In Scotland, through the instigation of the Queen Regent, Mary’s nuptials, which were far from being agreeable to a numerous party, were celebrated with probably less sincere, and certainly much more homely expressions of pleasure. Orders were sent to the different towns “to make fyres and processions general.” Mons-Meg, the celebrated great gun of Edinburgh Castle, was fired once; and there is a charge of ten shillings in the treasurer’s accounts of that year paid to certain persons for bringing up the cannon “to be schote, and for the finding and carrying of her bullet after she was schote frae Wardie Muir to the Castel of Edinburgh,”—a distance of about two miles. A play was also enacted, but of what kind it is difficult to say, at the expense of the city of Edinburgh.
CHAPTER V.
MARY THE QUEEN DAUPHINESS, THE QUEEN, AND THE QUEEN DOWAGER OF FRANCE.
Shortly after the espousals, Mary and her husband retired to one of their princely summer residences. Here she unostentatiously discharged the duties of a respectful and attentive wife, in a manner which gained for her the admiration of all who visited them. Delightful as society and amusements must at that age have been to her, she readily accommodated herself to the peculiar temper of Francis, and seemed willing, for his sake, to resign all the gaieties of the court.
But the intriguing and restless ambition of her uncles could not allow her to remain long quiet. About this time, Mary Tudor, who had succeeded Edward VI. on the English throne, died; and although the Parliament of that country had declared that the succession rested in her sister Elizabeth, it was thought proper to claim for Mary Stuart a prior right. The ground upon which they built this claim was the following. Henry VIII. married for his first wife Catharine of Arragon, widow of his brother Arthur, and by her he had one child, Mary. Pretending after having lived with her eighteen years, that his conscience rebuked him for making his brother’s wife the partner of his bed, he procured a divorce from Catharine for the purpose of marrying Anne Boleyn, by whom he had also one daughter, Elizabeth. Growing tired of this new wife, she was sent to the scaffold to make way for Jane Seymour, by whom he had one son, Edward. Of this uxorious monarch’s other three wives, it is unnecessary to speak. Henry had procured from the British Parliament a solemn act, declaring both his daughters illegitimate, and he left his crown to Edward VI., who accordingly succeeded him. Upon Edward’s death, the Parliament, rescinding their former act, in order to save the nation from a civil war, called to the throne Henry’s eldest daughter Mary,—not, however, without a protest being entered in behalf of the Scotch Queen by her guardians. Upon Mary’s death, the opportunity again occurred of pressing the claims of the daughter of James V. The mother of that king, it will be remembered, who married his father James IV., was the eldest daughter of Henry VII., and sister, consequently, of Henry VIII. Henry was, therefore, Mary’s maternal grand-uncle; and if his wives, Catharine and Anne Boleyn, were legally divorced, she had certainly a better right to the English Crown than any of their illegitimate offspring. Soon after the accession, however, of Edward VI., the Parliament, complying with the voice of the whole nation, had declared them legitimate; and as Elizabeth now quietly took possession of the throne, and could hardly by any chance have been dispossessed, it was, to say the least, extremely ill-advised to push Mary forward as a rival claimant.
For various reasons, however, this was the policy which the Guises chose to pursue. Nor did they proceed to assert her right with any particular delicacy or caution. Whenever the Dauphin and his Queen came into public, they were greeted as the King and Queen of England; and the English arms were engraved upon their plate, embroidered upon their scutcheons and banners, and painted on their furniture.[22] Mary’s favourite device, also, at this time, was the two crowns of France and Scotland, with the motto, Aliamque moratur, meaning that of England. The prediction made by the Duke of Alva, on observing this piece of empty parade, was but too fatally fulfilled,—“That bearing of Mary Stuart’s,” said he, “will not be easily borne.”
About this time Mary seems to have been attacked with the first serious illness which had overtaken her in France. It was not of that acute description which confined her to bed, but was a sort of general debility accompanied with a tendency to frequent fainting. It is mentioned in Forbes’s State Papers, that on one occasion, to prevent her from swooning in church, her attendants were glad to bring her wine from the altar. There were some at the French Court who would have felt little grief had this illness ended fatally, considering how serious a blow Mary’s death would have been to the too predominating influence of the House of Guise. In England, the news would have been particularly agreeable to Elizabeth, whose ambassador at Paris eagerly consoled her with the intelligence that Mary was not expected to be of long continuance. The natural strength of her constitution, however, soon restored her to her former health and spirits.
But it was destined that there was to be another and more unexpected death at the French Court. Henry II., while exhibiting his prowess at a tournament, on the occasion of the marriage of his daughter Elizabeth to Philip of Spain, in July 1559, received a wound in the head from the spear of his antagonist, the Count Montgomery, which, though apparently not of much consequence at first, occasioned his dissolution eight days afterwards. A considerable change immediately took place in the aspect of the Court. The stars of the Duchess de Valentinois, and of the Constable Montmorency, set at once; and that of Catharine de Medicis, though not entirely obscured, shone lower in the horizon. She was now only the second lady in France, Mary Stuart taking the precedence. The Guises reigned along with her, and the House of Bourbon trembled. Catharine, who could bear no superior, more especially one young enough to be her own daughter, could ill disguise her chagrin. As a guardian, however, of her late husband’s younger sons, the presumptive heirs to the crown, she was entitled to maintain her place and authority in the Government. There is a curious little anecdote of her which shows how much the change in her situation was preying on her mind. As she was leaving the Palace of the Tournelles, to accompany Francis to the Louvre, where he was to appear as the new Sovereign, she fell into a reverie, and in traversing the gallery, took a wrong turn, and was entirely separated from her party before she discovered her mistake. She soon overtook them, however, and as they passed out, said to Mary,—“Pass on, Madam, it is now your turn to take precedence.” Mary accepted the courtesy, but with becoming delicacy insisted that Catharine should enter the carriage first.[23] There is something more affecting in the change which Henry’s death produced in the condition of the venerable Montmorency and his family. He whom three monarchs had loved and respected, who had given dignity to their counsels, and ensured success to their arms, was not considered worthy of remaining in the palace of the feeble and entrammelled Francis. With a princely retinue, he retired honourably to his mansion at Chantilly.