CHAPTER VIII
A QUEEN'S TROUBLES
Never had a queen a greater variety of difficulties to meet. If shefavored the Catholics, the Protestants would not support her; thePuritans were beginning to be of some importance, and they were eagerto have every trace of Catholicism destroyed; but if she introducedProtestant changes too rapidly, the Catholics might revolt. She wished,it is probable, to refuse her numerous suitors, but she needed to keepon friendly terms with each as far as possible. The royal treasurywas low, and among the nations of Europe there was not one upon whoseassistance England could count in case of need.
Such were Elizabeth's troubles at the beginning of her reign, and asthe months passed, the difficulties became even more complicated.Scotland was ruled by Mary's mother, who acted as regent for herdaughter. She was French and a Catholic, and as more and more of theScotch became Protestants, they were determined to have freedom forProtestant worship. Persecution followed, imprisonment, torture, andburning at the stake. Then came a fierce revolt. By the aid of Francethis was suppressed, but the Protestants appealed to Elizabeth.
"No war, my lords, no war," declared she to her council. "A queen doesnot lend aid to rebels."
"The rebels are in a fair way to become the government," suggested onecouncilor.
"England cannot afford war," declared another. "We have no money tospend on fleets and armies."
"The French are already in Scotland," said one. "More will follow, andtheir next step will be across the border. If they are once in England,we shall have to raise armies whether we can or not."
"True," agreed another, "and surely it is better to fight them inScotland than on our own soil."
"If we attack the French, Philip will aid them and try to put Mary onour throne."
"No, no," shouted three or four voices. "To unite France, Scotland, andEngland under one ruler would weaken his own power. He'll not do that."
"This is a question of religion as well as policy," said another."Shall not the government of the church of England aid the Protestantsof Scotland?"
This last argument did not count for very much with Elizabeth, butthere was another one that did. She left the council and thought overthe matter carefully and anxiously. "If I can get power in Scotland,"she said to herself, "I can induce the Scotch government to agreethat Mary shall never claim the title of queen of England." Money wasborrowed from Antwerp, and England began to prepare for fighting.
France became uneasy and sent word to Elizabeth:--
"We do protest and remonstrate against the ruler of a neighboringkingdom giving aid to rebels and revolters." The French well knew howsorely aggrieved the English felt at the loss of Calais, and as abribe to the queen they offered to give her back the town and citadelif she would agree not to aid the Scotch Protestants.
Elizabeth knew then that the French feared her, and she replied:--
"So long as the Queen of Scots doth falsely claim to be also queen ofthis my realm, then so long must I guard myself in the way that seemsto me wisest and best. To free my throne from the attacks of falseclaimants and so secure peace and safety for my people is worth farmore to me than any little fishing village in a foreign country."
The French were driven from Scotland, and a treaty was made agreeingthat Mary should give up all claim to the throne of England. Mary hadempowered her agents to make whatever terms they thought best, but whenshe saw this provision, she refused to sign the treaty.
One year later a beautiful young woman stood at the stern of a vessel,looking back with tearful eyes at the shore from which she had sailed.The twilight deepened, and night settled around her. She turned away."Adieu, my beloved France," she whispered, "farewell, farewell."
Thus it was that a queen returned to her kingdom, for the fair youngwoman was Mary, Queen of Scots. Her husband had died, and there was nolonger any place in France for her. Scotland asked her to return to thethrone that had been her own ever since she was a few days old. Shewas only nineteen, and she was leaving the gay, merry court in whichnearly all her life had been spent; she was leaving her friends andcompanions, and for what? Scotland was the land of her birth, but itwas a foreign country to her. It was not like her sunny France, it wasa land of mist and of cold, of plain habits and stern morals. The queenwas coming to her own, but her own was strange to her.
Mary had asked Elizabeth's permission to shorten the voyage by passingthrough England. "That must not be," thought the English queen. "Herpresence here would be the signal for all the discontented Catholics inthe kingdom to follow her banner." Permission was refused, unless Marywould agree beforehand to give up all claim to the English crown.
"I ask but Elizabeth's friendship," said Mary. "I do not trouble herstate nor try to win over her subjects, though I do know there be somein her realm that are not unready to hear offers"--but she would notpromise to give up her claim to the crown. She was fully as independentas Elizabeth, and she added regretfully, "I grieve that I so far forgotmyself as to ask a favor that I needed not. Surely, I may go home intomy own realm without her passport or license. I came hither safely, andI may have means to return."
Scotland rejoiced that the queen had come, and welcomed her withbonfires and music and speeches of welcome. The Scotch supposed thatthey were pleasing her, but Mary wrote to her friends:--
"In Edinburgh when I would have slept, five or six hundred ragamuffinssaluted me with wretched fiddles and little rebecks, and then they sangpsalms loudly and discordantly; but one must have patience."
No one can help feeling sympathy with the lonely girl of nineteenwho had left all that she loved to come and rule over a country thatseemed to her almost barbarous in contrast with her beloved France.She was a Catholic; most of her people were Protestants. She won manyfriends and admirers, but she never gained the confidence and steadyaffection of her people that made Elizabeth strong. The queen and hersubjects grew further apart. Mary had been brought up to believe thatthe marriage of Anne Boleyn was not lawful, and that therefore sheherself and not Elizabeth was the rightful queen of England. The Frenchking had taught her to sign herself "Queen of Scotland and England."Now that she had returned to Scotland, she dropped the latter part ofthe title, but demanded that Elizabeth should declare her heir to thethrone, as she certainly was by all laws of the hereditary descent ofthe crown. Elizabeth firmly refused.
It was probable that Mary would marry, and it was a matter ofimportance to Elizabeth that the husband should not be one who couldstrengthen the Scotch claim to the throne. Mary consulted Elizabethabout one or two of her suitors, and suddenly the English queensurprised all Europe by offering to Mary the unwilling hand of herown favorite, the Earl of Leicester, and hinted, though in her usualequivocal fashion, that if Mary would marry the earl, she would berecognized as the next heir to the crown. "I would marry Robin myself,"declared the queen to Mary's commissioner, Sir James Melville, "savethat I am determined to wed no man."
Elizabeth talked with Sir James most familiarly, and this woman who wasso shrewdly guiding her millions of Englishmen and guarding her thronefrom Mary of Scotland, often seemed to think of nothing but whether sheor her rival had the prettier face.
"Which is the fairer?" she demanded, "I or the queen of Scotland?"
"Your Majesty is the fairest queen in England, and ours is the fairestqueen in Scotland," replied Sir James wisely.
"That is not an answer," declared Elizabeth. "Which of us two is thefairer?"
"Your Majesty is whiter, but our queen is very winsome."
"Which is of greater stature?"
"Our queen," replied Sir James.
"Your queen is over high then," said Elizabeth, "for I am neither toohigh nor too low. But tell me, how does she amuse herself?"
"She hunts and reads and sometimes she plays on the lute and thevirginals."
"Does she play well?"
"Reasonably well for a queen," declared Sir James audaciously.
"I wish I could see her," said Elizabeth.
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sp; "If your Grace should command me, I could convey you to Scotland in thedress of a page, and none be the wiser," suggested Sir James gravely,and Elizabeth did not seem at all displeased with the familiarity.
When the commissioner was again in Scotland, Mary asked what he thoughtof Elizabeth. "She has neither plain dealing nor upright meaning," saidhe, "and she is much afraid that your Highness's princely qualitieswill drive her from her kingdom."
Leicester was refused. Mary was now twenty-three, but she chose forher husband Lord Darnley, a handsome, spoiled child of nineteen. Hewas a Catholic and after herself the next heir to the English throne.Elizabeth was angry, but she was helpless.
A year later Sir James made a journey from Scotland to London in fourdays, as rapid traveling as was possible at that time. He called uponLord Burleigh and gave him an important message. It was evening, andthe queen was dancing merrily with her ladies and nobles when Cecilwhispered a word in her ear. No more mirth did she show. She sat down,resting her head on her hand. The ladies pressed around her. Suddenlyshe burst out, "The Queen of Scots has a fair young son, and I am but abarren stock."
When Elizabeth found that it was impossible to have her own way, sheusually accepted the situation gracefully. Sir James came to see herin the morning. She met him with a "volt," a bit of an old Italiandance, and declared the news was so welcome that it had cured her of afifteen-days' illness. She agreed to be godmother to Mary's son, and asa christening gift she sent a font of pure gold.
The next news from Scotland was that Lord Darnley had been murdered,and that there was reason for believing the Earl of Bothwell, a bold,reckless adventurer, to have been the murderer. Mary had soon tiredof the silly, arbitrary boy and had kept her dislike no secret. Twomonths later she married Bothwell, and there were so many reasons forthinking that she had helped to plan the murder that the Scotch noblestook up arms against her, and imprisoned her in Lochleven Castle, untilshe could be tried. She was forced to sign a paper giving up all claimto the Scotch throne, and her baby son James, only one year old, wascrowned king of Scotland.
Elizabeth raged that mere subjects should venture to accuse a queen asif she were an ordinary person. "How dare they call their sovereignto account?" demanded the angry ruler of England. She declared thatMary's throne should be restored to her and that the rebels should bepunished. Indeed, in her wrath she made all sorts of wild vows andthreats which she had no power to keep.
This support, however, encouraged Mary's friends to attempt her rescue.She escaped from Lochleven; her followers fought an unsuccessfulbattle; she rode on horseback, sixty miles in a single day; she wastaken in a fishing boat to the English side of Solway Frith; and thenthe deposed queen was safe in England, in the realm of the sovereignfrom whom she believed she might expect assistance.
Elizabeth and her council considered the matter long and earnestly.
"Let us return her to Scotland."
"Then she will be put to death, and the Catholics of Scotland andEngland will be aroused against Queen Elizabeth."
"Shall we place her back upon the Scotch throne?"
"We could not without war with Scotland and probably with France."
"Shall we invite her to remain in England as the guest of the queen?"
"And offer her as a head for every conspiracy that may be formedagainst her Majesty? No."
"There is something else. We have a right to know whether we areprotecting an innocent young woman who had fled to us for help, or acriminal who has aided in the murder of her husband."
So the question was discussed, and it was finally decided that Maryshould be kept as a prisoner and tried before special commissionersappointed for the purpose. At the end of this investigation Elizabethdeclared that she had been proved neither innocent nor guilty. Thatquestion was dropped, but in spite of her angry protest and herdemands to be set free, the queen of Scotland was kept in England foreighteen years, treated in many respects with the deference due to asovereign, but guarded as closely as any prisoner.
In the midst of these complications that required the keenest acumen ofthe most vigorous intellect, Elizabeth did not lay aside her whims andvanities. One of her favorite customs was that of wearing an "impress,"a device somewhat like a coat of arms, which was changed as often asthe wearer chose. Each "impress" had a motto, and the queen used adifferent one almost every day. One of her mottoes was, "I see and amsilent;" another was, "Always the same."
At one time she devoted herself to the works of the early Christianwriters, but she found leisure to complain of the poor portraits thatpeople were making of her. They were not nearly so handsome as shethought they ought to be, and she actually had a proclamation drawnup forbidding all persons to attempt her picture until "some specialcunning painter" should produce a satisfactory likeness. Her "lovingsubjects" were then to be permitted to "follow the said pattern."
For even the most "cunning artist" to satisfy both her Majesty andhimself must have been a difficult matter, for she positively forbadehaving any shade given to her features. "By nature there is no shade ina face," said the queen, "it is only an accident."
Another of her foibles was that of wearing the dress of differentcountries on different days, one day Italian, the next day French,and so on. It seems not to have been easy to have these gowns made inEngland, and Elizabeth sent to the continent for a dressmaker. Thesecretary of state had been the one ordered to draw up the proclamationrestraining all save the "cunning artist" yet to be discovered frommaking her picture, and now we find him ordering the English ambassadorto France to "cause" his wife to find the queen "a tailor that hathskill to make her apparel both after the French and the Italianmanner." This command was given only a few days after the murder ofLord Darnley which aroused all England.
Elizabeth always enjoyed going about among her subjects, and one of herearly visits was to the University of Cambridge. She entered the townon horseback in a habit of black velvet. Her hat was heaped up withfeathers, and under it she wore a sort of net, or head-dress, that wasall ablaze with precious stones. The beadles of the university gave hertheir staffs, signifying that all power was in her hands. She couldnot hold them all, and she gave them back, saying jestingly, "See thatyou minister justice uprightly, or I will take them into mine handsagain." According to ancient custom at a royal visit, she was presentedwith two pairs of gloves, two sugarloaves, and some confectionery. Longorations were made to her. She was praised as showing forth all thevirtues, and although she sometimes interrupted the orators by saying,"That is not true," she commended them at the end so warmly that theyhad no fear of having offended her.
She did not hesitate to break in upon any speaker, and the next day,when the minister was preaching, she sent a noble lord to tell him toput his cap on. Another high official was despatched to him before heleft the pulpit to inform him that the queen liked his sermon. This wason Sunday morning. That evening the chapel was made into a theatre, andan old Latin play was acted for her amusement.
Elizabeth went from college to college, and at each she listenedto an oration in her praise and received the usual gift of gloves,sugarloaves, and confectionery. Cambridge had long expected the honorof this visit, and the members of the various learned societies hadmade preparations for it by composing poems of welcome and praise inGreek, Hebrew, and several other languages. Copies of these verses hadbeen richly bound, and the volume was presented to her as a memorial ofher welcome.
All the sermons and speeches and plays were in Latin, and near theclose of the queen's stay, a humble petition was made to her that shewould speak to her hosts in that language.
"I am but a poor scholar," said she, "but if I might speak my mind inEnglish, I would not stick at the matter."
Then answered the chancellor of the university:--
"Your Highness, in the university nothing English may be said inpublic."
"Then speak you for me," bade the queen. "The chancellor is the queen'smouth."
"True, your Majesty," he responded, "
but I am merely the chancellorof the university; I have not the honor to be the chancellor of yourGrace."
After a little more urging, the queen delivered an excellent Latinspeech, which she had evidently composed beforehand, and gave theauthorities to understand that she should make the university agenerous gift either during her life or at her death. This mannerof arousing the expectations of her subjects was one of her ways ofsecuring their faithfulness. She used to keep long lists of men ofability and worth, and a man, knowing that his name was on that list,would not fail to be true to her, expecting every day a pension or someother reward of his devotion.
Robert Dudley was high steward of Cambridge, and Elizabeth seemsto have exhausted her generous intentions toward the university bypresenting him with Kenilworth Castle and manor and other lands. Thenit was that she made him Lord Leicester, and when in the ceremonyhe was kneeling gravely before her with bowed head, this queen ofmagnificence and barbarism, of subtlety of intellect and coarseness ofmanner, thought it a brilliant jest to stretch out the royal forefingerto tickle the back of his neck and arouse him from his unwontedseriousness.
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