MARY STUART.
Most historians begin at the beginning. But our latest historical school has resources heretofore unknown, and quietly anticipates that ordinary point of departure. Mary Stuart is formally brought on to Mr. Froude's historical stage in the middle of the seventh volume, and the reader might be supposed to take up her story without a single preconceived opinion. Doubtless, the average reader does so take it up, unsuspicious of the fact that his judgment is already fettered and led captive. In volume iv. p. 208, Mary of Guise is described as lifting her baby out of the cradle, in order that Sir Ralph Sadlier "might admire its health and loveliness."
"Alas! for the child," says Mr. Froude; "born in sorrow and nurtured in treachery! It grew to be Mary Stuart; and Sir Ralph Sadlier lived to sit on the commission which investigated the murder of Darnley."
There is nothing very startling in this. The reader's mind absorbs the statement, and goes on. In the next volume, (vol. v. p. 57,) while deeply interested in the military operations of the Duke of Somerset, we are told en passant:
"Thursday he again advanced over the ground where, fourteen years later, Mary Stuart, the object of his enterprise, practiced archery with Bothwell ten days after her husband's murder."
Consummately artistic!
The reader has not yet reached Mary Stuart; her history is not yet commenced; he supposes his mind, as regards her, to be a mere blank page, and yet our historian has already contrived to inscribe upon the blank page two facts, namely, she was the murderess of Darnley, and she was guilty of adultery with Bothwell. No evidence has been offered, no argument presented. With graceful and almost careless disinvoltura, Mr. Froude has merely alluded to two incidents, one of which is a fable, and lo! the case against Mary Stuart is complete. For these are the two great accusations upon which the entire controversy hinges, a controversy that has raged for three centuries. Very clever! Very clever indeed!
Give but slight attention to Mr. Froude's system and you will find that his treatment of the historical characters he dislikes is after the recipe of Figaro: "Calomniez, calomniez, il en reste toujours quelque chose;" and that under the sentimentality of his "summer seas," "pleasant mountain breezes," "murmuring streams," "autumnal suns," patriotic longings, and pious reveries, there is a vein of persistent and industrious cunning much resembling that of Mr. Harold Skimpole, who is a perfect child in all matters concerning money, who knows nothing of its value, who "loves to see the sunshine, loves to hear the wind blow; loves to watch the changing lights and shadows; loves to hear the birds, those choristers in nature's great cathedral"—but, meantime, keeps a sharp look-out for the main chance.
Indirection and insinuation are effective weapons never out of Mr. Froude's hands. In an allusion or remark, dropped apparently in the most careless manner, he will, as we see, lay the foundation of a system of attack one or two volumes off and many years in historical advance of his objective point. In like manner, at page 272, vol. i., we are told "three years later, when the stake recommenced its hateful activity under the auspices of Sir Thomas More's fanaticism." Thus the way is prepared for the accusation of personal cruelty, which Mr. Froude strives, in vol. ii., to lay at More's door. More's greatness and beautiful elevation of character are evidently unpleasant subjects for our historian, and he grudgingly yields him a credit which he seeks to sweep away in the charge of religious persecution, specifying four particular cases: those of Philipps, Field, Bilney, and Bainham.
These cases have been taken up seriatim by a competent critic, (the reader curious to see them may consult the appendix to the October number Edinburgh Review 1858,) who demonstrates that Mr. Froude's pretended authorities do not tell the story he undertakes to put in their mouth, and that he is guilty of such perversions as are exceedingly damaging to his reputation.
In introducing Mary Stuart, Mr. Froude vouchsafes no information whatever concerning her mind, manners, disposition, or education. It is certainly desirable to know something of the early years and mental development of a character destined to fill so prominent a part in the great events of the period, and to become one of the most interesting personages in history. She is thus presented: "She was not yet nineteen years old; but mind and body had matured amidst the scenes in which she passed her girlhood." (Vol. vii. p. 268.) This is at once a very remarkable statement and a mild specimen of Mr. Froude's command of ambiguous language. Very close and philosophical observers have, we think, already noticed the phenomenon indicated; and although it might not at once occur to every one that young girls usually mature amidst the scenes of their girlhood, yet it was hardly worth the effort of a philosophic historian to give us information so trite. But we suspect Mr. Froude of a deeper meaning, namely, that mind and body were then—at eighteen years—matured, and had attained their full growth. It means that, or it is mere twaddle.
Thus, we are to understand that Mary Stuart, at the tender age of eighteen, was abnormal and monstrous.
Mr. Froude drives his entering wedge so noiselessly that you are scarce aware of it, and in the development of the story he strains all his faculties to paint the Queen of Scots, not only as the worst and most abandoned of women, but as absolutely destitute of human semblance in her superhuman wickedness. That such is the effect of his portraiture, is well expressed by an English critic—a friend of Mr. Froude, but not of Mary: "A being so earthly, sensual, and devilish seems almost beyond the proportions of human nature." (London Times, September 26th, 1866.)
Mr. Froude then gives us a portrait of the young Scottish queen, in which he says, "In the deeper and nobler emotions she had neither share nor sympathy;" and herein, Mr. Froude explains, "lay the difference between the Queen of Scots and Elizabeth." Again we must regret that our author has told us nothing of Mary Stuart's youth, so that we might judge this matter for ourselves. Her life in France was by no means devoid of interest. She was admired and beloved by all. She had reigned there as queen, and young as she was, her opinions were respected in high councils.
Throckmorton, a clever and experienced diplomatist, was near Mary in France, for many years, and, with the fullest means of information, advised Elizabeth day by day concerning her. She is the subject of scores of his dispatches, with none of which, however, are we favored by Mr. Froude. Throckmorton thus announces to Cecil Mary's condition after the death of King Francis:
"He departed to God, leaving as heavy and dolorous a wife as of good right she had reason to be, who, by long watching with him during his sickness, and by painful diligence about him, especially the issue thereof, is not in the best time of her body, but without danger."
But Mr. Froude, who is ready to reveal for our entertainment the inmost thoughts of this "dolorous wife," enlightens us with the sole information that "Mary was speculating before the body was cold on her next choice." Throckmorton, all unconscious of the annoyance he must give a nineteenth century historian, again writes to Cecil:
"Since her husband's death she hath shown, and so continueth, that she is of great wisdom for her years, modesty, and also of great judgment in the wise handling herself and her matters, which, increasing in her with her years, cannot but turn to her commendation, reputation, honor, and great profit to her country."
He continues:
"I see her behavior to be such, and her wisdom and queenly modesty so great, in that she thinketh herself not too wise, but is content to be ruled by good counsel and wise men."
As a general rule, Mr. Froude is not economical of "birth, parentage, and education" essays. Yet, while managing to bestow them on very secondary personages, he has none for Mary Stuart. Latimer and John Knox are favored in this respect, and even to the bastard son of Henry VIII.—"the young Marcellus," as Mr. Froude proudly calls him—are devoted nearly three full pages of gushing enthusiasm concerning his youthful dispositions and early studies. He was, alas! "illegitimate, unfortunately;" "but of beauty and noble promise." (Vol. i. 364-6.)
Soon we see the resources of the psychological school. Mr. Froude informs us (vol. vii. p. 369) that Mary was going to Scotland "to use her charms as a spell;" "to weave the fibres of a conspiracy;" to "hide her purpose until the moment came," and "with a purpose as fixed as the stars to trample down the reformation."
Had it been possible for Mr. Froude to produce one word of testimony from France concerning Mary Stuart's youth that was not of respect, praise, and admiration, from friend or foe, he surely would not have failed to cite it.
In this dilemma, he quotes Randolph, (vol. vii. p. 369,) to show "her craft and deceit;" adding, "Such was Mary Stuart when, on the 14th of August, she embarked for Scotland."
But Randolph at that time had never seen Mary Stuart, and the date of his letter cited by Mr. Froude is October 27th. Under these circumstances it becomes interesting to know what Randolph's opinion of Mary really was before she left France. Randolph writes to Cecil, August 9th, referring to Mary's preparations for departure, "That will be a stout adventure for a sick, crazed woman."
Even for a sea voyage, Mr. Froude continues to prefer a microscope to a telescope. The consequence is, that out of an escort of Mary's three uncles, all her ladies, including the four Marys, more than a hundred French noblemen, the Mareschal d'Amville, Brantôme the historian, and other distinguished men, a doctor of theology, two physicians, and all her household retinue, he can discern no one but Chatelar, who was, as a retainer of d'Amville, in that nobleman's suite. And so we read, "With adieu, belle France, sentimental verses, and a passionate Chatelar sighing at her feet in melodious music, she sailed away over the summer seas." Which we must in candor admit to be a sweetly pretty passage. But in the next paragraph Mr. Froude puts away sentimentality, means business, and throws a bright light on a previous line: "Elizabeth could feel like a man an unselfish interest in a great cause." Here is the paragraph, it is admirable in every respect.
"The English fleet was on her track. There was no command to arrest her; yet there was the thought that 'she might be met withal;' and if the admiral had sent her ship with its freight to the bottom of the North Sea, 'being done unknown,' Elizabeth, and perhaps Catharine de' Medicis as well, 'would have found it afterward well done.'" (Vol. vii. p. 370.)
Of course, it would have been "well done;" because "in the deeper and nobler emotions Mary had neither share nor sympathy;" whereas Elizabeth and Catharine de' Medicis had.
The undisputed record of Mary's arrival in Edinburgh is, that her surpassing beauty and charm of address, arising not so much from her courtly training as her kindly heart, created a profound impression on a people who already reverenced in her the daughter of a popular king, and of one of the noblest and best of women.
Mr. Froude thus renders this record: "The dreaded harlot of Babylon seemed only a graceful and innocent girl." (Vol. vii. p. 374.) In common fairness, Mr. Froude should have given some adequate idea of the condition of the country this inexperienced young queen was called to rule. This he fails to do. It was such that the ablest sovereign, with full supply of money and of soldiers—and Mary Stuart had neither—would have found its successful government almost impossible. The power of the feudal aristocracy had declined in Europe everywhere but in Scotland; and everywhere but in Scotland royal power had been increased. For centuries the Scottish kings had striven to break down the power of the nobles, which overshadowed that of the crown. One of the results of this struggle is quaintly recorded in the opening entry of Birrel's Diurnal of Occurrents:
"There has been in this realm of Scotland one hundred and five kings, of whilk there was slaine fyftie-six."
Another result was greater aristocratic power and increased anarchy. The Scotch feudal nobles had never known what it was to be under the rule of law, and there was as yet no middle class to aid the sovereign. Among their recognized practices and privileges were private war and armed conspiracy; and the established means of ridding themselves of personal or public enemies was assassination. In all history we find few bands of worse men than those who surrounded the throne of Mary Stuart. Cruelty, treachery, and cunning were their leading characteristics. Some of them were Protestants in their own peculiar way, and, as John Knox says, referring to the disposition of the church lands, "for their own commoditie."
Personally, they are thus described by Burton, the latest historian of Scotland, a bitter opponent of Mary Stuart:
"Their dress was that of the camp or stable; they were dirty in person, and abrupt and disrespectful in manner, carrying on their disputes, and even fighting out their fierce quarrels, in the presence of royalty."
In view of the picturesque statement that Mary Stuart went to Scotland with a "resolution as fixed as the stars to trample down the Reformation," her first public acts are of great interest. Mr. Froude states them so imperfectly (vol. vii. p. 374) that they make but slight impression. The friends of her mother and the Catholic nobles expected to be called into her councils. Instead of them, she selected the Lord James (her half-brother) and Maitland as her chief ministers, with a large majority of Protestant lords in her council. She threw herself upon the loyalty of her people, and issued a proclamation forbidding any attempt to interfere with the Protestant religion which she found established in her realm. She did not plead, as Mr. Froude states, that she might have her own service in the royal chapel, but claimed it as a right expressly guaranteed. "The Lord Lindsay might croak out texts that the idolater should die the death." (Vol. vii. p. 375.)
That was a truly energetic "croak"! Listen to it, (not in Froude.) When service in the queen's chapel was about to begin, Lindsay, clad in full armor and brandishing his sword, rushed forward shouting, "The idolater priest shall die the death!" The almoner fortunately, for himself, heard the "croak," took refuge, and after the service was protected to his home by two lords; "and then," says Knox, "the godly departed with great grief of heart."
The interview between Queen Mary and John Knox is narrated by Mr. Froude in such a manner as to tone down the coarseness of Knox's conduct, and lessen the brilliancy of the dialectic victory of the young Scotch girl over the old priest and minister. She first inquired about his Blast against the Regiment of Women, in which he declares—
"This monstriferous empire of women, among all the enormities that do this day abound upon the face of the whole earth, is most detestable and damnable. Even men subject to the counsel or empire of their wives are unworthy of all public office."
Mr. Froude describes Knox as saying, "Daniel and St. Paul." He ought to know that a Scotch Puritan could not have said Saint Paul. Macaulay never makes such mistakes. "Daniel and St. Paul were not of the religion of Nebuchadnezzar and Nero." (Vol. vii. p. 376.) Incorrect. Knox having first modestly likened himself unto Plato, thus states his own language:
"I shall be alse weall content to lyve under your grace as Paull was to lyve under Nero." It is hard to say which is greater, the man's vanity in comparing himself to St. Paul, or his intolerable insolence in likening, to her face, the young queen to the bloodiest of all Roman tyrants. William Cobbett, a writer of sturdy and unadulterated English, in referring to some such performance as this on the part of Knox, calls him "the Ruffian of the Reformation." We strongly suspect, though, that Knox did not use language so gratuitously offensive. His account of the interview was written years afterward. He was self-complacent and boastful, and in other places says that he caused the queen to weep so bitterly that a page could scarce get her enough handkerchiefs to dry her eyes. Before Mary, Knox claimed that Daniel and his fellows, although subjects to Nebuchadnezzar and to Darius, would not yet be of the religion of the one nor the other. Mary was ready with her answer, and retorted, "Yea; but none of these men raised the sword against their princes." Mr. Froude, of course, reports this reply in such a manner as to spoil it; adding, "But Knox answered merely that 'God had not given them the power.'" Not so; for Knox strove by logical play, which he himself records, to show that resistance and non-compliance were one and the same thing. "Throughout the whole dialogue," says Burton, "he does not yield the faintest shred of liberty of conscience." But Mary kept him to his text, repeating, "But yet they resisted not with the sword." And then, this young woman, who, Mr. Froude assures us, came to Scotland with "spells to weave conspiracies," "to control herself and to hide her purpose," blunderingly tells Knox that she believed "the Church of Rome was the true church of God."
One would think it no very difficult task for a man of age and experience to see through an impulsive girl of nineteen, whose face mirrored her soul. And yet, Mr. Froude informs us triumphantly, three separate times, that "Knox had looked Mary through and through." In this connection we have one of our historian's best efforts, to which we ask special attention.
"Knox had labored to save Murray from the spell which his sister had flung over him; but Murray had only been angry at his interference, and, 'they spake not familiarly for more than a year and a half.'" (Vol. vii. p. 542.)[54]
Pray notice the cause of this estrangement. Mr. Froude is very explicit here. Look at it. This innocent Murray is under a spell. All heart himself, he saw no guile in his sister. But Knox warned him against the sorceress, and that was the cause of the coolness between them. On this point there can be no mistake, and we now propose to place John Knox on the stand and with his eyes to look Mr. Froude "through and through." In the parliament of 1563, Murray had the "Act of Oblivion" passed, in which he managed to reserve for himself and his friends the power to say who should or should not profit by its provisions. With this act he was dangerous to all who opposed him, and was consequently all-powerful. Under these circumstances, John Knox pressed Murray, now that he had the power, to establish the religion, namely, pass in a constitutional manner the informal act of 1560, and legalize the confession of faith as the doctrine of the Church of Scotland.
Now call the witness, John Knox:
"But the erledom of Murray needed confirmation, and many things were to be ratified that concerned the help of friends and servants—and the matter fell so hote betwix the Erle of Murray and John Knox, that familiarlie after that time they spack nott together more than a year and a half."[55]
Thus, if we may believe Knox himself, it was Murray's preference for his own "singular commoditie" over the interests of the kirk of God which caused that "they spake not familiarly together for more than a year and a half." Of "spell" and "enchantress" no word. We refrain from comment.
One remark as to the "spell" Mary had flung over Murray. Even from Mr. Froude's pages may be wrung the unwilling admission that "the stainless Murray" was neither more nor less than the paid and pensioned spy of Elizabeth. Here is another dispatch of Throckmorton, (Elizabeth's ambassador at Paris,) not referred to by Mr. Froude:
"The Lord James came to my lodgings secretly unto me, and declared unto me at good length all that had passed between the queen, his sister, and him, and between the Cardinal Lorraine and him, the circumstances whereof he will declare to your majesty particularly when he cometh to your presence."
This business call of Lord James was made during Mary's preparations to leave France for Scotland. He followed it up with a confidential visit of some days to Elizabeth, who allowed him not to depart empty-handed. Unsuspicious of his treachery, Mary heaped honors and riches upon him, made him her first lord of council, and created him successively Earl of Mar and Earl of Murray. And we are asked by Mr. Froude to believe that over such a personage as this "spells" might be successfully flung by the victim of his treachery.