CHATELARD'S IMPRUDENT ATTACHMENT, AND KNOX'S PERSEVERING HATRED.
Mary returned from her Northern expedition towards the conclusion of the
year 1562. The two following years, 1563 and 1564, undistinguished as they
were by any political events of importance, were the quietest and happiest
she spent in Scotland. Her moderation and urbanity had endeared her to her
people; and, in her own well regulated mind, existed a spring of pure and
abiding satisfaction. Nevertheless, vexations of various sorts mingled
their bitterness in her cup of sweets. An occurrence which took place
early in 1563, demands our attention first.
The poet Chatelard has been already mentioned as one of those who sailed
in Mary's train, when she came from the continent. He had attached himself
to the future Constable of France, the Duke Danville, and was a gentleman
of good family and fortune, being by the mother's side the grand-nephew of
the celebrated Chevalier Bayard. The manly beauty of his person was not
unlike that of his ancestor; and, besides being well versed in all the
more active accomplishments of the day, he had softened and refined his
manners by an ardent cultivation of every species of belles-lettres. It
was this latter circumstance that gained for him the occasional favourable
notice of Mary. A poetess herself, as much by nature as by study, her
heart warmed towards those who indulged in the same delightful art.
Chatelard wrote both in French and Italian; and, finding that Mary deigned
to read and admire his productions, he seems thenceforth to have made her
the only theme of his enamoured and too presumptuous Muse. To the Queen
this was no uncommon compliment. She received it, gracefully, and
sometimes even amused herself with answering Chatelard's effusions. This
condescension almost turned the young poet's brain. He had left Scotland
with the Duke Danville, and Mary's other French friends, at the end of the
year 1561; but he eagerly seized the opportunity afforded him, by the
civil wars in France, to return before twelve months had elapsed. The Duke
Danville sent him to Mary's court, there is every reason to believe, to
press upon her attention once more his own pretensions to her hand. But
Chatelard, in the indulgence of his mad passion, forgot the duty he owed
his master; and, for every word he spoke in prose for the Duke, he spoke
in verse twenty for himself. Mary, long accustomed to this species of
adulation, and looking upon flattery as a part of a poet's profession,
smiled at the more extravagant flights of his imagination, and forgot them
as soon as heard. These smiles, however, were fatal to Chatelard. "They
tempted him," says Brantome, "to aspire, like Phaeton, at ascending the
chariot of the sun." In February 1563, he had the audacity to steal into
the Queen's bedchamber, armed with sword and dagger, and attempted to
conceal himself till Mary should retire to rest. He was discovered by her
maids of honour; and Mary, though much enraged at his conduct, was
unwilling, for a first offence, to surrender him to that punishment which
she knew would be inflicted were it known to her Privy Council. She was
contented with reprimanding him severely, and ordering him from her
presence.
This leniency was thrown away upon the infatuated Chatelard. Only two
nights afterwards, the Queen having, in the interval, left Edinburgh for
St Andrews, he again committed the same offence. As she went to St Andrews
by the circuitous route of the Queensferry, she slept the first night at
Dumfermline, and the second at Burntisland. Here Chatelard insolently
followed the Queen into her bedroom, without attempting any concealment,
and assigned, as the motive for his conduct, his desire to clear himself
from the blame she had formerly imputed to him. Mary commanded him to
leave her immediately, but he refused; upon which she saw the necessity of
calling for assistance. The Earl of Murray was at hand, and came
instantly. The daring boldness of Chatelard's conduct could no longer be
concealed; the proper legal authorities were sent for from Edinburgh; the
poet was tried at St Andrews, and was condemned to death. He was executed
on the 22d of February, and conducted himself bravely, but as a confirmed
enthusiast, even on the scaffold. He would not avail himself of the
spiritual advice of any minister or confessor; but having read Ronsard's
Hymn on Death, he turned towards the place where he supposed the Queen
was, and exclaimed in an unfaltering voice, "Farewell, loveliest and most
cruel Princess whom the world contains!" He then, with the utmost
composure, laid his head upon the block, and submitted, with all
resignation, to his fate.[73]
Mary remained at St Andrews till the middle of April, when she removed to
Loch Leven, where she had better opportunities of enjoying her favourite
amusements of hunting and hawking. She went thither in considerable grief,
occasioned by the news she had lately received from France, of the death
of two of her uncles, the Duke of Guise, and the Grand Prior. The former
had been barbarously assassinated at the siege of Orleans, by a Protestant
bigot of the name of Poltrot; and the latter had been fatally wounded at
the battle of Dreux. Alluding triumphantly to the murder of the Duke of
Guise, Knox expressed himself in these words, "_God_ has stricken that
bloody tyrant." This enmity to the House of Guise, which Knox carried even
beyond the grave, was now no novelty. Some months before, he had taken
occasion to preach a severe sermon against Mary and her friends, in
consequence of an entertainment she gave at Holyrood, upon receiving news
of her uncles' successes in the French civil wars. Mary had, in
consequence, sent for Knox a second time, when he repeated to her the
principal part of his sermon, in a manner which made it appear not quite
so obnoxious as she had been induced to believe. She had then the
magnanimity to tell him, that though his words were sharp, she would not
blame him for having no good opinion of her uncles, as they and he were of
a different religion. She only wished that he would not publicly
misrepresent them, without sufficient evidence upon which to ground his
charges. Knox left Mary, "with a reasonable merry countenance," and some
one observing it, remarked, "He is not afraid!" Knox's answer is
characteristic, and does him credit, "Why should the pleasing face of a
gentlewoman affray me? I have looked in the faces of many angry men, and
yet have not been afraid above measure."
The third time that Knox was admitted into Mary's presence was at Loch
Leven. This, as indeed every interview she had with the celebrated
Reformer, and she had only four, exhibits her character in a very
favourable point of view. It appears, that whilst the Queen reserved for
herself the right of celebrating mass in her own chapel, it was prohibited
throughout the rest of the kingdom. Some instances had occurred in which
this prohibition had been disregarded; and upon these occasions the
over-zealous Protestants had not scrupled to take the law into their own
hands. Mary wished to convince Knox of the impropriety of this
interference. He thought it necessary to defend his brethren; but his
answer to the Queen's simple question,--"Will ye allow that they shall
take my sword in their hands?"--though laboured, is quite inconclusive.
That "the sword of justice is God's," may be a very good apopthegm, but
would be a dangerous precept upon which to form a practical rule in the
government of a state. Mary, however, knowing by experience that it was
hopeless to attempt to change Knox's sentiments, and not wishing to enter
into an argument with him, passed to other matters. Though she disliked
the rudeness of his manners, she had a respect for the unbending Stoicism
of his principles; and having too much good sense to hold any one
responsible for the peculiarities of his belief, she could not help
persuading herself, that she would finally soften the asperity of those
with whom she disagreed, only upon articles of faith. With this view, she
conversed with Knox upon various confidential matters, and actually did
succeed in winning for the moment the personal favour of her stern
adversary. "This interview," observes Dr M'Crie, "shows how far Mary was
capable of dissembling, what artifice she could employ, and what
condescensions she could make, when she was bent on accomplishing a
favourite object." There is something very uncharitable in the
construction thus put upon the Queen's conduct. She had, no doubt, a
favourite object in view; but that object was mutual reconcilement, and
the establishment, as far as in her lay, of reciprocal feelings of
forbearance and good will among all classes of her subjects. The
"artifice" she used, consisted merely in the urbanity of her manners, and
her determination to avoid all violence, in return for the violence which
had been exhibited towards herself.
Soon after this conference, Mary went to Edinburgh, to open in person the
first Parliament which had been held since her return to Scotland. Its
session continued only from the 26th of May, to the 24th of June 1563; but
during that short period, business of some importance was transacted. The
Queen on the first day rode to the Parliament House in her robes of
state,--the Duke of Chatelherault carrying the crown, the Earl of Argyle
the sceptre, and the Earl of Murray the sword.[74] She was present on
three or four occasions afterwards; but on the first day she made a
speech to the representatives of her people, which was received with
enthusiastic applause. This applause was wormwood to Knox, who, with even
more than his usual discourtesy towards a sex whom he seems to have
despised, says,--"Such stinking pride of women as was seen at that
Parliament, was never before seen in Scotland." He was heartily borne out
in his vituperations by the rest of the preachers. The rich attire which
Mary and the ladies of her court chose to wear, were abominations in their
eyes. They held forth to their respective flocks against the "superfluity
of their clothes," the "targeting of their tails," and "the rest of their
vanity." It was enough, they said, "to draw down God's wrath not only upon
these foolish women, but upon the whole realm." At this Parliament the
Earldoms of Huntly and Sutherland were declared forfeited; an act was
passed for preventing any one from summoning the lieges together without
the Queen's consent; some judicious legislative measures of a domestic
nature were established; and an act of oblivion for all acts done from the
6th of March 1558, to the first of September 1561, was unanimously
carried. This act of oblivion was declared to have no reference whatever
to a similar act sanctioned by the Treaty of Edinburgh, the ratification
of which was expressly avoided by the Queen. Its object, how--was
precisely the same,--namely, to secure the Reformers against any
disagreeable consequences which might arise out of the violences they
committed during the first heat of the Reformation.
An act of oblivion thus obtained as a free gift from Mary, and not as a
consequence of his favourite Treaty of Edinburgh, was by no means
agreeable to Knox. He assembled some of the leading Members of Parliament,
and urged upon them the necessity of forcing from the Queen a ratification
of this treaty. Even the Protestant Lords, however, felt how unjust such a
demand would be. The Earl of Murray himself, one of Knox's oldest and
staunchest friends, refused to ask Mary to take this step. Knox, in
consequence, solemnly renounced Murray's friendship, and a coldness
subsisted between them for nearly two years. Foiled in his object, the
Reformer had recourse to his usual mode of revenge. He preached another
"thundering sermon." The object of this sermon was to convince the people,
that as soon as a Parliament was assembled, they had the Queen in their
power to make her do what they chose. "And is this the thankfulness that
ye render unto your God," said he, "to betray his cause, when ye have it
in your hands to establish it as you please?" Before concluding, he
adverted to the report that her Majesty would soon be married, and called
upon the nobility, if they regarded the safety of their country, to
prevent her from forming an alliance with a Papist.
"Protestants as well as Papists," says Knox's biographer, "were offended
with the freedom of this sermon, and some who had been most familiar with
the preacher, now shunned his company." There must have been something
more than usually bitter and unjust in a discourse which produced such
results. It was the occasion of the last and most memorable interview
which the Reformer had with Mary. As soon as she was made acquainted with
the manner in which he had attacked her, she summoned him to her presence.
He was accompanied to the palace by Lord Ochiltree, and some other
gentlemen; but John Erskine of Dun, a man of a mild and gentle temper, was
the only one allowed to enter Mary's apartment along with Knox. The
Reformer found his Queen in considerable agitation. She told him she did
not believe any prince had ever submitted to the usage she had experienced
from him. "I have borne with you," she said, "in all your rigorous manner
of speaking, both against myself, and against my uncles; yea, I have
sought your favour by all possible means; I offered unto ye presence and
audience whensoever it pleased ye to admonish me; and yet I cannot be quit
of you." She then passionately burst into tears, so that, as Knox says
with apparent satisfaction, they could scarce "get handkerchiefs to hold
her eyes dry; for the tears and the howling, besides womanly weeping,
stayed her speech." The preacher, when he was allowed to speak,
complacently assured her Majesty that when it pleased God to deliver her
from that bondage of darkness and error wherein she had been nourished,
she would not find the liberty of his tongue offensive. He added, that in
the pulpit he was not his own master, but the servant of Him who commanded
that he should speak plain, and flatter no flesh upon the face of the
earth. Mary told him that she did not wish for his flattery, but begged to
know what rank he held in the kingdom to entitle him to interfere with her
marriage. Knox, whose self-esteem seldom forsook him, replied, that though
neither an Earl, Lord, nor Baron, he was a profitable and useful member of
the commonwealth, and that it became him to teach her nobility, who were
too partial towards her, their duty. "Therefore, Madam," he continued, "to
yourself I say that which I spake in public: whensoever the nobility of
this realm shall be content, and consent that you be subject to an
unlawful husband, they do as much as in them lies to remove Christ, to
banish the truth, to betray the freedom of this realm, and perchance shall
in the end do small comfort to yourself." Language so unwarranted and
uncalled for again drew tears from Mary, and Erskine, affected by her
grief, attempted to soften down its harshness. Knox looked on with an
unaltered countenance, and comparing his Sovereign to his own children,
when he saw occasion to chastise them, he said,--"Madam, in God's presence
I speak. I never delighted in the weeping of any of God's creatures; yea,
I can scarcely well abide the tears of mine own boys, when mine own hands
correct them. Much less can I rejoice in your Majesty's weeping; but,
seeing I have offered unto ye no just occasion to be offended, but have
spoken the truth as my vocation craves of me, I must sustain your
Majesty's tears, rather than dare hurt my conscience, or betray the
commonwealth by silence." That he might not be longer under the necessity
of sustaining tears he could so ill abide, Mary commanded him to leave
her presence, and wait her pleasure in the adjoining room.
Here his friends who were expecting him, and who had overheard some of the
conversation which had just taken place, perceiving how much he had
excited the Queen's just indignation, would hardly acknowledge him. In his
own words, "he stood as one whom men had never seen." His confidence,
however, did not forsake him. Observing Mary's maids of honour seated
together, and richly dressed, he took the opportunity, that he might not
lose his time, of giving them also some gratuitous advice. "Fair ladies,"
he said with a smile, "how pleasant were this life of yours, if it should
ever abide, and then in the end that we might pass to heaven with this
gear: but fy upon that knave, Death, that will come whether we will or
not; and when he has laid on the arrest, then foul worms will be busy with
this flesh, be it never so fair and so tender; and the silly soul I fear
shall be so feeble, that it can neither carry with it gold, garnishing,
targeting, pearl, nor precious stones." Shortly afterwards Erskine, who
had somewhat pacified the Queen, came to inform him that he was allowed to
go home.[75]
As the Queen and Knox came just once more into public contact, and that
only a few weeks after the date of the above interview, it may be as well
to terminate our interference with the affairs of the Reformer in this
place. The Queen having gone to Stirling, a disturbance took place one
Sunday during her absence at the Chapel of Holyrood. Some of her domestics
and Catholic retainers, had assembled for the celebration of worship,
after the form of the Romish Church. The Presbyterians were at the time
dispensing in Edinburgh the Sacrament of the Supper, and were consequently
more zealous than usual in support of their own cause. Hearing of the
Catholic practices carried on at Holyrood, they proceeded thither in a
body, burst into the Chapel, and drove the priests from the altar. To
quell the riot, the Comptroller of the Household was obliged to obtain the
assistance of the Magistrates, and even then it was not without difficulty
that the godly were prevailed upon to disperse. Two of their number, who
had been more violent than the rest, had indictments served upon them for
"forethought felony, hamesucken, and invasion of the Palace." Knox and his
friends determined to save these two men from punishment, at whatever
risk. The means they adopted to effect their purpose were of the most
seditious kind. It was determined to overawe the judges by displaying the
power of the accused; and with this view, Knox wrote circular letters to
all the principal persons of his persuasion, requesting them to crowd to
Edinburgh on the day of trial. He thus assumed to himself the prerogative
of calling Mary's subjects together, in direct opposition to one of the
acts of the late Parliament. When those letters were shown to the Queen,
and her Privy Council, at Stirling, they were unanimously pronounced
treasonable, and Knox was summoned to appear before a convention of
nobles, to be held in Edinburgh a few weeks afterwards, for the purpose of
trying him. It was, however, intimated to him, that as the Queen wished to
be lenient, if he would acknowledge his fault, and throw himself upon her
mercy, little or no punishment would be awarded. He obstinately refused to
make the slightest concession, and in consequence nearly lost the
friendship of Lord Herries, with whom he had been long intimate.
On the day of trial, public curiosity was much excited to know the result.
The Lords assembled in the Council Chamber at Holyrood; the Queen took her
seat at the head of the table, and Knox stood uncovered at the foot. The
proceedings were opened by Secretary Maitland, who stated the grounds of
the accusation, and explained in what manner the law had been infringed.
Knox made a declamatory and very unsatisfactory reply. The substance of
his defence was, that there were lawful and unlawful convocations of the
people, and that, as the Act of Parliament could not apply to the
assembling of his congregation every Sunday, neither could he be held to
have transgressed it by writing letters to the heads of his church,
calling them together upon a matter of vital importance to their religion.
The sophistry of this reasoning was easily seen through. It was answered
for the Queen, that his sermons were sanctioned by Government, and that
their tendency was supposed to be peaceable; but that the direct purpose
of the letters in question was to exasperate the minds of the lieges. One
passage, in particular was read, in which Knox said, alluding to the two
persons who were indicted,--"This fearful summons is directed against
them, to make, no doubt, a preparative on a few, that a door may be opened
to execute cruelty upon a greater multitude." "Is it not treason, my
Lords," said Mary, "to accuse a Prince of cruelty? I think there be acts
of Parliament against such whisperers." Knox endeavoured to evade the
force of this remark by a very evident quibble. "Madam," he said, "cast up
when you list the acts of your Parliament, I have offended nothing against
them; for I accuse not in my letter your Grace, nor yet your nature, of
cruelty. But I affirm yet again, that the pestilent Papists who have
inflamed your Grace against those poor men at this present, are the sons
of the Devil, and therefore must obey the desires of their father, who has
been a liar and a man-slayer from the beginning." More words were spoken
on both sides, but nothing further was advanced that bore directly upon
the subject in hand. It is worthy of notice, however, that Knox, in the
course of his defence, actually forgot himself so far as to institute a
comparison between Mary and the Roman Nero. At length, having been fully
heard, he was ordered to retire, and after some discussion, the vote of
guilty or not guilty was put to the nobles. There being a considerable
preponderance of Protestant lords at the meeting, it was carried that Knox
had not committed any breach of the laws. He evinces his triumph on this
occasion by remarking spitefully in his History,--"That night was neither
dancing nor fiddling in the Court; for Madam was disappointed of her
purpose, whilk was to have had John Knox in her will by vote of her
nobility." His acquittal certainly disappointed Mary; but it only served
to convince her more and more, that bigotry and justice were incompatible.
Before concluding this chapter, one of the peculiarities of the Scottish
Reformer's mind deserves to be noticed. That he was a strong thinker and
a bold man, cannot be denied; yet, as has been before remarked, he himself
confesses that he was much addicted to superstition. This weakness, if
real, lowers him considerably in the scale of intellect; and, if affected,
proves that, amidst all the pretensions of his new doctrines, he still
retained a taint of priestly craft. Alluding to the year of which we
speak, (1563), he has incorporated into his History the following
remarkable passage. "God from Heaven, and upon the face of the earth, gave
declaration that he was offended at the iniquity that was committed even
within this realm; for upon the 20th day of January, there fell wet in
great abundance, which in the falling freezed so vehemently, that the
earth was but one sheet of ice. The fowls both great and small freezed,
and could not fly; many died, and some were taken and laid before the
fire, that their feathers might resolve; and in that same month the sea
stood still, as was clearly observed, and neither ebbed nor flowed the
space of twenty-four hours. In the month of February, the fifteenth and
eighteenth days thereof, were seen in the firmament battles arrayed,
spears and other weapons, and as it had been the joining of two armies.
These things were not only observed, but also spoken and constantly
affirmed by men of judgement and credit. But the Queen and our Court made
merry."[76] It would thus appear, that Knox's mind was either a strange
compound of strength and imbecility, courage and fear, sound sense and
superstition, or that duplicity was more a part of his character than is
generally supposed.