July 26, 2025 • 38 mins
Celebrated Crimes is a unique series of historical narratives by a young, rising Alexandre Dumas, before he became renowned as the author of DArtagnan or Monte Cristo. The third volume focuses on the tumultuous life and tragic end of Mary Queen of Scots. Dumas meticulously delves into the controversial aspects of her reign, yet maintains a sympathetic perspective towards her. Remembered for her strong ties to France through education and marriage, Marys fate has been a subject of unending debate, especially in light of the role Elizabeth played in her downfall.
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter five, Part one of Celebrated Crimes, Volume three by
Alexander Duma, translated by George Burnham Ives. This LibriVox recording
is in the public domain. Chapter five, Part one. At
the time appointed the Queen was ready. She had suffered
so much at Edinburgh that she left it without any regret,
besides whether to spare her the humiliations of the day before,
(00:22):
or to conceal her departure from any partisans who might
remain to her. A litter had been made ready. Mary
got into it without any resistance, and after two hours
journey she reached Duddington. Very little vessel was waiting for her,
which set sail directly she was on board, and next
day at dawn she disembarked on the other side of
the Firth of Forth in the County of Fife. Mary
halted at rosythe Castle only just long enough to breakfast
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and immediately recommenced her journey, for Lord Lindsey had declared
that he wished to reach his destination that same evening. Indeed,
as the sun was setting, Mary perceived and gilded with
his last rays the high towers of Lochlaven Castle, situated
on an islet in the midst of the lake of
the same name. No doubt the royal prisoner was already
expected at Lochlaven Castle, for on reaching the lakeside, Lord
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Lindsay's equerry unfurled his banner, which till then had remained
in its case, and waved it from right to left,
while his master blew a little hunting bugle, which he
wore hanging from his neck. A boat immediately put off
from the island and came towards the arrivals, set in
motion by four vigorous oarsmen, who had soon propelled it
to cross the space which separated it from the bank.
(01:27):
Mary silently got into it and sat down at the stern,
while Lord Lindsey and his equerry stood up before her,
and as her guide did not seem any more inclined
to speak than she was herself to respond, she had
plenty of time to examine her future. Dwelling the castle,
or rather the fortress of Locklaven, already somewhat gloomy in
its situation and architecture, borrowed fresh mournfulness still from the
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hour at which it appeared to the Queen's gaze. It was,
so far as she could judge amid the mists rising
from the lake, one of those massive structures of the
twelfth century which seemed so fast shut up are they
the stone armor of a giant. As she drew near,
Mary began to make out the contours of two great
round towers, which flanked the corners, and gave it the
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severe character of a state prison. A clump of ancient trees,
enclosed by a high wall, or rather by a rampart,
rose at its north front, and seemed a vegetation in stone,
and completed the general effect of this gloomy abode. While
on the contrary, the eye, wandering from it and passing
from islands to islands, lost itself in the west, in
the north, and in the south, in the vast plain
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of Kinross, or stopped southwards at the jagged summits of
ben Lamont, whose farther slopes died down on the shores
of the lake. Three persons awaited Mary at the castle door,
Lady Douglas, William Douglas, her son, and a child of twelve,
who was called Little Douglas, and who was neither a
son nor a brother of the inhabitants of the castle,
but merely a distant relative, as one can imagine. There
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were a few compliments between Mary and her hosts, and
the Queen conducted to her apartment, which was on the
first floor and of which the windows overlooked the lake.
Was soon left, with Mary seton, the only one of
the four Marys who had been allowed to accompany her.
However rapid as the interview had been, and shorten measured
the words exchange between the prisoner and her ajailers, Mary
had had time, together with what she knew of them beforehand,
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to construct for herself a fairly accurate idea of the
new personages who had just mingled in her history. Lady Locklaven,
wife of Lord William Douglas, of whom we have already
said a few words at the beginning of this history,
was a woman of from fifty five to sixty years
of age, who had been handsome enough in her youth
to fix upon herself the glances of King James the Fifth,
and who had had a son by him, who was
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the same Murray whom we have already seen figuring so
often in Mary's history, and who, although his birth was illegitimate,
had always been treated as a brother by the Queen
Lady Locklaven had had a momentary hope, so great was
the King's love for her, of becoming his wife, which
upon the whole was possible, the family of mar from
which she was descended, being the equal of the most
ancient and the noblest families in Scotland. But unluckily, perhaps slander,
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certain talk which was circulating among the young noblemen of
the time, came to James's ears. It was said that,
together with her royal lover, the beautiful Favorite had another
whom she had chosen, no doubt from curiosity from the
very lowest class. It was added that this Porterfield or
Porterfield was the real father of the child who had
already received the name of James Stuart, and whom the
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King was educating as his son at the monastery of
Saint Andrew's. These rumors, well founded or not, had therefore
stopped James the Fifth at the moment when, in gratitude
to her who had given him a son, he was
on the point of raising her to the rank of queen,
so that instead of marrying her to himself, he had
invited her to choose among the nobles at court, And
as she was very handsome, and the King's favor went
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with the marriage. This choice, which fell on Lord William
Douglas of Lochleven, did not meet with any resistance on
his part. However, in spite of this direct protection that
James the Fifth preserved for her all his life, Lady
Douglas could never forget that she had fingered higher fortune. Moreover,
she he had a hatred for the one who, according
to herself, had usurped her place, and poor Mary had
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naturally inherited the profound animosity that Lady Douglas bore to
her mother, which had already come to light in the
few words that the two women had exchanged. Besides in aging,
whether from repentance for her errors or from hypocrisy, Lady
Douglas had become a prude and a Puritan, so that
at this time she united, with the natural acrimony of
her character all the stiffness of the new religion.
Speaker 2 (05:25):
She had adopted.
Speaker 1 (05:27):
William Douglas, who was the eldest son of Lord Locklaven
on his mother's side, half brother of Murray, was a
man of from thirty five to thirty six years of age, Athletic,
with hard and strongly pronounced features, red haired like all
the younger branch, and who had inherited that paternal hatred
that for a century the Douglases cherished against the Stuarts,
and which was shown by so many plots, rebellions, and assassinations.
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According as fortune had favored or deserted Murray, William Douglas
had seen the rays of the fraternal star draw near
or away from him. He had then felt that he
was living another's life, and was devoted body and soul
to him, who was his cause of greatness or of abasement.
Mary's fall, which must necessarily raise Murray, was thus a
source of joy for him. And the Confederate lords could
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not have chosen a better than in confining the safe
keeping of their prisoner to the instinctive spite of Lady
Douglas and to the intelligent hatred of her son. As
to little Douglas, he was, as we have said, a
child of twelve for some months in orphan, whom the
Lachlavins had taken charge of, and whom they made by
the bread they gave him, by all sorts of harshness.
The result was that the child proud and spiteful as
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a Douglas, and knowing although his fortune was inferior, that
his birth was equal to his proud relatives, had little
by little changed his early gratitude into lasting and profound hatred.
For one used to say that among the Douglases there
was an age for loving, but that there was none
for hating. It results that, feeling his weakness and isolation,
the child was self contained, with strength beyond his years,
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and humble and submissive in appearance, only awaited the moment
a grown up young man he could leave Locklaven and
perhaps avenge himself for the proud protection of those who
dwelt there. But the feelings that we have just expressed
did not extend to all the members of the family.
As much as from the bottom of his heart, the
little Douglas detested William and his mother so much he
loved George, the second love Lady Locklaven's sons, of whom
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we have not yet spoken, because being away from the
castle when the Queen arrived, we have not yet found
an opportunity to present him to our readers. George, who
at this time might have been about twenty five or
twenty six years old, was the second son of Lord Locklaven,
but by a singular chance that his mother's adventurous youth
had caused Sir William to interpret amiss. This second son
had none of the characteristic features of the Douglas full cheeks,
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high color, large ears, and red hair. The result was
that poor George, who, on the contrary, had been given
by nature pale cheeks, dark blue eyes, and black hair,
had been since coming into the world, an object of
indifference to his father and of dislike to his elder brother.
As to his mother, whether she were indeed in good
faith surprise, like Lord Douglas at this difference in race,
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whether she knew the cause and inwardly reproached herself, George
had never been ostensibly, at least the object of a
very lively maternal affection. So the young man, followed from
his childhood by a fatality that he could not explain,
had sprung up like a wild shrub, full of sap
and strength, but uncultivated and solitary. Besides, from the time
when he was fifteen one was accustomed to his motiveless absences,
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which the indifference that everyone bore him made moreover perfectly explicable.
From time to time, however, he was seen to reappear
at the castle, Like those migratory birds which always return
to the same place, but only stay a moment, but
then take their way again without ones knowing towards what
spot in the world they are directing their flight. An
instinct of misfortune in common had drawn Little Douglas to George. George,
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seeing the child ill treated by everyone, had conceived an
affection for him, and Little Douglas, feeling himself loved amid
the atmosphere of indifference around him, turned with open arms
and heart to George. It resulted from this mutual lighte
king that one day, when the child had committed I
do not know what fault, and that William Douglas raised
the whip he beat his dogs with to strike him.
That George, who was sitting on a stone, sad and thoughtful,
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had immediately sprung up, snatched the whip from his brother's hands,
and had thrown it far from him. At this insult,
William had drawn his sword and George his, so that
these two brothers, who had hated one another for twenty years,
like two enemies, were going to cut one another's throats.
When Little Douglas, who had picked up the whip, coming
back and kneeling before William offered him the ignominious weapon, saying, strike, cousin,
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I have deserved it. This behavior of the child had
caused some minutes's reflection to the two young men, who,
terrified at the crime they were about to commit, had
returned their swords to their scabbards, and had each gone
away in silence. Since this incident, the friendship of George
and little Douglas had acquired new strength, and on the
child's side it had become veneration. We dwell upon all
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these details someone at length, perhaps, but no doubt our
readers will pardon us when they see the use to
be made of them. This is the family less George, who,
as we have said, was absent at the time of
her arrival into the midst of which the Queen had fallen,
passing in a moment from the summit of power to
the position of a prisoner. For from the day following
her arrival, Mary saw that it was by such a
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title she was an inmate of Lochleven Castle. In fact,
Lady Douglas presented herself before her as soon as it
was morning, and with an embarrassment and dislike ill disguised
beneath an appearance of respectful indifference, invited Mary to follow
her and take stock of the several parts of the
fortress which had been chosen beforehand for her private use.
She then made her go through three rooms, of which
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one was to serve as her bedroom, the second ast
sitting room, and the third as ante chamber. Afterwards leading
the way down a spiral staircase which looked into the
great Hall of the castle, its only outlet. She had
crossed this hall and had taken Mary into the garden,
whose trees the Queen had seen topping the high walls
on her arrival. It was a little square of ground
forming a flower bed, in the midst of which was
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an artificial fountain. It was entered by a very low
door repeated in the opposite wall. This second door looked
on to the lake, and, like all the castle doors,
whose keys, however, never left the bells or the pillow
of William Douglas, it was guarded night and day by
a sentinel. This was now the whole domain of her,
who had possessed the palaces, the plains, and the mountains
of an entire kingdom. Mary, on returning to her room,
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found breakfast ready, and William Douglas standing near the table.
He was going to fulfill about the Queen the duties
of carver and taste her. In spite of their hatred
for Mary, the Douglases would have considered it an eternal
blemish on their honor if any accident should have befallen
the Queen while she was dwelling in their castle. And
it was in order that the Queen herself should not
entertain any fear in this respect, that William Douglas, in
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his quality of Lord of the Manor, had not only
desired to carve before the Queen, but even to taste
first in her presence all the dishes served to her,
as well as the water and the several wines to
be brought her. This precaution saddened Mary more than it
reassured her, for she understood that while she stayed in
the castle, this ceremony would prevent any intimacy at table. However,
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it proceeded from too noble an intention for her to
impute it as a crime to her hosts. She resigned
herself then to this company, insupportable as it was to her.
Only from that day forward she so cut short her
meals that all the time she was at Locklaven, her
longest dinners barely lasted more than a quarter of an hour.
Two days after her arrival, Mary, on sitting down to
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table for breakfast, found on her play a letter addressed
to her, which had been put there by William Douglas.
Mary recognized Maurice's handwriting, and her first feeling was one
of joy, for if a ray of hope remained to her,
it came from her brother, to whom she had always
been perfectly kind, whom, from a prior of Saint Andrew's
she had made an earl in bestowing on him the
splendid estates which performed part of the old Earldom of Murray,
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and to whom, which was of more importance she had
since pardoned or pretended to pardon, the party had taken
in Rizzio's assassination. Her astonishment was great, then, when having
opened the letter, she found in it bitter reproaches for
her conduct, an exploration to do penance, and an assurance,
several times repeated that she should never leave her prison.
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He ended this letter in announcing to her that, in
spite of his distaste for public affairs, he had been
obliged to accept the regency, which he had done less
for his country than for his sister, seeing that it
was the sole means he had of standing in the
way of the ignominious trial to which the nobles wished
to bring her as author, or at least as chief
accomplice of Darnley's death. This imprisonment was then clearly a
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great good fortune for her, and she ought to thank
Heaven for it, as an alleviation of the fate awaiting
her if he had not interceded for her. This letter
was a lightning stroke for Mary, only as she did
not wish to give her enemies the delight of seeing
her suffer. She contained her grief, and, turning to William Douglas,
my lord, said she, this letter contains news that you
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doubtless know already, For although we are not children by
the same mother, he who writes to me as related
to us in the same degree, and will not have
desired to write to his sist her without writing to
his brother at the same time. Besides, as a good son,
he will have desired to acquaint his mother with the
unlooked for greatness that has befallen him. Yes, Madam replied William.
Speaker 2 (14:09):
We know since yesterday that for the welfare of Scotland,
my brother has been named regent, and as he is
a son, as respectful to his mother as he is
devoted to his country, we hope that he will repair
the evil that for five years favorites of every sort
and kind have done to both.
Speaker 1 (14:27):
It is like a good son and at the same
time like a courteous host to go back no farther
into the history of Scotland, replied Mary Stuart. And not
to make the daughter blush for the father's errors. For
I have heard say that the evil which your lordship
laments was prior to the time to which you assign it,
and that King James the Fifth also had formerly favorites,
both male and female. It is true that they add
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that the onces Ill rewarded his friendship as the others
his love. In this if you are ignorant of it,
my lord, you can be instructed if he is still
living by a certain Porterfield or Porterfield. I don't know
which understanding these names of the lower classes too ill
to retain and pronounce them, but about which in my
stead your noble mother could give you information with these words,
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Mary Stuart rose, and, leaving William Douglas Crimson with rage,
she returned into her bedroom and bolted the door behind her.
All that day Mary did not come down, remaining at
her window, from which she at least enjoyed a splendid
view over the plains and village of kin Ross. But
this vast extent only contracted her heart the moor. When
bringing her gaze back from the horizon to the castle,
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she beheld its walls surrounded on all sides by the
deep waters of the lake, on whose wide surface a
single boat, where Little Douglas was fishing, was rocking like
a speck. For some moments, Mary's eyes mechanically rested on
this child, whom she had already seen upon her arrival,
when suddenly a horn sounded from the Kinross side. At
the same moment, Little Douglas threw away his line and
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began to row towards the shore. Whence the signal had
come with skill and strength beyond his years, Mary, who
had let her gaze rest on him absent, continued to
follow him with her eyes and saw him make for
a spot on the shore so distant that the boat
seemed to her at length, but an imperceptible speck, But
soon it reappeared, growing larger as it approached, and Mary
could then observe that it was bringing back to the
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castle a new passenger, who, having in his turn taken
the oars, made the little skiff fly over the tranquil
water of the lake, where it left a furrow gleaming
in the last rays of the sun. Very soon flying
on with the swiftness of a bird, It was near
enough for Mary to see that the skillful and vigorous
oarsman was a young man from twenty five to twenty
six years of age, with long black hair, clad in
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a close coat of green cloth, and wearing a highlander's
cap adorned with an eagle's feather. Then, as with his
back turned to the window, he drew nearer Little Douglas,
was leaning on his shoulder, said a few words which
made him turn round towards the Queen. Immediately, Mary, with
an instinctive movement, rather than with the dread of being
an object of idle curiosity, drew back. But not so quickly, however,
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but that she had been able to see the handsome,
pale face of the unknown who, when she returned to
the window had disappeared behind one of the corners of
the castle. Everything is a cause of conjecture to a prisoner.
It seemed to Mary that this young man's face was
not unknown to her, and that he had seen her already.
But though great the care with which she questioned her memory,
she could not recall any distinct remembrance, so much so
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that the Queen ended in thinking it was the play
of her imagination, or that some vague and distant resemblance
had deceived her. However, in spite of Mary, this idea
had taken important place in her mind. She incessantly saw
this little boat skimming the water, and the young man
and the child who were in it, drawing near her,
as if to bring her help. It followed that, although
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there had been nothing real in all these captives dreams,
she slept that night a calmer sleep than as she
had yet done since she had been in Lochleven Castle.
Next day, on rising, Mary ran to her window. The
weather was fine, and everything seemed to smile on her,
the water of the heavens and the earth. But without
being able to account for the restraining motive, she did
not want to go down into the garden before breakfast.
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When the door opened, she turned quickly round. It was
on the day before William Douglas, who came to fulfill
his duty as taster. The breakfast was a short and
silent one. Then as soon as Douglas had withdrawn, Mary
descended in her turn. In crossing the courtyard, she saw
two horses ready saddled, which pointed to the near departure
of a master and a squire. Was it the young
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man with the black hair already setting out again? This
is what Mary did not dare or did not wish
to ask. She consequently went her way and entered the garden.
At the first glance she took in its full extent,
it was deserted. Mary walked there a moment, then, soon
tiring of the promenade, she went up again to a room, and,
passing back through the courtyard, she had noticed that the
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horses were no longer there. Directly she returned into her apartment.
She went then to the window to see if she
could discover anything upon the lake to guide her in
her conjectures. A boat was in fact receding, and in
this boat where the two horses and the two horsemen,
one was William Douglas, the other a simple squire from
the house. Mary continued watching the boat until it had
touched the shore. Arriving there, the two horsemen got out,
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disembark their horses, and went away at full gallop, taking
the same road by which the Queen had come, so
that as the horses were prepared for a long journey,
Mary thought that William Douglas was going to Edinburgh. As
to the boat, scarcely had it landed its two passengers
on the opposite shore than it returned towards the castle.
At that moment, Mary Seaton announced to the Queen that
Lady Douglas was asking permission to visit her. It was
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the second time, after long hatred on Lady Douglas's part
and contemptuous indifference on the Queen's that the two women
were face to face. Therefore, the Queen, with that instinctive
impulse of coquetry which urges women, in whatever situation they
find themselves, to desire to be beautiful above all for women,
made a sign to Mary Seaton, and, going to a
little mirror fastened to the wall in a heavy Gothic frame,
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she arranged her curls and readjusted the lace of her collar. Then,
having seated herself in the pose most favorable to her,
in a great armchair, the only one in her sitting room,
she said smilingly to Mary Mary Seton, that she might
admit Lady Douglas, who was immediately introduced Mary's expectation, was
not disappointed. Lady Douglas, in spite of her hatred for
James the Fifth's daughter and mistress of herself as she
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thought she was, could not prevent herself from showing, by
a movement of surprise, the impression that this marvelous beauty
was making on her. She thought she should find Mary
crushed by her unhappiness, pallid from her fatigues, humbled by captivity,
and she saw her as calm, lovely, and haughty as usual.
Mary perceived the effect that she was producing, and addressing
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herself with an ironical smile, partly to Mary Seton, who
was leaning on the back of her chair, and partly
to her who was paying her this unforeseen visit. We
are fortunate to day, said she, for we are going,
as it seems, to enjoy the society of our good hostess,
whom we thank besides for having kindly maintained with us
the empty ceremony of announcing herself, a ceremony with which,
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having the keys of our apartment, she could have dispensed.
If my presence is inning convenience to your grace, replied
Lady Locklaven, I am all the.
Speaker 3 (21:04):
More sorry for us, as circumstances will oblige me to
impose it twice daily, at least during the absence of
my son, who is summoned to Edinburgh by the Regent.
This is of what I came to inform your grace,
not with the empty ceremonial of the court, but with
the consideration which Lady Locklaven owes to every one who
has received hospitality in her castle.
Speaker 1 (21:26):
Our good hostess mistakes our intention. Mary answered with affected
good nature, and the Regent himself can bear witness to
the pleasure we have always had in bringing nearer to
us the persons who can recall to us, even indirectly,
our well beloved Father James the Fifth. It will be
therefore unjustly that Lady Douglas will interpret in a manner
disagreeable to herself, our surprised at seeing her and the
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hospitality that she offers us so obligingly does not promise us,
in spite of her good will, sufficient distractions, that we
should deprive ourselves of those that her visits cannot fail
to procure us. Unfortunately, Madam, replied Lady Locklaven, whom Mary
was keeping standing before her, I have a pleasure I
myself derive from these visits. I shall be obliged to
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deprive myself of except at the times I have mentioned.
I am now too old to bear fatigue, and I
have always been too proud to endure sarcasms. Really seton,
cried Mary, seeming to recollect herself. We had not dreamed
that Lady Locklaven, having won her right to a stool
at the court of the King, my father would have
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need to preserve it in the prison of the Queen
his daughter bring forward a seat, seton, that we be
not deprived so soon in by a failure of memory
on our part of our gracious hostess's company, or even
went on, Mary, rising and pointing out her own seat
to Lady Locklaven, who was making a motion to withdraw.
If a stool does not suit you, my lady, take
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this easy chair. You will not be the first member
of your family to sit in my place. At this
last delusion, which we called to her Murray's usurpation, Lady
Locklaven was no doubt about to make some exceedingly bitter
reply when the young man with the dark hair appeared
on the threshold without being announced, and advancing towards Lady Locklaven,
without saluting Mary Madame said he, bowing to the former,
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the boat which took my brother has just returned into
one of the men in it is charged with a
pressing charge that Lord William forgot to make to you himself.
Then saluting the old lady with the same respect, he
immediately went out of the room, without even glancing at
the Queen, who, hurt by this impertinence, turned round to
Mary seton and with her usual calm, what have they
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told us? Seton of injurious rumors which were spread about
our worthy hostess. I propose of a child with a
pale face and dark hair. If this child, as I
have every reason to believe, has become the young man
who just went out of the room, I am ready
to affirm to all the incredulous that he is a
true Douglas. If not for courage of which we cannot judge. Then,
for insolence of which she has just given us proofs
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let us return, Darling, continued the Queen, leaning on Mary
Seaton's arm, for our good hostess, out of courtesy, might
think herself obliged to keep us company longer, while we
know that she is impatiently awaited elsewhere. With these words,
Mary went into her bedroom, while the old lady, still
quite stunned with the shower of sarcasms that the Queen
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had reigned on her, Withdrew murmuring, yes, yes, he is
a Douglas, and with God's help he will prove it.
I hope the queen had had strength as long as
she was sustained by her enemy's presence. But scarcely was
she alone than she sank into a chair, and no
longer having any witness of her weakness, than Mary seton
burst into tears. Indeed, she had just been cruelly wounded.
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Till then no man had come near her who had
not paid homage, either to the majesty of her rank
or to the beauty of her countenance. But precisely he
on whom she had reckoned, without knowing why, with instinctive hopes,
insulted her at one and the same time, and her
double pride of queen and woman. Thus she remained shut
up till evening. At dinner time, just as Lady Lockleaven
had informed Mary, she ascended to the Queen's apartment in
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her dress of honor, and preceding four servants who were
carrying these several dishes composing the prisoners repast, and who
in their turn were followed by the old castle steward,
having as on days of great ceremony, his gold chain
round his neck and his ivory stick in his hand.
The servants placed the dishes on the table and waited
in silence for the moment when it should please the
Queen to come out of a room. But this moment
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the door opened, and in place of the Queen, Mary
Seaton appeared. Madame said she, on entering her grace, was
indisposed during the day and will take nothing this evening.
It will be useless then for you to wait longer,
bad met me. To hope, replied Lady Locklaven, that she
will change her decision in any case, see me perform
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my office. At these words, a servant handed Lady Lockleaven
bread and salt on a silver salver, while the old steward,
who in the absence of William Douglas fulfilled the duties
of Carver, so to her on a plate of the
same metal, a morsel from each of the dishes that
had been brought. Then this transaction ended, so the Queen
will not appear today. Lady Lochlaven inquired, it is her
(26:13):
Majesty's resolve, replied Mary Seaton. Ah presence is then needless,
said the old lady. But in any case, the table
is served, and if her Grace should have need of
anything else, she would have but to name it with
these words. Lady Locklaven, with the same stiffness and the
same dignity which she had come withdrew, followed by her
(26:35):
four servants and her steward. As Lady Lochlaven had foreseen,
The Queen, yielding to the entreaties of Mary Seaton, came
out of a room at last towards eight o'clock in
the evening, sat down to table, and served by the
only maid of honor. Left her ate a little, then,
getting up, she went to the window. It was one
of those magnificent summer evenings on which the whole of
nature seems making holiday. The sky was studded with stars,
(26:56):
which were reflected in the lake, and in their midst
like a more fiery star, the flame of the chafing
dish shone burning at the stern of a little boat.
The Queen, by the gleam of the light at shed,
perceived that George Douglas and Little Douglas, who were fishing,
however great her wish to profit by this fine evening,
to breed the pure night air. The sight of this
young man, who had so grossly insulted her this very day,
(27:18):
made such a keen impression on her that she shut
her window directly, and, retiring into her room, went to
bed and made her companion in captivity read several prayers aloud. Then,
not being able to sleep, so greatly was she agitated,
she rose, and, throwing on a mantle, went again to
the window of the boat had disappeared. Mary spent part
of the night gazing into the immensity of the heavens
(27:40):
or into the depths of the lake. But in spite
of the nature of the thoughts of gagitating her, she
nonetheless found very great physical alleviation in contact with this
pure air, and in contemplation of this peaceful and silent night.
Thus she awoke next day calmer and more resigned. Unfortunately,
the sight of Lady lach Leaven, who presented herself at
breakfast time to fulfill her duties as taste her, brought
(28:01):
back her irritability. Perhaps, however, things would have gone on
smoothly if Lady Lochlaven, instead of remaining standing by the sideboard,
had withdrawn after having tasted the various dishes of the courses.
But this insisting on remaining throughout the meal, which was
at the bottom a mark of respect, seemed to the
Queen unbearable. Tyranny Darling said she speaking to Mary Seaton,
(28:24):
Have you already forgotten that our good hostness complained yesterday
of the fatigue she felt in standing. Bring her then,
one of the two stools which compose our royal furniture,
and take care that it is not the one with
the leg broken.
Speaker 3 (28:36):
If the furniture of Locklaven Castle is in such bad condition, Madam,
the old lady replied, it is the fault of the
Kings of Scotland. The poor Douglases, for nearly a century,
have had such a small part of their sovereign's favor
that they have not been able to keep up the
splendor of the ancestors to the level of that of
private individuals.
Speaker 1 (28:57):
And because there was.
Speaker 3 (28:58):
In Scotland a musician, as I am informed, who spent
their income for a whole year in one month, those.
Speaker 1 (29:07):
Who know how to take so well, Milady the Queen answered,
have no need of being given to It seems to
me the Douglases have lost nothing by waiting, and there
is not a younger son of this noble family who
might not aspire to the highest alliances. It is truly
vexatious that our sister, the Queen of England, has taken
a vow of virginity, as is stated. Ah rather interrupted
(29:29):
Lady Locklaven.
Speaker 3 (29:30):
That the Queen of Scotland is not a widow by
a third husband. But continued the old lady, pretending to
recollect herself, I do not say that to reproach your grace.
Catholics look upon marriage as a sacrament, and on this
head receive it as often as they can. This, then,
returned Mary, is the difference between them and the Huguenots,
(29:52):
for they, not having the same respect for it, think
it has allowed them to dispense with it In certain circumstances.
At this terrible sarcasm, Lady Locklaven took a step towards
Mary Stewart, holding in her hand the knife which she
had just been using to cut off a piece of
meat brought her to taste. But the Queen rose up
with so great a calm and with such majesty that,
(30:13):
either from involuntary respect or shame of her first impulse,
she let fall the weapon she was holding, and, not
finding anything sufficiently strong, and replied to express her feelings,
she signed to the servants to follow her, and went
out of the apartment with all the dignity that anger
permitted her to summon to her aid. Scarcely had Lady
Locklaven left the room than the Queen sat down again,
(30:34):
a joyful and triumphant at the victory she had just gained,
and ate with a better appetite than she had yet
done since she was a prisoner, while Mary's seaton deplored
in a low tone and with all possible respect, this
fatal gift of repartee that Mary had received, and which
with her beauty, was one of the causes of all
her misfortunes. But the Queen did nothing but laugh at
all her observations, saying as she was curious to see
(30:56):
the figure her good hostess would cut at dinner time.
After breakfast, the queen went down into the garden. Her
satisfied pride had restored some of her cheerfulness, so much
so that, seeing while crossing the hall a mandolin lying
forgotten on a chair, she told Mary Seton to take
it to see.
Speaker 1 (31:12):
She said, if she could recall her old talent. In reality,
the queen was one of the best musicians of the time,
and played admirably, says Brent tom on the lute and
ville demor, an instrument much resembling the mandolin. Mary Seton obeyed,
arrived in the garden, the queen sat down in the
deepest shade, and there, having tuned her instrument, she at
first and drew from it lively and light tones, which
(31:35):
soon darkened little by little, at the same time that
her countenance assumed a hue of deep melancholy. Mary Seton
looked at her with uneasiness. Although for a long time
she had been used to these sudden changes in her
mistress's humor, and she was about to ask the reason
of this gloomy veil. Suddenly spread over her face. When
regulating her harmonies, Mary began to sing in a low voice,
(31:56):
and as if for herself alone. The following verses caverns, meadows,
plains and mounts, lands of tree and stone, rivers, rivulets
and founts by which I stray alone, bewailing as I go,
with tears that overflow. Sing, will I the miserable woe
that bids me grieve and sigh?
Speaker 3 (32:17):
Aye?
Speaker 1 (32:18):
But what is here to lend ear to my lament?
What is here can comprehend my dull discontent? Neither grass
nor reed, nor the ripples heed flowing by, while the
stream with speed hastens from my eye. Vainly does my
wounded heart hope alas to heal, seeking to allay its
smart things that cannot feel better? Should my pain bitterly complain,
(32:42):
crying shrill to THEE who dost constrain my spirit to
such ill goddess, who shalt never die. List to what
I say, Thou who makest me to lie weak beneath
thy sway, If my life must know ending at thy
blow cruelest own it perished. So but at thy behest
(33:03):
lo my face may all men see slowly pine and
fade e'en as ice doth melt and flee near a
furnace laid. Yet the burning ray wasting me away. Passion's
glow wakens no display of pity for my woe. Yet
does every neighbor, tree, every rocky wall, this my sorrow
know and see? So in brief doth all nature know?
(33:26):
Aright this my sorry plight. Thou alone takest thy delight
to hear me cry and moan. But if it be
thy will to see tormented, still wretched me, then let
my woeful, ill immortal be This last verst died away
as if the Queen were exhausted, and at the same
time the mandolin slipped from her hands and would have
(33:48):
fallen to the ground, had not Mary Seaton thrown herself
on her knees and prevented it. The young girl remained
thus at her mistress's feet for some time, gazing at
her silently, and as she saw that she was losing
herself more and more in gloomy reverie. Have those lines
brought back to your majesty some sad remembrance, she asked hesitatingly. Oh, yes,
(34:11):
answered the queen. They reminded me of the unfortunate being
who composed them, And may I, without indiscretion, inquire of
your grace who is their author? Alas, he was a noble,
brave and handsome young man with a faithful heart and
a hot head, who would defend me to day if
I had defended him then. But his boldness seemed to
(34:34):
me rashness, and his fault a crime. What was to
be done? I did not love him, poor Chateulaerte. I
was very cruel to him. But you did not persecute him.
It was your brother. You did not condemn him. The
judges did. Yes. Yes, I know that he too was
Murray's victim, and that is no doubt the reason that
(34:56):
I am calling him to mind just now. But I
was able to pardon him, Mary, and I was inflexible.
I let us send the scaffold a man whose only
crime was in loving me too well. And now I
am astonished and complain of being abandoned by every one. Listen, darling,
there is one thing that terrifies me. It is that
when I search within myself, I find that I have
(35:18):
not only deserved my fate, but even that God did
not punish me severely enough. What strange thoughts for your grace,
cried Mary. And see where those unlucky lines which return
to your mind have led you the very day when
you were beginning to recover a little of your cheerfulness,
alas replied the Queen, shaking her head and uttering a
(35:40):
deep sigh. For six years, very few days have passed
that I have not repeated those lines to myself, although
it may be for the first time to day that
I repeat them aloud. He was a Frenchman too, Mary.
They have exiled from me, taken or killed all who
came to me from France. Do you remember that vessel
which was swallow it up before our eyes when we
(36:01):
came out of Calais Harbor. I exclaimed then that it
was a sad omen You all wanted to reassure me. Well,
who was right now? You or I? The Queen was
in one of those fits of sadness for which tears
are the sole remedy. So Mary Seaton, perceiving that not
only would every consolation be vain but also unreasonable, far
(36:23):
from continuing to react against her mistress's melancholy, fully agreed
with her. It followed that the Queen, who was suffocating,
began to weep, and that her tears brought her comfort,
And then little by little she regained self control. When
this crisis passed as usual, leaving her firmer and more
resolute than ever, so that when she went up to
her room again, it was impossible to read the slightest
(36:44):
alteration in her countenance. The dinner hour was approaching, and Mary,
who in the morning was looking forward impatiently to the
enjoyment of her triumph over Lady Lochleven, now saw her
advance with uneasiness. The mere idea of again facing this woman,
whose pride one was always obliged to oppose with insolence,
was after the moral fatigues of the day of fresh weariness.
(37:05):
So she decided not to appear for dinner as on
the day before. She was all the more glad she
had taken this resolution that this time it was not
Lady lach Levin who came to fulfill the duties and
joined on a member of the family to make the
queen easy, but George Douglas, whom his mother and her
displeasure at the morning scene, sent to replace her. Thus,
when Mary seton told the Queen that she saw the
(37:25):
young man with dark hair cross the courtyard on his
way to her. Mary still further congratulated herself on her decision,
for this young man's insolence had wounded her more deeply
than all his mother's haughty insults. The Queen was not
a little astonished, then, when in a few moments Mary
Seton returned and informed her that George Douglas, having sent
away the servants, desired the honor of speaking to her
(37:46):
on a matter of importance. At first, the Queen refused,
but Mary Seton told her that the young man's air
and manner this time were so different from what she
had seen two days before that she thought her mistress
would be wrong to refuse his request. Rose then, and
with the pride and majesty habitual to her, entered the
adjoining room, and, having taken three steps, stopped with a
(38:07):
disdainful air, waiting for George to address her. End of
Chapter five, Part one recording by John Vanstan Savannah, Georgia,
Chapter five, Part one of Celebrated Crimes, Volume three by
Alexander Duma, translated by George Burnham Ives. This LibriVox recording
is in the public domain. Chapter five, Part one. At
the time appointed the Queen was ready. She had suffered
so much at Edinburgh that she left it without any regret,
besides whether to spare her the humiliations of the day before,
(00:22):
or to conceal her departure from any partisans who might
remain to her. A litter had been made ready. Mary
got into it without any resistance, and after two hours
journey she reached Duddington. Very little vessel was waiting for her,
which set sail directly she was on board, and next
day at dawn she disembarked on the other side of
the Firth of Forth in the County of Fife. Mary
halted at rosythe Castle only just long enough to breakfast
(00:44):
and immediately recommenced her journey, for Lord Lindsey had declared
that he wished to reach his destination that same evening. Indeed,
as the sun was setting, Mary perceived and gilded with
his last rays the high towers of Lochlaven Castle, situated
on an islet in the midst of the lake of
the same name. No doubt the royal prisoner was already
expected at Lochlaven Castle, for on reaching the lakeside, Lord
(01:07):
Lindsay's equerry unfurled his banner, which till then had remained
in its case, and waved it from right to left,
while his master blew a little hunting bugle, which he
wore hanging from his neck. A boat immediately put off
from the island and came towards the arrivals, set in
motion by four vigorous oarsmen, who had soon propelled it
to cross the space which separated it from the bank.
(01:27):
Mary silently got into it and sat down at the stern,
while Lord Lindsey and his equerry stood up before her,
and as her guide did not seem any more inclined
to speak than she was herself to respond, she had
plenty of time to examine her future. Dwelling the castle,
or rather the fortress of Locklaven, already somewhat gloomy in
its situation and architecture, borrowed fresh mournfulness still from the
(01:48):
hour at which it appeared to the Queen's gaze. It was,
so far as she could judge amid the mists rising
from the lake, one of those massive structures of the
twelfth century which seemed so fast shut up are they
the stone armor of a giant. As she drew near,
Mary began to make out the contours of two great
round towers, which flanked the corners, and gave it the
(02:08):
severe character of a state prison. A clump of ancient trees,
enclosed by a high wall, or rather by a rampart,
rose at its north front, and seemed a vegetation in stone,
and completed the general effect of this gloomy abode. While
on the contrary, the eye, wandering from it and passing
from islands to islands, lost itself in the west, in
the north, and in the south, in the vast plain
(02:30):
of Kinross, or stopped southwards at the jagged summits of
ben Lamont, whose farther slopes died down on the shores
of the lake. Three persons awaited Mary at the castle door,
Lady Douglas, William Douglas, her son, and a child of twelve,
who was called Little Douglas, and who was neither a
son nor a brother of the inhabitants of the castle,
but merely a distant relative, as one can imagine. There
(02:51):
were a few compliments between Mary and her hosts, and
the Queen conducted to her apartment, which was on the
first floor and of which the windows overlooked the lake.
Was soon left, with Mary seton, the only one of
the four Marys who had been allowed to accompany her.
However rapid as the interview had been, and shorten measured
the words exchange between the prisoner and her ajailers, Mary
had had time, together with what she knew of them beforehand,
(03:14):
to construct for herself a fairly accurate idea of the
new personages who had just mingled in her history. Lady Locklaven,
wife of Lord William Douglas, of whom we have already
said a few words at the beginning of this history,
was a woman of from fifty five to sixty years
of age, who had been handsome enough in her youth
to fix upon herself the glances of King James the Fifth,
and who had had a son by him, who was
(03:36):
the same Murray whom we have already seen figuring so
often in Mary's history, and who, although his birth was illegitimate,
had always been treated as a brother by the Queen
Lady Locklaven had had a momentary hope, so great was
the King's love for her, of becoming his wife, which
upon the whole was possible, the family of mar from
which she was descended, being the equal of the most
ancient and the noblest families in Scotland. But unluckily, perhaps slander,
(04:00):
certain talk which was circulating among the young noblemen of
the time, came to James's ears. It was said that,
together with her royal lover, the beautiful Favorite had another
whom she had chosen, no doubt from curiosity from the
very lowest class. It was added that this Porterfield or
Porterfield was the real father of the child who had
already received the name of James Stuart, and whom the
(04:22):
King was educating as his son at the monastery of
Saint Andrew's. These rumors, well founded or not, had therefore
stopped James the Fifth at the moment when, in gratitude
to her who had given him a son, he was
on the point of raising her to the rank of queen,
so that instead of marrying her to himself, he had
invited her to choose among the nobles at court, And
as she was very handsome, and the King's favor went
(04:43):
with the marriage. This choice, which fell on Lord William
Douglas of Lochleven, did not meet with any resistance on
his part. However, in spite of this direct protection that
James the Fifth preserved for her all his life, Lady
Douglas could never forget that she had fingered higher fortune. Moreover,
she he had a hatred for the one who, according
to herself, had usurped her place, and poor Mary had
(05:04):
naturally inherited the profound animosity that Lady Douglas bore to
her mother, which had already come to light in the
few words that the two women had exchanged. Besides in aging,
whether from repentance for her errors or from hypocrisy, Lady
Douglas had become a prude and a Puritan, so that
at this time she united, with the natural acrimony of
her character all the stiffness of the new religion.
Speaker 2 (05:25):
She had adopted.
Speaker 1 (05:27):
William Douglas, who was the eldest son of Lord Locklaven
on his mother's side, half brother of Murray, was a
man of from thirty five to thirty six years of age, Athletic,
with hard and strongly pronounced features, red haired like all
the younger branch, and who had inherited that paternal hatred
that for a century the Douglases cherished against the Stuarts,
and which was shown by so many plots, rebellions, and assassinations.
(05:50):
According as fortune had favored or deserted Murray, William Douglas
had seen the rays of the fraternal star draw near
or away from him. He had then felt that he
was living another's life, and was devoted body and soul
to him, who was his cause of greatness or of abasement.
Mary's fall, which must necessarily raise Murray, was thus a
source of joy for him. And the Confederate lords could
(06:12):
not have chosen a better than in confining the safe
keeping of their prisoner to the instinctive spite of Lady
Douglas and to the intelligent hatred of her son. As
to little Douglas, he was, as we have said, a
child of twelve for some months in orphan, whom the
Lachlavins had taken charge of, and whom they made by
the bread they gave him, by all sorts of harshness.
The result was that the child proud and spiteful as
(06:34):
a Douglas, and knowing although his fortune was inferior, that
his birth was equal to his proud relatives, had little
by little changed his early gratitude into lasting and profound hatred.
For one used to say that among the Douglases there
was an age for loving, but that there was none
for hating. It results that, feeling his weakness and isolation,
the child was self contained, with strength beyond his years,
(06:57):
and humble and submissive in appearance, only awaited the moment
a grown up young man he could leave Locklaven and
perhaps avenge himself for the proud protection of those who
dwelt there. But the feelings that we have just expressed
did not extend to all the members of the family.
As much as from the bottom of his heart, the
little Douglas detested William and his mother so much he
loved George, the second love Lady Locklaven's sons, of whom
(07:19):
we have not yet spoken, because being away from the
castle when the Queen arrived, we have not yet found
an opportunity to present him to our readers. George, who
at this time might have been about twenty five or
twenty six years old, was the second son of Lord Locklaven,
but by a singular chance that his mother's adventurous youth
had caused Sir William to interpret amiss. This second son
had none of the characteristic features of the Douglas full cheeks,
(07:41):
high color, large ears, and red hair. The result was
that poor George, who, on the contrary, had been given
by nature pale cheeks, dark blue eyes, and black hair,
had been since coming into the world, an object of
indifference to his father and of dislike to his elder brother.
As to his mother, whether she were indeed in good
faith surprise, like Lord Douglas at this difference in race,
(08:02):
whether she knew the cause and inwardly reproached herself, George
had never been ostensibly, at least the object of a
very lively maternal affection. So the young man, followed from
his childhood by a fatality that he could not explain,
had sprung up like a wild shrub, full of sap
and strength, but uncultivated and solitary. Besides, from the time
when he was fifteen one was accustomed to his motiveless absences,
(08:25):
which the indifference that everyone bore him made moreover perfectly explicable.
From time to time, however, he was seen to reappear
at the castle, Like those migratory birds which always return
to the same place, but only stay a moment, but
then take their way again without ones knowing towards what
spot in the world they are directing their flight. An
instinct of misfortune in common had drawn Little Douglas to George. George,
(08:47):
seeing the child ill treated by everyone, had conceived an
affection for him, and Little Douglas, feeling himself loved amid
the atmosphere of indifference around him, turned with open arms
and heart to George. It resulted from this mutual lighte
king that one day, when the child had committed I
do not know what fault, and that William Douglas raised
the whip he beat his dogs with to strike him.
That George, who was sitting on a stone, sad and thoughtful,
(09:10):
had immediately sprung up, snatched the whip from his brother's hands,
and had thrown it far from him. At this insult,
William had drawn his sword and George his, so that
these two brothers, who had hated one another for twenty years,
like two enemies, were going to cut one another's throats.
When Little Douglas, who had picked up the whip, coming
back and kneeling before William offered him the ignominious weapon, saying, strike, cousin,
(09:33):
I have deserved it. This behavior of the child had
caused some minutes's reflection to the two young men, who,
terrified at the crime they were about to commit, had
returned their swords to their scabbards, and had each gone
away in silence. Since this incident, the friendship of George
and little Douglas had acquired new strength, and on the
child's side it had become veneration. We dwell upon all
(09:53):
these details someone at length, perhaps, but no doubt our
readers will pardon us when they see the use to
be made of them. This is the family less George, who,
as we have said, was absent at the time of
her arrival into the midst of which the Queen had fallen,
passing in a moment from the summit of power to
the position of a prisoner. For from the day following
her arrival, Mary saw that it was by such a
(10:15):
title she was an inmate of Lochleven Castle. In fact,
Lady Douglas presented herself before her as soon as it
was morning, and with an embarrassment and dislike ill disguised
beneath an appearance of respectful indifference, invited Mary to follow
her and take stock of the several parts of the
fortress which had been chosen beforehand for her private use.
She then made her go through three rooms, of which
(10:36):
one was to serve as her bedroom, the second ast
sitting room, and the third as ante chamber. Afterwards leading
the way down a spiral staircase which looked into the
great Hall of the castle, its only outlet. She had
crossed this hall and had taken Mary into the garden,
whose trees the Queen had seen topping the high walls
on her arrival. It was a little square of ground
forming a flower bed, in the midst of which was
(10:57):
an artificial fountain. It was entered by a very low
door repeated in the opposite wall. This second door looked
on to the lake, and, like all the castle doors,
whose keys, however, never left the bells or the pillow
of William Douglas, it was guarded night and day by
a sentinel. This was now the whole domain of her,
who had possessed the palaces, the plains, and the mountains
of an entire kingdom. Mary, on returning to her room,
(11:20):
found breakfast ready, and William Douglas standing near the table.
He was going to fulfill about the Queen the duties
of carver and taste her. In spite of their hatred
for Mary, the Douglases would have considered it an eternal
blemish on their honor if any accident should have befallen
the Queen while she was dwelling in their castle. And
it was in order that the Queen herself should not
entertain any fear in this respect, that William Douglas, in
(11:41):
his quality of Lord of the Manor, had not only
desired to carve before the Queen, but even to taste
first in her presence all the dishes served to her,
as well as the water and the several wines to
be brought her. This precaution saddened Mary more than it
reassured her, for she understood that while she stayed in
the castle, this ceremony would prevent any intimacy at table. However,
(12:01):
it proceeded from too noble an intention for her to
impute it as a crime to her hosts. She resigned
herself then to this company, insupportable as it was to her.
Only from that day forward she so cut short her
meals that all the time she was at Locklaven, her
longest dinners barely lasted more than a quarter of an hour.
Two days after her arrival, Mary, on sitting down to
(12:22):
table for breakfast, found on her play a letter addressed
to her, which had been put there by William Douglas.
Mary recognized Maurice's handwriting, and her first feeling was one
of joy, for if a ray of hope remained to her,
it came from her brother, to whom she had always
been perfectly kind, whom, from a prior of Saint Andrew's
she had made an earl in bestowing on him the
splendid estates which performed part of the old Earldom of Murray,
(12:44):
and to whom, which was of more importance she had
since pardoned or pretended to pardon, the party had taken
in Rizzio's assassination. Her astonishment was great, then, when having
opened the letter, she found in it bitter reproaches for
her conduct, an exploration to do penance, and an assurance,
several times repeated that she should never leave her prison.
(13:04):
He ended this letter in announcing to her that, in
spite of his distaste for public affairs, he had been
obliged to accept the regency, which he had done less
for his country than for his sister, seeing that it
was the sole means he had of standing in the
way of the ignominious trial to which the nobles wished
to bring her as author, or at least as chief
accomplice of Darnley's death. This imprisonment was then clearly a
(13:27):
great good fortune for her, and she ought to thank
Heaven for it, as an alleviation of the fate awaiting
her if he had not interceded for her. This letter
was a lightning stroke for Mary, only as she did
not wish to give her enemies the delight of seeing
her suffer. She contained her grief, and, turning to William Douglas,
my lord, said she, this letter contains news that you
(13:48):
doubtless know already, For although we are not children by
the same mother, he who writes to me as related
to us in the same degree, and will not have
desired to write to his sist her without writing to
his brother at the same time. Besides, as a good son,
he will have desired to acquaint his mother with the
unlooked for greatness that has befallen him. Yes, Madam replied William.
Speaker 2 (14:09):
We know since yesterday that for the welfare of Scotland,
my brother has been named regent, and as he is
a son, as respectful to his mother as he is
devoted to his country, we hope that he will repair
the evil that for five years favorites of every sort
and kind have done to both.
Speaker 1 (14:27):
It is like a good son and at the same
time like a courteous host to go back no farther
into the history of Scotland, replied Mary Stuart. And not
to make the daughter blush for the father's errors. For
I have heard say that the evil which your lordship
laments was prior to the time to which you assign it,
and that King James the Fifth also had formerly favorites,
both male and female. It is true that they add
(14:49):
that the onces Ill rewarded his friendship as the others
his love. In this if you are ignorant of it,
my lord, you can be instructed if he is still
living by a certain Porterfield or Porterfield. I don't know
which understanding these names of the lower classes too ill
to retain and pronounce them, but about which in my
stead your noble mother could give you information with these words,
(15:11):
Mary Stuart rose, and, leaving William Douglas Crimson with rage,
she returned into her bedroom and bolted the door behind her.
All that day Mary did not come down, remaining at
her window, from which she at least enjoyed a splendid
view over the plains and village of kin Ross. But
this vast extent only contracted her heart the moor. When
bringing her gaze back from the horizon to the castle,
(15:31):
she beheld its walls surrounded on all sides by the
deep waters of the lake, on whose wide surface a
single boat, where Little Douglas was fishing, was rocking like
a speck. For some moments, Mary's eyes mechanically rested on
this child, whom she had already seen upon her arrival,
when suddenly a horn sounded from the Kinross side. At
the same moment, Little Douglas threw away his line and
(15:52):
began to row towards the shore. Whence the signal had
come with skill and strength beyond his years, Mary, who
had let her gaze rest on him absent, continued to
follow him with her eyes and saw him make for
a spot on the shore so distant that the boat
seemed to her at length, but an imperceptible speck, But
soon it reappeared, growing larger as it approached, and Mary
could then observe that it was bringing back to the
(16:13):
castle a new passenger, who, having in his turn taken
the oars, made the little skiff fly over the tranquil
water of the lake, where it left a furrow gleaming
in the last rays of the sun. Very soon flying
on with the swiftness of a bird, It was near
enough for Mary to see that the skillful and vigorous
oarsman was a young man from twenty five to twenty
six years of age, with long black hair, clad in
(16:34):
a close coat of green cloth, and wearing a highlander's
cap adorned with an eagle's feather. Then, as with his
back turned to the window, he drew nearer Little Douglas,
was leaning on his shoulder, said a few words which
made him turn round towards the Queen. Immediately, Mary, with
an instinctive movement, rather than with the dread of being
an object of idle curiosity, drew back. But not so quickly, however,
(16:56):
but that she had been able to see the handsome,
pale face of the unknown who, when she returned to
the window had disappeared behind one of the corners of
the castle. Everything is a cause of conjecture to a prisoner.
It seemed to Mary that this young man's face was
not unknown to her, and that he had seen her already.
But though great the care with which she questioned her memory,
she could not recall any distinct remembrance, so much so
(17:19):
that the Queen ended in thinking it was the play
of her imagination, or that some vague and distant resemblance
had deceived her. However, in spite of Mary, this idea
had taken important place in her mind. She incessantly saw
this little boat skimming the water, and the young man
and the child who were in it, drawing near her,
as if to bring her help. It followed that, although
(17:39):
there had been nothing real in all these captives dreams,
she slept that night a calmer sleep than as she
had yet done since she had been in Lochleven Castle.
Next day, on rising, Mary ran to her window. The
weather was fine, and everything seemed to smile on her,
the water of the heavens and the earth. But without
being able to account for the restraining motive, she did
not want to go down into the garden before breakfast.
(18:02):
When the door opened, she turned quickly round. It was
on the day before William Douglas, who came to fulfill
his duty as taster. The breakfast was a short and
silent one. Then as soon as Douglas had withdrawn, Mary
descended in her turn. In crossing the courtyard, she saw
two horses ready saddled, which pointed to the near departure
of a master and a squire. Was it the young
(18:22):
man with the black hair already setting out again? This
is what Mary did not dare or did not wish
to ask. She consequently went her way and entered the garden.
At the first glance she took in its full extent,
it was deserted. Mary walked there a moment, then, soon
tiring of the promenade, she went up again to a room, and,
passing back through the courtyard, she had noticed that the
(18:43):
horses were no longer there. Directly she returned into her apartment.
She went then to the window to see if she
could discover anything upon the lake to guide her in
her conjectures. A boat was in fact receding, and in
this boat where the two horses and the two horsemen,
one was William Douglas, the other a simple squire from
the house. Mary continued watching the boat until it had
touched the shore. Arriving there, the two horsemen got out,
(19:05):
disembark their horses, and went away at full gallop, taking
the same road by which the Queen had come, so
that as the horses were prepared for a long journey,
Mary thought that William Douglas was going to Edinburgh. As
to the boat, scarcely had it landed its two passengers
on the opposite shore than it returned towards the castle.
At that moment, Mary Seaton announced to the Queen that
Lady Douglas was asking permission to visit her. It was
(19:27):
the second time, after long hatred on Lady Douglas's part
and contemptuous indifference on the Queen's that the two women
were face to face. Therefore, the Queen, with that instinctive
impulse of coquetry which urges women, in whatever situation they
find themselves, to desire to be beautiful above all for women,
made a sign to Mary Seaton, and, going to a
little mirror fastened to the wall in a heavy Gothic frame,
(19:49):
she arranged her curls and readjusted the lace of her collar. Then,
having seated herself in the pose most favorable to her,
in a great armchair, the only one in her sitting room,
she said smilingly to Mary Mary Seton, that she might
admit Lady Douglas, who was immediately introduced Mary's expectation, was
not disappointed. Lady Douglas, in spite of her hatred for
James the Fifth's daughter and mistress of herself as she
(20:11):
thought she was, could not prevent herself from showing, by
a movement of surprise, the impression that this marvelous beauty
was making on her. She thought she should find Mary
crushed by her unhappiness, pallid from her fatigues, humbled by captivity,
and she saw her as calm, lovely, and haughty as usual.
Mary perceived the effect that she was producing, and addressing
(20:33):
herself with an ironical smile, partly to Mary Seton, who
was leaning on the back of her chair, and partly
to her who was paying her this unforeseen visit. We
are fortunate to day, said she, for we are going,
as it seems, to enjoy the society of our good hostess,
whom we thank besides for having kindly maintained with us
the empty ceremony of announcing herself, a ceremony with which,
(20:55):
having the keys of our apartment, she could have dispensed.
If my presence is inning convenience to your grace, replied
Lady Locklaven, I am all the.
Speaker 3 (21:04):
More sorry for us, as circumstances will oblige me to
impose it twice daily, at least during the absence of
my son, who is summoned to Edinburgh by the Regent.
This is of what I came to inform your grace,
not with the empty ceremonial of the court, but with
the consideration which Lady Locklaven owes to every one who
has received hospitality in her castle.
Speaker 1 (21:26):
Our good hostess mistakes our intention. Mary answered with affected
good nature, and the Regent himself can bear witness to
the pleasure we have always had in bringing nearer to
us the persons who can recall to us, even indirectly,
our well beloved Father James the Fifth. It will be
therefore unjustly that Lady Douglas will interpret in a manner
disagreeable to herself, our surprised at seeing her and the
(21:48):
hospitality that she offers us so obligingly does not promise us,
in spite of her good will, sufficient distractions, that we
should deprive ourselves of those that her visits cannot fail
to procure us. Unfortunately, Madam, replied Lady Locklaven, whom Mary
was keeping standing before her, I have a pleasure I
myself derive from these visits. I shall be obliged to
(22:10):
deprive myself of except at the times I have mentioned.
I am now too old to bear fatigue, and I
have always been too proud to endure sarcasms. Really seton,
cried Mary, seeming to recollect herself. We had not dreamed
that Lady Locklaven, having won her right to a stool
at the court of the King, my father would have
(22:32):
need to preserve it in the prison of the Queen
his daughter bring forward a seat, seton, that we be
not deprived so soon in by a failure of memory
on our part of our gracious hostess's company, or even
went on, Mary, rising and pointing out her own seat
to Lady Locklaven, who was making a motion to withdraw.
If a stool does not suit you, my lady, take
(22:54):
this easy chair. You will not be the first member
of your family to sit in my place. At this
last delusion, which we called to her Murray's usurpation, Lady
Locklaven was no doubt about to make some exceedingly bitter
reply when the young man with the dark hair appeared
on the threshold without being announced, and advancing towards Lady Locklaven,
without saluting Mary Madame said he, bowing to the former,
(23:18):
the boat which took my brother has just returned into
one of the men in it is charged with a
pressing charge that Lord William forgot to make to you himself.
Then saluting the old lady with the same respect, he
immediately went out of the room, without even glancing at
the Queen, who, hurt by this impertinence, turned round to
Mary seton and with her usual calm, what have they
(23:38):
told us? Seton of injurious rumors which were spread about
our worthy hostess. I propose of a child with a
pale face and dark hair. If this child, as I
have every reason to believe, has become the young man
who just went out of the room, I am ready
to affirm to all the incredulous that he is a
true Douglas. If not for courage of which we cannot judge. Then,
for insolence of which she has just given us proofs
(24:02):
let us return, Darling, continued the Queen, leaning on Mary
Seaton's arm, for our good hostess, out of courtesy, might
think herself obliged to keep us company longer, while we
know that she is impatiently awaited elsewhere. With these words,
Mary went into her bedroom, while the old lady, still
quite stunned with the shower of sarcasms that the Queen
(24:22):
had reigned on her, Withdrew murmuring, yes, yes, he is
a Douglas, and with God's help he will prove it.
I hope the queen had had strength as long as
she was sustained by her enemy's presence. But scarcely was
she alone than she sank into a chair, and no
longer having any witness of her weakness, than Mary seton
burst into tears. Indeed, she had just been cruelly wounded.
(24:45):
Till then no man had come near her who had
not paid homage, either to the majesty of her rank
or to the beauty of her countenance. But precisely he
on whom she had reckoned, without knowing why, with instinctive hopes,
insulted her at one and the same time, and her
double pride of queen and woman. Thus she remained shut
up till evening. At dinner time, just as Lady Lockleaven
had informed Mary, she ascended to the Queen's apartment in
(25:07):
her dress of honor, and preceding four servants who were
carrying these several dishes composing the prisoners repast, and who
in their turn were followed by the old castle steward,
having as on days of great ceremony, his gold chain
round his neck and his ivory stick in his hand.
The servants placed the dishes on the table and waited
in silence for the moment when it should please the
Queen to come out of a room. But this moment
(25:28):
the door opened, and in place of the Queen, Mary
Seaton appeared. Madame said she, on entering her grace, was
indisposed during the day and will take nothing this evening.
It will be useless then for you to wait longer,
bad met me. To hope, replied Lady Locklaven, that she
will change her decision in any case, see me perform
(25:48):
my office. At these words, a servant handed Lady Lockleaven
bread and salt on a silver salver, while the old steward,
who in the absence of William Douglas fulfilled the duties
of Carver, so to her on a plate of the
same metal, a morsel from each of the dishes that
had been brought. Then this transaction ended, so the Queen
will not appear today. Lady Lochlaven inquired, it is her
(26:13):
Majesty's resolve, replied Mary Seaton. Ah presence is then needless,
said the old lady. But in any case, the table
is served, and if her Grace should have need of
anything else, she would have but to name it with
these words. Lady Locklaven, with the same stiffness and the
same dignity which she had come withdrew, followed by her
(26:35):
four servants and her steward. As Lady Lochlaven had foreseen,
The Queen, yielding to the entreaties of Mary Seaton, came
out of a room at last towards eight o'clock in
the evening, sat down to table, and served by the
only maid of honor. Left her ate a little, then,
getting up, she went to the window. It was one
of those magnificent summer evenings on which the whole of
nature seems making holiday. The sky was studded with stars,
(26:56):
which were reflected in the lake, and in their midst
like a more fiery star, the flame of the chafing
dish shone burning at the stern of a little boat.
The Queen, by the gleam of the light at shed,
perceived that George Douglas and Little Douglas, who were fishing,
however great her wish to profit by this fine evening,
to breed the pure night air. The sight of this
young man, who had so grossly insulted her this very day,
(27:18):
made such a keen impression on her that she shut
her window directly, and, retiring into her room, went to
bed and made her companion in captivity read several prayers aloud. Then,
not being able to sleep, so greatly was she agitated,
she rose, and, throwing on a mantle, went again to
the window of the boat had disappeared. Mary spent part
of the night gazing into the immensity of the heavens
(27:40):
or into the depths of the lake. But in spite
of the nature of the thoughts of gagitating her, she
nonetheless found very great physical alleviation in contact with this
pure air, and in contemplation of this peaceful and silent night.
Thus she awoke next day calmer and more resigned. Unfortunately,
the sight of Lady lach Leaven, who presented herself at
breakfast time to fulfill her duties as taste her, brought
(28:01):
back her irritability. Perhaps, however, things would have gone on
smoothly if Lady Lochlaven, instead of remaining standing by the sideboard,
had withdrawn after having tasted the various dishes of the courses.
But this insisting on remaining throughout the meal, which was
at the bottom a mark of respect, seemed to the
Queen unbearable. Tyranny Darling said she speaking to Mary Seaton,
(28:24):
Have you already forgotten that our good hostness complained yesterday
of the fatigue she felt in standing. Bring her then,
one of the two stools which compose our royal furniture,
and take care that it is not the one with
the leg broken.
Speaker 3 (28:36):
If the furniture of Locklaven Castle is in such bad condition, Madam,
the old lady replied, it is the fault of the
Kings of Scotland. The poor Douglases, for nearly a century,
have had such a small part of their sovereign's favor
that they have not been able to keep up the
splendor of the ancestors to the level of that of
private individuals.
Speaker 1 (28:57):
And because there was.
Speaker 3 (28:58):
In Scotland a musician, as I am informed, who spent
their income for a whole year in one month, those.
Speaker 1 (29:07):
Who know how to take so well, Milady the Queen answered,
have no need of being given to It seems to
me the Douglases have lost nothing by waiting, and there
is not a younger son of this noble family who
might not aspire to the highest alliances. It is truly
vexatious that our sister, the Queen of England, has taken
a vow of virginity, as is stated. Ah rather interrupted
(29:29):
Lady Locklaven.
Speaker 3 (29:30):
That the Queen of Scotland is not a widow by
a third husband. But continued the old lady, pretending to
recollect herself, I do not say that to reproach your grace.
Catholics look upon marriage as a sacrament, and on this
head receive it as often as they can. This, then,
returned Mary, is the difference between them and the Huguenots,
(29:52):
for they, not having the same respect for it, think
it has allowed them to dispense with it In certain circumstances.
At this terrible sarcasm, Lady Locklaven took a step towards
Mary Stewart, holding in her hand the knife which she
had just been using to cut off a piece of
meat brought her to taste. But the Queen rose up
with so great a calm and with such majesty that,
(30:13):
either from involuntary respect or shame of her first impulse,
she let fall the weapon she was holding, and, not
finding anything sufficiently strong, and replied to express her feelings,
she signed to the servants to follow her, and went
out of the apartment with all the dignity that anger
permitted her to summon to her aid. Scarcely had Lady
Locklaven left the room than the Queen sat down again,
(30:34):
a joyful and triumphant at the victory she had just gained,
and ate with a better appetite than she had yet
done since she was a prisoner, while Mary's seaton deplored
in a low tone and with all possible respect, this
fatal gift of repartee that Mary had received, and which
with her beauty, was one of the causes of all
her misfortunes. But the Queen did nothing but laugh at
all her observations, saying as she was curious to see
(30:56):
the figure her good hostess would cut at dinner time.
After breakfast, the queen went down into the garden. Her
satisfied pride had restored some of her cheerfulness, so much
so that, seeing while crossing the hall a mandolin lying
forgotten on a chair, she told Mary Seton to take
it to see.
Speaker 1 (31:12):
She said, if she could recall her old talent. In reality,
the queen was one of the best musicians of the time,
and played admirably, says Brent tom on the lute and
ville demor, an instrument much resembling the mandolin. Mary Seton obeyed,
arrived in the garden, the queen sat down in the
deepest shade, and there, having tuned her instrument, she at
first and drew from it lively and light tones, which
(31:35):
soon darkened little by little, at the same time that
her countenance assumed a hue of deep melancholy. Mary Seton
looked at her with uneasiness. Although for a long time
she had been used to these sudden changes in her
mistress's humor, and she was about to ask the reason
of this gloomy veil. Suddenly spread over her face. When
regulating her harmonies, Mary began to sing in a low voice,
(31:56):
and as if for herself alone. The following verses caverns, meadows,
plains and mounts, lands of tree and stone, rivers, rivulets
and founts by which I stray alone, bewailing as I go,
with tears that overflow. Sing, will I the miserable woe
that bids me grieve and sigh?
Speaker 3 (32:17):
Aye?
Speaker 1 (32:18):
But what is here to lend ear to my lament?
What is here can comprehend my dull discontent? Neither grass
nor reed, nor the ripples heed flowing by, while the
stream with speed hastens from my eye. Vainly does my
wounded heart hope alas to heal, seeking to allay its
smart things that cannot feel better? Should my pain bitterly complain,
(32:42):
crying shrill to THEE who dost constrain my spirit to
such ill goddess, who shalt never die. List to what
I say, Thou who makest me to lie weak beneath
thy sway, If my life must know ending at thy
blow cruelest own it perished. So but at thy behest
(33:03):
lo my face may all men see slowly pine and
fade e'en as ice doth melt and flee near a
furnace laid. Yet the burning ray wasting me away. Passion's
glow wakens no display of pity for my woe. Yet
does every neighbor, tree, every rocky wall, this my sorrow
know and see? So in brief doth all nature know?
(33:26):
Aright this my sorry plight. Thou alone takest thy delight
to hear me cry and moan. But if it be
thy will to see tormented, still wretched me, then let
my woeful, ill immortal be This last verst died away
as if the Queen were exhausted, and at the same
time the mandolin slipped from her hands and would have
(33:48):
fallen to the ground, had not Mary Seaton thrown herself
on her knees and prevented it. The young girl remained
thus at her mistress's feet for some time, gazing at
her silently, and as she saw that she was losing
herself more and more in gloomy reverie. Have those lines
brought back to your majesty some sad remembrance, she asked hesitatingly. Oh, yes,
(34:11):
answered the queen. They reminded me of the unfortunate being
who composed them, And may I, without indiscretion, inquire of
your grace who is their author? Alas, he was a noble,
brave and handsome young man with a faithful heart and
a hot head, who would defend me to day if
I had defended him then. But his boldness seemed to
(34:34):
me rashness, and his fault a crime. What was to
be done? I did not love him, poor Chateulaerte. I
was very cruel to him. But you did not persecute him.
It was your brother. You did not condemn him. The
judges did. Yes. Yes, I know that he too was
Murray's victim, and that is no doubt the reason that
(34:56):
I am calling him to mind just now. But I
was able to pardon him, Mary, and I was inflexible.
I let us send the scaffold a man whose only
crime was in loving me too well. And now I
am astonished and complain of being abandoned by every one. Listen, darling,
there is one thing that terrifies me. It is that
when I search within myself, I find that I have
(35:18):
not only deserved my fate, but even that God did
not punish me severely enough. What strange thoughts for your grace,
cried Mary. And see where those unlucky lines which return
to your mind have led you the very day when
you were beginning to recover a little of your cheerfulness,
alas replied the Queen, shaking her head and uttering a
(35:40):
deep sigh. For six years, very few days have passed
that I have not repeated those lines to myself, although
it may be for the first time to day that
I repeat them aloud. He was a Frenchman too, Mary.
They have exiled from me, taken or killed all who
came to me from France. Do you remember that vessel
which was swallow it up before our eyes when we
(36:01):
came out of Calais Harbor. I exclaimed then that it
was a sad omen You all wanted to reassure me. Well,
who was right now? You or I? The Queen was
in one of those fits of sadness for which tears
are the sole remedy. So Mary Seaton, perceiving that not
only would every consolation be vain but also unreasonable, far
(36:23):
from continuing to react against her mistress's melancholy, fully agreed
with her. It followed that the Queen, who was suffocating,
began to weep, and that her tears brought her comfort,
And then little by little she regained self control. When
this crisis passed as usual, leaving her firmer and more
resolute than ever, so that when she went up to
her room again, it was impossible to read the slightest
(36:44):
alteration in her countenance. The dinner hour was approaching, and Mary,
who in the morning was looking forward impatiently to the
enjoyment of her triumph over Lady Lochleven, now saw her
advance with uneasiness. The mere idea of again facing this woman,
whose pride one was always obliged to oppose with insolence,
was after the moral fatigues of the day of fresh weariness.
(37:05):
So she decided not to appear for dinner as on
the day before. She was all the more glad she
had taken this resolution that this time it was not
Lady lach Levin who came to fulfill the duties and
joined on a member of the family to make the
queen easy, but George Douglas, whom his mother and her
displeasure at the morning scene, sent to replace her. Thus,
when Mary seton told the Queen that she saw the
(37:25):
young man with dark hair cross the courtyard on his
way to her. Mary still further congratulated herself on her decision,
for this young man's insolence had wounded her more deeply
than all his mother's haughty insults. The Queen was not
a little astonished, then, when in a few moments Mary
Seton returned and informed her that George Douglas, having sent
away the servants, desired the honor of speaking to her
(37:46):
on a matter of importance. At first, the Queen refused,
but Mary Seton told her that the young man's air
and manner this time were so different from what she
had seen two days before that she thought her mistress
would be wrong to refuse his request. Rose then, and
with the pride and majesty habitual to her, entered the
adjoining room, and, having taken three steps, stopped with a
(38:07):
disdainful air, waiting for George to address her. End of
Chapter five, Part one recording by John Vanstan Savannah, Georgia,
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