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

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

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

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 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

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 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 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 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

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

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

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

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

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.