Poor Catharine of Aragon! It were surely sad enough to have borne
the many sorrows of her afflicted life, without having her only
surviving child stamped with such a name of infamy. Mary was the first
queen-regnant of England. The queens of England are classified as
queen-regnant, queen-consort, or queen-dowager. The first alone reigns
in her own right as sole sovereign of the realm. Of the forty queens of
England beginning with Matilda, wife of William the Conqueror, who was
the first crowned consort, and ending with Victoria, the present queen
of England, five were queens-regnant and thirty-five queens-consort.
Elizabeth Tudor, the daughter of Henry VIII. and Anne Boleyn, was
born in 1533, on the seventh of September. On the tenth of the same
month, the royal babe of three days was christened with great pomp and
ceremony.
The walls between Greenwich Palace and the Convent of the Grey Friars
were hung with tapestry, and the way strewn with green rushes. The
baptismal font was of silver; it was placed in the middle of the
church, raised three steps high, the steps being covered with fine
cloth, surmounted by a square canopy of crimson satin fringed with
gold, enclosed by a rail covered with red ray, and guarded by several
gentlemen with aprons and towels about their necks. Between the choir
and body of the church a closet was erected with a pan of fire in it,
that the child might be dismantled for the ceremony without taking
cold. When all these things were ready, the child was brought into the
hall of the palace, and the procession proceeded to the Grey Friars’
church. The citizens led the way, two and two; then followed gentlemen,
esquires, and chaplains; after them the aldermen, then the mayor by
himself, then the privy council in robes, then the gentlemen of the
king’s chapel in copes, then barons, earls; then the Earl of Essex,
bearing the gilt covered basin; after him the Marquis of Exeter with a
taper of virgin wax, followed by the Earl of Dorset bearing the salt,
and the Lady Mary of Norfolk, bearing the chrism, which was very rich
with pearls and precious stones; lastly, came the Dowager-Duchess of
Norfolk, bearing in her arms the royal infant, wrapped in a mantle of
purple velvet, having a long train furred with ermine, which was borne
by the Countess of Kent, assisted by the Earls of Wiltshire and Derby.
The Duchess was supported on the right side by the Duke of Norfolk,
with his marshal’s rod, and on the left by the Duke of Suffolk—the
only dukes then existing in the peerage of England—and a rich canopy
was borne over the babe by the Lords Rochford, Hussey, and William and
Thomas Howard.
At the church door the child was received by the Bishop of London, who
performed the ceremony, and a grand cavalcade of bishops and mitred
abbots. The sponsors were Archbishop Cranmer, the Dowager-Duchess of
Norfolk, and the Marchioness of Dorset.
The future queen was carried to the font, and with the ceremony of the
Catholic church christened Elizabeth, after her grandmother, Elizabeth
of York; and that done, Garter King-at-Arms cried aloud, “God, of
his infinite goodness, send prosperous life and long to the high and
mighty Princess of England, Elizabeth. Then the trumpets sounded, the
princess was carried up to the altar, the Gospel read over her, and she
was confirmed by Archbishop Cranmer and presented with the following
gifts:—A standing cup of gold by Cranmer; a similar cup fretted with
pearls, by the Duchess of Norfolk; three gilt bowls, pounced, with
covers, by the Marchioness of Dorset; and three standard bowls graven
and gilt, with covers, by the Marchioness of Exeter. Then, after wafers
and comfits had been served in abundance, the procession returned to
the palace in the same order as it had set out, excepting that the Earl
of Worcester, Lord Thomas Howard, the Lord Fitzwalter, and Sir John
Dudley, preceded by the trumpeters, carried the gifts of the sponsors
before the princess. Five hundred staff torches carried by the yeomen
of the guard and the king’s servants, lit up the way homeward; and
twenty gentlemen, bearing large wax flambeaux, walked on each side
of the princess, who was carried to the queen’s chamber-door, when a
flourish of trumpets sounded and the procession dispersed.”
The tiny infant, christened with all this ceremony, was created
Princess of Wales when three months old; and when in her thirteenth
month, an attempt was made to betroth her to the Duke D’Angoulême,
the third son of Francis I., of France. Rather a strange proceeding
concerning the spinster queen of England.
The tragic death of Anne Boleyn left this babe motherless at three
years of age.
The first public ceremony in which Elizabeth participated was the
christening of Edward the Sixth. She was then just four years of age,
and was borne in the arms of the Earl of Hertford, brother to the
queen, Jane Seymour. Elizabeth carried in her tiny hands the chrism
for her new-born half-brother; and after the ceremony she walked with
infant dignity in the procession, being led by the hand by the Princess
Mary.
For some time, Elizabeth was allowed to reside in the same palace with
the infant Edward, and she displayed the greatest affection for him.
When she was seven years old she made the little prince a birthday gift
of “a shyrte of cam’yke of _her owne woorkynge_,” which was quite
precocious, considering her tender years.
The Princess Mary evinced great regard for her sister Elizabeth; and
when the brutal King Henry deposed both these princesses from their
rights of succession, and stigmatized them as illegitimate, and sent
word to Mary that she should no longer treat Elizabeth as princess,
Mary wrote a letter to her father, the king, in which she kindly
mentioned Elizabeth thus: “My sister Elizabeth is in good health, and
such a child, too, as I doubt not but your Highness shall have cause to
rejoice of in time coming.”
Anne of Cleves was granted permission to see Elizabeth, even after
her divorce, providing Elizabeth did not address her as queen; and
all of the wives of Henry VIII. evinced great love for the Princess
Elizabeth; and through the influence of Catherine Parr, Henry VIII.
restored Elizabeth to her right of succession, although the act which
pronounced her illegitimate remained forever unrepealed; and after she
had become queen of England, she refrained from requiring Parliament to
repeal those acts of her father which had declared his marriage with
Anne Boleyn null and void; and she contented herself with an act of
Parliament which declared in general terms her rights of succession to
the throne.
While the youthful Edward VI. was king, the Princess Elizabeth was
involved in certain questionable relations with the Lord High Admiral
Seymour, who had married the Queen-Dowager Catherine, a few weeks after
the death of Henry VIII.
Upon the death of Catherine, a year afterwards, Lord High Admiral
Seymour aspired to the hand of the Princess Elizabeth. There is no
doubt that Elizabeth loved Seymour; and, as she acknowledged, would
have married him if the consent of the royal executors could have been
obtained; but as such an alliance was considered beneath her, Elizabeth
was shut up for a time in a sort of imprisonment, and the lord high
admiral was conveniently disposed of by being led to the scaffold.
It is amusing to note that the hand of this much-courted and
confirmed-spinster queen was once offered by Henry VIII. to a Scottish
earl of equivocal birth and indifferent reputation, who actually
declined the honor. But Elizabeth, when queen of England, proudly
refused earls, dukes, and even kings, though it must be confessed she
served the king of Sweden, who was one of her most constant suitors,
rather meanly; for this royal lover sent her a magnificent present
consisting of eighteen large piebald horses, and two ships’ loads of
the most precious articles his country could produce, which princely
gift Elizabeth most graciously received, but wrote to this ardent
lover, that she anxiously hoped he would spare himself the fatigues
of a fruitless voyage,—rather strange royal etiquette, to receive the
suitor’s gift and then reject the giver.
Regarding Elizabeth’s mental acquirements, her learned preceptor, Roger
Ascham, thus wrote:—
“The Lady Elizabeth hath accomplished her sixteenth year; and so much
solidity of understanding, such courtesy united with dignity, have
never been observed at so early an age. She has the most ardent love
of true religion and of the best kind of literature. The constitution
of her mind is exempt from female weakness, and she is endued with a
masculine power of application. No apprehension can be quicker than
hers, no memory more retentive. French and Italian she speaks like
English; Latin with fluency, propriety, and judgment; she also speaks
Greek with me frequently, willingly, and moderately well. Nothing
can be more elegant than her handwriting, whether in Greek or Roman
characters. In music she is very skilful, but does not greatly delight.
With respect to personal decoration, she greatly prefers a simple
elegance to show and splendor, so despising the outward adorning of
plaiting the hair and of wearing gold, that in the whole manner of her
life she rather resembles Hippolita than Phœdra.
“She read with me almost the whole of Cicero and a great part of Livy;
from these two authors, indeed, her knowledge of the Latin language has
been almost exclusively derived. The beginning of the day was always
devoted by her to the New Testament in Greek, after which she read
select portions of Isocrates, and the tragedies of Sophocles, which
I judged best adapted to supply her tongue with the purest diction,
her mind with the most excellent precepts, and her exalted station
with a defence against the utmost power of fortune. For her religious
instruction she drew first from the fountains of Scripture, and
afterwards from St. Cyprian, Melancthon, and similar works. In every
kind of writing she easily detected any ill-adapted or far-fetched
expression. By a diligent attention to these particulars, her ears
became so practised and so nice that there was nothing in Greek, Latin,
or English, prose or verse, which, according to its merits or defects,
she did not either reject with disgust or receive with the highest
delight.”
After the accession of Mary to the throne, the Wyatt rebellion
took place: and as it was reported that the Princess Elizabeth was
implicated, she was confined for three months in the Tower. Elizabeth
was then conveyed to Woodstock, where she endured a less rigorous
imprisonment. Her correspondence was carefully watched, and it was
with great difficulty that she succeeded at length in appealing to
the queen. It was at this time that she wrote upon her window with a
diamond the following lines:—
“Much suspected, of me
Nothing proved can be,
Quoth Elizabeth prisoner.”
As her Protestant proclivities were well known, when by the marriage
of Mary to Philip of Spain, Popedom was re-established in England,
Elizabeth thought it policy to attend the confessional; and upon
one occasion being asked what was her belief regarding the “blessed
sacrament,” she gave this famous and ambiguous answer:—
“Christ was the word that spake it;
He blessed the bread and brake it.
And what the word did make it,
That I revere and take it.”
During this imprisonment, Elizabeth received a message from the queen,
offering her immediate liberty on condition of her accepting the hand
of the Duke of Savoy in marriage. But the proud princess preferred
imprisonment to compulsory wedlock, and she continued for some time
longer in forced seclusion. At length Philip, the husband of Queen
Mary, who seemed to be the person most persistent in regard to this
marriage of Elizabeth, now resolved to try more lenient measures,
as severity would not coerce her into obedience. The princess was
accordingly released from her imprisonment, and invited to a grand
ball at the palace, to which the duke was also welcomed as a guest.
Elizabeth was attired for this occasion in a robe of white satin
embroidered all over with pearls; but the matrimonial matters do not
seem to have advanced favorably, notwithstanding; and the death of
Queen Mary soon after left Philip of Spain a widower, and he himself
now became a suitor for the hand of the young Queen Elizabeth. But to
his suit, also, Elizabeth turned a deaf ear, and Philip was henceforth
her bitterest enemy.
At the time of the accession of Elizabeth to the throne of England, the
English people were much divided in religious opinions consequent upon
the three important theological changes which had taken place in the
short space of twelve years.
“King Henry VIII. retained the ecclesiastical supremacy, with the
first-fruits and tenths; maintained seven sacraments, with obits and
mass for the quick and the dead.
“King Edward VI. abolished the mass, authorized one Book of Common
Prayer in English, with hallowing the bread, and wine, etc., and
established only two sacraments.
“Queen Mary restored all things according to the Church of Rome,
re-established the papal supremacy, and permitted nothing within her
dominions that was repugnant to the Roman Catholic Church. But the
death of Mary was the ruin of all abbots, priors, prioresses, monks,
and nuns.
“Elizabeth, on her accession, commanded that no one should preach
without a special license; that such rites and ceremonies should be
used in all churches as had been used in her Highness’ chapel; and
that the Epistles and Gospel should be read in the English tongue; and
in her first Parliament, held at Westminster, in January, 1559, she
expelled the papal supremacy, resumed the first-fruits and tenths,
repressed the mass, re-introduced the Book of Common Prayer and the
sacraments in the English tongue, and finally firmly re-established the
Protestant Church of England.”
Her Majesty was twenty-five years of age at the time of her coronation.
She sent the usual notification of her accession to the throne to the
Pope at Rome. But in answer, the fiery-spirited old man thundered forth
his maledictions at her presumption in daring to assume the crown
without his leave. Elizabeth, in reply, took upon herself the audacious
title of “the Head of the Church,” and boldly ignored the pontifical
anathemas. But she disliked the strict Presbyterians, or Puritans, as
they were then called, almost as much as she did the Roman Catholics.
Their great leader, Knox, had published a pamphlet upon female
government, entitled “The First Blast of the Trumpet, Against the
Monstrous Regiment of Women.” This was more than the proud queen could
stand, and Knox and the Puritans felt the power of her displeasure. She
was not over fond of preachers or of preaching, and remarked “that two
or three were enough for a whole country.” When her clergy discoursed
upon subjects distasteful to her in their sermons, she would frequently
call out in her chapel, and command the preacher to change the subject
or restrain an exhortation which she considered too bold. She had not
the slightest idea of tolerating any opinions contrary to her own
august will; and she told the Archbishop of Canterbury that “she was
resolved that no man should be suffered to decline either on the left
or on the right hand from the drawn line limited by her authority and
injunctions.”
But we have not space to give either the religious or political
aspects of Queen Elizabeth’s reign. When, in 1558, the death of Queen
Mary was announced to her by a deputation from the privy council who
came to Hatfield where she was then staying to salute her as queen,
she appeared much overpowered by the solemnity of the occasion, and
exclaimed, as she sank upon her knees in devotion: “It is the Lord’s
doing; it is marvellous in our eyes!”
She afterwards adopted as a motto in Latin for her gold and silver
coins, “I have chosen God for my helper.”
On being conducted with much pomp to the royal apartments in the Tower,
attended by an immense concourse of people who graciously greeted her,
she remarked upon entering the well-remembered Tower where she had once
been received through the traitor’s gate as a prisoner, but now entered
the royal palace as acknowledged sovereign: “Some have fallen from
being princes in this land to be prisoners in this place. I am raised
from being prisoner in this place to be a prince of this land; so I
must yield myself thankful to God and merciful to man, in remembrance
of the same.” She was crowned on the 15th of January, 1558, with great
splendor. Upon the morning after her coronation, as she was proceeding
to chapel, one of her courtiers cried out with loud voice, requesting
that four or five prisoners might be released. Upon the queen’s asking
whom these prisoners might be, he replied: “The four Evangelists and
the Apostle St. Paul, who have been long shut up in an unknown tongue,
and are not able to converse with the people.”
Elizabeth answered this strange appeal by remarking: “It is best to
inquire of them whether they approve of being released or not.”
The result of a convocation held for the discussion of this subject was
a new translation for common use.
In the first session of Parliament a deputation was sent to Queen
Elizabeth at Whitehall, requesting that her Grace might think of
marriage, to which Elizabeth replied:
“In a thing which is not very pleasing to me, the infallible testimony
of your good will and all the rest of my people is most acceptable. As
concerning your eager persuasion of me to marriage, I must tell you
I have been ever persuaded that I was ordained by God to consider,
and above all, to do those things which appertain to his glory. And
therefore it is that I have made choice of this kind of life. To
conclude, I am already bound unto a husband, which is the kingdom of
England, and let that suffice you;” saying which she extended her
finger upon which she wore the ring with which the ceremony of her
coronation had been performed. This same demand of the Parliament
was subsequently repeated many times, but until the end of her life
Elizabeth took pleasure in keeping England and the world in suspense
by her grave coquetries, which from time to time betokened a probable
marriage which she herself never apparently desired. Proposals for her
hand poured in from every court of Europe, but though she entertained
some of them for a time, she always managed to break them off in the
end. The man whom she probably really desired to marry after she became
queen was her favorite Dudley, whom she afterwards created Earl of
Leicester. So great was her evident fancy for this man that she might
have consented had he been free; and when the sudden and suspicious
death of his wife left his hand at her disposal, the horror of the
people who believed him guilty of wife-murder restrained her from thus
lowering her queenly dignity. In spite of deceit and all kinds of
wily intrigues, this subtle sycophant succeeded in retaining his place
as favorite until his death, notwithstanding his base plots and false
pretensions.
The century immediately preceding the reign of Elizabeth was renowned
for three most illustrious events,—the invention of printing, which
took place about 1448; the discovery of America in 1492; and the
reformation in 1517.
The age of Elizabeth was also fertile in great events and in great men.
“It was the age of heroism and genius, of wonderful mental activity,
extraordinary changes and daring enterprises, of fierce struggles for
religious or political freedom. It produced a Shakespeare, the first of
poets; Bacon, the great philosopher; Hooker, the great divine; Drake,
the great seaman, and the first of English circumnavigators; Gresham,
the great merchant; and Sydney, noblest of courtiers; and Spenser,
and Raleigh, and Essex, names renowned in history and song. In other
countries we find Luther, the reformer; and Sully, the statesman;
Ariosto and Tasso; Cervantes and Camöens; Michel Angelo, Titian, and
Correggio; Palestrina, the father of Italian music; all these, and
many other famous men never since surpassed were nearly contemporary;
it was an age of greatness, and Elizabeth was great and illustrious in
connection with it.”
The reign of “Good Queen Bess” has been held in reverence, in
comparison with that of “Bloody Mary,” her sister, which was stamped
with infamy; and the “Elizabethan age” is one of the most illustrious
in the annals of literature.
The government of Elizabeth was acknowledged to have been admirably
managed, as regards her foreign policy, her wars, treaties, and
alliances with other European powers. With the exception of Leicester
and Hatton, her statesmen were well chosen. Lord Burleigh was her prime
minister for forty years, and Sir Nicholas Bacon, and his more famous
son, Francis, were among her wise and remarkable ministers.
Navigation, manufactures, and trade, made great advance during her
reign. She was the first to establish trade with Turkey and Russia, and
was the first sovereign who sent ambassadors to those courts. Mirrors
and drinking-glasses from Venice, also porcelain and damask linen
were then first introduced into England; but with all this advance
forks were still unknown, and Queen Elizabeth, and her elegant belaced
courtiers, and her stately beruffed dames, still ate with their fingers.
The first pair of knitted silk stockings ever made in England was
presented to Queen Elizabeth in 1560 by her silk-woman. So much did she
enjoy this luxury of dress, that she henceforth discarded her hose of
cloth, and never after wore any other than those of silk.
Although her preceptor had described the youthful Princess Elizabeth as
plain and sombre in her mode of dress, Queen Elizabeth was famous for
her extravagant and showy costumes, and her great vanity regarding her
appearance. So outrageous in size did her favorite ruffs become, when
the fashion was adopted by her court ladies, that a royal proclamation
was issued limiting them to a certain number of inches in height,
Elizabeth retaining the privilege of wearing them larger and higher
than any of her ladies; and bishops thundered forth their condemnations
regarding the growing extravagance of dress, cautioning their hearers
against “fine-fingered rufflers, with sable about their necks, corked
slippers, trimmed buskins, and warm mittens. These tender Parnels”
said they, “must have one gown for the day, another for the night; one
long, another short; one for winter, another for summer; one furred
through, another but faced; one for the work-day, another for the
holy-day; one of this color, another of that; one of cloth, another of
silk or damask. Change of apparel, one afore dinner, another after; one
of Spanish fashion, another of Turkey; and to be brief, never content
with enough, but always devising new and strange fashions. Yea, a
ruffian will have more in his ruff and his hose than he should spend in
a year; he who ought to go in a russet coat spends as much on apparel
for himself and his wife as his father would have kept a good house
with.”
“The costumes of that age were magnificent. Gowns of velvet or satin,
richly trimmed with silk, furs, or gold lace, costly gold chains, and
caps or hoods of rich materials, adorned with feathers, decorated on
all occasions of ceremony the persons not only of nobles and courtiers,
but of their retainers, and even of the substantial citizens. The
attire of the ladies was proportionally splendid. Hangings of
cloth, of silk, and of velvet, cloth of gold, and cloth of silver,
or ‘_needle-work sublime_’ adorned on days of family festivities
the principal chamber of every house of respectable appearance;
and on public festivals these rich draperies were suspended from
the balconies, and, combined with the banners and pennons floating
overhead, gave to the streets an appearance resembling a suite of long
and gayly dressed _salons_.”
Queen Elizabeth was very fond of display and gorgeous pageants, and her
royal _progresses_ were always attended with magnificent spectacles of
various kinds: sometimes a splendid water procession on the Thames;
again, she rode on horseback, attended by lords and ladies attired
in crimson velvet, with their horses caparisoned with the same rich
material.
The band of gentlemen pensioners, which was the boast and ornament of
Elizabeth’s court, was composed of the flower of the English nobility,
and to be admitted to serve in its ranks was regarded as a high
distinction.
Music was much in fashion in Elizabeth’s court, and she excelled Mary,
Queen of Scots, on keyed instruments, though Mary played best upon
the lute. An instrument resembling a small guitar was much used as an
accompaniment to the voice.
Elizabeth gave little patronage to painting or architecture; the
former art she encouraged only so far as regarded the multiplication
of pictures of herself. At length so many were the poor portraits of
her which appeared, and were mostly caricatures of her royal face and
person, that the queen issued a proclamation prohibiting all persons
from drawing, painting, or engraving her countenance or figure, until
some perfect pattern should be made by a skilful limner. But her
painters did not flatter her as much as her poets.
“The portraits remaining of Elizabeth show how vile, how tawdry, and
how vulgar was her taste in art. They could hardly be fine enough to
please her; they seem all made up of jewels, crowns, and frizzled
hair, powdered with diamonds, and ruffs and cuffs and farthingales and
things; and from the midst of this superfluity of ornament, her pinched
Roman nose, thin lips, and sharp eyes peer out with a very disagreeable
effect, quite contrary to all our ideas of grace or majesty.” She was
so little capable of judging a work of art that she would not allow a
painter to put any shadows upon the face, because, she said, “shade is
an accident, and not in nature.”
Many stories are told illustrating Elizabeth’s extreme vanity. Sir John
Harrington relates:—
“That Lady M. Howard was possessed of a rich border powdered with golde
and pearle, and a velvet suite belonging thereto, which moved many
to envye; nor did it please the queene, who thought it exceeded her
own. One daye the queene did sende privately, and got the lady’s rich
vesture, which she put on herself, and came forthe the chamber among
the ladies. The kirtle and border was far too shorte for her majestie’s
height, and she asked every one how they liked her new-fancied suit. At
length she asked the owner herself ‘if it was not made too short and
ill-becoming,’ which the poor ladie did presentlie consent to. ‘Why,
then, if it become not me as being too shorte, I am minded it shall
never become thee as being too fine; so it fitteth neither well.’ This
sharp rebuke abashed the ladie, and she never adorned herself herewith
any more.”
The sight of her own face in a mirror, as she grew old and became
still more unprepossessing in appearance, threw her into “transports
of rage,” and towards the end of her life she discontinued the use of
a mirror, and it is said that her tire-women “sometimes indulged their
own hatred and mirth, and ventured to lay upon the royal nose the
carmine which ought to have embellished the cheeks,” confident that
her aversion to a mirror would screen their pranks. Still the herd
of flatterers around her were forced to address her as a goddess of
beauty, and she actually seemed to think she could play the part of a
Venus at the age of sixty-five. Or she was at least pleased when her
fawning courtiers called her one.
Sir James Melville gives this amusing account of Elizabeth’s jealousy
of the beauty and attractions of her hated rival, Mary, Queen of Scots.
Melville had been sent from Scotland to London by Mary, to interview
Elizabeth concerning certain matters. Sir James writes: “At divers
meetings we had conversations on different subjects. The queen, my
mistress, had instructed me to leave matters of gravity sometimes,
and cast in merry purposes, lest otherwise she should be wearied, she
being well informed of her natural temper. Therefore, in declaring my
observations of the customs of Holland, Poland, and Italy, the buskins
of the women were not forgot, and what country weed I thought best
becoming gentlewomen. The queen said she had clothes of every sort,
which every day thereafter, so long as I was there, she changed.
“One day she had the English weed, another day the French, another
the Italian, and so on. She asked me which of them became her best?
I answered, in my judgment the Italian dress; which answer I found
pleased her well, for she delighted to show her golden-colored hair,
wearing a caul and a bonnet, as they do in Italy. Her hair was rather
reddish than yellow, curled in appearance naturally. She desired to
know what color of hair was reputed best; and whether my queen’s hair
or hers was best; and which of them was fairest? I said she was the
fairest queen in England, and mine in Scotland; yet still she appeared
earnest. I then told her they were both the fairest ladies in their
respective countries; that her Majesty was whiter, but my queen was
very lovely. She inquired which of them was highest in stature. I said
my queen. Then said she, ‘She is too high, for I myself am neither too
high nor too low.’ She inquired if she played well upon the lute and
the virginals? I said reasonably for a queen.
“That same day, after dinner, my Lord of Hunsdon drew me to a quiet
gallery, that I might hear some music,—but he said he durst not avow
it,—where I might hear the queen play upon the virginals. After I had
harkened awhile, I stood by the tapestry that hung before the door
of the chamber, and seeing her back was towards the door, I ventured
within the chamber and stood at a pretty space, hearing her play
excellently well; but she left off immediately as soon as she turned
about and saw me. She appeared surprised and came forward, seeming to
strike me with her hand, alleging that she used not to play before men,
but when she was solitary, to shun melancholy. She asked how I came
there. I answered, as I was walking with my Lord of Hunsdon we passed
by the chamber door; I heard such melody as ravished me, whereby I was
drawn in ere I knew how; excusing my fault of homeliness, as being
brought up in the court of France, where such freedom was allowed;
declaring myself willing to endure whatever punishment her Majesty
should please to inflict upon me for so great an offence. Then she
sat down low upon a cushion, and I upon my knees by her, but with her
own hand she gave me a cushion to place under my knee, which at first
I refused, but she compelled me to take it. She then called for my
Lady Strafford out of the next chamber, for the queen was alone. She
inquired whether my queen or she played best. In that I found myself
obliged to give her the praise. She said my French was very good, and
asked if I could speak Italian, which she spoke reasonably well. I
told her Majesty I had no time to learn that language, not having been
above two months in Italy. Then she spoke to me in Dutch, which was not
good, and would know what kind of books I most delighted in, whether
theology, history, or _love matters_. I said I liked well of _all_ the
sorts.
“I now took occasion to press earnestly my despatch; she said I was
sooner weary of her company than she was of mine. I told her Majesty
that though I had no reason to be weary, I knew my mistress’s affairs
called me home. Yet I was detained two days longer, that I might see
her dance, as I was afterwards informed; which being over, she inquired
of me whether she or my queen danced best? I answered, the queen danced
not so _high_, nor so disposedly as she did. Then again she wished that
she might see the queen at some convenient place of meeting. I offered
to convey her secretly to Scotland by post horses, clothed like a page,
that under this disguise she might see the queen. She appeared to like
that kind of language, but only answered it with a sigh, saying, ‘Alas!
if I might do it thus!’ I then withdrew.”
The rise of English manufacture is dated from the reign of Queen
Elizabeth. The first paper-mill was set up in 1590, and watches and
coaches were first introduced into England during her reign. “When we
hear of Elizabeth riding to the House of Peers on a pillion in the
beginning of her reign, we should not forget that towards the close of
it she is represented as taking an airing in her coach every day.”
“The daily ceremonial of her court was distinguished by ‘Oriental
servility.’ Her table was served kneeling, and with as many
genuflections as would have contented the Emperor of China. Even her
ministers never addressed her but on their knees. From this slavish
ceremony Lord Burleigh was latterly excused, when age and infirmities
had rendered it painful or rather impracticable; but he was the only
exception.”
It has been said “that Elizabeth never forgot the woman in the
sovereign; and that with greater truth she never forget the sovereign
in the woman.” Poor praise, truly! without heart, without capacity for
any kindliness or womanly tenderness, she lived without a friend and
died without a mourner. Courtiers grovelled in fawning servility at
her feet, women feared her; but no one loved her, and even those who
flattered her despised her.
Of her two celebrated favorites, Leicester and Essex, the first was
perfidious and utterly worthless; the latter was too manly to bear her
insolence, and for that he lost his head. He was too spirited to cringe
at her footstool, and when on one occasion she angrily boxed his ear,
he exclaimed, in indignation, “I would not have taken such an affront
from the hands of the king, her father, and I will not accept it of
a petticoat! I owe her Majesty the duty of an earl, but I will never
serve her as a slave!”
But nevertheless, the petticoat would not be opposed, and Essex
perished on the fatal block, even though his death wrung the small
heart Elizabeth possessed with all the sorrow it was capable of
feeling. She had given Essex a ring in the time of his influence,
telling him, if ever he was in danger to send it to her and she would
aid him. When he was sentenced to die, he sent Queen Elizabeth this
ring, but it passed through the hands of a court lady whose husband was
Essex’s deadly foe. The ring never reached the queen, and Essex was
executed. Years after, when this countess was dying she confessed the
fate of the ring to the queen. The sorrow and remorse which Elizabeth
experienced on knowing that her favorite had thus appealed to her
mercy, hastened her own death.
It was during the reign of Queen Elizabeth that Sir Francis Drake
accomplished the journey around the world and Sir Walter Raleigh made
his famous voyages. Tobacco was first introduced into England by him.
An amusing story is told of the first use of the weed. He was smoking
a pipe one day, when his servant came into the room bearing a tankard
of ale. The simple fellow had never before witnessed the process of
smoking, and supposing that the clouds of smoke issuing from his
master’s lips betokened some awful accident, he flung the ale into his
face and ran from the room, crying that his master was on fire and
would be burned to ashes if they did not come to his aid.
Raleigh once amused the queen by making a wager with her that he could
tell her the exact weight of the smoke of every pipeful of tobacco
that he consumed. The wager was accepted by the queen, and Raleigh
thereupon proceeded to weigh the tobacco he placed in his pipe, and,
after smoking, he weighed the ashes remaining, and informed her that
the difference between the two was the exact weight of the smoke.
Elizabeth paid the wager, saying: “That she knew of many persons who
had turned their gold into smoke, but that he was the first one who had
turned smoke into gold.” The well-known gallantry of this same Raleigh
in spreading his new velvet cloak over the muddy walk for his royal
mistress to tread upon, not only secured him many new cloaks, but the
powerful patronage of the queen.
It was to Queen Elizabeth that the poet Spenser dedicated his poetical
muse, and in his “Faerie Queene” he celebrated and exalted his
sovereign. But the greatest name of her reign, and the one which has
shed the brightest and most lasting lustre upon the Elizabethan age,
was the illustrious Shakespeare. It is stated that the “Merry Wives of
Windsor” was composed by order of Queen Elizabeth, who, having been
pleased with Falstaff, in the play of “Henry IV.,” desired to see more
of him. It is supposed that between 1590 and 1603 Shakespeare produced
the plays of “Venus and Adonis,” “Two Gentlemen of Verona,” “Love’s
Labor Lost,” “Taming of the Shrew,” “Henry IV., V., VI. and VIII.,”
“Midsummer-Night’s Dream,” “Hamlet,” “Richard II. and III.,” “Romeo and
Juliet,” “King John,” “As You Like It,” “Merchant of Venice,” “All’s
Well that Ends Well,” “Much Ado About Nothing,” and “Merry Wives of
Windsor”; and before 1606: “Troilus and Cressida,” “Othello,” “Twelfth
Night,” “Measure for Measure,” “Comedy of Errors,” “King Lear,” and
“Macbeth.” So that nearly all of these works appeared in the reign of
Elizabeth, who died in 1603.
Elizabeth’s contest against Philip II. of Spain, in assisting the Dutch
in their war against Spanish tyranny, was one of the most illustrious
of her foreign enterprises. In this war of liberty against despotism,
Elizabeth’s bravest commanders and most accomplished courtiers
distinguished themselves.
The two conflicting opinions regarding the character and reign of
Elizabeth are thus ably stated by an illustrious writer: “Almost
from our infancy we have a general impression that her reign is
distinguished as one of the most memorable in history; and at a later
period we hear of the ‘Elizabethan age’ as equally illustrious in
the annals of our literature. Her wisdom, her courage, her prudence
and her patriotism, her unconquerable spirit, her excellent laws and
vigilant government, her successes at home and abroad, her wars and
alliances with the greatest and most powerful princes of her time,
the magnificent position which England maintained in her reign as the
stronghold of the reformed religion, her own grandeur as the guardian
of the Protestants and the arbitress of Europe, her magnanimous stand
in defence of the national faith and independence when the Spanish
Armada was defeated in 1588; the long list of great men, warriors,
statesmen, and poets, who sustained her throne, who graced her court,
obeyed her slightest word, lived in her smiles and worshipped as she
passed,—all these things are familiar to young people almost from
the time they can remember, and they leave a strong and magnificent
impression on the fancy. As we grow older and become acquainted with
the particular details of history, we begin to perceive with surprise
that this splendid array of great names and great achievements has
another and a far different aspect. On looking nearer we behold on
the throne of England a woman whose avarice and jealousy, whose
envious, relentless, and malignant spirit, whose coarse manners and
violent temper render her contemptible. We see England, the country of
freedom, ruled as absolutely as any Turkish province by this imperious
sultana and her grand vizier, Burleigh; we see human blood poured out
like water on the scaffold, and persecution, torture, and even death
again inflicted for the sake of religion; we see great men, whose
names are the glory of their country, pining in neglect, and a base,
unworthy favorite revelling in power. We read and learn these things
with astonishment; we find it difficult to reconcile such apparent
contradictions.”
Such are the difficulties which meet us in the study of the reign
of Queen Elizabeth; but a close study of the contradictions in the
character of Elizabeth herself will partly solve the seeming mystery.
Elizabeth possessed great and heroic traits of character, but these
were joined to such a pitiably weak, jealous, and treacherous nature
as to make her an anomaly in the history of the world. She lived in
an illustrious age, fraught with some of the most momentous events in
the annals of time; in a century star-studded with the lustrous names
of genius, whose immortal fame has shed a reflex glory on her reign.
Interests vital to the progress of humanity teemed and surged around
her throne, and lifted her glory high on the topmost crests of the
glistening waves of the on-rushing ocean of enlightened civilization
and religious liberty.
Hentzner, the German traveller, who visited England in 1599, thus
describes Elizabeth’s court four years previous to her death:—
“The presence-chamber was hung with rich tapestry, and the floor, after
the English fashion, strewn with hay, through which the queen commonly
passed on her way to chapel. At the door stood a gentleman dressed in
velvet, with a gold chain, whose office was to introduce to the queen
any person of distinction who came to wait upon her. It was Sunday,
when there was usually the greatest attendance of nobility. In the same
hall were the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Bishop of London, a great
number of councillors of state, officers of the crown, and gentlemen
who waited the queen’s coming out, which she did from her own apartment
when it was time to go to prayers, attended in the following manner:
first went gentlemen, barons, earls, Knights of the Garter, all richly
dressed and bareheaded; next came the chancellor, bearing the seals in
a red silk purse, between two, one of which carried the royal sceptre,
the other the sword of state in a red scabbard studded with golden
_fleur-de-lys_, the point upward.
“Next came the queen, in the sixty-sixth year of her age, as we were
told, very majestic; her face oblong, fair, but wrinkled; her eyes
small, yet black and pleasant; her nose a little hooked, her lips
narrow and her teeth black (a defect the English seem subject to,
from their too great use of sugar). She had in her ears two pearls,
with very rich drops; she wore false hair, and that red; upon her
head she had a small crown, reported to be made of some of the gold
of the celebrated Lunebourg table. Her bosom was uncovered, as all
the English ladies have it till they marry, and she had on a necklace
of exceeding fine jewels. Her hands were small, her fingers long, and
her stature neither tall nor low; her air was stately, her manner of
speaking mild and obliging. That day she was dressed in white silk,
bordered with pearls of the size of beans, and over it a mantle of
black silk, shot with silver threads; her train was very long, the end
of it borne by a marchioness. Instead of a chain she had a collar of
gold and jewels. As she went along in all this state and magnificence,
she spoke very graciously, first to one, then to another, in English,
French, and Italian; for besides being well skilled in Greek, Latin,
and the languages I have mentioned, she is mistress of Spanish, Scotch,
and Dutch. Whoever speaks to her it is kneeling; now and then she
raises some with her hand. Wherever she turned her face as she was
going along everybody fell down on their knees. The ladies of the court
followed next to her, very handsome and well shaped, and for the most
part dressed in white. She was guarded on each side by the gentlemen
pensioners, fifty in number, with gilt battle-axes. In the ante-chapel,
next the hall, where we were, petitions were presented to her, and she
received them most graciously, which occasioned the acclamation of
‘Long live Queen Elizabeth!’”
But while the queen was still at service in the chapel, her table was
set out with the following solemnity:—
“A gentleman entered the room, bearing a rod, and along with him
another, who had a table-cloth, which, after they had both kneeled
three times with the utmost veneration, he spread upon the table, and
after kneeling again they both retired. Then came two others, one with
the rod again, the other with a salt-cellar, a plate, and bread; when
they had kneeled as the others had done, and placed what was brought
upon the table, they too retired, with the same ceremonies performed
by the first. At last came an unmarried lady (we were told she was a
countess), and along with her a married one, bearing a tasting knife;
the former was dressed in white silk, who, when she had prostrated
herself three times in the most graceful manner, approached the table
and rubbed the plates with bread and salt, with as much awe as if the
queen had been present. When they had waited there a little while,
the yeomen of the guard entered, bareheaded, clothed in scarlet, with
a golden rose upon their backs, bringing in at each turn a course of
twenty-four dishes, served in plate, most of it gilt; these dishes were
received by a gentleman in the same order they were brought, and placed
upon the table, while the lady-taster gave to each of the guard a
mouthful to eat of the particular dish he had brought, for fear of any
poison. During the time that this guard,—which consists of the tallest
and stoutest men that can be found in all England, being carefully
selected for this service,—were bringing dinner, twelve trumpets and
two kettle-drums made the hall ring for half an hour together.
“At the end of all this ceremonial a number of unmarried ladies
appeared, who, with particular solemnity, lifted the meat off the
table, and conveyed it into the queen’s inner and more private chamber,
where, after she had chosen for herself, the rest goes to the ladies
of the court. The queen dines and sups alone, with very few attendants;
and it is very seldom that anybody, foreign or native, is admitted at
that time, and then only at the intercession of some person in power.”
This same traveller, Hentzner, states “that he counted on London bridge
no less than three hundred heads of persons who had been executed for
high treason.” Surely a lamentable evidence of Elizabeth’s cruelty.
J. R. Green, M. A., in his “History of the English People,” thus
sketches the character of Queen Elizabeth:—
“Her moral temper recalled in its strange contrasts the mixed blood
within her veins. She was at once the daughter of Henry and Anne
Boleyn. From her father she inherited her frank and hearty address,
her love of popularity and of free intercourse with the people, her
dauntless courage, her amazing self-confidence. Her harsh, man-like
voice, her impetuous will, her pride, her furious outbursts of anger,
came to her with her Tudor blood. She rated great nobles as if they
were school-boys; she met the insolence of Essex with a box on the ear;
she would break, now and then, into the gravest deliberations, to swear
at her ministers like a fish-wife.
“But strangely in contrast with the violent outlines of her Tudor
temper stood the sensuous, self-indulgent nature she derived from
Anne Boleyn. Splendor and pleasure were with Elizabeth the very air
she breathed. Her delight was to move in perpetual progresses from
castle to castle through a series of gorgeous pageants, fanciful and
extravagant as a caliph’s dream. She loved gayety and laughter and
wit. A happy retort or a finished compliment never failed to win her
favor. She hoarded jewels. Her dresses were innumerable. Her vanity
remained even to old age, the vanity of a coquette in her teens. No
adulation was too fulsome for her, no flattery of her beauty too gross.
She would play with her rings, that her courtiers might note the
delicacy of her hands; or dance a coranto, that the French ambassador,
hidden dexterously behind a curtain, might report her sprightliness
to his master. Her levity, her frivolous laughter, her unwomanly
jests, gave color to a thousand scandals. Her character, in fact,
like her portraits, was utterly without shade. Of womanly reserve or
self-restraint she knew nothing. No instinct of delicacy veiled the
voluptuous temper which had broken out in the romps of her girlhood,
and showed itself almost ostentatiously throughout her later life.
Personal beauty in a man was a sure passport to her liking. She patted
handsome young squires on the neck when they knelt to kiss her hand,
and fondled her ‘sweet Robin,’—Lord Leicester,—in the face of the court.
“It was no wonder that the statesmen whom she outwitted held Elizabeth
almost to the last to be little more than a frivolous woman. But the
Elizabeth whom they saw was far from being all of Elizabeth. The
wilfulness of Henry, the triviality of Anne Boleyn, played over the
surface of a nature hard as steel, a temper purely intellectual, the
very type of reason untouched by imagination or passion. Luxurious and
pleasure-loving as she seemed, Elizabeth lived simply and frugally,
and she worked hard. Her vanity and caprice had no weight whatever
with her state affairs. The coquette of the presence-chamber became
the coolest and hardest of politicians at the council-board. Fresh
from the flattery of her courtiers, she would tolerate no flattery in
the closet; she was herself plain and downright of speech with her
councillors, and she looked for a corresponding plainness of speech
in return. Her expenditure was parsimonious, and even miserly. If any
trace of her sex lingered in her actual statesmanship, it was seen in
the simplicity and tenacity of purpose that often underlie a woman’s
fluctuations of feeling. It was this in part which gave her her
marked superiority over the statesmen of her time. No nobler group of
ministers ever gathered round a council-board than those who gathered
round the council-board of Elizabeth. But she is the instrument of
none. She listens, she weighs, she uses or puts by the counsels of
each in turn, but her policy as a whole is her own. It was a policy,
not of genius, but of good sense. Of political wisdom, indeed, in its
larger and more generous sense, Elizabeth had little or none; but her
political tact was unerring. It was a policy of detail, and in details
her wonderful readiness and ingenuity found scope for their exercise.
She played with grave cabinets as a cat plays with a mouse, and with
much of the same feline delight in the mere embarrassment of her
victims.
“Had Elizabeth written the story of her reign, she would have prided
herself, not on the triumph of England or the ruin of Spain, but on
the skill with which she had hoodwinked and outwitted every statesman
in Europe during fifty years. Nor was her trickery without political
value. Nothing is more revolting in the queen, but nothing is more
characteristic, than her shameless mendacity. It was an age of
political lying, but in the profusion and recklessness of her lies
Elizabeth stood without a peer in Christendom. A falsehood was to her
simply an intellectual means of meeting a difficulty.
“She had a quick eye for merit of any sort, and a wonderful power of
enlisting its whole energy in her service. Her success, indeed, in
securing from the beginning of her reign to its end, with the single
exception of Leicester, precisely the right men for the work she set
them to do, sprang in great measure from the noblest characteristic of
her intellect.
“Elizabeth could talk poetry with Spenser and philosophy with Bruno;
she could discuss euphuism with Lyly, and enjoy the chivalry of Essex;
she could turn from talk of the latest fashions, to pore with Cecil
over despatches and treasury books; she could pass from tracking
traitors with Walsingham, to settle points of doctrine with Parker, or
to calculate with Frobisher the chances of a northwest passage to the
Indies. The versatility and many-sidedness of her mind enabled her to
understand every phase of the intellectual movement of her day, and
to fix by a sort of instinct on its higher representatives. But the
greatness of the queen rests above all on her power over her people. We
have had grander and nobler rulers, but none so popular as Elizabeth.
It was only on her intellectual side that Elizabeth touched the England
of her day. All its moral aspects were simply dead to her. She made her
market with equal indifference out of the heroism of William of Orange
or the bigotry of Philip. The noblest aims and lives were only counters
on her board. No woman ever lived who was so destitute of the sentiment
of religion. While the world around her was being swayed more and more
by theological beliefs and controversies, Elizabeth was absolutely
untouched by them.”
For nineteen long years Queen Elizabeth kept the beautiful Mary,
Queen of Scots, in captivity, without right or reason, Mary Stuart’s
defenders declare; but Elizabeth’s upholders claim that Mary was guilty
of many plots against the English Queen.
It is almost impossible to tread the mazy paths of this epoch with
impartial glance and unbiassed opinions. The writers on both sides
of these knotty questions are able and apparently conscientious. We
can but state both sides, and leave the reader to form his or her own
opinion.
That Mary, Queen of Scots, could have been subjected to all the
terrible trials and awful accusations which fell upon her seemingly
defenceless head and still be entirely innocent of the crimes alleged
against her, is quite possible, considering her peculiar situation and
the selfish hatred of her enemies; yet those who believe in her guilt
bring forth very strong evidence to prove that she connived at murder,
and willingly gave herself into the power of the murderer.
This seems too atrocious to claim regarding a woman of the otherwise
winning and kindly character of Mary, Queen of Scots. When two entire
nations,—and one of them governed by a keen-witted, dissembling, and
weakly-jealous queen,—are joined to destroy one poor helpless woman,
and that woman a prisoner in the hands of her enemies, with spies at
every keyhole and adversaries on every side, hoping to raise themselves
to power by her destruction,—it is hardly to be wondered at that
evidence can be found or forged which shall aid them in overwhelming
her in ruin and at length in death.
Either Mary, Queen of Scots, stands forth in history as the most
diabolical instance of hypocritical innocence cloaking the blackest
of infamy which the world affords,—for she was too enlightened to be
excused as a Cleopatra, and too apparently an embodiment of womanly
loveliness and gentleness to be shunned as a Catherine de’ Medici, and
therefore all the more dangerous and insidious a tempter to lead others
to hideous crimes;—or she was the most pathetic and helpless victim of
the most nefarious intrigues, which seemingly none but the devils in
Hades could have originated and carried out, to the lasting disgrace
of civilized and so-called Christian nations, and the indelible
dishonor of the heartless sovereign who abetted and consummated such an
atrocious crime.
Either Mary, Queen of Scots, or Elizabeth, Queen of England, must be
stamped with disgrace and even infamy; or _both_ of them were victims
in the hands of fiendish aspirants for power,—the _one_, _unwillingly_,
helpless as a prisoner, treacherously betrayed; the _other_,
_willingly_, tarnishing her royal glory out of weak jealousy veiled
under hypocritical protestations of political policy and unselfish
devotion to the welfare of her subjects.
If Elizabeth was guilty of putting to death an innocent and persecuted
kinswoman, who, relying on her avowed declarations of love and
friendship, fled to her for safety, only to meet a lingering and
dishonorable imprisonment, and an outrageous and ignominious death,
at the hands of her who basely professed the tenderest sympathy
and sisterly affection,—then Mary, Queen of Scots’ tragic death is
unparalleled in history; for though other queens have died upon the
scaffold, the executioner’s hand was not lifted at the command of a
_near_ and _professedly-devoted_ relation; nor did an _only son_ behold
his mother’s shameful death without raising hand or word to help her
when that _son_ was a _king_ upon a throne. That Mary Queen of Scots,
rightfully claimed the throne of Scotland is beyond dispute; that she
also rightfully claimed her place as successor to Elizabeth for the
throne of England, is clearly proven from the fact that her son, James
VI. of Scotland, ascended the throne of England, as James I., upon the
death of Elizabeth, without any seeming opposition or question of his
rights of succession.
Mary Stuart, queen of Scotland, was born on the 7th of December, 1542,
in the palace of Linlithgow. The blood of the two rival claimants of
the crown of Scotland, John Baliol and Robert Bruce, mingled in the
veins of Mary Stuart.
“It was the injustice of Henry VIII.’s will in ignoring the descendants
of his eldest sister, and placing those of the youngest in the order
of the regal succession next his own children, which rendered it
expedient for Mary, Queen of Scots, afterwards to obtain a recognition
of her rights from Elizabeth, although in point of legitimacy, Mary’s
lineal title to the throne of England was considered by all the Roman
Catholics in Europe, and the people still attached to that communion in
England and Ireland, as more valid than that of Elizabeth. Elizabeth
had, however, been recognized by the Parliament of England as the
successor of her late sister, Queen Mary I., and solemnly accepted
by the realm on the day of her consecration as the sovereign. It was
therefore futile to urge in depreciation of her title the stigma which
her unnatural father’s declaration, her unfortunate mother’s admission,
and Cranmer’s sentence, had combined to pass upon her legitimacy,
for, according to the constitutional laws of England, the crown had
taken away all defects that might previously have existed. The demand
of Mary Stuart to be acknowledged as her successor was in itself the
strongest recognition of the unimpugnable nature of Elizabeth’s rights,
and therefore ought to have been met in a friendly spirit, instead
of being repelled in a manner which naturally inspired suspicions in
the mind of Mary, that Elizabeth intended to supersede her legitimate
claims in favor either of one of the descendants of the youngest
sister of Margaret Tudor, or to bring forward the Earl of Huntingdon,
great-grandson of George, Duke of Clarence.”
It was poor Mary Stuart’s first father-in-law, Henry II. of France,
who cost her her head, by prematurely declaring her queen of England,
in 1559, and it was largely owing to the base treacheries and plots of
her second father-in-law, the Earl of Lennox, that the net-work of vile
lies, and slanders were spread about her in Scotland, which afterwards
so fatally entrapped her, to which the weak and vacillating Darnley
lent himself by turns, and then repenting, sued for pardon, which the
forgiving Mary had no sooner granted, than he was again persuaded by
her enemies to betray her.
In the midst of the labyrinth of conflicting testimonies and evidences,
a thread has been found which, following it to its source, leads us
to the English court of Elizabeth, as the first instigator of those
infamous lies which so many historians have claimed to be the truth,
and which, if so, must perforce stigmatize the unfortunate Mary, Queen
of Scots, as guilty beyond doubt of the terrible crimes of which she
was accused. But researches have revealed a deeper-laid scheme than
was for a long time imagined, and which, if true, brands the English
cabinet, and to some extent Elizabeth herself, as an accessory to that
scheme,—though we will give her the credit to suppose that her aid was
gained by keeping her in ignorance of the vileness of the plot,—with as
great, and even greater infamy, than has ever rested upon the probably
guiltless name of the persecuted Queen of Scots. In proof whereof, we
will give the statements which bear upon this point in their proper
place in the sketch of Mary Stuart’s life, as we proceed.
“With the exceptions of Queen Elizabeth, Catherine de’ Medici, and the
Countess of Shrewsbury, Mary had no female enemies. No female witnesses
from her household came forward to bear testimony against her when it
was out of her power to purchase secrecy, if they had been cognizant
of her guilt. None of the ladies of her court, whether of the reformed
religion or of the old faith—not even Lady Bothwell herself—lifted up
her voice to impute blame to her. Mary was attended by noble Scotch
gentlewomen in the days of her royal splendor; they clave to her
in adversity, through good report and evil report; they shared her
prisons, they waited upon her on the scaffold, and forsook not her
mangled remains till they had seen them consigned to a long-denied
tomb.”
Truly such faithful friendships throughout a life of sorrow and
continued aspersions against her character speak volumes on the side of
Mary’s innocence.
Mary Stuart was but a few days old, when James V., her royal father,
died. When Mary was nine months of age the royal ceremonial of her
coronation was solemnized. The baby queen was crowned with all the
solemnities usual upon the inauguration of the kings of Scotland. The
tiny infant was wrapped in regal robes, and borne in pompous procession
from her nursery into the church where Cardinal Beton placed the royal
crown upon her baby brow, and her little fingers were made to clasp
the sceptre of state, and she was girded with the famous sword which
had been borne by so many warlike monarchs of Scotland. And while
prelates and peers knelt before the tiny queen in solemn reverence, and
royal princes esteemed it an august honor to kiss her baby cheek, the
terrified infant, frightened by all these strange rough men around her,
wept. Poor baby queen! She began her reign in tears and ended it upon
the scaffold.
When Mary Stuart was five years of age she was betrothed to the Dauphin
of France, afterwards Francis II., and when she was six years old she
was sent to France to be educated. She was at this time remarkable for
her exquisite loveliness of form and feature and precocious intellect.
Four young Scotch girls of high rank had accompanied the tiny queen
from her native land, and as they were all named Mary, they were known
as the “Queen’s Maries.” These Scottish maidens were Mary Beton, Mary
Seton, Mary Livingston, and Mary Fleming. When in after years one
after another of these Maries married and left her service, they were
replaced by others bearing the same name, as it was a fancy of the
queen always to have four Maries attending her.
Mary astonished the court of France and all the foreign ambassadors
there assembled, when only twelve years of age, by reciting with grace
and dignity a Latin oration of her own composition, before the king and
a distinguished company. Her essay, written in the style of Cicero, was
a plea in behalf of the “capacity of females for the highest mental
acquirements in literature and the fine arts.”
So beautiful was the young queen at this time that, when on Palm Sunday
she, with all the princesses and ladies of the court of France, was
carrying a palm branch from church, a woman in the crowd was so dazzled
with the beauty and heavenly expression of Mary’s face, that she knelt
at the feet of the child in rapturous admiration, exclaiming, “Are you
not indeed an angel?”
A portrait of Mary Stuart, formerly in the royal gallery at
Fontainebleau, represents her in her fourteenth year. “The color of her
hair and eyes which has been as much disputed as the question of her
guilt or innocence, is of that rich tint of brown called by the French
chestnut; so are her beautiful eyebrows. Her complexion is clear
and delicate, but somewhat pale, her nose straight, and her features
lovely, refined, and intellectual. She wears a white satin Scotch
cap, placed very low on one side of her head, with a rosette of white
ostrich feathers, having in the centre a ruby brooch, round which is
wrought in gold letters _Mariæ Reginæ Scotorum_. From this depends a
drooping plume formed of small pendant pearls. Her dress is of white
damask, fitting closely to her shape, with a small partlet ruff of
scalloped point lace, supported by a collar of sapphires and rubies;
a girdle of gems to correspond encircles her waist. The dress is made
without plaits, gradually widening towards the feet in the shape of
a bell, and is fastened down the front with medallions of pearls and
precious stones. A royal mantle of pure white is attached to the
shoulders of her dress, trimmed with point lace. Her sleeves are rather
full, parted with strings of pearls, and finished with small ruffles
and jewelled bracelets. Her hands are exquisitely formed. She rests one
on the back of a crimson velvet fauteuil, emblazoned with the royal
_fleurs-de-lys_; in the other she holds an embroidered handkerchief.
The arms of Scotland, singly, are displayed in a maiden lozenge on
the wall above her, for Mary was not yet _la Reine Dauphine_. She was
at that time caressingly called by Catherine de’ Medici and the royal
children of France, _notre petite Reinette d’Escosse_, and was the
pet and idol of the glittering court of Valois. ‘Our petite Reinette
Escossaise,’ said Catherine de’ Medici, ‘has but to smile to turn the
heads of all Frenchmen.’”
When Mary Stuart was in her sixteenth year she was married to the
Dauphin, Francis, who was then fifteen years of age. The nuptial
ceremonies and festivities were magnificent in the extreme. Never
had the famous portals of Nôtre Dame received so lovely a bride. Her
appearance is thus described:—
“She was dressed in a robe whiter than the lily, but so glorious in its
fashion and decorations, that it would be difficult, nay impossible,
for any pen to do justice to its details. Her regal mantle and train
were of bluish-grey cut velvet, richly embroidered with white silk
and pearls. It was of a marvellous length, full six toises, covered
with precious stones, and was supported by young ladies. Mary wore
a royal crown on this occasion far more costly than any previous
Scottish monarch could ever boast, composed of the finest gold and most
exquisite workmanship, set with diamonds, pearls, rubies, and emeralds
of inestimable worth, having in the centre a pendent stone computed at
five hundred thousand crowns. About her neck hung a matchless jewel,
suspended by chains of precious stones, which, from its description,
must have been none other than that well known in Scottish records
by the familiar name of the _Great Harry_. This was her own personal
property, derived from her royal English great-grandfather, Henry VII.,
by whom it was presented to her grandmother, Queen Margaret Tudor.”
Nôtre Dame blazed with lights, dazzling jewels, and _grande toilettes_.
As the ceremony was concluded, Mary greeted her husband as Francis
I., king of Scotland; and all the Scottish nobles bent in homage to
him. Handfuls of gold and silver coin were then thrown in the midst
of the assembled crowds of people, while French heralds proclaimed
the marriage, and cried, “Largesse, largesse!” and the royal couple
received the titles of “Queen-Dauphiness,” and “The King Dauphin.”
Magnificent banquets, gorgeous balls, and splendid pageants succeeded
the marriage ceremonies in the church. The royal palace was decorated
with superb splendor and regal lavishness of display. At the grand ball
the beautiful bride, the dazzling queen of Scotland, danced the stately
pavon,—a kind of minuet, which was performed by ladies alone. As her
train was twelve yards long, and was borne after her by a gentleman,
following her in the dance, it was a difficult exercise of grace and
skill for the young bride to achieve. After the dance, a novel pageant
took place in the grand _salon_. Suddenly there issued from the Chamber
of Requests six gallant ships, with sails of silver gauze fastened to
silver masts. Seated on the deck of each vessel, which was propelled by
artificial means, was a prince attired in cloth of gold. Each handsome
prince wore a mask; and as the ship sailed by the groups of ladies,
the chivalrous knight seized a maiden and placed her on the gorgeous
throne beside him. In this exciting game the Dauphin caught his bride,
the lovely Mary Stuart. But Prince de Condé, champion of the Huguenots,
caused great merriment by capturing, as his lady, the wife of his
opponent of Romish faith, the Duke de Guise.
The death of Mary I., queen of England, in 1558, opened the way for the
fatal step of Henry II. of France, regarding his royal daughter-in-law,
the queen of Scotland. At a grand tournament held in honor of the
marriage of Elizabeth of France with Philip II. of Spain, Mary, queen
of Scotland, was borne to her place in the royal balcony on a kind of
triumphal car, emblazoned with the royal escutcheon of England and
Scotland, while she was preceded by heralds who cried, “_Place! place!
pour la Reine d’Angleterre!_” And as the people took up the cry,
“_Vive la Reine d’Angleterre!_” they little imagined that they were
sounding the death-knell of the lovely wife of their dauphin, whom they
all adored. It was the assumption of this title at this time which,
twenty-seven years afterwards, cost Mary Stuart her life.
But marriage pageants, funeral obsequies, and coronations followed each
other in quick succession. At the very marriage tournament when Henry
II. of France had caused his royal daughter-in-law to be proclaimed
queen of England, he met with an accident which resulted in his death.
Mary’s husband was thereupon crowned king as Francis II. of France. But
in less than a year after his coronation, Francis breathed his last,
and the beautiful Scottish queen was left a widow. That Mary Stuart was
a devoted wife to her French husband, all concede; and Charles IX.,
brother of Francis, has left this pathetic testimony to her worth.
Whenever Charles IX. looked upon Mary’s portrait, he would exclaim:
“Ah, Francis! happy brother! Though your life and reign were so short,
you were to be envied in this,—that you were the possessor of that
angel and the object of her love!”
Mary, Queen of Scots, returned to her native land after the death of
her husband, Francis II., and at this point Elizabeth’s injustice
begins. Mary sent a courteous request to the queen of England, that
she should be allowed to pass to her own kingdom through her cousin’s
domains; but this was ungraciously refused. After Mary, Queen of Scots,
reached Scotland and assumed royal power there, she was immediately
beset by suitors for her hand. The King of Sweden, Philip II. of Spain,
and the Archduke Charles, son of the Emperor of Germany, all sued for
her hand,—the former and latter in their own behalf, while Philip of
Spain desired an alliance between Mary and his heir, Don Carlos. As
these three princes had been previous suitors to the English queen,
Elizabeth never forgave the insult, and vented all her spite of wounded
vanity upon the poor Queen of Scots. Then followed the schemes and
intrigues regarding the marriage of the Scottish queen; Elizabeth
claiming that she had no right to marry any one whom she (Elizabeth)
did not approve. At length Mary took the matter into her own hands; and
being really in love with the handsome Darnley, her cousin,—who had
thus far veiled his weak and vicious nature beneath his courtly manners
and attractive face,—this unfortunate marriage was consummated, and
Mary Stuart became the hapless victim of her many enemies.
We cannot recount the details of the many trials heaped upon her by
her weak and unworthy husband and his intriguing father, joined with
Scottish noblemen, who desired her ruin because she was a Catholic.
These earls were not actuated by any fervent zeal in upholding the
Protestant religion; but as Scotland was then professedly a Protestant
nation, these wily nobles used the prevailing opinions of the people
to further their own ambitious schemes. And in denouncing Mary as a
Catholic, and urging that she be dethroned, that her infant son might
be declared king, they were simply endeavoring to grasp the reins of
government with their own hands. These Scottish noblemen were leagued
with the English court; but Bothwell headed another faction, which
explains the seeming difficulty in regard to her being still imprisoned
by the very party who rescued her from Bothwell’s power, and from whom
she was obliged to flee to England, to seek the promised protection of
the English queen.
With her last dying breath, Queen Elizabeth, perchance unwittingly,
substantiated her own treachery, or that of the English cabinet,
and acknowledged the rights of Mary, Queen of Scots. When urged to
name her successor, she said, “My seat has been the seat of kings,
and I will have _no rascal_ to succeed me.” Secretary Cecil ventured
to ask her what she meant by those significant words; to which she
replied,—thereby intimating that all who were not royal princes were
_perforce rascals_,—“I will be succeeded by a king, and who should that
be but the _King of Scots_.”
In spite of the subtle schemes and wily plotting of the most cunning,
keen-witted, and unscrupulous courtiers of those wide-awake and
intellectually progressive times, all of them bent upon the destruction
of one helpless, imprisoned woman, whose very charms and fascinations
and confiding faith in good rather than evil motives, were used by
them as the very evidence to convict her of infamous guilt;—whereas,
these traits of character are the strongest proof of her innocence;—in
spite of all their evil machinations, aided by the jealous vanity of
a queen who in other respects evinced a strong mind, and whose reign
is regarded as one of the brightest epochs in the world’s history;
in spite of all these overwhelming forces conspiring to defame and
destroy the hapless Queen of Scots, nevertheless, our higher instincts
of humanity intuitively plead for the innocence of this unfortunate
Queen Mary, even though, by that very conclusion, we must perforce
tarnish the glory of the illustrious Queen of England. For Elizabeth’s
acknowledged defects of character harmonize more strongly with such
a supposition, than that we should, without violence to our better
intuitions, allow that it could be consistent to link with infamy and
crime Mary’s equally acknowledged loveliness and kindliness of nature,
and devout constancy to what _she_ felt to be vital points in her
Christian faith, while at the same time she allowed the most generous
liberality of belief to others. For of Mary, Queen of Scots, alone it
could be said, what no other sovereign of those days could claim, that
she never permitted persecution for religious differences.
That Elizabeth could be dissembling and treacherous when actuated
by her weak, jealous vanity, all historians fully prove and frankly
acknowledge; that Elizabeth scrupled not even at the death of her
former friends, when her petty spite was kindled against them, other
instances, such as the execution of the Earl of Essex, whom without
doubt Elizabeth loved, yet in a fit of anger condemned to death, most
clearly demonstrate. But that Mary, Queen of Scots, could display such
traits of character, as all testimony, whether that of friends or foes,
are forced to concede to her through long years of imprisonment, while
still at heart she was the infamous spirit of evil which her accusers
have declared her to be,—a very devil clothed in the likeness of an
angel of Paradise,—is against all experiences of human nature, against
all analogous instances in history.
The question of Mary Stuart’s guilt or innocence regarding the murder
of Darnley and willing marriage with Bothwell, is one thing; but the
question of Mary Stuart’s political intrigues with Elizabeth’s enemies
is entirely another thing. As regards Mary Stuart’s connivance with
her Catholic party during her long imprisonment in England, it is
not necessary that she should be proven innocent of such charges to
insure her innocence of the horrible infamy regarding the murder of
Darnley and willing marriage with his murderer. Were she guilty of
these nefarious crimes, all others however black and villanous would
be probable. But her innocence regarding those bloody deeds would not
be impeached by political intrigues to obtain her rightful liberty.
Political scheming was the governmental policy of the times, and he or
she who could be the most wily and intriguing _diplomate_ was looked
upon as one who had achieved the greatest stroke of genius. Surely in
this business none were such adepts as Elizabeth. That Mary Stuart
would plot in behalf of her Catholic belief would not prove that
she was capable of the vilest crimes. And though one should frankly
acknowledge that the death of Mary, Queen of Scots, was an advantage to
the cause of Protestantism, by weakening Catholicism in Scotland and
England, it would not consequently be necessary to prove that her death
was the evidence of any crime on her part, save the insatiate thirst
for power, and consequent scheming and plotting therefor, of which none
of the sovereigns of her time could be said to be guiltless.
Three things are asserted by those who condemn Mary, Queen of the
Scots: that she was guilty of murder, and the vilest crimes of which
a woman’s nature can be accused; that she was guilty of political
intrigues as a Catholic fanatic in behalf of her Roman faith; or that
she was without any religious belief, merely employing religion as a
cloak to her crimes. Now, of course, if she were guilty of the first
accusation, no one could attempt to deny the others; but though she
were guilty of both the last accusations, it would not imply that,
therefore, she was necessarily guilty of murder and revolting pollution.
The historians who defend Mary, Queen of Scots, claim that she was
innocent, not only of connivance at murder and infamous vice, but that
she was also free from all political intrigues, either in defence
of her ambitious greed for power, or in upholding her religious
fanaticism; while the historians who denounce Mary Stuart declare
that she was guilty of all and every crime, both as wife, woman, and
fanatic intriguer. From a close comparison of given evidence on both
sides, the truth would seem to lie between them; for the proofs seem
the stronger which free Mary, Queen of Scots, of connivance at murder,
and vile pollution, while probabilities lean toward the supposition
that she knew of, if she did not indeed encourage, plots amongst the
enemies of England; but as she was unjustly imprisoned by the English,
this was only political scheming; and though it might cost her her
head, from political expediency, it is no proof at all that she was
therefore guilty also of the most shocking and inexpiable corruption.
The plea of that _political expediency_ would of course remove infamy
from the English cabinet and their sovereign, as regards the one act
of decapitating their dangerous prisoner; but at the same time, the
same plea of political expediency would excuse the plotting of Mary,
Queen of Scots, while her substantiated innocence of the viler and more
heinous crimes brought against her character as a wife and a woman,
would at the same time heap upon the English government and Elizabeth
the deepest and most demoniacal infamy, in conniving at such atrocious
and brutal lies against the character and purity of a helpless woman,
that they might strengthen their political schemes against her life.
The question of the effect of her downfall upon the world, as regards
the upholding of Protestantism, and the check to the onrush of
inquisitorial Catholicism, is a very different matter from the question
regarding her innocence as a wife and a woman.
That her downfall strengthened Protestantism will be conceded; and
that her death from political expediency might have been required may
not be denied; which concession would not blot out the treachery of
Elizabeth and her ministers, nor would it involve the acknowledgment
of Mary Stuart’s guilt of aught save political plotting, which, had
she been the _queen_ on the _throne_ rather than the _queen_ in the
_prison_, would have been looked upon as justifiable strategy.
There is no doubt that the quarrel of Henry VIII. with the Pope and
Romish Church was a great factor in the glorious struggle for religious
liberty, and the strengthening of the power of the Reformation, which
has filled not only Europe, but the world, with the effulgent light
of a broader Christian civilization. But God can make the “very wrath
of man to praise him,” and because Henry VIII. was an unconscious and
unwilling instrument in the hands of the Almighty, the praise is not to
the wicked king, but to an overruling Providence.
If Mary Stuart died for her religion, even though that faith was
Catholicism, Protestantism must not fanatically refuse her the martyr’s
crown. But if Mary Stuart and Elizabeth were both women utterly devoid
of religious principle,—and this Elizabeth’s warmest admirers declare
concerning herself, as well as Mary Stuart,—then were these two
women engaged in one of the most subtle, ingenious, and well-matched
political games which was ever played upon the stage of history; and
in this game, Elizabeth showed herself to be the most cunning schemer
who ever wore a victor’s crown, while Mary Stuart displayed the most
heroic and unconquerable fortitude ever evinced by dying gladiator when
vanquished in the Roman amphitheatre.
Unless volumes were written upon the subject, it would be an
impossibility to give a clear recital of the statements made by the
partisans and defamers of Mary Stuart. According to one side, the
famous “Silver-casket Letters” are proved by acts of the Scottish
Parliament and many eminent authorities to have been forgeries; and the
whole scheme of Rizzio’s and Darnley’s murder to have been concocted in
the English cabinet. According to other acts of Parliament and other
eminent authorities, the famous “Silver-casket Letters” are pronounced
genuine and convincing proofs of Mary’s guilt of conniving at Darnley’s
murder, and most shamelessly marrying his murderer.
Now if the “Casket Letters” are genuine, there indeed remains no doubt
of Mary’s guilt. But if the act of the Scottish Parliament, framed Dec.
20, 1567, for Bothwell’s forfeiture, which act of Parliament was signed
by James Makgill, clerk-register (and which document, it is stated, may
be consulted in the register-house, Edinburgh, in the original Latin),
be genuine, the “Casket Letters” must be spurious, and Mary’s innocence
would be proved. It is only upon these “Silver-casket Letters” that her
defamers rest the most important proof of her abetting Darnley’s death
and marrying Bothwell _willingly_, knowing that he was her husband’s
murderer. In these forged letters, Mary is made to plan with Bothwell
the death of Darnley, and her own abduction with a man who had not yet
procured a divorce from his wife, whom only six months before he had
married with the queen’s most open consent.
This act of Parliament for the forfeiture of Bothwell and sixty-four of
his accomplices, after reciting his murder of the “late King Henry,”
proceeds in these words: “And also for their treasonable interception
of the most noble person of our most illustrious mother, Mary, Queen
of Scots, on her way from Linlithgow to the town of Edinburgh, near the
bridges vulgarly called ‘Foul Bridges,’ besetting her with a thousand
armed men, equipped in manner of war, in the month of April last. She
suspecting no evil from any of her subjects, and least of all from
the Earl of Bothwell, toward whom she had shown as great offers of
liberality and benevolence as prince could show to good subject,—he
by force and violence treasonably seized her most noble person; put
violent hands upon her, not permitting her to enter her own town of
Edinburgh in peace, but carried her away that same night to the Castle
of Dunbar, against her will; and there detained her as his prisoner for
about twelve days.”
This act of Parliament, after specifying the nefarious crime committed
against her, in more explicit language, recites: “That, after detaining
Queen Mary’s most noble person by force and violence twelve days,
or thereabouts, at Dunbar Castle, Bothwell compelled her by fear,
under circumstances such as might befall the most courageous woman
in the world, to promise that she would as soon as possible contract
marriage with him,—all which things were plotted and planned by the
said earl and the persons aforesaid, of long time before, even before
their aforesaid conspiracy and parricide (the murder of Darnley),
notwithstanding that at the same time James, Earl of Bothwell, was
bound in marriage to an honorable lady, Janet Gordon, from whom not
only was he not divorced, but no process of divorce was begun. And
in his nefarious and treasonable crimes and purposes continuing and
persevering, he kept and detained the most noble person of our said
dearest mother in firm custody and durance, by force and _masterful_
hand of his armed friends and dependants, until the sixth day of May
last past; on which day, still accompanied by a great number of armed
men, he carried her to the Castle of Edinburgh, which was then in his
power, and there imprisoned her, and compelled her to remain until
the eleventh of the said month, on which day, still accompanied by a
great number of armed men, that he might better color his treasonable
and nefarious crimes and purposes, he carried her to our palace of
Holyrood, and so within four days compelled her to contract marriage
with him.”
Regarding this act of Parliament, Agnes Strickland, the English
historian, says: “The facts chronicled in the parliamentary record,
which are officially attested by the signature of James Makgill of
Rankeillour, the clerk-register, demonstrate at once the falsehood of
his patron, the Earl of Murray’s journal, of Buchanan’s ‘Detection’ and
history of Mary’s reign, of the absurd paper published by Murray under
the name of ‘French Paris’s Second Confession,’ and the supposititious
letters produced by Morton for the defamation of the queen. These are
all refuted by the act of Parliament, which asserts the treasonable
constraint that was put on the queen’s will; and that act, be it
remembered, was framed, and more than that, proclaimed by the heralds
in the ears of the people, six months after the date assigned by Morton
to the discovery of the letters which he produced as evidences of a
guilty collusion and correspondence between the queen and Bothwell. The
act was framed within seven months after the offence was perpetrated;
and it behooved to be correct, because several persons assisted in that
Parliament, as Huntley, Lethington, Sir James Melville, and others, who
were not only present when the abduction was effected, but were carried
away with their royal mistress as prisoners to Dunbar.”
Now let it be remembered that these witnesses for her innocence were,
with the exception of the faithful Sir James Melville, and perhaps
one or two others, no friends of Mary, Queen of Scots, but were the
very parties in league with the English cabinet for her overthrow;
and as Bothwell was not in this league, but was plotting only for
his own scheme of being raised to the throne by marriage with Mary
Stuart, these framers of this act of Parliament, exonerating Mary
and denouncing Bothwell, were not acting through favor of her; and
therefore this strong and overwhelming evidence comes from her very
foes.
The following letter is from Mary Stuart to the Pope when she was at
last out of the power of Bothwell. This letter is from the collection
of Prince Labanoff: “_Lettres de Marie Stuart_, from the Secret
Archives of the Vatican at Rome,”—and will reveal Mary’s feelings on
the subject: “Tell to his Holiness,” writes she to her accredited
envoy, “the grief we suffered when we were made prisoner by one of
our subjects, the Earl of Bothwell, and led as prisoner with the Earl
of Huntley the Chancellor, and the nobleman, our Secretary, together
to the Castle of Dunbar, and after to the Castle of Edinburgh, where
we were detained against our will in the hands of the said Earl of
Bothwell, until such time as he had procured a pretended divorce
between him and the sister of the said Lord of Huntley, his wife,
our near relative; and we were constrained to yield our consent, yet
against our will, to him. Therefore your Holiness is supplicated to
take order on this, that we are made quit of the said indignity by
means of a process at Rome, and commission sent to Scotland, to the
bishops and other Catholic judges as your Holiness seemeth best.”
On the other hand, Mr. Froude, the English historian, does not refute
this act of Parliament, but as evidence of Mary’s guilt, which he most
vehemently declares, cites another act of Parliament, and states the
following:—
“The Parliament met on the 15th of December. A series of acts
embodying the resolutions of the Council were prepared by the Lords
of the Articles,—among them were Huntley and Argyle. The abdication
of Lochleven, the coronation of James, and the regency of Murray were
successively declared to have been lawful; and lastly, in an act
‘anent the retention of their sovereign Lord’s mother’s person,’ the
genuineness of the evidence by which her share in the murder was proved
was accepted as beyond doubt or question.
“When the measure was laid before Parliament, Lord Herries, with one
or two others, protested, not against the truth of the charges, but
‘against an act which was prejudicial to the honor, power, and estate
of the Queen.’ But their objections were overruled. The acts were
passed; the last and most important declaring that ‘the taking of arms
by the lords and barons, the apprehension of the queen’s person, and
generally all other things spoken and done by them to that effect,
since the 10th of February last period, were caused by the said queen’s
own default.’ It was most certain, from divers her privy letters,
written wholly with her own hand, to the Earl of Bothwell, and by her
ungodly and dishonorable proceeding to a pretended marriage with him,
that she was privy art and part of the device and deed of the murder,
and therefore justly deserved whatever had been done to her. Indirect
counsel and means had been used to hold back the knowledge of the
truth, yet all men were fully persuaded in their hearts of the authors
and devisers of the fact. The nobility perceiving the queen so thrall
and so blindly affectionate to the tyrant, and perceiving also that
both he and she had conspired together such horrible cruelty, they had
at length taken up arms to punish them.”
Surely both of these acts of Parliament cannot be trustworthy. Froude
refers to Anderson’s Collection as his authority; Miss Strickland,
to the register-house, Edinburgh, where the act may be seen in the
original Latin. According to one, Mary, Queen of Scots is most clearly
proven innocent; according to the other, Mary is most clearly proven
guilty. The question therefore rests on the validity of the two acts.
The reader may choose between them.
Regarding the famous “Silver-casket Letters,” these two English
authorities thus comment. Miss Strickland says: “Several hundreds of
Mary Stuart’s genuine letters are now before the public, commencing
with those she wrote to her mother in her artless childhood. Not one
of these bears the slightest analogy, either in style, sentiment or
diction, with the eight suspicious documents she is alleged to have
written. But argument is rendered unnecessary by the fact that the
discovery of letters so discrepant with anything ever written, ever
said or done, by Mary Stuart, rests solely on the testimony of Morton,
one of the conspirators in the murder of Darnley. Prince Labanoff,
who has devoted his life to the collection and verification of Mary
Stuart’s letters, rejects this supposititious series, because, as he
briefly observes, ‘there is nothing to prove their authenticity’;
while the elder Tytler, who, as a lord of session, or judge, had been
accustomed to study and collate evidences in the criminal courts of
Scotland, has written two able volumes to expose their fallacies, under
the title of ‘A Critical Enquiry into the Evidences.’”
Dr. Henry, the historian of England and Scotland, gave his private
and most impartial opinion on this controversy in a letter to William
Tytler, printed in “Transactions of Scottish Antiquarian Society,” in
these words: “I have been long convinced that the unfortunate Queen
Mary was basely betrayed and cruelly oppressed during her life, and
calumniated after her death. Many things contributed to involve her
in difficulties and dangers on her return to Scotland; her invincible
adherence to her religion, her implicit submission to the dictates of
her French friends, her having roused the jealousy of Elizabeth by
assuming the English arms, the ambition of her brother James, and the
faithless, plotting characters of others near her person,—in a word,
an invisible political net seemed to have been spread around her,
from which it was hardly possible for her to escape. Your efforts,
sir, to relieve the memory of a much injured princess from a load of
calumny are generous and commendable, and I can assure you they have
not been unsuccessful. There is a great and general change in the
sentiments of the public on that subject. He would be a bold man who
should publish a history of Queen Mary now in the same strain with our
two late historians,—Malcolm Laing and Robertson, whose sophistries
were rightly estimated by that clear-headed and honest historian, Dr.
Henry. Dr. Johnson, a person of a very different way of thinking from
either, pronounced a most decided opinion in favor of Mary’s innocence,
and expressed his firm conviction ‘that the Silver-casket Letters
were spurious, and would never again be brought forward as historic
evidences.’”
Regarding these same “Silver-casket Letters,” Froude says: “These
letters were found in the celebrated casket with the others to which
reference was made in the preceding volume; I accept them as genuine,
because, as will be seen, they were submitted to the scrutiny of almost
the entire English peerage, and especially to those among the peers
who were most interested in discovering them to be forged, and by them
admitted to be indisputably in the handwriting of the Queen of Scots;
because the letters in the text especially refer to conversations
with Lord Huntley, who was then and always one of Mary Stuart’s
truest adherents,—conversations which he could have denied had they
been false, and which he never did deny; because their contents were
confirmed in every particular unfavorable to the queen by a Catholic
informant of the Spanish ambassador, who hurried from the spot to
London immediately after the final catastrophe for which they prepared
the way; and lastly, because there is no ground whatever to doubt the
genuineness of the entire set of the casket-letters, except such as
arises from the hardy and long-continued but entirely baseless denial
of interested or sentimental partisans.”
But in connection with Mr. Froude’s declaration that his faith
rests on them because they were submitted to the _English Peerage_,
impartial statement of evidence demands another comparison between
these conflicting testimonies upon a different link in the chain of
evidence for and against the guilt of Mary Stuart. Randolph was the
English ambassador at the court of Scotland, and in some of his letters
to Leicester he has revealed the English plotting and connivance in
the scheme to ruin Mary, Queen of Scots. Regarding this point Miss
Strickland says:—
“In the selfsame letter which records the round of banquets, masks, and
princely pleasures, the English Mephistopheles, Randolph, exultingly
unfolds to Leicester the items of the black budget prepared with his
approval, against the meeting of the Scottish Parliament, by the
unscrupulous coalition of traitors who were secretly allied with their
sovereign’s husband and his father in a dastardly bond for murder,
premeditated in cold blood, and intended to be perpetrated in the
presence of their queen; and the crime was to be justified, as such
deeds generally are, by slander.
“‘I know now for certain,’ writes he, ‘that this queen repenteth her
marriage,—that she hateth him and all his kin. I know that he knoweth
himself that he hath a partner in play and game with him. I know that
there are practices in hand, contrived between the father and the son,
to come by the crown against her will. I know that if it take effect,
which is intended, David, with the consent of the king, shall have his
throat cut within these ten days. Many thing _grieveouser_, and worse
than these are brought to my ears, yea, of things _intended against her
own person_, which, because I think better to keep secret than to write
to Mr. Secretary, I speak not of them, but now to your lordship.’ By
one of the secret articles of the atrocious pact to which our worthy
ambassador alludes, the life-long imprisonment of Mary was agreed, and
her death, in case of her attempting to resist the transfer of the
whole power of the crown to the ungrateful consort she had associated
in her regality; and to this wrong Cecil, Bedford, and Elizabeth
tacitly consented.”
Such was the villanous treachery of Darnley and his father, leagued
with the English ministers and malcontents in Scotland, headed by
Murray, the plotting half-brother of the queen, against Mary Stuart,
who time and again received her inconstant and petulant husband into
favor, forgiving his outrageous behavior towards her. But Darnley
little knew the schemes of his vile fellow-conspirators. They but used
him as a tool, as long as he could avail their purposes, and then blew
him up with gunpowder, when they had matured their infamous plans, so
that his death should seemingly be the work of his shamefully abused
and marvellously forbearing wife.