It is possible that Lady Caithness may have had some such view, not theoretically (as was the case with Lord Monkswell), but as a matter of conviction, and apart from the limits of Time and Space involved in the conception of the latter.
I can only say that I never heard her speak of Mary Queen of Scots except as an entity, quite distinct from herself. But that she carried the "Marie" culte to great extremes is an undoubted fact. The hall and rooms on the ground floor of the Avenue Wagram House were arranged and furnished in close imitation of Holyrood Palace. I counted over fifty miniatures and other pictures of the Scottish Queen in the Countess's beautiful bedroom alone, and later on shall have to speak more definitely of one life size and exquisitely painted portrait of the Queen.
But to return to this first reception.
I must confess that a somewhat inconveniently keen sense of humour found only too much nourishment on this occasion.
The Countess was magnificently dressed, as was usual with her, in priceless lace, falling over head and shoulders, and a beautiful tiara of various coloured jewels arranged over the lace. This was eccentric perhaps, considering the occasion, but not laughable. Lady Caithness, in addition to geniality, had enough quiet dignity to carry off the lace and jewels with success. I was chiefly amused by the attitude of adoring humility and flattering appreciation shown by the numerous ladies already assembled when we arrived. Only one man was present, and he was a priest. Later I learned to appreciate the friendliness of the Abbé Petit and to admire his intellectual courage and manliness.
For the moment, seeing him surrounded by these female worshippers, hanging upon his lips as he discoursed to us about new readings of old truths, one was irresistibly reminded of certain scenes in Molière's "Femmes Savantes."
A lively little American lady (married to an Italian count) plied him with numerous questions in fluent French, spoken with an atrocious accent. Finally, she wished to hear the Abbé's views upon Melchisedech! In the midst of other questions and answers, the kindly little man managed to turn round to her with a cheery "Ah, Madame la Comtesse! pour le Melchisedech—nous reviendrons tout de suite à Melchisedech!" All the affairs of the religious universe were being wound up at a similar pace and in like fashion, and this final word of cheerful assurance would have proved absolutely disastrous to me had I not been sitting close to my friend and able to whisper to her: "Please dig your nails into my wrist—hard." Any bodily pain was preferable to the hysterical laughter which had been so long suppressed and seemed now imminent.
But there was worse to come!
An Englishwoman, the very type of the characteristic British spinster, turned round, and addressed M. l'Abbé in laboured and extremely British French (I must leave the accent to be imagined and supplied by my reader):
"Mais, Monsieur l'Abbé! c'est le Protestantisme que vous nous enseignez la."