But Mary--for what reason we are not informed, but probably from her aversion to strife and bloodshed--declined the invitation of the Catholic Earl, and decided to return to Scotland under the patronage of neither the circumcised "Saints" of the Congregation, nor the uncircumcised Philistines of the Gordon country, but as a messenger of peace who would unite all parties in the bonds of mutual forbearance, and would seek her support in the undivided loyalty of the realm. So far she had won all hearts, and had met no man but would have thought it a privilege to be permitted to devote his life to her service. May we not suspect that she hoped her personal influence, which had hitherto known victory only, would soften the animosity of rebel lords and religious fanatics?
At any rate she prepared to depart for Scotland. "All the bravest and noblest gentlemen of France assembled themselves around the fairest of Queens and women," to give her a last proof of their love and respect. Among the Scottish nobles who formed part of her cortege on her way to Calais, was he who, a few years later, became the evil genius of her life--the brave and reckless Earl of Bothwell. In the following soliloquy, the unfortunate Earl, outlawed and pining away in a Danish prison, has been made to express his impressions of the young widow when he first knew her in France:--
"O Mary, Mary, even now,
Seared as I am to shame,
The blood grows thick around my heart
At utterance of thy name!
I see her as in by-gone days,
A widow, yet a child,
Within the fields of sunny France,
When heaven and fortune smiled.
* * * * *
O lovelier than the fairest flower
That ever bloomed on green,
Was she, the darling of the land,
The young and spotless queen.
The sweet, sweet smile upon her lips,
Her eyes so kind and clear,
The magic of her gentle voice,
That even now I hear!
And nobles knelt, and princes bent,
Before her as she came;
A queen by gift of nature she,
More than a queen in name."[#]
[#] "Bothwell," by William Edmondstoune Aytoun.
On the 15th of August, 1561, having bid farewell to her uncles, the Cardinal and the Duke of Guise, to her other relatives and the large number of friends and admirers who accompanied her to the water's edge, she embarked at Calais and turned with a heavy heart to her new home, where her mother, only a few months before, had been denied a grave; where the death of her husband had been made the subject of rude jibes, and where she herself had been denounced by the leader of the new religion, as another Jezebel. France may be said in the meantime to have been in mourning; and the words of the poet Ronsard, poetry though they be, express a feeling that was common to the nation.
"Ho! Scotland," he writes, "I would that thou mightest wander like Delos on the face of the sea, or sink to its profoundest depths, so that the sails of thy bright queen, vainly striving to seek her realm, might suddenly turn and bear her back to her fair Duchy of Tourraine."
Six days after her departure, having evaded, under cover of a dense fog, the English cruisers sent out to intercept her, she landed at Leith, and proceeded to the Royal Palace of Holyrood at Edinburgh.
CHAPTER IV.
FACING TROUBLES IN SCOTLAND.
The news of the unexpected arrival of the young Queen, who had come unattended by armed force, and had committed herself to the chivalry of the nation, awakened a degree of enthusiasm even in the stern "professors" of the Congregation. Feelings of loyalty to a long line of monarchs die hard in the human breast, and especially was this so in those days when the monarch, in the estimation of his people, stood for something more than the chairman of a national committee; and the mass of the Scottish people, whether adherents of the old religion, or professors of the new, saw in the fair Queen who had come amongst them the representative of a line of brave Sovereigns, around whom their forefathers had fought and died for national independence, and whose deeds of bravery were fresh in Scottish song and tradition, indeed, the influence which Mary wielded over the people was greater than could well be expected. Shortly after her arrival, a number of the most zealous nobles of the Congregation came to Edinburgh to help Knox banish the Mass from her household. But, after a few visits to Holyrood, their fierce fervour disappeared. "I have been here now for five days," remarked one of them to a friend, "and at the first I heard every man say, 'Let us hang the priest,' but after that they had been twice or thrice in the Abbey, all that fervency passed. I think there be some enchantment whereby men are bewitched." And in truth it can be said that, with scarcely an exception, no one ever came directly under the influence of Mary Stewart without being, in some degree, impressed in her favour.