An Accidental Tragedy

by Roderick Graham

  From the regular reports from d’Humières that Henri received he was able to reassure himself that Mary and his son ‘got on as well together as if they had known each other all their lives’. Montmorency wrote to Marie in Scotland on 30 March 1549, ‘I will assure you that the Dauphin pays her little attentions, and is enamoured of her, from which it is easy to judge that God gave them birth the one for the other.’ This was due to the careful instruction of Diane, who taught Mary that her best way of ensuring the affection of the Dauphin was to cosset him and never to allow him to be over-ambitious, ensuring that whatever he attempted was well within his somewhat limited powers. It was through Mary’s encouragement that François became so enthusiastic for outdoor pursuits, and their relationship was that of brother and sister with an overlay of courtly love. Mary never attempted to dominate her little fiancé, and Antoinette, as well as the king, was well pleased with the state of affairs in the nursery.

  Henri was not so happy with the Scots in general. Many of the Garde Écossaise wanted to join Mary’s personal service, but this was heavily discouraged. Although formed as a royal bodyguard from noble families in Scotland, they were mercenaries and had a reputation for arrogance, violence and vandalism, even leaving their graffiti on the walls of the chapel at Fontainebleau. They were also expensive to maintain, as were the forces supporting Marie de Guise in Scotland.

  In December 1549 Henri had asked for the astronomical sum of 400,000 livres in taxation for his military expenses in Scotland, and he begged d’Humières not to increase Mary’s court. Most of Mary’s male servants had been sent home and replaced with Frenchmen, whilst the Maries had been sent away the previous year to Poissy. Mary’s French was improving due to the facility young children have for learning new languages and, although she continued to understand Scots, French was now her everyday language. Attempts were made to replace Janet Sinclair. She was retained, although now, as only one amongst many servants, she had less personal contact with Mary and was the butt of constant jokes by the French servants for her continued Scottishness. Mary’s Frenchification was proceeding successfully. Her governess, Lady Fleming, remained in charge of all Mary’s female staff for reasons other than her domestic efficiency: she was now a regular occupant of the king’s bed.

  This ill-judged affair had the surprising result of uniting Diane and Catherine. Diane also felt that Henri was harming Mary’s standing by encouraging infidelity among her household, but Montmorency saw a chance of destabilising Diane’s position at court and made public the rumours that she had been supplanted. Although reluctantly tolerated by Catherine, Diane had many enemies and her considerable wealth made her loathed. Apart from her château at Anet, she had vineyards and estates throughout France, and on the death of François I she had seized the jewellery he had given to his mistress the Duchesse d’Étampes. Henri had also given her the château of Chenonceau and the rights to collect various taxes, and even placed a tax on church bells for her. Of this, Rabelais said, ‘the king had hung the chimes of this kingdom on the neck of his mare’. Henri managed to ride out the scandal until one evening when Lady Fleming, who must have been drunk, loudly announced to the court, ‘I have done all that I can and I am pregnant by the king, for which I count myself both honoured and happy. I now carry the royal blood and whatever flowers that may bring.’ The child, a boy, was known as the Bastard of Angôuleme and Lady Fleming was swiftly returned to Scotland, to be replaced by the more strait-laced Mme de Parois as head of Mary’s household.

  Some care was taken to explain the change in governesses, and the truth was undoubtedly kept from Mary as she became more and more a princess of France. Being a queen of Scotland – a country of which she now had only hazy memories – had become of secondary importance. Mary’s life in France was so vivid with new experiences that it took over from her past, except, of course, from her memories of her mother who was now planning to visit France. The first letter Mary wrote, in 1549, was to Marie. It was a very formal correspondence, in which she told her mother that de Brézé was to visit her with some news. Typical of any young girl writing in her ‘best handwriting’, Mary shortened the letter, saying that de Brézé would give her mother all the news, which was that Mary’s grandfather Claude, Duc de Guise, had died at the age of fifty-four. Marie had been writing constantly, mainly to Antoinette, concerning the care of her daughter, especially in religious matters. She was to attend Mass daily and had two personal chaplains, Guillaume de Laon, provided by Henri, and the Prior of Inchmahome, who had accompanied her on the voyage from Dumbarton and remained with her at his own expense, no doubt to the relief of Henri.

  In April 1550, Mary was delighted to receive the news that her mother was planning a visit to France, although not solely for the funeral of Claude, which Mary was thought too young to attend. Mary’s uncle, François de Guise, inherited the dukedom. Her letter to her mother about the impending visit is much less formal and shows that she had become fluent in written French by this stage. Meanwhile, Marie wrote to Diane as to the correct mourning in current fashion. It would have been more appropriate to consult Catherine, but Marie, French to her roots, regarded Catherine’s dress sense as Italian – they had never met – and, therefore, barbaric.

  Marie did not come to France entirely for family reasons. The English forces had finally retreated from Scotland, leaving Henri’s French garrisons free to return home, as were his forces from Boulogne, which was back in French hands, and he was planning a gala celebration in Rouen. Marie brought with her the entire Scottish court, hoping, as did happen, that their support for her as queen regent would be strengthened after receiving suitable pensions from Henri for their loyalty. In other words, they were getting a free foreign holiday, plus handsome bribes which she, herself, could not afford. Marie knew how to appease her Scottish aristocracy.

  Mary and her mother met on 25 September 1550 and, in October, came to Rouen as part of an entrée joyeuse Henri had arranged to celebrate the return of Boulogne to France and the final pacification of Scotland. This meant the withdrawal of French troops and the saving of much French money, although even without this welcome bonus Marie and her daughter were guests of honour. However, now the daughter far outshone the mother. Mary was seven years and ten months old, so Nicolas de Moncel, her tailor, had supplied the precocious child with violet, scarlet and yellow velvets, plain Holland linen, white and blue Venetian satin, violet and black taffeta with pink and white caps, as well as embroidered aprons worn over skirts of cloth of silver. She glittered as she sat on Henri’s right in the royal stand while the procession passed before them led by the dignitaries of Rouen, who uncovered their heads and bowed as they passed. They were followed by 2,000 soldiers escorting ragged English captives in chains – these ‘prisoners’ were probably citizens of Rouen clad in brand-new rags. Four canvas and wood elephants carried flaming pots on their backs, surrounded by Roman gladiators, bowing to a huge cart drawn by plumed horses and carrying ‘Henri’ and his ‘family’ – more volunteer citizens in borrowed plumes. Next, winged horses drew a carriage with figures of fame and victory. Classical warriors carried poles with models of the forts at Boulogne and Calais and giant banners on which were painted artists’ impressions of Haddington, Dundee and Broughty Castle. Finally, there was a floating island on which naked ‘Brazilian’ natives – Rouennais citizens painted pink – were duly overcome by French soldiers. (Henri was keen to establish a colony in Brazil, and in 1555 Admiral Villegaignon would lead an unsuccessful expedition to what is now Rio de Janiero.) There was a mock sea battle fought on the Seine and a solemn Te Deum sung in the cathedral. Henri and Mary adored every minute of it. The following day the display was repeated for the benefit of Queen Catherine, although this time the spectacle was marred when one of the ships in the sea battle actually did sink and the actors playing the crew were drowned in the fast-flowing Seine.

  It was during her mother’s visit that Mary, while staying at Amboise, had her first whiff of danger. R
obert Stewart, one of the archers of the Garde Écossaise, was an escaped prisoner from those taken at St Andrews after the siege of the castle. He had changed his name and now had access to the royal apartments at Amboise. He attempted to poison Mary’s food but was discovered. He fled to England and was captured and returned to France, where, under torture, he confessed and was executed. The actual facts were kept from Mary, but the increased security and heightened palace gossip would have intrigued and excited the young queen.

  A more sombre note was struck when Mary’s half-brother, the fifteen-year-old François, Duc de Longueville, who had sent his mother Marie the knotted string showing his increase in height, died in Amiens. Marie had nursed him at his end and was heartbroken when he died. Mary was now her only surviving child, and she knew that she would have to leave France and her daughter very soon. Heavy hints were being dropped about the expense of keeping her and her Scottish attendants in the royal household, and she left in the late autumn of 1551 after a tearful parting with her daughter. She could have remained in the family home at Joinville and she even considered joining a convent, but she knew that her duty lay in governing Scotland as regent for her daughter. Mary and her mother would never meet again.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The most amiable Princess in Christendom

  Mary’s life as the Dauphine was peripatetic in the extreme, constantly moving around the royal palaces. But principally now for Mary the Palace of St Germain formed all her memories of childhood as Scotland faded into the distance. St Germain was near enough to Paris for Henri to attend to business, but far enough away from the capital to allow rural relaxation, much as, in Scotland, Linlithgow Palace sat at a convenient distance from Edinburgh. Mary appeared enthusiastically in masquerades at St Germain, where she, as the Delphic Sybil, prophesied love and happiness for the Dauphin when she became Queen of Britain, to the polite applause of the indulgent court. Her education in dynastic ambition was beginning at a young age.

  The Louvre in Paris, very much a working palace used by Henri II for business, was being thoroughly rebuilt and so was seldom visited by the royal children. Outside Paris, the country palaces nearly all owed their existence to the royal passion for hunting and the nearest to Paris was Fontainebleau, thirty-five miles to the south. It had been a hunting lodge since the eleventh century, but François I transformed it into a Renaissance jewel. Francesco Primaticcio, the Mantuan painter and architect, decorated the great rooms, installed exact replicas of classical statues and looked after the royal collection of pictures, although François I had himself acquired the Mona Lisa directly from Leonardo da Vinci. It was as lavishly Renaissance as François’s liberal purse would allow. The beautiful Linlithgow Palace of Mary’s birth would have fitted neatly into one of its courtyards.

  To the south-west of Paris the River Loire swings westwards to the sea, and it was along its banks that a string of palaces hung like jewels on a necklace. Nearest to Paris was Chambord, the grandest of them all and a favourite of Henri’s. This vast palace, covered by innumerable turrets and spires, sits beside the River Cossen; François had wanted to divert the Loire but was dissuaded, although, even then, building the palace nearly bankrupted him. It was elaborately decorated without and within, containing over 400 rooms, all fashionably plastered and painted. In the central great hall was a double helix staircase said to have been designed by Leonardo himself. Even the roof was a fairyland fantasy with crocketted towers, lanterns and intricately carved dormer windows. The thousands of nooks and crannies invited the confidences, intrigues and assignations which played a great part in the life of glittering society. Mary and the Dauphin were watched affectionately as they played games where she was the damsel in distress and he her gallant knight. There was a special terrace from which the ladies could watch the gentlemen returning from hunting or look down on the pageants and jousts on the forecourt below.

  As soon as she was able to read it, Mary was introduced to the best-selling book of the time, Amadis de Gaul. This was a French translation of a Spanish romance by Garci Rodríguez de Montalvo, telling of the adventures of Amadis, the flower of chivalry, who rescues his love, Oriana, from her captivity while defeating all the enemies of her father. This book had an enormously wide readership among the romantically minded courtiers of the day and had a powerful influence on its female readers. Diane d’Antouins, who was to become the first mistress of Henri IV, even changed her name to Corysande, one of the heroines of the book. It was a highly romantic flashback to the days of Arthur and his knights, though here the quest was not for the Grail but for pure love. Standing on the terrace of Chambord, the impressionable Mary saw this fantasy made reality as armoured knights rode in the lists with their mistresses’ colours on their lances. Since careful nurses removed their charges in time, she would not have seen how, as the heat of the afternoon grew and exhaustion inflamed tempers, the gallantry of the joust was often replaced by vindictive violence: lances were cast aside to be replaced with axes and maces, and the exhausted knights-errant of the morning were carried off on blood-stained stretchers.

  At Chambord Mary and the Dauphin would ride through the vast parkland – armed guards and ladies-in-waiting keeping a discreet distance – and hunt enthusiastically for the game obligingly driven towards them. One of the innovations Catherine de Medici had imported from Italy was the practice of wearing a pair of serge drawers under her skirts that allowed her to ride astride without affording a view of the royal limbs, and Mary soon adopted the fashion. She had two horses as gifts from Henri, Bravane and Mme la Réale, and, with the Dauphin mounted on either Enghien or Fontaine, she had some of the most carefree times of her childhood.

  Mary also received the formal education suitable for a royal princess. On orders from Henri, Catherine saw to it that Mary was taught with her own children under their schoolmasters, Claude Millot and Antoine Fouquelin, while her spiritual education was undertaken by Pierre Lavane and Jacques Amyot. Mary’s own chaplain, Guillaume de Laon, had charge of her communion vessels, which travelled with her wherever she celebrated Mass, in case she should contract any infection from vessels shared with others. The close-knit court of Catherine displayed a strict morality, at least in contrast to the licentiousness of François I’s day, and casual amorous intrigues were officially frowned upon. After marriage, the maintenance of a mistress was deemed acceptable, as in Henri’s case, but unofficial and temporary liaisons came under the heading of vulgar immorality.

  In the cosmopolitan court Mary now spoke French fluently and, with the facility of children, easily learned some Italian and Spanish, as well as, with some difficulty, Latin. She is credited with having written Latin ‘themes’ when she was twelve years old in the form of letters of a hundred or so words each, to her ‘sister’ and best friend Elisabeth, the eldest of Henri’s daughters. These letters are packed with classical allusions and read as if they come from a scholar of the time who had read all of Cicero, Plato and Plutarch, and Erasmus’s colloquy Diliculum, as well as the more obscure Politian. They even included a letter to Calvin recommending that he study Socrates’s view of immortality. Overall, their underlying theme is to praise classical education for women. But the Latin, in Mary’s clear handwriting, appears on the recto, with the French text written in another hand on the verso. It has been suggested that the French text was written by a tutor and that Mary had simply translated it into Latin as an exercise; it seems very unlikely that any child, except a precocious genius, could have achieved that breadth of reading by the age of twelve.

  Mary delivered a Latin oration ‘of her own composition’ to the court, for which she was certainly heavily coached. Here her chosen subject, or, more likely, the subject chosen for her, was a plea for the access of women to the liberal arts. The arch-flatterer Brantôme found it wonderful to ‘see that learned and beautiful queen declaiming thus in Latin, which she understood and spoke admirably’; though it is very unlikely that he was actually present. In later life, when forced i
nto conversations in Latin, she had to use an interpreter, and she had no enthusiasm for scholarship as such. Mary’s cousin, Elizabeth Tudor, enjoyed a facility with Latin, and she spoke both it and Greek freely. By contrast, scholastically, Mary Stewart was a dutiful plodder.

  Mary was, however, a patron of poetry and supported the young poets who inhabited the court in the hope of commissions. They rejected the classical styles of the Latin and Greek poets and championed the use of French as a language flexible enough for secular as well as spiritual subjects, and one capable of carrying a powerful emotional message to the common people. This circle of seven poets, calling themselves the Pléiade (the astronomical group of seven stars) was led by Pierre de Ronsard and Joachim du Bellay. Given their rejection of the classical modes, it is curious that they took the same name as a group of Greek poets flourishing in Alexandria in the third century BC. Ronsard had been a page at the court of Madeleine, the tragic queen to James V, and du Bellay had accompanied Mary on her voyage from Scotland. Now both men dedicated poetry to the young queen. Having poets worshipping her was simply something she grew to expect.

  Mary was learning to embroider – a pastime that she often turned to throughout her life. She could now sew and knit, and in 1551 there was an order for 32 sols’ worth of wool. She learned music, played the guitar and sang the songs of Marot with her sister princesses. Clément Marot was a poet and the translator of the Psalms into French, set to music by Claude Goudimel and Loys Bourgeois. Mary also learned ‘genteel’ cooking – the making of preserves and sweetmeats, above all a pâté of sugar, cinnamon and powdered violets – and she was joined by the other princesses in pretending to be simple bourgeois housewives busying themselves in their kitchens.