by Donald Smith
‘Do you think it stands with my honour, Ambassador, to marry my sister’s subject, a mere lord?’
‘Surely there is nothing more honourable than to marry a nobleman, by means of which marriage you might inherit a kingdom such as England,’ temporises Randolph.
‘I do not look for the kingdom, as my sister Elizabeth is likely to marry and live longer than myself. I must consider my own position, and the honour of my friends and country, rather than abase my state so far. If however this is truly my sister’s wish, then I and my Council will give it the consideration it merits.’
Poor Randolph. He has a hard and trying mistress at home and has to broach the Queen of Scots abroad. My brother Moray is blunter than I, as is his wont.
‘Why not persuade your own queen to marry rather than trouble my sister, who has no more mind to marriage than she has to her next dinner when hungry?’
I have heard enough of this embassy. I do not decline it, or deign to reply. But I do accept Elizabeth’s earlier offer to send the Earl of Lennox back to Scotland under safe conduct. She cannot have forgotten that Lennox and his Lady Margaret unite in marriage their claims on the crowns of both our countries. And they have a son, who would be a better match than Dudley if my marriage must be English. Sometimes it seems as if my sister Elizabeth is contrary at her own expense.
My summer thoughts are on another progress, through the Highlands, so that my subjects may see their sovereign and the chiefs renew their fealty to the Scottish crown. I must also pursue reform of justice to show that my Christian Majesty is more potent in the peoples’ cause than all the preachers and their Protestant lordships combined.
In the north I assume Highland costume, which flows with natural colours and is most becoming to male and female forms alike. I listen to pipes, clarsach, odes and laments. I join the ancient step dance. But most of all I hunt.
Scores of men spread out along the upper slopes with numerous great dogs, lurchers and deerhounds. The gillies drive running herds of deer down through the trees, leaping and breaking like a wave. There are stags and hinds of the red deer and the smaller roe in abundance. And they do not see their danger. For out of their immediate sight they are being herded into an avenue of wooden hurdles, and are charging towards a hail of spears and arrows. It is like a battle with cries and yells, trumpets, horns and the smell of blood.
There is something too cruel in this massacre for sport. Boar and wolf prove a rarer prize which only long distance mountain tracking can win. I insist on being taken into the mountains to follow the spoor.
Everywhere I am royally entertained and feasted according to Highland custom. Better some young chief for my consort than all the suitors England has to offer. Yet if I cannot have Spain, and it seems that the Medici has colluded with Uncle Charles to prevent it; if I will not have Austria and the Empire; then England it must be.
A queen without power and connection is a mere plaything here. I might be abducted to the Isles and forced to marry some MacDonald Chief with an endless genealogy. At least he will have cousins sufficient to husband all my Marys as well. We should remain here and live the free life of nature, as the Gaels do, and learn their musical tongue which was spoken, the poets say, in Paradise.
It is my turn now in this interminable game. Lennox has returned to Scotland and proffers his devotion. What a charming cultured man, showing all the signs of once handsome youth. The barbers wait on him twice each day and he is bathed in scent. If only my Scottish lords might learn from his example. He brings new distinction to our Court, and attends at Mass and preachings with equal tact.
At his and Maitland’s prompting I send James Melville as my ambassador to London to negotiate directly with Elizabeth. He may also secure permission for Lord Darnley, Lennox’s son, to pay a visit to his long lost native land.
How I would like to attend at the English Court. To speak with my friends there and acquaint myself with the latest fashions, that would be heaven on earth. Then I could see with my own eyes whether Elizabeth will release Lord Dudley from her sight. However, Melville can be my eyes and ears. While conversing with voluble abandon Melville proceeds by indirections. He is frank, curious and garrulous in equal measure.
If he writes as he speaks our Ambassador’s dispatches will become bedtime reading, and all of the Marys will be hungry for the next episode. But never fear, dear Melville will not stint in the telling.
James Melville
YOUR MAJESTY MAY Graciously recall my long acquaintance, I believe I can safely account it friendship, with Sir Nicholas Throckmorton, formerly ambassador for Queen Elizabeth to your Highness in France. I met with him on my first evening in London and he conveyed to me the warm interest of those many friends of Your Majesty in England who wish nothing so dearly as to see your place in the succession of this kingdom secure. He also brought greetings from the Lady Lennox who wishes to see me privately, notwithstanding that nothing can be done without Master Cecil and My Lord Dudley, as we knew before. I delivered my letters tonight from Lord Moray to Robert Dudley and from Secretary Maitland to Cecil. I have also paid my compliments to the Spanish Ambassador.
The next morning Master Randolph, lately Ambassador from England to Your Majesty, came to my lodging early to convoy me to Her Highness, who they said was already in the garden. With him came a servant of Lord Dudley’s leading a horse and footmantle of velvet laced with gold for me to ride upon. This servant waited on me all the time I was with Her Majesty, which was most courteous and typical of the kindness shown to me by that noble gentleman.
I found Queen Elizabeth walking in an alley. After I had kissed her hand and presented my letter of commission I told her my purpose and. sometimes being interrupted by her demands, I answered as best I could. She enquired if Your Majesty had made any answer to the proposal of marriage made by Sir Thomas Randolph. I answered, as instructed, that you had not given it due consideration as yet, since the meeting of commissioners on the border would confer and deal with all matters tending to the peace of both kingdoms, and to the contentment of both Your Majesties. And that you would send your most trusty and familiar counsellors, the Earl of Moray, and Secretary Maitland, hoping that she might send the Earl of Bedford and Lord Robert Dudley.
‘It appears,’ answers she, ‘you make small account of my Lord Robert, since you name Bedford before him. But before long I shall make him a far greater Earl, and you will see it done before you return home. For I esteem him as a brother or best friend, whom I would have married, had I myself ever been minded to take a husband. But since I am determined to finish this earthly life virgin, my wish is that Mary my sister should marry him as most fit of all for the second person in my realm. Being matched with him would remove from my mind all suspicion of being usurped before my death, for my Lord Robert is so loving and trusty that he would never consent to such a thing while there is breath in my body.’
On the next morning, shortly before noon, I was required to attend on Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth at Westminster. And so that Your Majesty might think more of him, I saw Lord Robert made Earl of Leicester with great solemnity before the nobles of the realm in full array. Queen Elizabeth herself put on his ceremonial robe as he knelt before her, keeping a very grave demeanour. But the Queen could not refrain from putting her hand on his neck, and tickling him with a smile, in full view of myself and the Ambassador of France.
Then she asked me how I liked her Earl of Leicester, and I replied that as he was worthy so he would be happy in having a Queen so ready to reward his service. ‘Yet,’ says she, ‘you like that long lad better,’ pointing at Lord Darnley who, as a prince of the blood, had borne the Sword of State before her in procession.
I thought swiftly of Your Majesty’s discretion, and your desire to keep your charge to me secret, so I replied that no woman of spirit could prefer such a man, who though very lusty, was more like a woman than a man, beardless and lady-faced.
This seemed to satisfy her humour, while giving no h
int of our desire for him to be given liberty to go to Scotland and return with the Earl his father.
Today, without preface, Her Majesty announces she has appointed the best lawyers in England to search out who has the best right to the succession and she hopes it may be Your Majesty.
She said she had no intent to marry, unless forced to it by the hard behaviour of Your Majesty acting against her advice.
‘You need not tell me that, Your Majesty,’ says I immediately. ‘I know your stately stomach. You think that married you would be Queen of England only, whereas now you are both King and Queen. You cannot endure a commander.’ She enjoys such raillery if cautiously applied.
That evening the Queen appeared so affectionate to Your Majesty, and so eager to see you, that she invited me to her bedchamber to see your picture, which she delights to view since your meeting is delayed.
She opened a little desk where there was a heap of miniature portraits wrapped in paper, with the name written on each paper in her own handwriting. The first one she picked up was labelled ‘My Lord’s Picture’. I held the candle closer and pressed to see the image. She was loath to let me, but finally I prevailed and discovered Leicester’s portrait. I asked to have it to carry home to Your Majesty but she refused, saying it was her only picture. ‘But, Madam,’ says I, ‘you have the original,’ pointing over to where the Earl was speaking to Secretary Cecil in the farthest part of the chamber.
Then Queen Elizabeth took out Your Majesty’s picture, unwrapped it, and put her lips to your image. I kissed her hand for the great love I saw she bore you. Then she showed me a lustrous ruby, the size of a tennis ball. I said she should send that or else the Earl of Leicester’s portrait to Scotland. She replied that Your Majesty should have both in good time, if you followed her guiding, but that for now she would send a diamond ring. Finally she appointed me to meet with her the next morning at eight o’clock when she was accustomed to walk in the garden.
I have almost lost track of our conversations there were so many and so various. But Your Majesty instructed me to use pleasantries sometimes that I might test your cousin’s natural temper. Now every day she had different garments, now French, now Italian, next German, as if to prove her mistress of every fashion, wherever I had travelled. ‘Now,’ says she finally. ‘Which suits me best?’ I said Italian which pleased her mightily, since she loves to show her golden hair tied up behind in a caul and bonnet. Her hair is more red than yellow and curls naturally. As does Your Majesty’s own lustrous locks.
So next, she wonders which kind of hair is esteemed the most, and whether her own or Your Majesty’s were best. And which of you could be considered fairest. I said that fairness was not the worst fault of either Queen. But then she was determined to have my answer – which is fairest?
‘Your Majesty is fairest in England, and Her Highness of Scotland fairest in that kingdom.’
‘Do not dissemble, sir.’ She was peremptory as is her way.
‘Your Majesties are the brightest ornament of your Courts, but while you are lighter in colour, my Queen is very lovely.’
Elizabeth paints her face to a smooth whiteness like alabaster.
‘Which of us is taller?’
‘Her Majesty of Scotland.’
‘Then she must be very tall, for I am neither too high nor too low.’
I felt it politic not to comment on the subject of Your Majesty’s height, which as everyone knows is very pleasing.
‘What leisure does she take?’
‘As I left Her Majesty had just returned from hunting in the Highlands, which she loves with hawking, archery, and riding. She reads many books as well, especially the histories of nations, and poetry which she composes well. And she plays sometimes on the lute and virginals.’
‘Does she play well?’
‘Pretty well, for a queen.’
I had requested to be dispatched, so she chided me for wearying of her company, but I said it was time to return to Scotland.
Nonetheless she kept me two days longer so that I might see her dance. Which queen danced the best? There was little contest, so I said Your Majesty did not dance in the same high manner as she did. Then she sighed, desiring to meet Your Majesty at some convenient place. I said I should take her secretly to Scotland disguised as a page, just as James Fifth went to see who was to be his wife in France.
‘I would be missed here.’
‘Your chamber could be closed as if you were sick, so that only the ladies in waiting and the groom would know.’
‘If only I could.’
I saw how much she thinks of Your Majesty and how dearly she wants your friendship and love.
At last she gave me my answers privately by ear at Hampton Court where she had gone, and Secretary Cecil delivered the letters in London.
‘Pray,’ she says, ‘that my sister might wed with Robert Dudley and come to live with me, so that we might be one family together, two sisters and a brother.’
This was a new departure so I applied my customary caution.
‘It is expensive to live in London.’
‘Do not speak of expenses; my Exchequer would cover all.’
‘And who would rule Her Majesty’s own kingdom?’
‘Why, Her Majesty of course, but through some noble governor such as my Lord of Moray.’
The next day my Lord of Leicester asked me to sail in his barge down the Thames to London, which is ten miles distance. He entered into homely conversation with me talking about his acquaintance with Moray and Maitland. He said he was so familiar, knowing me well by repute, as to ask what the Queen my mistress thought of him and of the marriage proposed by Randolph.
I answered coldly, as you had instructed. At which he disowned any pretence to marry a queen so great, being unworthy to wipe your shoes. He put the blame on Cecil whom he named his secret enemy. ‘For if,’ he says, ‘I appear desirous of this marriage, I lose the favour of both their Majesties.’ He prayed me to excuse himself to Your Highness, begging you would not impute such a clumsy fault to him, but to the malice of his foes.
After dinner I took leave of the French and Spanish ambassadors from whom I carry correspondence. I also received a letter from my Lord of Leicester to Moray, urging him to disavow the proposed marriage to Your Majesty. Secretary Cecil conveyed me to the outer gate of the palace after he had put a golden chain round my neck. He gave me my dispatch and a fuller account of Her Majesty’s guidance, along with a letter to Secretary Maitland. These will follow soon with my person.
My Lady Lennox has also sent many good advices for your ear alone, along with a marvellous fair jewel for Your Majesty. She is still in good hope that her son Lord Darnley will make better speed to Scotland than the Earl of Leicester, and win Your Majesty’s favour. She is a wise and discreet matron to whom many in England are kindly disposed at this time, for reasons of family and of religion.
Day Book of the Marys
Seton
Everything is out of sorts today. I feel I must write in our book. A letter came from Secretary Cecil following the commissioners’ meeting on the Borders. The Earl of Moray and William Maitland were summoned by Her Majesty to an angry audience.
I know that I am unskilled in political affairs but something is awry. Mary is not being guided and supported as she ought. She should not be traded for an English marriage regardless of her true feelings and of her faith.
Beaton may say I am naïve, but love that surrenders to another’s welfare is the most important thing. Everything else should be measured against that, as Christ taught us.
Forgive me, if today I seem anxious or melancholy. I understand that it is our Mary’s vocation to rule, but that should not require the sacrifice of her happiness. If that is lost then we shall all be undone. What holds us together is what matters most. To care for Mary is my vocation.
Fleming
It must be understood, Seton, that the Scottish commissioners performed their duty. They offered Mary’s hand in ma
rriage to the Earl of Leicester, if in return Elizabeth would name her as successor. That was what had been agreed by the Council. We must act according to our duty, as Mary does.
Beaton
They persuaded Mary that she should marry Dudley, and that this would be accepted by the English. Fleming cannot deny that, however partial she has become. Perhaps the Queen should listen more to garrulous Melville, since he shows honestly what is in Elizabeth’s mind.
Livingston
Beaton cannot be serious. Melville is a sweetie wife of a man. When I see him coming into the garden I run and hide. And I know I am not the only one.
Fleming
Seton is right, things are awry. Maitland and Moray were surprised and angry at the English letter of refusal. I have never seen Mary so furious. She said she had trusted their advice against her own judgment. Dudley was not worthy of her, being without royal blood, and, worse, the son of a traitor. Cecil’s letter was a humiliation, withdrawing all the previous concessions and again threatening Mary with a legal trial of her right. As if she were a mere English subject. How could they have subjected their own queen to such insult? Was she plotting to steal her cousin’s lover? Would they do anything to humiliate Scotland as long as their precious religion is protected? She bitterly upbraided Moray as her brother and a Stewart of the royal house. He of all men should know better. Why had they urged her on this path?
The source of these troubles though is in England, not here amongst us in Scotland. I too am worried for our Mary. Her marriage must be the main hope of happiness.
Beaton
Elizabeth cannot bear to part with Dudley. That is the only explanation.
Seton
No, she is too afraid to name anyone second person in the kingdom. Remember her mother’s trial, and the suspicion she lived under as a child. She will never set up a rival to her throne. That is all she has to live for. She is a Queen.