declared against Elizabeth; she was merely fretted and annoyed. Instead of enforcing a right at the point of the sword, the claim was asserted by a mere painting on a piece of wood and a style at the foot of a sheet of paper. Misunderstanding and ambiguity were thus created, for Mary Stuartâs claim to the English throne remained a fact which at the same time was no tangible fact. According to the prevailing mood, the claim was trotted out into the light of day or kept hidden in the background. When, acting upon the clauses of a well-known treaty, Elizabeth demanded the return of Calais to the English crown, Henry II answered: âCalais ought to be surrendered to the Dauphinâs consort, the Queen of Scotland, whom we take to be the Queen of England.â Nevertheless, Henry made no move to enforce his daughterin-lawâs claim, and continued to deal on equal terms with the English monarch as if there were no question of her being a usurper.
This foolish and vain gesture, this childish and idiotic painting of the coat of arms of England and Scotland upon a single escutcheon, brought absolutely no advantage to Mary Stuart. On the contrary it ruined her cause. In this instance Mary Stuart had to suffer throughout life for an act committed in her behalf when she was hardly more than a child, an act which was a gross political blunder performed as a salve to aggressiveness and vanity. This petty mortification of Elizabethâs pride converted the most powerful woman of Europe into Maryâs irreconcilable foe. A genuine ruler, to the manner born, can tolerate and permit everything except that another should put his dominion in doubt and make a counterclaim to that same dominion. Elizabeth, therefore, in spite of apparently friendly and even tender letters, always looked upon Mary Stuart as a spectre casting a shadow over her throne, invariably held her young cousin to be an enemy, an opponent, a rival. Mary, on the other hand, was too proud to acknowledge herself in the wrong once the claim had publicly been made, and never could she consent unconditionally to recognise a âconcubineâsâ bastard as the legitimate Queen of England. Relations between the two women could not be any other than a pretence and a subterfuge, beneath which the cleavage remained. Half-measures and dishonourable deeds, whether in the world of politics or in private life, invariably bring more damage in their train than energetic and freehanded decisions. The painting of the English coat of arms onto the Dauphinâs and Maryâs blason caused more blood to flow than a real war could have done, for open warfare in the end must decide the issue one way or another, whereas the ambiguous method adopted by Henry II proved to be a constant and ever-recurring pinprick which estranged the two women for a lifetime and played havoc with their rule as monarchs.
The coat of arms incorporating the English heraldic emblems was, in July 1559, publicly displayed by the â roi-dauphin â and the â reine-dauphine â when they were on their way to a tournament which was to take place in Paris. On that occasion they were borne to the arena in a triumphal car emblazoned with the fatal escutcheon. The car was preceded by two Scottish heralds, apparelled with the arms of England and Scotland, and crying for all men to hear: âMake place! Make place, for the Queen of England!â This festivity had been arranged to celebrate the Peace of Cateau-Cambrésis (April 1559). King Henry II, ever the chivalrous knight, did not feel it beneath his dignity to splinter a lance or two â pour lâamour des dames â, and everyone knew which lady was in his mind. Diane de Poitiers, proud and beautiful as ever, sat in her box and looked down leniently upon her royal lover. On a sudden, however, what had been a joyous sport became deadly earnest. The tourney proved to be a pivot of world history. The Comte de Montgomery, a