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Mary's Marriage Personal Appearance And Popularity

Mary The Queen Dauphiness The Queen And The Queen Dowager Of France

A Tangle

An Examination Of The Letters Sonnets And Other Writings Adduced In Evidence Against Mary Queen Of Scots

Occurrences Immediately Preceding Darnley's Death

The Little Waif

Rizzio

Addendum

Mary's Birth And Subsequent Residence At The French Court

The Fall Of Bothwell



Least Viewed

Loch Leven Castle

The Ebbing Well

The Love Token

My Lady's Remorse

Return To Scotland

Mary's Eighteen Years' Captivity

Wingfield Manor

Mary's Reception In England And The Conferences At York And Westminster

Ten Years After

Unquiet






The Oak And The Oaken Hall








The oaks of Sheffield Park were one of the greatest glories of the
place. Giants of the forest stretched their huge arms over the turf,
kept smooth and velvety by the creatures, wild and tame, that browsed
on it, and made their covert in the deep glades of fern and copse wood
that formed the background.

There were not a few whose huge trunks, of such girth that two men
together could not encompass them with outstretched arms, rose to a
height of more than sixty feet before throwing out a horizontal branch,
and these branches, almost trees in themselves, spread forty-eight feet
on each side of the bole, lifting a mountain of rich verdure above
them, and casting a delicious shade upon the ground beneath them.
Beneath one of these noble trees, some years after the arrival of the
hapless Mary Stuart, a party of children were playing, much to the
amusement of an audience of which they were utterly unaware, namely, of
sundry members of a deer-hunting party; a lady and gentleman who,
having become separated from the rest, were standing in the deep
bracken, which rose nearly as high as their heads, and were further
sheltered by a rock, looking and listening.

"Now then, Cis, bravely done! Show how she treats her ladies--"

"Who will be her lady? Thou must, Humfrey!"

"No, no, I'll never be a lady," said Humfrey gruffly.

"Thou then, Diccon."

"No, no," and the little fellow shrank back, "thou wilt hurt me, Cis."

"Come then, do thou, Tony! I'll not strike too hard!"

"As if a wench could strike too hard."

"He might have turned that more chivalrously," whispered the lady to
her companion. "What are they about to represent? Mort de ma vie, the
profane little imps! I, believe it is my sacred cousin, the Majesty of
England herself! Truly the little maid hath a bearing that might serve
a queen, though she be all too black and beetle-browed for Queen
Elizabeth. Who is she, Master Gilbert?"

"She is Cicely Talbot, daughter to the gentleman porter of your
Majesty's lodge."

"See to her--mark her little dignity with her heather and bluebell
crown as she sits on the rock, as stately as jewels could make her! See
her gesture with her hands, to mark where the standing ruff ought to
be. She hath the true spirit of the Comedy--ah! and here cometh young
Antony with mincing pace, with a dock-leaf for a fan, and a mantle for
a farthingale! She speaks! now hark!"

"Good morrow to you, my young mistress," began a voice pitched two
notes higher than its actual childlike key. "Thou hast a new
farthingale, I see! O Antony, that's not the way to curtsey--do it
like this. No no! thou clumsy fellow--back and knees together."

"Never mind, Cis," interposed one of the boys--"we shall lose all our
play time if you try to make him do it with a grace. Curtsies are
women's work--go on."

"Where was I? O--" (resuming her dignity after these asides) "Thou
hast a new farthingale, I see."

"To do my poor honour to your Grace's birthday."

"Oh ho! Is it so? Methought it had been to do honour to my fair
mistress's own taper waist. And pray how much an ell was yonder
broidered stuff?"

"Two crowns, an't please your Grace," returned the supposed lady,
making a wild conjecture.

"Two crowns! thou foolish Antony!" Then recollecting herself, "two
crowns! what, when mine costs but half! Thou presumptuous, lavish
varlet--no, no, wench! what right hast thou to wear gowns finer than
thy liege?--I'll teach you." Wherewith, erecting all her talons, and
clawing frightfully with them in the air, the supposed Queen Bess leapt
at the unfortunate maid of honour, appeared to tear the imaginary robe,
and drove her victim on the stage with a great air of violence, amid
peals of laughter from the other children, loud enough to drown those
of the elders, who could hardly restrain their merriment.

Gilbert Talbot, however, had been looking about him anxiously all the
time, and would fain have moved away; but a sign from Queen Mary
withheld him, as one of the children cried,

"Now! show us how she serves her lords."

The play seemed well understood between them, for the mimic queen again
settled herself on her throne, while Will Cavendish, calling out, "Now
I'm Master Hatton," began to tread a stately measure on the grass,
while the queen exclaimed, "Who is this new star of my court? What
stalwart limbs, what graceful tread! Who art thou, sir?"

"Madam, I am--I am. What is it? An ef--ef--"

"A daddy-long-legs," mischievously suggested another of the group.

"No, it's Latin. Is it Ephraim? No; it's a fly, something like a
gnat" (then at an impatient gesture from her Majesty) "disporting
itself in the beams of the noontide sun."

"Blood-sucking," whispered the real Queen behind the fern. "He is not
so far out there. See! see! with what a grace the child holds out her
little hand for him to kiss. I doubt me if Elizabeth herself could be
more stately. But who comes here?"

"I'm Sir Philip Sydney."

"No, no," shouted Humfrey, "Sir Philip shall not come into this
fooling. My father says he's the best knight in England."

"He is as bad as the rest in flattery to the Queen," returned young
Cavendish.

"I'll not have it, I say. You may be Lord Leicester an you will! He's
but Robin Dudley."

"Ah!" began the lad, now advancing and shading his eyes. "What
burnished splendour dazzles my weak sight? Is it a second Juno that I
behold, or lovely Venus herself? Nay, there is a wisdom in her that
can only belong to the great Minerva herself! So youthful too. Is it
Hebe descended to this earth?"

Cis smirked, and held out a hand, saying in an affected tone, "Lord
Earl, are thy wits astray?"

"Whose wits would not be perturbed at the mere sight of such exquisite
beauty?"

"Come and sit at our feet, and we will try to restore them," said the
stage queen; but here little Diccon, the youngest of the party, eager
for more action, called out, "Show us how she treats her lords and
ladies together."

On which young Babington, as the lady, and Humfrey, made demonstrations
of love-making and betrothal, upon which their sovereign lady descended
on them with furious tokens of indignation, abusing them right and
left, until in the midst the great castle bell pealed forth, and caused
a flight general, being, in fact, the summons to the school kept in one
of the castle chambers by one Master Snigg, or Sniggius, for the
children of the numerous colony who peopled the castle. Girls, as well
as boys, were taught there, and thus Cis accompanied Humfrey and
Diccon, and consorted with their companions.

Queen Mary was allowed to hunt and take out-of-door exercise in the
park whenever she pleased, but Lord Shrewsbury, or one of his sons,
Gilbert and Francis, never was absent from her for a moment when she
went beyond the door of the lesser lodge, which the Earl had erected
for her, with a flat, leaded, and parapeted roof, where she could take
the air, and with only one entrance, where was stationed a "gentleman
porter," with two subordinates, whose business it was to keep a close
watch over every person or thing that went in or out. If she had any
purpose of losing herself in the thickets of fern, or copsewood, in the
park, or holding unperceived conference under shelter of the chase,
these plans were rendered impossible by the pertinacious presence of
one or other of the Talbots, who acted completely up to their name.

Thus it was that the Queen, with Gilbert in close attendance, had found
herself an unseen spectator of the children's performance, which she
watched with the keen enjoyment that sometimes made her forget her
troubles for the moment.

"How got the imps such knowledge?" mused Gilbert Talbot, as he led the
Queen out on the sward which had been the theatre of their mimicry.

"Do you ask that, Sir Gilbert?" said the Queen with emphasis, for
indeed it was his wife who had been the chief retailer of scandal about
Queen Elizabeth, to the not unwilling ears of herself and his mother;
and Antony Babington, as my lady's page, had but used his opportunities.

"They are insolent varlets and deserve the rod," continued Gilbert.

"You are too ready with the rod, you English," returned Mary. "You
flog all that is clever and spirited out of your poor children!"

"That is the question, madam. Have the English been found so deficient
in spirit compared with other nations?"

"Ah! we all know what you English can say for yourselves," returned the
Queen. "See what Master John Coke hath made of the herald's argument
before Dame Renown, in his translation. He hath twisted all the other
way."

"Yea, madam, but the French herald had it all his own way before. So
it was but just we should have our turn."

Here a cry from the other hunters greeted them, and they found Lord
Shrewsbury, some of the ladies, and a number of prickers, looking
anxiously for them.

"Here we are, good my lord," said the Queen, who, when free from
rheumatism, was a most active walker. "We have only been stalking my
sister Queen's court in small, the prettiest and drollest pastime I
have seen for many a long day."

Much had happened in the course of the past years. The intrigues with
Northumberland and Norfolk, and the secret efforts of the unfortunate
Queen to obtain friends, and stir up enemies against Elizabeth, had
resulted in her bonds being drawn closer and closer. The Rising of the
North had taken place, and Cuthbert Langston had been heard of as
taking a prominent part beneath the sacred banner, but he had been
wounded and not since heard of, and his kindred knew not whether he
were among the unnamed dead who loaded the trees in the rear of the
army of Sussex, or whether he had escaped beyond seas. Richard Talbot
still remained as one of the trusted kinsmen of Lord Shrewsbury, on
whom that nobleman depended for the execution of the charge which
yearly became more wearisome and onerous, as hope decayed and plots
thickened.

Though resident in the new lodge with her train, it was greatly
diminished by the dismissal from time to time of persons who were
regarded as suspicious; Mary still continued on intimate terms with
Lady Shrewsbury and her daughters, specially distinguishing with her
favour Bessie Pierrepoint, the eldest grandchild of the Countess, who
slept with her, and was her plaything and her pupil in French and
needlework. The fiction of her being guest and not prisoner had not
entirely passed away; visitors were admitted, and she went in and out
of the lodge, walked or rode at will, only under pretext of courtesy.
She never was unaccompanied by the Earl or one of his sons, and they
endeavoured to make all private conversation with strangers, or persons
unauthorised from Court, impossible to her.

The invitation given to little Cicely on the arrival had not been
followed up. The Countess wished to reserve to her own family all the
favours of one who might at any moment become the Queen of England, and
she kept Susan Talbot and her children in what she called their meet
place, in which that good lady thoroughly acquiesced, having her hands
much too full of household affairs to run after queens.

There was a good deal of talk about this child's play, a thing which
had much better have been left where it was; but in a seclusion like
that of Sheffield subjects of conversation were not over numerous, and
every topic which occurred was apt to be worried to shreds. So Lady
Shrewsbury and her daughters heard the Queen's arch description of the
children's mimicry, and instantly conceived a desire to see the scene
repeated. The gentlemen did not like it at all: their loyalty was
offended at the insult to her gracious Majesty, and besides, what might
not happen if such sports ever came to her ears? However, the Countess
ruled Sheffield; and Mary Talbot and Bessie Cavendish ruled the
Countess, and they were bent on their own way. So the representation
was to take place in the great hall of the manor-house, and the actors
were to be dressed in character from my lady's stores.

"They will ruin it, these clumsy English, after their own fashion,"
said Queen Mary, among her ladies. "It was the unpremeditated grace
and innocent audacity of the little ones that gave the charm. Now it
will be a mere broad farce, worthy of Bess of Hardwicke. Mais que
voulez vous?"

The performance was, however, laid under a great disadvantage by the
absolute refusal of Richard and Susan Talbot to allow their Cicely to
assume the part of Queen Elizabeth. They had been dismayed at her
doing so in child's play, and since she could read fluently, write
pretty well, and cipher a little, the good mother had decided to put a
stop to this free association with the boys at the castle, and to keep
her at home to study needlework and housewifery. As to her acting with
boys before the assembled households, the proposal seemed to them
absolutely insulting to any daughter of the Talbot line, and they had
by this time forgotten that she was no such thing. Bess Cavendish, the
special spoilt child of the house, even rode down, armed with her
mother's commands, but her feudal feeling did not here sway Mistress
Susan.

Public acting was esteemed an indignity for women, and, though Cis was
a mere child, all Susan's womanhood awoke, and she made answer firmly
that she could not obey my lady Countess in this.

Bess flounced out of the house, indignantly telling her she should rue
the day, and Cis herself cried passionately, longing after the fine
robes and jewels, and the presentation of herself as a queen before the
whole company of the castle. The harsh system of the time made the
good mother think it her duty to requite this rebellion with the rod,
and to set the child down to her seam in the corner, and there sat Cis,
pouting and brooding over what Antony Babington had told her of what he
had picked up when in his page's capacity, attending his lady, of Queen
Mary's admiration of the pretty ways and airs of the little mimic Queen
Bess, till she felt as if she were defrauded of her due. The captive
Queen was her dream, and to hear her commendations, perhaps be kissed
by her, would be supreme bliss. Nay, she still hoped that there would
be an interference of the higher powers on her behalf, which would give
her a triumph.

No! Captain Talbot came home, saying, "So, Mistress Sue, thou art a
steadfast woman, to have resisted my lady's will!"

"I knew, my good husband, that thou wouldst never see our Cis even in
sport a player!"

"Assuredly not, and thou hadst the best of it, for when Mistress Bess
came in as full of wrath as a petard of powder, and made your refusal
known, my lord himself cried out, 'And she's in the right o't! What a
child may do in sport is not fit for a gentlewoman in earnest.'"

"Then, hath not my lord put a stop to the whole?"

"Fain would he do so, but the Countess and her daughters are set on
carrying out the sport. They have set Master Sniggius to indite the
speeches, and the boys of the school are to take the parts for their
autumn interlude."

"Surely that is perilous, should it come to the knowledge of those at
Court."

"Oh, I promise you, Sniggius hath a device for disguising all that
could give offence. The Queen will become Semiramis or Zenobia, I know
not which, and my Lord of Leicester, Master Hatton, and the others,
will be called Ninus or Longinus, or some such heathenish long-tailed
terms, and speak speeches of mighty length. Are they to be in Latin,
Humfrey?"

"Oh no, sir," said Humfrey, with a shudder. "Master Sniggius would
have had them so, but the young ladies said they would have nothing to
do with the affair if there were one word of Latin uttered. It is bad
enough as it is. I am to be Philidaspes, an Assyrian knight, and have
some speeches to learn, at least one is twenty-five lines, and not one
is less than five!"

"A right requital for thy presumptuous and treasonable game, my son,"
said his father, teasing him.

"And who is to be the Queen?" asked the mother.

"Antony Babington," said Humfrey, "because he can amble and mince more
like a wench than any of us. The worse luck for him. He will have
more speeches than any one of us to learn."

The report of the number of speeches to be learnt took off the sting of
Cis's disappointment, though she would not allow that it did so,
declaring with truth that she could learn by hearing faster than any of
the boys. Indeed, she did learn all Humfrey's speeches, and Antony's
to boot, and assisted both of them with all her might in committing
them to memory.

As Captain Talbot had foretold, the boys' sport was quite sufficiently
punished by being made into earnest. Master Sniggius was far from
merciful as to length, and his satire was so extremely remote that
Queen Elizabeth herself could hardly have found out that Zenobia's fine
moral lecture on the vanities of too aspiring ruffs was founded on the
box on the ear which rewarded poor Lady Mary Howard's display of her
rich petticoat, nor would her cheeks have tingled when the Queen of the
East--by a bold adaptation--played the part of Lion in interrupting the
interview of our old friends Pyramus and Thisbe, who, by an awful
anachronism, were carried to Palmyra. It was no plagiarism from
"Midsummer Night's Dream," only drawn from the common stock of
playwrights.

So, shorn of all that was perilous, and only understood by the
initiated, the play took place in the Castle Hall, the largest
available place, with Queen Mary seated upon the dais, with a canopy of
State over her head, Lady Shrewsbury on a chair nearly as high, the
Earl, the gentlemen and ladies of their suites drawn up in a circle,
the servants where they could, the Earl's musicians thundering with
drums, tooting with fifes, twanging on fiddles, overhead in a gallery.
Cis and Diccon, on either side of Susan Talbot, gazing on the stage,
where, much encumbered by hoop and farthingale, and arrayed in a yellow
curled wig, strutted forth Antony Babington, declaiming--

"Great Queen Zenobia am I,
The Roman Power I defy.
At my Palmyra, in the East,
I rule o'er every man and beast"


Here was an allusion couched in the Roman power, which Master Antony
had missed, or he would hardly have uttered it, since he was of a Roman
Catholic family, though, while in the Earl's household, he had to
conform outwardly.

A slender, scholarly lad, with a pretty, innocent face, and a voice
that could "speak small, like a woman," came in and announced himself
thus--

"I'm Thisbe, an Assyrian maid,
My robe's with jewels overlaid."


The stiff colloquy between the two boys, encumbered with their dresses,
shy and awkward, and rehearsing their lines like a task, was no small
contrast to the merry impromptu under the oak, and the gay, free grace
of the children.

Poor Philidaspes acquitted himself worst of all, for when done up in a
glittering suit of sham armour, with a sword and dagger of lath, his
entire speech, though well conned, deserted him, and he stood
red-faced, hesitating, and ready to cry, when suddenly from the midst
of the spectators there issued a childish voice, "Go on, Humfrey!


"Philidaspes am I, most valorous knight,
Ever ready for Church and Queen to fight.


"Go on, I say!" and she gave a little stamp of impatience, to the
extreme confusion of the mother and the great amusement of the
assembled company. Humfrey, once started, delivered himself of the
rest of his oration in a glum and droning voice, occasioning fits of
laughter, such as by no means added to his self-possession.

The excellent Sniggius and his company of boys had certainly, whether
intentionally or not, deprived the performance of all its personal
sting, and most likewise of its interest. Such diversion as the
spectators derived was such as Hippolyta seems to have found in
listening to Wall, Lion, Moonshine and Co.; but, like Theseus, Lord
Shrewsbury was very courteous, and complimented both playwright and
actors, relieved and thankful, no doubt, that Queen Zenobia was so
unlike his royal mistress.

There was nothing so much enforced by Queen Elizabeth as that strangers
should not have resort to Sheffield Castle. No spectators, except
those attached to the household, and actually forming part of the
colony within the park, were therefore supposed to be admitted, and all
of them were carefully kept at a distant part of the hall, where they
could have no access to the now much reduced train of the Scottish
Queen, with whom all intercourse was forbidden.

Humfrey was therefore surprised when, just as he had come out of the
tiring-room, glad to divest himself of his encumbering and gaudy
equipments, a man touched him on the arm and humbly said, "Sir, I have
a humble entreaty to make of you. If you would convey my petition to
the Queen of Scots!"

"I have nothing to do with the Queen of Scots," said the
ex-Philidaspes, glancing suspiciously at the man's sleeve, where,
however, he saw the silver dog, the family badge.

"She is a charitable lady," continued the man, who looked like a groom,
"and if she only knew that my poor old aunt is lying famishing, she
would aid her. Pray you, good my lord, help me to let this scroll
reach to her."

"I'm no lord, and I have naught to do with the Queen," repeated
Humfrey, while at the same moment Antony, who had been rather longer in
getting out of his female attire, presented himself; and Humfrey,
pitying the man's distress, said, "This young gentleman is the
Countess's page. He sometimes sees the Queen."

The man eagerly told his story, how his aunt, the widow of a huckster,
had gone on with the trade till she had been cruelly robbed and beaten,
and now was utterly destitute, needing aid to set herself up again.
The Queen of Scots was noted for her beneficent almsgiving, and a few
silver pieces from her would be quite sufficient to replenish her
basket.

Neither boy doubted a moment. Antony had the entree to the presence
chamber, where on this festival night the Earl and Countess were sure
to be with the Queen. He went straightway thither, and trained as he
was in the usages of the place, told his business to the Earl, who was
seated near the Queen. Lord Shrewsbury took the petition from him,
glanced it over, and asked, "Who knew the Guy Norman who sent it?"
Frank Talbot answered for him, that he was a yeoman pricker, and the
Earl permitted the paper to be carried to Mary, watching her carefully
as she read it, when Antony had presented it on one knee.

"Poor woman!" she said, "it is a piteous case. Master Beatoun, hast
thou my purse? Here, Master Babington, wilt thou be the bearer of this
angel for me, since I know that the delight of being the bearer will be
a reward to thy kind heart."

Antony gracefully kissed the fair hand, and ran off joyously with the
Queen's bounty. Little did any one guess what the career thus begun
would bring that fair boy.





Next: The Huckstering Woman

Previous: The Captive



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