gesture, led one of the ladies of the court to his vessel: Catherine deâ Medici, Mary Queen of Scots and heiress to the throne of France, the Queen of Navarre, and the Princesses Elizabeth, Margaret and Claude. This was intended to symbolise a happy voyage through life, amid a flourish of pageantry. But fate is not subject to human wishes, and from this dazzling moment the life-ship of Mary Stuart was to be steered towards other and more perilous shores.
The first danger arose unexpectedly in her path. Mary was Queen of Scotland in her own right, by birth and heritage, whereas the â roi-dauphin â, the crown prince of France, had raised her to a further high estate by marriage. But hardly had the marriage ceremony terminated when a third and more advantageous crown began to shimmer vaguely before the girlâs eyes, and her young hands, inexperienced and ill advised, grasped at this treasure and its treacherous brilliance. In the year of the Scottish Queenâs marriage to Francis, Mary Tudor, Queen of England, died. Elizabeth, her half-sister, succeeded to the crown. But had she any legal right to ascend the throne? Henry VIII, a veritable Bluebeard with his many wives, had left only three children behind him, Edward and two daughters. Mary, the eldest of the three, issued from his lawful union with Catherine of Aragon; Elizabeth, seventeen years younger than Mary, was the child of his marriage with Anne Boleyn. Edward, four years junior to Elizabeth, was the son of Henryâs third wife, Jane Seymour, and as the only male heir, being then only ten years of age, immediately succeeded his father. On Edwardâs premature demise, there was no question as to the legality of Maryâs accession. She left no children, and Elizabethâs right was of a dubious nature. The English crown lawyers contended that, since Henryâs marriage with Anne had been sanctioned by an ecclesiastical courtâs pronouncement and the previous marriage to Catherine of Aragon had been annulled, Elizabeth was a legitimate child of the union. She was his direct descendant, and was a legal claimant to the throne. The French crown jurists, on the other hand, recalled the fact that Henry VIII had himself declared his marriage to Anne Boleyn a union with no legal foundation, and had insisted upon his parliamentâs proclaiming Elizabeth a bastard. The whole of the Catholic world held the opinion that Elizabeth was born out of lawful wedlock and was, therefore, cut off from the succession. If this view was a true one, then the next legitimate claimant could be no other than Mary Queen of Scots, the great-granddaughter of Henry VII.
Young Mary was faced with a decision of worldwide importance. Two alternatives presented themselves. She could be diplomatic and yielding, could maintain friendly relations by recognising her cousin as the rightful Queen of England, thus putting aside her own claim which in any case could not be pushed except by the use of arms. Or she could boldly and resolutely declare Elizabeth to be a usurper, and thereupon gather together an army of French and Scottish supporters to enforce her claim and deprive Elizabeth of a usurperâs crown. Unfortunately, Mary and her counsellors chose a third way out of the dilemma, a way which is invariably beset with difficulties, especially in the realm of politics. They elected to take a middle course. Instead of marching forth in full strength and with determination against Elizabeth, the French royal house made an absurd and vainglorious gesture. Henry II commanded that the bridal pair should have the royal arms of England and Scotland surmounted by the crown of France painted and engraved on blason, shield and seal, and moreover that Mary Stuart, in all public announcements and proclamations, henceforward should style herself: âRegina Franciae, Scotiae, Angliae et Hiberniaeâ. The claim was thus maintained but was left undefended. War was not
Elizabeth Amelia Barrington