and that God will never suffer men to be so ungrate as by any persuasion to run headlong unto the destruction of them that have saved their lives, and restored their country to liberty.”[37 - Robertson, Appendix, No. 5. – from the Cotton Library.]

Elizabeth having thus felt her way, and being satisfied that she might with safety pursue her own inclinations, was determined not to rest contented with the mere refusal of passports. Throckmorton was ordered to ascertain exactly when and how Mary intended sailing. The Scottish Queen became aware of his drift, from some questions he put to her, and said to him cuttingly, – “I trust the wind will be so favourable, as I shall not need to come on the coast of England; and if I do, then M. l’Ambassadeur, the Queen, your mistress, shall have me in her hands to do her will of me; and if she be so hard-hearted as to desire my end, she may then do her pleasure, and make sacrifice of me. Peradventure, that casualty might be better for me than to live.” Throckmorton, however, made good his point, and was able to inform Elizabeth that Mary would sail either from Havre-de-Grace or Calais, and that she would first proceed along the coast of Flanders, and then strike over to Scotland. For the greater certainty, he suggested the propriety of some spies being sent across to the French coast, who would give the earliest intelligence of her movements. Profiting by this and other information, all the best historians of the time agree in stating, that Elizabeth sent a squadron to sea with all expedition. It was only a thick and unexpected fog which prevented these vessels from falling in with that in which Mary sailed. The smaller craft which carried her furniture, they did meet with, and, believing them to be the prize they were in search of, they boarded and examined them. One ship they detained, in which was the Earl of Eglinton, and some of Mary’s horses and mules, and, under the pretence of suspecting it of piracy, actually carried it into an English harbour. The affectation of “clearing the seas from pirates,” as Cecil expresses it, was a mere after-thought, invented to do away with the suspicion which attached itself to this unsuccessful attempt. Its real purpose was openly talked of at the time. Sir Nicholas Bacon, Lord Keeper, in a speech he made at a meeting of the Privy Council in 1562, said frankly, – “Think ye that the Scottish Queen’s suit, made in all friendly manner, to come through England at the time she left France, and the denial thereof, unless the treaty were ratified, is by them forgotten, or else your sending of your ships to sea at the time of her passage?” Camden, Holinshed, Spottiswoode, Stranguage, and Buchanan, all speak to the same effect; and Elizabeth’s intentions, though frustrated, hardly admit of a doubt.[38 - Keith, p. 178. – Chalmers, vol. ii. p. 418 – Stranguage, p. 9 – and Freebairn, p. 19.]

On the 25th of August 1561, Mary sailed out of the harbour of Calais, – not without shedding, and seeing shed many tears. She did not, however, part with all the friends who had accompanied her to the coast. Three of her uncles, – the Duke d’Aumale, the Marquis D’Elbeuf, and the Grand Prior, – the Duke Danville, son to Montmorency, and afterwards Constable of France, one of the most ardent and sincere admirers that Mary perhaps ever had, – and many other persons of rank, among whom was the unfortunate poet Chatelard, who fluttered like a moth round the light in which he was to be consumed, – sailed with her for Scotland. Just as she left the harbour, an unfortunate accident happened to a vessel, which, by unskilful management, struck upon the bar, and was wrecked within a very short distance of her own galley. “This is a sad omen,” she exclaimed, weeping. A gentle breeze sprang up; the sails were set, and the little squadron got under way, consisting, as has been said, of only four vessels, for Mary dreaded lest her subjects should suppose that she was coming home with any military force. The feelings of “la Reine Blanche,” as the French termed her, from the white mourning she wore for Francis, were at all times exceedingly acute. On the present occasion, her grief amounted almost to despair. As long as the light of day continued, she stood immoveable on the vessel’s deck, gazing with tearful eyes upon the French coast, and exclaiming incessantly, – “Farewell, France! farewell, my beloved country!” When night approached, and her friends beseeched her to retire to the cabin, she hid her face in her hands, and sobbed aloud. “The darkness which is now brooding over France,” said she, “is like the darkness in my own heart.” A little afterwards, she added, – “I am unlike the Carthaginian Dido, for she looked perpetually on the sea, when Æneas departed, whilst all my regards are for the land.” Having caused a bed to be made for her on deck, she wept herself asleep, previously enjoining her attendants to waken her at the first peep of day, if the French coast was still visible. Her wishes were gratified; for during the night the wind died away, and the vessel made little progress. Mary rose with the dawn, and feasted her eyes once more with a sight of France. At sunrise, however, the breeze returned, and the galley beginning to make way, the land rapidly receded in the distance. Again her tears burst forth, and again she exclaimed, – “Farewell, beloved France! I shall never, never, see you more.” In the depth of her sorrow, she even wished that the English fleet, which she conjectured had been sent out to intercept her, would make its appearance, and render it necessary for her to seek for safety, by returning to the port from whence she had sailed. But no interruption of this kind occurred.[39 - Brantome in Jebb, vol. ii. p. 483, et seq. – Keith, p. 179 – and Freebairn, p. 16 et seq.]

It is more than likely, that it was during this voyage Mary composed the elegant and simple little song, so expressive of her genuine feelings on leaving France. Though familiarly known to every reader, we cannot deny ourselves the pleasure of inserting it here.

Adieu, plaisant pays de France!
O my patrie,
La plus cherie;
Qui a nourri ma jeune enfance.
Adieu, France! adieu, mes beaux jours!
La nef qui déjoint mes amours,
N’à cy de moi que la moitié;
Une parte te reste; elle est tienne;
Je la fie à ton amitié,
Pour que de l’autre il te souvienne![40 - Several translations of this song have been attempted, but no translation can preserve the spirit of the original.Adieu, thou pleasant land of France!The dearest of all lands to me,Where life was like a joyful dance —The joyful dance of infancy.Farewell my childhood’s laughing wiles,Farewell the joys of youth’s bright day;The bark that bears me from thy smiles,Bears but my meaner half away.The best is thine; – my changeless heartIs given, beloved France! to thee;And let it sometimes, though we part,Remind thee with a sigh of me.Mary was not the only one who commemorated in verse her departure from France. Numerous Vaudevilles were written upon the occasion, several of which are preserved in the Anthologie Française.]

Brantome, who sailed in the same vessel with Mary, and gives a particular account of all the events of this voyage, mentions, that the day before entering the Frith of Forth, so thick a mist came on, that it was impossible to see from the poop to the prow. By way of precaution, lest they should run foul of any other vessel, a lantern was lighted, and set at the bow. This gave Chatelard occasion to remark, that it was taking a very unnecessary piece of trouble, so long at least as Mary Stuart remained upon deck, and kept her eyes open. When the mist, at length, cleared away, they found their vessel in the midst of rocks, from which it required much skill and no little labour to get her clear. Mary declared, that so far as regarded her own feelings, she would not have looked upon shipwreck as a great calamity; but that she would not wish to see the lives of the friends who were with her endangered (among whom not the least dear were her four Maries), for all the kingdom of Scotland. She added, that as a bad omen had attended her departure so this thick fog seemed to be but an evil augury at her arrival. At length, the harbour of Leith appeared in sight, and Mary’s eye rested, for the first time, upon Arthur Seat and the Castle of Edinburgh.

CHAPTER VII.

MARY’S ARRIVAL AT HOLYROOD, WITH SKETCHES OF HER PRINCIPAL NOBILITY

Mary landed in Scotland with a mind full of anxiety and uncertainty. She came alone and unprotected, to assume the government of a country which had long been distinguished for its rebellious turbulence. The masculine spirit of her father had quailed before the storm. Her mother, whose intellectual energy she well knew, had in vain attempted to bring order out of confusion, and harassed and worn out, had at length surrendered her life in the struggle. For the last two years, it is true, the country had enjoyed, not peace and tranquillity, but a cessation from an actual state of warfare. Nevertheless, the seeds of discontent, and of mutual distrust and hatred, were as abundant as ever. Mary’s religion was well known; and her confirmed devotion to it, was by one party magnified into bigotry, and pronounced criminal; whilst by another, it was feared she would show herself too lukewarm in revenging the insults which the ancient worship had sustained. Such being the state of things, how could a young, and comparatively inexperienced queen, just nineteen years of age, approach her kingdom otherwise than with fear and trembling?

Contrasted too with her former situation, that which she was now about to fill, appeared particularly formidable. In France, even during the life of her husband, and while at the very height of her power, few of the severer duties of government rested upon her. She had all the essential authority, without much of the responsibility of a sovereign. Francis consulted her upon every occasion, and followed her advice in almost every matter in which she chose to interfere; but it was to him, or her uncles of Guise, that the nation looked, when any of the state-machinery went wrong. It would be very different in Scotland. By whatever counsel she acted, the blame of all unpopular measures would be sure to rest with her. If she favoured the Protestants, the Catholics would renounce her; if she assisted the Catholics, the Protestants would again be found assembling at Perth, listening, with arms in their hands, to the sermons of John Knox, pulling down the remaining monasteries, and subscribing additional covenants. Is it surprising then, that she found it difficult to steer her course between the rocks of Scylla and the whirlpools of Charybdis? If misfortunes ultimately overtook her, the wonder unquestionably ought to be, not that they ever arrived, but that they should have been guarded against so long. Nothing but the wisest and most temperate policy, could have preserved quietness in a country so full of the elements of internal discord. Mary’s system of government throughout all its ramifications, must have been such as no Queen of her age could have established, had there not been more than an empty compliment, in those lines of Buchanan, in which he addresses his Royal mistress as one