 The Story of Anthony and Cleopatra Volume 1 of Famous Affinities of History This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Famous Affinities of History by Lyndon Orr. Volume 1 The Story of Anthony and Cleopatra Of all love stories that are known to human history, the love story of Anthony and Cleopatra has been for 19 centuries the most remarkable. It has tasked the resources of the plastic and the graphic arts. It has been made the theme of poets and a prose narrators. It has appeared and reappeared in a thousand forms. And it appeals as much to the imagination today as it did when Anthony deserted his almost victorious troops and hastened in a swift galley from Actium in pursuit of Cleopatra. The wonder of the story is explained by its extraordinary nature. Many men in private life have lost fortune and fame for the love of women. Kings have incurred the odium of their people and have cared nothing for it in comparison with the joys of sense that come from the lingering caresses and clinging kisses. Cold-blooded statesmen such as Parnell have lost the leadership of their party and have gone down in history with a clouded name because of the fascination exercised upon them by some woman, often far from beautiful and yet possessing some mysterious power which makes the triumphs of statesmanship seem slight in comparison with the swiftly flying hours of pleasure. But in the case of Anthony and Cleopatra alone, do we find a man flinging away not merely the triumphs of civic honors or the headship of a state, but much more than these, the mastery of what was practically the world in answer to the promptings of a woman's will? Hence the story of the Roman triumphor in the Egyptian queen is not like any other story that has yet been told. The sacrifice involved in it was so overwhelming, so instantaneous, and so complete as to set this narrative above all others. Shakespeare's genius has touched it with the glory of a great imagination. Dryden, using it in the finest of his plays, expressed its nature in the title, All for Love. The distinguished Italian historian Signor Ferrero, the author of many books, has tried hard to eliminate nearly all the romantic elements from the tale and to have a see it as not the triumph of love, but the blindness of ambition. Under his handling, it becomes almost a sordid drama of a man's pursuit of power and of woman's selfishness. Let us review the story as it remains, even after we have taken full account of Ferrero's criticism. Has the world, for 1900 years, been blinded by a show of sentiment? Has it so absolutely been misled by those who lived and wrote in the days which followed closely on the events that make up this extraordinary narrative? In answering these questions we must consider, in the first place, the scene, and in the second place, the psychology of the two central characters, who for so long a time have been regarded as a very embodiment of unchecked passion. As to the scene, it must be remembered that the Egypt of those days was not Egyptian as we understand the word, but rather Greek. Cleopatra herself was of Greek descent. The kingdom of Egypt had been created by a general of Alexander the Great after that splendid warrior's death. Its capital, the most brilliant city of the Greco-Roman world, had been founded by Alexander himself, who gave to it his name. With his own hands he traced out the limits of the city and issued the most peremptory orders that it should be made the metropolis of the entire world. The orders of a king cannot give enduring greatness to a city, but Alexander's keen eye and marvelous brain saw it once that in the sight of Alexandria was such that a great commercial community planted there would live and flourish throughout all succeeding ages. He was right, for within a century this new capital of Egypt leaped into the forefront among the exchanges of the world's commerce, while everything that art could do was lavished on its embellishment. Alexandria lay upon a projecting tongue of land so situated that the whole trade of the Mediterranean centered there. Down the Nile there floated to its gates the barbaric wealth of Africa. To it came the treasures of the East, brought from afar by caravans, silks from China, spices and pearls from India, and enormous masses of gold and silver from lands scarcely known. In its harbor were the vessels of every country, from Asia in the East to Spain and Gaul and even Britain in the West. When Cleopatra, a young girl of 17, succeeded to the throne of Egypt, the population of Alexandria amounted to a million souls. The customs duties collected at the Port Wood, in terms of modern money, amount each year to more than 30 million dollars, even though the end post were not heavy. The people, who may be described as Greek at the top and oriental at the bottom, were boisterous and pleasure-loving, devoted to splendid spectacles with horse racing, gambling and dissipation. Yet at the same time they were an artistic people, loving music passionately and by no means idle, since one part of the city was devoted to large and prosperous manufacturers of linen, paper, glass and muslin. To the outward eye Alexandria was extremely beautiful. Through its entire length ran two great boulevards, shaded and diversified by mighty trees and parteries of multi-colored flowers, amid which fountains plashed and costly marbles gleamed. One fifth of the whole city was known as the Royal Residence. In it were the palaces of the reigning family, the Great Museum and the famous library which the Arabs later burned. There were parks and gardens brilliant with tropical foliage and adorned with the masterpieces of Grecian sculpture, while Sphinxes and Obelisks gave a suggestion of oriental strangeness. As one looks seaward, his eye beheld over the blue water the snow-white rocks of the sheltering island, Pheros, on which was reared a lighthouse 400 feet in height and justly numbered among the seven wonders of the world. Altogether Alexandria was a city of wealth, of beauty, of stirring life, of excitement and of pleasure. Ferrero has aptly likened it to Paris. Not so much the Paris of today as the Paris of 40 years ago, when the Second Empire flourished in all its splendor as a home of joy and strange delights. Over the country of which Alexandria was a capital, Cleopatra came to reign at 17. Following the odd custom which the Greek dynasty of the Ptolemies had inherited from their Egyptian predecessors, she was betrothed to her own brother. He, however, was a mere child of less than 12 and was under the control of evil counselors, who, in his name, gained control of the capital and drove Cleopatra into exile. Until then she had been a mere girl, but now the spirit of a woman who was wrong blazed up in her and called out all her latent powers. Hastening to Syria, she gathered about herself an army and led it against her foes. But meanwhile Julius Caesar, the greatest man of ancient times, had arrived at Alexandria back by an army of his veterans. Against him no resistance would avail. Then came a brief moment during which the Egyptian king and the Egyptian queen each strove to win the favor of the Roman Imperator. The king and his advisors had many arts, and so had Cleopatra. One thing, however, she possessed which struck the balance in her favor, and this was a woman's fascination. According to the story, Caesar was unwilling to receive her. There came into his presence, as he sat in the palace, a group of slaves bearing a long roll of matting, bound carefully and seeming to contain some precious work of art. The slaves made signs that they were bearing a gift to Caesar. The master of Egypt bade them unwrap the gift that he might see it. They did so, and out of the wrapping came Cleopatra, a radiant vision, appealing, irresistible. Next morning it became known everywhere that Cleopatra had remained in Caesar's quarters through the night, and that her enemies were now his enemies. In desperation they rushed upon his legions, casting aside all pretense of amity. There ensued a fierce contest, but the revolt was quenched in blood. This was a crucial moment in Cleopatra's life. She had sacrificed all that a woman has to give, but she had not done so from any love of pleasure or from wantonness. She was queen of Egypt, and she had redeemed her kingdom and kept it by her sacrifice. One should not condemn her too severely. In a sense, her act was one of heroism like that of Judith and the Tenephorophonies, but beyond all question it changed her character. It taught her the secret of her own great power. Henceforth, she was no longer a mere girl, nor a woman of the ordinary type. Her contact was so great a mind of Caesar's quickened her intellect. Her knowledge of that, by the charms of sense she had mastered even him, transformed her into a strange and wonderful creature. She learned to study the weaknesses of men, to play on their emotions, to appeal to every subtle taste and fancy. In her were blended mental power and that elusive and definable gift which is called charm. For Cleopatra was never beautiful. Signor Ferrero seems to think this fact to be a discovery of his own, but it was set down by Plutarch that the striking passage written less than a century after Cleopatra and Anthony died. We may quote here what the Greek historian said of her. Her actual beauty was far from being so remarkable that none could be compared with her, nor was it such that it would strike your fancy when you saw her first. Yet the influence of her presence, if you lingered near her, was irresistible. Her attractive personality, joined with the charms of her conversation, and the individual touch that she gave to everything she said or did, were utterly bewitching. It was delightful merely to hear the music of her voice, with which, like an instrument of many strings, she could pass from one language to another. Caesar had left Cleopatra firmly seated in the throne of Egypt. For six years she reigned with great intelligence, keeping order in her dominions, and patronizing with discrimination both arts and letters. But ere long the convolutions of the Roman state once more caused her extreme anxiety. Caesar had been assassinated, and there ensued a period of civil war. Out of it emerged two striking figures which were absolutely contrasted in their character. One was Octavian, the adopted son of Caesar, a man who, though still quite young and possessed of great ability, was cunning, cold-blooded, and deceitful. The other was Anthony, a soldier by training, and with all the soldiers' bluntness, courage, and lawlessness. The Roman world was divided for a time between these two men, Anthony receiving the government of the east, Octavian that of the west. In the year which had preceded this division, Cleopatra had wavered between the two opposite factions at Rome. In doing so, she had excited the suspicion of Anthony, and now he demanded of her an explanation. One must have some conception of Anthony himself in order to understand the events that followed. He was essentially a soldier of excellent family, being related to Caesar himself. As a very young man he was exceedingly handsome, and bad companions led him into the pursuit of vicious pleasure. He had scarcely come of age when he found that he owned the enormous sum of 250 talents, equivalent to half a million dollars in the money of today. But he was much more than a mere man of pleasure, given over to drinking into dissipation. Men might tell of his escapades, as when he drove about the streets of Rome in a common cab, dangling his legs out of the window while he shouted forth drunken songs of revelry. This was not the whole of Anthony. Joining the Roman army in Syria, he showed himself to be a soldier of great personal bravery, a clever strategist, and also humane and merciful in the hour of victory. Unlike most Romans, Anthony wore a full beard. His forehead was large, and his nose was of a distinctive Roman type. His look was so bold and masculine that people likened him to Hercules. His democratic manners endeared him to the army. He wore a plain tunic, covered with a large coarse mantle, and carried a huge sordid aside despising ostentation. Even his faults and follies added to his popularity. He would sit down at the common soldier's mess and drink with them, telling them stories and clapping them on the back. He spent money like water, quickly recognizing any daring deed which his legionaries performed. In this respect he was like Napoleon, and like Napoleon he had a vein of florid eloquence, which was criticized by literary men, but which went straight to the heart of the private soldier. In a word he was a powerful, virile, passionate, able man, rough as were nearly all of his countrymen, but strong and true. It was to this general that Cleopatra was to answer, and with a firm reliance on the charms which had subdued Anthony's great commander Caesar, she set out in person for Cilicia and Asia Minor, sailing up the river Sidness to a place where Anthony was encamped with his army. Making all allowances for the exaggeration of historians, there can be no doubt that she appeared to him like some dreamy vision. Her barge was gilded and was wafted on its way by swelling sails of teary and purple. The oars which smote the water were of shining silver. As she drew near the Roman general's camp, the languorous music of flutes and harps breathed forth a strain of invitation. Cleopatra herself lay upon a devan set upon the deck of the barge beneath a canopy of woven gold. She was dressed to resemble Venus, while girls about her personified nymphs and graces. Delicate perfumes diffuse themselves from the vessel, and at last, as she drew near the shore, all the people for miles about were gathered there, leaving Anthony to sit alone in the tribunal where he was dispensing justice. Word was brought to him that Venus had come to feast with Bacchus. Anthony, though still suspicious of Cleopatra, sent her an invitation to dine with him in state. With graceful tact, she sent him a counter invitation, and he came. The magnificence of his reception dazzled a man who had so long known only a soldier's fair, or at most, the crude entertainments which he had enjoyed in Rome. A marvelous display of lights was made. Thousands upon thousands of candles shone brightly, arranged in squares and circles, while the banquet itself was one that symbolized the studied luxury of the East. At this time, Cleopatra was 27 years of age, a period of life which modern psychologists have called the crisis in a woman's growth. She had never really loved before, since she had given herself to Caesar, not because she cared for him, but to save her kingdom. She now came into the presence of one whose manly beauty and strong passions were matched by her own subtlety and appealing charm. When Anthony addressed her, he felt himself a rustic in her presence. Almost resentful, he betook himself to the coarse language of the camp. Cleopatra, with marvelous adaptability, took her tone from his, and thus in a moment put him at his ease. Ferraro, who takes a most unfavorable view of her character and personality, nevertheless explains the secret of her fascination. Herself, utterly cold and callous, insensitive by nature to the flame of true devotion, Cleopatra was one of those women gifted with an unerring instinct for all the various roads to men's affections. She could be the shrinking, modest girl, too shy to reveal her half-conscious emotions of jealousy and depression and self-abandonment, or a woman carried away by the sweep of a fiery and uncontrollable passion. She could tickle the aesthetic sensibilities of her victims by rich and gorgeous festivals, by the fantastic adornment of her own person and her palace, or by brilliant discussions on literature and art. She could conjure up all the grossest instincts with the vilous obscenities of conversation with the free and easy jocularity of the woman of the camps. These last words are far too strong, and they represent only Ferreira's personal opinion. Yet there is no doubt that she met every mood of Anthony so that he became enthralled with her at once. No such woman as this had ever cast her eyes on him before. He had a wife at home, a most disreputable wife, so that he cared little for domestic ties. Later, out of policy, he made another marriage with the sister of his rival Octavian. But this wife he never cared for. His heart and soul were given up to Cleopatra, the woman who could be a comrade in the camp and a fount of tenderness in their hours of dalliance, and who possessed the keen intellect of a man joined to the arts and fascinations of a woman. On her side, she found an Anthony an ardent lover, a man of vigorous masculinity, and, moreover, a soldier whose armies might well sustain her on the throne of Egypt. That there was calculation mingled with her love no one can doubt. That some calculation also entered into Anthony's affection is likewise certain. Yet this does not affect the truth that each was wholly given to the other. Why should it have lessened her love for him to feel that he could protect her and defend her? Why should it have lessened his love for her to know that she was queen of the richest country in the world, one that could supply his needs, sustain his armies, and guild his triumphs with magnificence? There are many instances in history of Regent Queens who loved, and yet whose love was not disassociated from the policy of state. Such were Anne of Austria, Elizabeth of England, and the unfortunate Mary Stuart. Such, too, we cannot fail to think, was Cleopatra. The two remained together for ten years. In this time, Anthony was separated from her only during a campaign in the East. In Alexandria, he ceased to seem a Roman citizen and gave himself up wholly to the charms of this enticing woman. Many stories are told of their good fellowship and close intimacy. Plutarch quotes Plato as saying that there are only four kinds of flattery, but he adds that Cleopatra had a thousand. She was a supreme mistress of the art of pleasing. Whether Anthony were serious or mirthful, she had at the instant some new delight or some new charm to meet his wishes. At every turn she was with him both day and night. With him she threw dice, she drank, with him she hunted. And when he exercised himself in arms, she was there to admire and applaud. At night the pair would disguise themselves as servants and wander about the streets of Alexandria. In fact, more than once they were set upon in the slums and treated roughly by the rabble who did not recognize them. Cleopatra was always alluring, always tactful, often humorous, and full of frolic. Then came the shock of Anthony's final breach with Octavian. Either Anthony or his rival must rule the world. Cleopatra's lover once more became the Roman general and with a great fleet proceeded to the coast of Greece where his enemy was encamped. Anthony had raised 112,000 troops and 500 ships, a force far superior to that commanded by Octavian. Cleopatra was there with 60 ships. In the days that preceded the final battle much took place which still remains obscure. It is likely that Anthony desired to become again the Roman while Cleopatra wished him to thrust Rome aside and return to Egypt with her to reign there as an independent king. To her, Rome was almost a barbaric city. In it, she could not hold sway as she could in her beautiful Alexandria with its blue skies and velvet turf and tropical flowers. At Rome, Anthony would be distracted by the cares of state and she would lose her lover. At Alexandria, she would have him on her own. The clash came when the hostile fleets met off the promontory of Actium. At its crisis, Cleopatra prematurely concluding that the battle was lost of a sudden gave the signal for retreat and put out the sea with her fleet. This was the crucial moment. Anthony, mastered by his love, forgot all else and in a swift ship, started in pursuit of her, abandoning his fleet and army to win or lose as fortune might decide. There was nothing. The dark-browed queen of Egypt, imperious and yet caressing, was everything. Never was such a prize and never were such great hopes thrown carelessly away. After waiting seven days Anthony's troops still undefeated finding that their commander would not return to them, surrendered to Octavian who thus became the master of an empire. Later, his legions assaulted Alexandria and there Anthony was twice defeated. At last, Cleopatra saw her great mistake. She had made her lover give up the hope of being Rome's dictator. But in so doing, she had also lost the chance of ruling with him tranquilly in Egypt. She shut herself behind the barred doors of the royal sepulchre and, lest she should be molested there, she sent forth word that she had died. Her proud spirit could not brook the thought that she might be seized and carried as a prisoner to Rome. She was too much a queen and soul to be led in triumph up the sacred way with golden chains clanking on her slender wrist. Anthony, believing the report that she was dead, fell upon his sword. But in his dying moments he was carried into the presence of the woman for whom he had given all. With her arms about him, his spirit passed away and soon after she too met death. Whether by a poisoned draft or by the storied asp, no one can say. Cleopatra had lived the mistress of a splendid kingdom. She had successfully captivated two of the greatest men whom Rome had ever seen. She died like a queen to escape disgrace. Whatever modern critics may have to say concerning small details, this story still remains the strangest love story of which the world has any record. End of The Story of Anthony and Cleopatra. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Famous Affinities of History Belinden Orre, Volume 1 Eberlad and Heloise Many a woman amid the transports of passionate and languishing love has cried out in a sort of ecstasy. I love you, as no woman ever loved a man before. When she says this, she believes it. Her whole soul is inflamed with the art of emotion. It really seems to her that no one ever could have loved so much as she. This cry, spontaneous untought since here has become almost one of those conventionalities of amorous expression which belonged to the vocabulary of self-abandonment. Every woman who had this went on by the almost terrible extravagance of a great love believes that no one before her has ever said it, and that in her own case it is absolutely true. Yet, how many women are really faithful to the end? Very many indeed, circumstances admit of easy faithfulness. A high-sold, generous, adherent nature will enture the infinity of disillusionment of misfortune, of neglect and even of ill-treatment. Even so, the flame, though it may seem low, can be revived again to burn as brightly as before, but in order that this may be so, it is necessary to the object of such a wonderful devotion be alive and that it be present and visible. Or, if it be absent, that there should still exist some hope of renewing the exquisite intimacy of the past. A man who is sincerely loved may be compared to take long journeys which will separate him for any indefinite time from the woman who has given her heart to him, and she will be still a constant. He may be imprisoned perhaps for life, yet there is always the hope of his release or of his escape, and some women will be faithful to him and will watch for his return. But given a situation which absolutely bars out hope which send us two souls in such a way that they can never be united in this world, and there we have a test so terribly severe that few even of the most loyal and intensely glinging lovers can endure it. Not that such a situation would lead a woman to turn to any other man than the one whom she had given her very life, but we might expect that at least her strong fire would cool and weaken. She might cherish his memory among the precious souvenirs of her life life, but that she should still pour out the same rapturous and stinted passion as before seems almost too much to believe. Annals of emotion record only one such instance, and so this instance has become known to all and has been cherished for nearly a thousand years. It involves the story of a woman who did love, perhaps as no one ever loved before since. Before, she was subjected to this cruel test, and she made the test not alone completely, but triumphantly and almost fiercely. The story is, of course, the story of Abelard and Hallowease. It has many times been falsely told. Portions of it have been omitted and other portions have been garbled. A whole literature has grown up around the subject. It may be worse or wild to clear way the ambiguous and doubtful points, and once more tell it simply, without bias, with strict adherence to what seems to be the truth attested by authentic records. There is one circumstance connected with the story, which must specially note. The narrative does something more than set forth the one quite unimpeccable instance of unconquered constancy. It shows how, in the last analysis, the twitch touches the human heart as more vitality and more enduring interest than what concerns the intellect or those achievements of the human mind, which are external to our emotional nature. Pierre Abelard was undoubtedly the boldest and most creative reason of his time. As a wondering teacher, he drew after him thousands of enthusiastic students. He gave a strong impetus to learning. He was a marvelous logician and an accomplished orator. Among his pupils were men who afterward became relates of the church and distinguished scholars. In the dark age, when the dictates of reason totally disregarded, he fought fearlessly for intellectual freedom. He was practically the founder of the University of Paris, which in turn became the mother of medieval and modern universities. He was therefore a great and striking figure in the history of civilization. Nevertheless, he would today be remembered only by scholars and students of the Middle Ages. Were it not for the fact that he inspired the most enduring love that history records? If Eloise had never loved him and if their story had not been so tragic and subpoignant, he would be today only a name known to but a few. His final resting place in the cemetery of Père Lachaise in Paris would not be sought out by thousands every year and kept bright with flowers. The gift of those who have themselves both loved and suffered. Pierre Abelard or more fully Pierre Abelard du Palais was a native of Brittany, born in the year 1079. His father was a knight, the lord of the menor, but Abelard kept little for the life of a petty noble and so he gave up his seniorial rights to his brothers and went forth to become first of all a student and then a published lecturer and teacher. His student days ended abruptly in Paris, where he enrolled himself as a pupil of a distinguished philosopher Choléon de Chompeau, but one day Abelard engaged in a disputation with his master. His wonderful combination of eloquence, logic and originality utterly rooted Chompeau, who was thus humiliated in the presence of his disciples. He was the first of many enemies that Abelard was destined to make in his long and stormy career. From that moment the young Britain himself set up as a teacher of philosophy and the brilliance of his discourses soon drew to him songs of students from all over Europe. Before proceeding with the story of Abelard, it is well to reconstruct however slightly a picture of the times in which he lived. It was in age when Western Europe was but partly civilized. Pedantry and learning of the most minute sort existed side by side with the most violent excesses of medieval barbarism. The church had undertaken a gigantic task of subturing and enlightening the semi-pagan people of France, Germany and England. When we look back at that period, Abelard justly sends a room for not controlling more completely the savagery of evils. More fairly, should we wonder at the great measure of success which had been already achieved. The leaving of true Christianity was working in the half-pagan populations. It had not yet completely reached the nobles and the knights, nor even all the ecclesiastics who served it and who were consecrated to its mission. Thus, amid the sort of political chaos we have seen declaring evils of feudalism. Kings and princes and their followers lived the lives of swine. Private blood feuds were regarded lightly. There was as yet no single central power. Every man carried his life in his hand, trusting to sword and dagger for protection. The city's worst Elmer Hamlets clustered around great castles of fortified casinos. In Paris itself, the network of dark lanes ill-lighted and unguarded was the scene of midnight murder and assassination. In the wintertime, wolves infested the town by night. Man at arms with torches and spears often had too much out from the barracks to assail the snarling helping packs of savage animals that hung a drove from the surrounding forests. Paris of the 12th century was typical of France itself which was herded by human wolves intent on repine and wanton plunder. There were great schools of theology, but the students who attended them fought and slashed one another. If a man's life was threatened he must protect it by his own strengths or by gathering about him a band of friends. No one was safe, no one was tolerant. Very few were free from the cross of vices. Even in some of the religious houses, the prideers would meet at night for unseemly rebels, splashing the stone floors with wine and shrieking in the delirium of Tranconest. The rules of the church enjoined temperance, continence and celibacy. But the decrees of Leo IX and Nicholas II and Alexander II in Gregory were only partially observed. In fact, Europe was in a state of chaos, political and moral in social. Only very slowly was order emerging from sheer anarchy. We must remember this when we recall some facts which meet us in the story of Abelard and Heloise. The jealousy of Champault drove Abelard for a time from Paris. He taught and lectured several other centres of learning, always admired and yet at the same time many for his advocacy of reason against blind faith. During the years of his wandering, he came to have a wide knowledge of the world and of human nature. If we try to imagine him as he was in the 35th year, we shall find in him a remarkable combination of attractive qualities. It must be remembered that though in a sense he was ecclesiastic, he had not yet been ordained to the priesthood. But was rather a canon, a person who did not belong to any religious order, though he was supposed to live according to a definite set of religious rules and as a member of a religious community. Abelard however met rather light of his churchy associations. He was at once an accomplished man of the world and a profound scholar. There was nothing of the recluse about him. He mingled with his fellow man, whom he dominated by the charm of his personality. He was eloquent, adherent and persuasive. He could turn a delicate compliment as carefully as he could to separate his eloquence. His rich voice had in it a seductive quality which was never without its effect. Handsome, well-formed he possessed as much thicker of body as of mind. Nor were his accomplishments entirely those of the scholar. He wrote dainty verses which he had also said to music and which he sang himself as a rare skill. Some have called him the first of the troubadours and many who kept nothing for his skill and logic admired him for his gifts as a tradition and a poet. All together he was one to attract attention wherever he went. Fanang could fail to recognize his power. It was soon after his 35th year that he returned to Paris, where he was welcomed by thousands. His much tactic reconciled himself to his enemies so that his life now seemed to be full of promise and of sunshine. It was at this time that he became acquainted with a very beautiful young girl named Heloise. She was only 18 years of age, yet already she possessed not only beauty but many accomplishments which were quite rare in women. Since she both wrote and spoke a number of languages and like Abelard she was the love of music and poetry. Heloise was the illegitimate daughter of a canon of Petrish and blood. So what she said to have been a vastly representative of the noble house of the Montmorences, famous throughout French history for chivalry and charm. Up to this time we do not know precisely what sort of life Abelard had lived in private. His enemies declared that he had squandered his substance in vicious ways. His friends denied this and represented him a strict encased. The truth probably lies between these assertions. He was naturally a pleasure-loving man of the world, who may very possibly have relieved his severe studies by occasional revelry and light-love. It is not at all likely that he was addicted to gross passions and low practices. But such as he was when he first saw Heloise, he conceived for her violent detachment. Carefully guarded in the house of her uncle Falbear, it was difficult at first for Abelard to meet her safe in the most casual way. Yet every time that he heard her exquisite voice and watched her graceful manners, he became more and more infatuated. His studies suddenly seemed tame and colorless beside the fierce-colored flame which placed up in his heart. Nevertheless it was because of these studies and of his great reputation as a scholar that he managed to obtain access to Heloise. He flattered her uncle and made a chance proposal that he should himself become an inmate of Falbear's house in order that he might teach this girl of so much promise. Such an offering from so brilliantly and the man was joyfully accepted. From that time Abelard could visit Heloise without restraint. He was her teacher and the two spent hours together, nominally in the study of Greek and Hebrew, and countless very little was said between them on such unattractive subjects. On the contrary, with all his wide experience of life, his eloquence, his perfect manners and his fascination, Abelard put forth his power to captivate the senses of a girl still in her teens and quite ignorant to the world. His remuceses he employed to be in her the great genius which had overwhelmed all the great senses of learning in the western world. It was then that the pleasures of knowledge, the choice of thought, the emotions of eloquence were all called into play to charm and move and plunge into a profound and strange intoxication, the snowball and tender heart which had never known either love or sorrow. One can imagine that everything helped on the inevitable end. Their studies gave them opportunities to see each other freely and also permitted them to be alone together. Then their books lay open between them. But either long periods of silence still their reading or other words of deepening intimacy made them forget their studies altogether. The eyes of the two lovers turned from the book to mingle their glances and then to turn away in a confusion that was conscious. Hand would touch hand, apparently by accident and when conversation ceased Abelard would often hear the long quivering sigh which showed the strange half frightened and yet exquisite joy which Eloise experienced. It was not long before the girl's heart had been wholly run. Transported by her emotion, she met the caresses of her lover with those as unrestrained as his. Her very innocence deprived her of the protection which all the women would have had. All was given freely and even wildly by Eloise and all was taken by Abelard who afterwards himself declared the flesh of teaching her to laugh surpassed the delightful fragments of all the perfumes in the world. Yet those two could not always live in a paradise which was entirely their own. The world of Paris took notice of their close association. Some poems written to Eloise by Abelard as if in letters of fire were found and shown to forbear who until this time had suspected nothing. Angrily he ordered Abelard to leave his house. He forbade his knees to see her lover anymore. But the two could not be separated and indeed there was good reason why they should still cling together. Secretly, Eloise left her uncle's house and fled through the narrow lanes of Paris to the dwelling of Abelard's sister Denise where Abelard himself was living. There presently the young girl gave birth to a son who was named Aristolabe after an instrument used by astronomers since both the father and the mother felt that the offspring of so great their love should not have an ordinary name. Full bear was furious and rightly so. His hospitality had been outraged and his knees was honored. He insisted that the pair should at once be married. Here was revealed a certain weakness in the character of Abelard. He consented to the marriage but insisted that it should be kept an utter secret. Oddly enough it was Eloise herself who objected to becoming the wife of the man she loved and selfishness could go no further. She saw that were he to marry her his advancement in the church would be almost impossible for while the very minor clergy sometimes married in spite of the papal bulls matrimony was becoming a fatal part of ecclesiastical promotion and so Eloise pleaded pitifully both with her uncle and with Abelard that there should be no marriage. She would rather bear all men of disgrace than stand in the way of Abelard's advancement. He has himself given some of the words in which she pleaded with him. What glory shall I win from you and I have made you quite inglorious and have humbled both of us. But will the world inflict on me if I deprive it from one so brilliant? What curses will follow such a marriage? How outrageous would it be that you whom nature created for the universal good should be devoted to one woman and blanched into such disgrace? Eloise the sword of a marriage should humiliate you. Indeed, every possible effort which another woman in her place would employ to make him marry her she used in order to dissuade him. Finally, her sweet face streaming tears, she uttered a tremendous sentence which makes one really think that she loved him as no other woman ever loved a man. She cried out in an agony of self-sacrifice. It would rather be your mistress than the wife even of an emperor. Nevertheless, the two were married and Abelard returned to his lecture room and his studies. For months they met by seldom. Meanwhile, however, the turns and innuendos directed against Eloise so irritated full bear that he broke his promise of secrecy and told his friends that Abelard and Eloise were men and wife. They went to Eloise for confirmation. Once more, she showed in an extraordinary way the depths of her devotion. I am no wife, she said. It is not true that Abelard has married me. My uncle merely tells you this to save my reputation. They asked her whether she would swear to this, and without the moment's hesitation this pure and noble woman took an oath upon the scriptures that there had been no marriage. Full bear was enraged by this. His ill-treated Eloise and furthermore he forbade Abelard to visit her. The girl, therefore, again left her uncle's house and betook herself to a convent just outside of Paris where she assumed the habit of a nanness in disguise. Their Abelard continued from time to time to meet her. When full bear heard this, he put his own interpretation on it. He believed that Abelard intended to ignore the marriage altogether and that possibly he might even marry some other woman. In any case he now hated Abelard with all his heart and he resolved to take a fearful and unnatural vengeance which would at once prevent his enemy from making any other marriage while at the same time it would debar him from ecclesiastical preferment. To carry out this blood full bear first bribed a man who was the body servant of Abelard watching it to door of his room each night. Then he hired the services of Farafient. After Abelard had retired and was deep in slumber, the dredger as well had unbared the door. The hirelings of full bear entered and fell upon the sleeping man. Three of them bound him fast, while the force with eraser inflicted on him the most shameful mutilation to this possible. Then extinguishing the light, the dredger slunk away and were lost in darkness leaving behind the victim bound to his couch uttering cries of torment and based in his own blood. It is a shocking story and yet it is a mental characteristic of the lawless and barbarous era in which it happened. Early the next morning the news flew rapidly through Paris, the city hummed like a beehive. Citizens and students and ecclesiastics poured into the street and surrounded the house of Abelard. Almost the entire city said full key as quoted by McCabe and clamoring toward his house. Women wept as if each one had lost her husband. Unmanned though he was, Abelard still retained enough of the spirit of his time to seek vengeance. He in his turn employed Raphians whom he set upon the track of those who had assaulted him. The dredger as well had and one of Fulbear's highlings were run down, seized and mutilated precisely as Abelard had been and the eyes were blinded. A third was lodged in prison. Fulbear himself was accused before one of the church courts which alone had power to punish the ecclesiastic and all his goods were confiscated. But meantime how did it fare with Heloise? Her grief was greater than his own while her life and her devotion were absolutely undiminished. But Abelard now showed selfishness and indeed a meanness far beyond any that he had before exhibited. Heloise could no more be his wife. He made it plain that he put no trust in her fidelity. He was unwilling that she should live in the world while he could not and so he told her sternly that she would take the veil and bury herself forever in a nunnery. The pain and shame which she experienced that this came wholly from the fact that evidently Abelard did not trust her long after what she wrote. God knows I should not have hesitated at your command to precede her to follow you to Hel itself. It was his distrust that cut her to the heart. Still her love for him was so intense that she obeyed his order. Soon after she took the rose and in the convent chapel, shaking her arms, she knelt before the altar and assumed the veil of a cloistered nun. Abelard himself put on the tunic of a benedictile monk and entered the Abbey of Centenese. It is unnecessary here to follow out all the details of the lives of Abelard and Heloise. After this hard rendering scene, Abelard passed for many years of strife and disappointment and even of humiliation. For on one occasion, just as he excited Shion the Shampoo so himself was silenced and put out by Benard Clairvaux, a frail, tense, absorbed, dominant little man whose face was white and one with suffering, but in whose eyes there was a light of supreme strength. Benard represented pure face as Abelard represented pure reason when the two men met before a great council to match their respective powers. Benard with fiery eloquence brought a charge of heresy against Abelard in a narration which was like a charge of cavalry. When he concluded, Abelard rose with an ashen face, stammered out a few words and sat down. He was content by the council and his works were ordered to be burned. All his later life was one of misfortune, flumiliation and even of personal danger. The reckless monk whom he tried to rule was fiercely against him. His life was threatened. He betook himself to a desolate and lonely place where he built for himself a hut of reeds and rushes hoping to spend his final years in meditation. But there were many who had not forgotten his ability as a teacher. These flocked by hundreds to the desolate place where he abode. His hut was surrounded by tents and wood hovers built by his scholars for their shelter. Thus Abelard resumed his teaching, though in a very different frame of mind. In time he built the structure of wood and stone which he called the Periglet. Some remains of which still can be seen. But presently Abelard wrote and gave to the world a curious and unexcitingly frank book which he called the story of my misfortunes. A copy of it reached the hands of Halluys and she had once sent to Abelard the first of a series of letters which have remained unique in the literature of love. Ten years had passed and yet the woman's heart was as faithful and as full of yearning as on the day when the two had parted. It has been said the letters were written, but they must be read as this search in mind. Yet it is difficult to believe that anyone save Halluys herself could have flung a human soul into such frankly passionate utterances or that any imitator could have done the work. In her first letter which was sent to Abelard written a pampagement she said At thy command I would change not merely my costume but my very soul so entirely I doubt the soul process of my body and my spirit. Never God is my witness, never have I sought anything in thee but thyself. I have sought thee and not thy gifts. I have not looked to the marriage bond or dowry. She begged him to write to her and to lead her to God as once he had led her into the mysteries of blesha. Abelard answered in a letter, friendly to be sure but formal. The letter of her priest to a cloistered nun, the opening words of it are characteristic to the whole. To Halluys, his sister in Christ from Abelard her brother in him. The letter was a long one but throughout the whole of it the writer's tone was cold and prudent. Its very coldness rose to her soul to a passionate revolt. Her second letter burst forth in a sort of anguish. How has Thou been able to frame such thoughts, dearest? How has Thou found words to convey them? Oh, if I dare but call God cruel to me. Oh, most wretched of all preachers that I am. So sweetly they find the blashes of our loving days that I cannot bring myself to reject them or to banish them from our memory. Wherever I go, they thrust themselves upon my vision and rekindle the old desire. But Abelard knew only too well that not in this life could there be anything safe spiritual love between himself and Halluys. He wrote to her again and again always in the same remote and unimpatient way. He tells her about the history of monasticism and discusses with her the matters of theology and ethics. But he never decides one word to feed the flame that is consuming her. The woman understood it last and by decrees her letters became as calm as his. So fused, however with a tenderness and feeling that showed that in her heart of hearts, she was still entirely given to him. After some years, Abelard left his dwelling at the Paraclete and there was founded their religious house of which Halluys became the abyss. All the world respected her for her sweetness, her wisdom and the character. She made friends as easily as Abelard made enemies. Even by now, who had always run her husband, sorted Halluys to ask her advice and counsel. Abelard died while on his way to Rome with a hiver's churning in order to undergo a penalty. And his body was brought back to the Paraclete where it was entombed. Over it for 22 years, Halluys watched with tender care and when she died, her body was laid beside death of her lover. Today their bones are mingled as she would have desired them to be mingled. The stones of their tomb and the great cemetery of Père Lachaise were brought from the ruins of the Paraclete and above the sarcophagus are two recumbent figures, the whole being the work of the artist Alexandre Lenoir who died in 1836. The figure representing Halluys is not forever an authentic likeness. The model for it was a lady belonging to a noble family of friends and the figure itself was brought to Père Lachaise from the ancient Collège de Beauvais. The letters of Halluys have been read and imitated throughout the whole of the last nine centuries. Some have found in them the utterances of a woman whose love of love was greater than her love of God and whose intensity of passion nothing could subdue and so these have condemned her. But others like Chateauprénau have more truly seen in them a pure and noble spirit to whom fate had been varied over and who was, after all, writing to the man who had been her lawful husband. Some of the most famous imitations of her letters are those in the ancient poem entitled The Romance of the Rose written by Chateauprénau in the 13th century and in modern times her first letter was paraphrased by Alexandre Pope and in French by Colladeux. There exists in English half a dozen translations of them with Abelard's replies. It is interesting to remember that practically all the other writings of Abelard remained unpublished and unedited until a very recent period. He was a remarkable figure as a philosopher and scholar, but the world cares for him only because he was loved by Halleus. End of Abelard and Halleus recording by Ellie, August 2009. Queen Elizabeth and the Earl of Leicester, Volume 1 of Famous Affinities of History This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Linda Dodge Famous Affinities of History by Lyndon Orr Volume 1 Queen Elizabeth and the Earl of Leicester History has many romantic stories to tell of the part which women have played in determining the destinies of nations. Sometimes it is a woman's beauty that causes the shifting of a province. Again, it is another woman's rich possessions that incite invasion and lead to bloody wars. Marriages or dowries or the refusal of marriages and lack of dowries, inheritance through an heiress, the failure of male succession. In these and in many other ways women have set their mark indelibly upon the trend of history. However, if we look over these different events, we shall find that it is not so much the mere longing for a woman the desire to have her as a queen that has seriously affected the annals of any nation. Kings like ordinary men have paid their suit and then have ridden away repulsed if not seriously dejected. Most royal marriages are made either to secure the succession to the throne by a legitimate line of heirs or else to unite adjoining states and make a powerful kingdom out of two that are less powerful. But as a rule kings have found greater delight in some sheltered bower remote from courts than in castle halls and well cared for nooks where their own wives and children have been reared with all the appurtenances of legitimacy. There are not many stories that hang persistently about the love-making of a single woman. In the case of one or another we may find an episode or two something dashing something spirited or striking something brilliant and exhilarating or something sad but for a woman's whole life in courtship that meant nothing and that was only a clever aid to diplomacy this is surely an unusual and really wonderful thing. It is the more unusual because the woman herself was not intended by nature to be wasted upon the cold and cheerless sport of chancellors and counselors and men who had no thought of her except to use her as a pawn she was hot-blooded descended from a fury race and one whose temper was quick to leap into the passion of a man. In studying this phase of the long and interesting life of Elizabeth of England we must notice several important facts. In the first place she gave herself above all else to the maintenance of England not in England that would be half French or even partly Dutch and Flemish but the merry England of tradition the England that was one and undivided with its growing freedom of thought its bows and bills its nut-brown ale its sturdy yeoman in its loyalty to crown and parliament she once said almost as an agony I love England more than anything and one may really hold that this was true for England she schemed and planned for England she gave up many of her royal rights for England she descended into the depths of treachery for England she left herself on record as an errant liar false, perjured yet successful and because of her success for England's sake she will hold her in high remembrance since her scheming and her falsehood are the offenses that one pardons most readily in a woman in the second place it must be remembered that Elizabeth's court-chips and pretended love-makings were almost always a part of her diplomacy when not a part of her diplomacy they were a mere appendage to her vanity to seem to be the flower of the English people and to be surrounded by the noblest the bravest and the most handsome Cavaliers not only of her own kingdom but of others this was indeed a choice morsel of which she was fond of tasting even though it meant nothing beyond the moment finally though at times she could be very cold and though she made herself still colder in order that she was fast and loose with foreign suitors who played fast and loose with her the king of Spain the Duke de Alencon brother of the French king with an Austrian Archduke with the magnificent Barbarian Prince of Muscovy with Eric of Sweden or any other Scandinavian suitor she felt a woman's need for some nearer and more tender association to which she might give freer play and in which she might feel those deeper emotions without the danger that arises when love is mingled with diplomacy let us first consider a picture of the woman as she really was in order that we may understand her triple nature consummate mistress of every art that statesmen know and using at every moment her person as a lure and glorious queen who seemed to be the prey of boundless vanity and lastly a woman who had all a woman's passion and who could cast suddenly aside the check and balance which restrained her before the public gaze and could allow herself to give full play to the emotion that she inherited from the king her father who was himself a marvel of fire and impetuosity that the daughter of king Henry the eighth and Anne Boleyn should be a gentle, timid maiden would be to make her reddy of farce Elizabeth was about 25 years of age when she ascended the throne of England it is odd that the date of her birth cannot be given with precision the intrigues and disturbances of the English court and the fact that she was a princess made her birth a matter of less account than if there had been no male heir to the throne at any rate when she ascended it after the deaths of her brother king Edward the sixth and her sister queen Mary she was a woman well trained both in intellect and in physical development Mr. Martin Hume who loves to dwell upon the later years of Queen Elizabeth speaks rather bitterly of her as a quote painted old harridan and said she may well have seemed when at nearly 70 years of age she leered and grinned a sort of skeleton smile at the handsome young courtiers who pretended to see in her the queen of beauty and to be dying for love of her yet in her earlier years when she was young and strong and impetuous she deserved far different words than these the portrait of her by Zucchero now hangs in Hapton Court depicts her when she must have been of more than middle age and still the face is one of beauty though it be strange and almost artificial beauty one that draws attracts and perhaps lures you on your will it is interesting to compare this painting with the frank word picture of a certain German agent who was sent to England by his emperor and who seems to have been greatly fascinated by Queen Elizabeth she was at that time in the prime of her beauty and her power her complexion was of that peculiar transparency which is seen only in the face of golden blondes her figure was fine and graceful and her wit and accomplishment that would have made a woman of any rank or time remarkable the German invoice says she lives a life of such magnificence and feasting as can hardly be imagined and occupies a great portion of her time with balls banquets hunting and similar amusements as possible display but nevertheless she insists upon far greater respect being shown her than was exacted by Queen Mary she summons parliament but lets them know that her orders must be obeyed in any case if anyone will look at the painting by Zucchero he will see how much is made of Elizabeth's hands a distinctive feature quite as noble with the tutors as is the Hapsburg lip among the descendants of the house of Austria these were ungloved and they were very long and white and she looked at them and played with them a great deal and indeed they justified the admiration with which they were regarded by her flatterers such was the personal appearance of Elizabeth when a young girl we have still more favorable opinions of her that were written by those who had occasion to be near her not only do they record swift glimpses of her person but sometimes in a word or two they give an insight into certain traits of mind which came out prominently in her later years it may perhaps be well to view her as a woman before we regard her more fully as a queen it has been said that Elizabeth inherited many of the traits of her father the boldness of spirit the rapidity of decision and at the same time the fox-like craft which often showed itself when it was least expected Henry had also as is well known a love of the other sex which has made his reign memorable and yet it must be noted how he loved much it was not loose love many a king of England from Henry II to Charles II has offended far more than Henry VIII where Henry loved he married and it was the unfortunate result of these royal marriages that has made him seem unduly fond of women if however we examine each one of the separate espousals we shall find that he did not enter into it lightly and that he broke it off unwillingly his ardent temperament therefore was checked by a certain rational or conventional propriety so that he was by no means a loose liver as many would make him out to be we must remember this when we recall the charges that had been made against Elizabeth and the strange stories that were told of her tricks by no means seemingly tricks which she used to play with her guardian Sir Thomas Seymour the antics she performed with him in her dressing room were made the subject of an official inquiry yet it came out that while Elizabeth was less than 16 and Lord Thomas very much her senior his wife was with him on his visits to the chamber of the princess Sir Robert Turwitt and his wife were also sent to question her Turwitt had a keen mind and one well-trained to cope with any other's wit in this sort of cross-examination Elizabeth was only a girl of 15 yet she was a match for the accomplished courtier in diplomacy and quick retort he was sent down to worm out of her everything that she knew threats, flattery and forged letters and false confessions were tried on her but they were tried in vain she would tell nothing of importance she denied everything she sulked, she cried she availed herself of a woman's favorite defense in suddenly attacking those who attacked her she brought counter-charges against Turwitt and put her enemies on their own defense in a compromising word could they ring out of her she bitterly complained of the imprisonment of her governess Mrs. Ashley and cried out I have not so behaved that you need put more mistresses upon me altogether she was too much for Sir Robert and he was wise enough to recognize her cleverness she hath a very good wit she shrewdly and nothing is to be gotten out of her except by great policy and he added if I had to say my fancy I think it more neat that she should have two governesses than one Mr. Hume notes the fact that after the two servants of the princess had been examined and had told nothing very serious they found that they had been wise they had been friends of the royal girl no sooner had Elizabeth become queen than she knighted the man Parry and made him treasurer of the household while Mrs. Ashley the governess was treated with great consideration thus very naturally Mr. Hume said they had probably kept back far more than they told even Turwitt believed that there was a secret compact between them for he said quaintly they all sing one song and she hath set the note for them soon after this her brother Edward's death brought to the throne her elder sister Mary who has harshly become known as Bloody Mary during this time Elizabeth put aside her boldness and became apparently a shy and simple minded virgin surrounded on every side by those who sought to trap her there was nothing in her bearing to make her seem the head of a party or a young chief of a faction nothing could exceed her in meekness she spoke of her sister in the humblest terms she exhibited no signs of the tutor animation that was in reality so strong a part of her character but coming to the throne she threw away her modesty and brawled and rioted with very little self restraint the people as a whole found little fault with her she reminded them of her father the bluff king howl and even those who criticized her did it only partially they thought much better of her than they had of her saturnine sister the first queen Mary the life of Elizabeth has been very oddly misunderstood very much for the facts in it as for the manner in which these had been arranged and the relation which they have to one another we ought to recollect for that this woman did not live in a restricted sphere that her life was not a short one and that it was crowded with incidents and full of vivid color some think of her as living for a short period of time and speak of the great historical characters who surround her according to a single epic to them she has one set of suitors all the time the Duke to Alencon the king of Denmark's brother the prince of Sweden the Russian potentate the Archduke sending her sweet messages from Austria the melancholy king of Spain together with a number of her own brilliant Englishmen Sir William Pickering Sir Robert Dudley Sir Philip Sidney Sir Walter Raleigh Of course as a matter of fact Elizabeth lived for nearly 70 years almost three quarters of a century and in that long time there came and went both men and women those whom she had used and cast aside and others whom she had also treated with gratitude and who had died gladly serving her but through it all there was a continual change in her environment though not in her the young soldier went to the battlefield and died the wise counselor gave her his advice and she either took it or cared nothing for it she herself was a curious blending of forwardness and folly of wisdom and wantonness of frivolity and unbridled fancy but through it all people even though she often cheated them and made them pay her taxes in the harsh old way that prevailed before there was any right saved the king's will at the same time this was only by fits and starts and on the whole she served them well therefore to most of them she was always the good queen best what mattered it to the Ditcher and Yeoman far from the court that the queen was said to dance in her nightdress and to swear like a trooper it was indeed largely from these rustic sources that such stories were scattered throughout England peasants thought them picturesque more to the point with them were peace and prosperity throughout the country the fact that law was administered with honesty and justice and that England was safe were these Spaniards and the scheming French but as I said we must remember always that the Elizabeth of one period was not the Elizabeth of another and that the England of one period was not the England of another as one thinks of it there is something wonderful in the almost star like way in which this girl flitted unharmed through a thousand perils her own countrymen were at first divided against her a score of greedy avaricious suitors sought her destruction or at least her hand to lead her to destruction all the great powers of the continent were either demanding an alliance with England or threatening to dash England down and knit their own dissensions what had this girl to play off against such dangers only an undaunted spirit a scheming mind that knew no scruples and finally her own person and the fact she was a woman and therefore might give herself in marriage and become the mother of a race of kings it was this last weapon the weapon of her sex that proved perhaps the most powerful of all by promising a marriage or by denying it or by neither promising nor denying holding it she gave forth a thousand wily intimations which kept those who surrounded her at bay until she had made still another death and skillful combination escaping like some startled creature to a new place of safety in 1583 when she was 50 years of age she had reached a point when her court ships and her pretended love making were no longer necessary she had played Sweden against Denmark and France against Spain and the Austrian Archduke against the others and many suitors in her own land against the different factions which they headed she might have sat herself down to rest for she could feel that her wisdom had led her up to a high place which she might look down in peace and with the she had won not yet had the great armada rolled and thundered toward the English shores but she was certain that her land was secure, compact and safe it remains to see what were those amatory relations which she may be said to have sincerely held she had played at love making with foreign princes because it was wise and for the moment best Englishmen of rank who aspire to her hand because in that way she might conciliate at one time her Catholic and at another her Protestant subjects but what of the real and inward feeling of her heart when she was not thinking of political problems or the necessities of state this is an interesting question one may at least seek the answer hoping thereby to solve one of the most interesting phases of this perplexing and most remarkable woman it must be remembered that it was not a question of whether Elizabeth desired marriage she may have done so as involving a brilliant stroke of policy in this sense she may have wished to marry one of the two French princes who were among her suitors but even here she hesitated and her parliament is approved for by this time England had become largely Protestant again had she married a French prince and had children England might have become an appenage of France there is no particular evident that she had any feeling at all for her Flemish Austrian or Russian suitors while the Swedes' pretensions were the laughing stock of the English court so we may set aside this question of marriage as having nothing to do with her emotional life she did desire a son as was shown by her passionate outcry when she compared herself with Mary of Scotland the Queen of Scots has a bonnie son while I am but a barren stock she was too wise to wed a subject though had she married at all her choice would doubtless have been an Englishman in this respect and in so many others she was like her father who chose his numerous wives with the exception of the first from among the English ladies of the court just as the showy Edward IV was happy in marrying Dame Elizabeth Woodville but what a king may do is by no means so easy for a queen and a husband is almost certain to assume an authority which makes him popular with the subjects of his wife hence as said above we must consider not so much whom she would have liked to marry but rather to whom her love went out spontaneously and not as a part of that amatory play which amused her from the time when she frisked with Seymour down to her very last days when she could no longer move about but when she still dabbed her cheeks with rouge and powder and set her skeleton face amid a forest of ruffs there were many whom she cared for after a fashion she would not let Sir Walter Raleigh visit her American colonies because she could not bear to have him so long away from her she had great moments of passion for the Earl of Essex though in the end she signed his death warrant because he was as dominant in spirit as the Queen herself readers of Sir Walter Scott's wonderfully picturesque novel, Kennelworth will note how he throws the strongest light upon Elizabeth's affection for Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester Scott's historical instinct is united here with a vein of psychology which goes deeper than as usual with him we see Elizabeth trying hard to consider her favor equally between two nobles but the Earl of Essex fails to please her because he lacked those exquisite manners which made Leicester so great a favorite with the fastidious Queen then too the story of Leicester's marriage with Amy Robsert is something more than a myth based upon an obscure legend and an ancient ballad the Earl had had such a wife and stories about the manner of her death but it is Scott who invents the villainess Varney and the bulldog Anthony Foster just as he brought the whole episode into the foreground and made it occur at a period much later than was historically true still Scott felt and he was imbued with the spirit and knowledge of that time a strong conviction that Elizabeth loved Leicester as she really loved no one else there is one interesting fact which goes far to convince us just as her father was in a way polygamous so Elizabeth was even more truly polyandrous it was inevitable that she should surround herself with attractive men whose love locks she would caress and whose flattery she would greedily accept to the outward eye there was very little difference in her treatment of the handsome and daring nobles of her court yet a historian of her time makes one very shrewd remark when he says to everyone she gave some power at times to all save Leicester Cecil and Walsingham and Council and Essex and Raleigh in the field might have their own way at times and even share the sovereign's power but to Leicester she entrusted no high commands and no important mission why so? simply because she loved him more than any of the rest and knowing this she knew that if besides her love she granted him any measure of control or power then she would be but half a queen and would be led either to marry him or else to let him sway her as he would for the reason given one may say with confidence that while Elizabeth's life loves were fleeting she gave a deep affection to this handsome, bold and brilliant Englishman and cherished him in a far different way from any of the others this was as near as she ever came to marriage and it was this love at least which makes Shakespeare's famous line as false as it is beautiful when he describes the imperial voterists as passing by in maiden meditation fancy free end of Queen Elizabeth and the Earl of Leicester Mary, Queen of Scots and Lord Bothwell volume one of the famous Affinities of History this is a LibriVox recording LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Famous Affinities of History by Lyndon Orr volume one Mary, Queen of Scots and Lord Bothwell Mary Stewart and Cleopatra are the two women who have most attracted the fancy of poets dramatists, novelists and painters from their own time down to the present day in some respects there is a certain likeness in their careers each was the queen of a nation whose affairs were entangled with those of a much greater one each sought for her own ideal of love until she found it each one that loved recklessly almost madly each in its attainment fell from power and fortune each died before her natural life was ended one caused the man she loved to cast away the sovereignty of a mighty state the other lost her own crown in order that she might achieve the whole desire of her heart there is still another parallel which may be found each of these women was reputed to be exquisitely beautiful yet each fell short of beauty's highest standards they are alike remembered in song and story because of qualities that are far more powerful than any physical charm can be they impressed the imagination of their own contemporaries just as they had impressed the imagination of all succeeding ages by reason of a strange and irresistible fascination which no one could explain but which very few could experience and resist Mary Stuart was born six days before her father's death and when the kingdom which was her heritage seemed to be almost in its death throes James the Fifth of Scotland half Stuart and half Tudor was no ordinary monarch as a mere boy he had burst the bonds with which a bregency had bound him and he had ruled the wild Scotland of the 16th century he was brave and crafty keen in statesmanship and dissolute in pleasure his first wife had given him no heirs so at her death he sought out a princess whom he pursued all the more ardently because she was also courted by the burly Henry the Eighth of England this girl was Marie of Lorraine the daughter of Duke de Guise she was fit to be the mother of a brood for she was above six feet in height and a proportion so ample as to excite the admiration of the royal voluptuary who sat upon the throne of England I am big said he and I want a wife who is as big as I am but James of Scotland wooed in person and not by embassies and he triumphantly carried off his leading princess Henry of England gnawed his beard in vain and though he found consolation in another woman's arms he viewed James not only as a public but as a private enemy there was war between the two countries first the Scots repelled an English army but soon they were themselves disgracefully defeated at Sulwe Mos by a force much their inferior in numbers the shame of it broke King James's heart as he was galloping from the battlefield the news was brought to him that his wife had given birth to a daughter he took little notice of the message and in a few days he had died moaning with his last breath the mysterious words it came with a lass with a lass it will go the child who was born at this ill omened crisis Mary Stuart who within a week became in her own right queen of Scotland her mother acted as regent of the kingdom Henry of England demanded that the infant girl should be betrothed to his young son Prince Edward who afterwards reigned as Edward VI though he died while still a boy the proposal was rejected and the war between England and Scotland went on its bloody course but meanwhile the little queen was sent to France her mother's home so that she might be trained in accomplishments which were rare in Scotland in France she grew up at the court of Catherine de Medici that imperious intrigue whose splendid surroundings were tainted with the corruption which she had brought from her native Italy it was indeed a singular training school for the girl of Mary Stuart's character she saw about her a superficial chivalry and a most profound depravity poets like Ron Saard graced the life of the court with exquisite verse troubadours and minstrel sang sweet music there there were fates and tournaments and gallantry of bearing yet on the other hand there was every possible refinement and variety of vice men were slain before the eyes of the queen herself the talk of the court was of intrigue and lust and evil things which almost verged on crime Catherine de Medici herself kept her nominal husband at arm's length and in order to maintain her grasp on France she connived at the corruption of her own children three of whom were destined in their turn to sit alone Mary Stuart grew up in these surroundings until she was sixteen eating the fruit which gave a knowledge of both good and evil her intelligence was very great she quickly learned Italian French and Latin she was a daring horse woman she was a poet and artist even in her teens she was also a king judge of human motives for those early years of hers had forced that was premature but wonderful it had been proposed that she should marry the eldest son of Catherine so that in time the kingdom of Scotland and that of France might be united while if Elizabeth of England were to die unmarried her realm also would fall to this pair of children and so Mary at sixteen wedded Dauphin Francis who was a year her junior the prince was a wretched whimpering little creature with a cankered body and a blighted soul marriage with such a husband seemed absurd it never was a marriage in reality the sickly child would cry all night for he suffered from abscesses in his ears and his manhood had been prematurely taken from him nevertheless within a twelve month the French king died and Mary Stuart was Queen of France as well as of Scotland hampered only by her nominal obedience to the sick boy whom she openly despised at seventeen she showed herself a master spirit she held her own against the ambitious Catherine de Medici whom she contemptuously nicknamed the apocatheres daughter for the brief period of a year she was actually the ruler of France but then her husband died and she was left a widow restless, ambitious yet no longer having any of the power she loved Mary Stuart at this time had become a woman whose fascination was exerted over all who knew her she was very tall and very slim with chestnut hair like a flower of the heat both lax and delicate her skin was fair and pale so clear and so transparent as to make a story plausible that when she drank from a flask of wine the red liquid could be seen passing down her slender throat yet with all this she was not fine in texture but hearty as a man she could endure immense fatigue without yielding to it her supple form had the strength of steel there was a gleam in her hazel eyes that showed her to be brimful of an almost fierce vitality young it she was she was the mistress of a thousand arts and she exhaled a sort of atmosphere that turned the heads of men the Stuart blood made her impatient of control careless of state and easy mannered the French and Tudor strain gave her vivacity submissive in appearance while still persisting in her aims she could be languorous and seductive while cold within again she could assume the haughtiness which belonged to one who was twice a queen two motives swayed her and they fought together for supremacy one was the love of power and the other was love of love the first was natural to a girl who was a sovereign in her own right the second was inherited and was then forced into a rank luxuriance by the sort of life that she had seen about her at eighteen she was a strangely amorous creature given to fondling and kissing everyone about her with slight discrimination from her sense of touch she received emotions that were almost necessary to her existence with her slender graceful hands she was always stroking the face of some favorite it might be only the face of a child or it might be the face of some courtier or poet or one of the four Marys whose names are linked with hers Mary Livingston, Mary Fleming Mary Beton and Mary Seton the last of whom remained with her moral mistress until her death but one must not be too sensorious in thinking of Mary Stewart she was surrounded everywhere by enemies during her stay in France she was hated by the faction of Catherine de Medici when she returned to Scotland she was hated because of her religion by the Protestant lords her every action was set forth in the worst possible light the most sinister meaning was given to everything she said or did in truth we must reject almost all the stories which accuse her of anything more than a certain levity of conduct she was not a woman to yield herself to love's last surrender unless her intellect and heart alike had been made captive she would listen to the passionate outpourings of poets and courtiers and she would plunge her eyes into theirs and let her hair just touch their faces and give them her white hands to kiss but that was all even in this she was only following the fashion of the court where she was bred and she was not unlike her royal relative Elizabeth of England who had the same external amorousness coupled with the same internal self-control Mary Stewart's love life makes a piteous story for it is the life of one who was ever seeking for the man to whom she could look up who could be strong and brave and ardent like herself and at the same time be more powerful and more steadfast even than she herself in mind and thought whatever may be said of her and how so ever the facts may be colored by partisans this royal girl stung though she was by passion and goaded by desire cared nothing for any man could not match her in body and mind and spirit all at once it was in her early widowhood that she first met the man and when their union came it brought ruin on them both in France there came to her one day one of her own subjects the Earl of Bothwell he was but a few years older than she and in his presence for the first time she felt in her own despite profoundly moving indescribable and never to be forgotten thrill which shakes a woman to the very center of her being since it is the recognition of a complete affinity Lord Bothwell like Queen Mary has been terribly maligned unlike her he has found only a few defenders Maurice Hewitt has drawn a picture of him more favorable than many and yet it is a picture that repels Bothwell says he was of a type esteemed by those who pronounce vice to be their virtue he was a galliard flushed with rich blood broad shouldered square jawed with a laugh so happy and so prompt that the world rejoicing to hear it thought all must be well wherever he might be he wore brave clothes sat a brave horse and kept brave company bravely his high color while it be tokened high feeding got him the credit of good health his little eyes twinkled so merrily that you did not see they were like a pigs sly and greedy at once and bloodshot his tawny beard concealed a jaw under hung a chin jutting and dangerous his mouth had a cruel twist but his laughing hid that too the bridge of his nose had been broken few observed it or guessed at the bra which must have given it to him frankness was his great charm careless ease in high places and so when merri steward met him in her eighteenth year Lord Bothwell made her think as she had never thought of any other man and as she was not to think of any other man again she grew to look eagerly for that frank mockery in those twinkling eyes in that quick mouth and to wonder whether it was with him always asleep at prayers fighting furious or in love something more however must be said of Bothwell he was undoubtedly a Roy store but he was very much a man he made easy love to women his sword leaped quickly from its sheath he could fight and he could also think he was no brawling ruffian no ordinary rake remembering what Scotland was in those days Bothwell might well seem in reality a princely figure he knew Italian he was at home in French he could write fluent Latin he was a collector of books and a reader of them also the only Scottish noble of his time who had a book plate of his own here is something more than a mere reveler here is a man of varied accomplishments and of a complex character though he stayed but a short time near the Queen in France he kindled her imagination so that when she seriously thought of men she thought of Bothwell and yet all the time she was fondling ideas in her retinue and kissing her maids of honour with their scarlet lips and lying on their knees while poets like Ronsard and Chastelard wrote ardent love sonnets to her and sighed and pined for something more than the privilege of kissing her two dainty hands in 1561 less than a year after her widowhood Mary set sail for Scotland never to return the great high decked ships which escorted her sailed into the harbour of Leith and she pressed on to Edinburgh a depressing change indeed from the sunny terraces and fields of France in her own realm were fog and rain and only a hut to shelter her upon her landing when she reached her capital there were few welcoming cheers but as she rode over cobblestones to Holyrood the squallet winds vomited forth great mobs of hard featured grim visage men and women who stared with curiosity and half contempt at the girl queen and her retinue of foreigners the Scots were Protestants of the most dour sort and they distrusted their new ruler because of her religion and because she loved to surround herself with dainty things and bright colours and exotic elegance they feared less she should try to repeal the law of Scotland's parliament which had made the country Protestant the very indifference of her subjects stirred up the nobler part of Mary's nature for a time she was indeed a queen she governed wisely she respected the religious rights of her Protestant subjects she strove to bring order of the chaos into which her country had fallen and she met with some success the time came when her people cheered her as she rode among them her subtle fascination was her greatest source of strength even John Knox that iron visaged stentorian preacher fell for a time under the charm of her presence she met him frankly and pleaded with him as a woman instead of commanding him as a queen the surly renter became softened for a time and though he spoke of her to others as quote honeypot he ruled his tongue in public she had offers of marriage from Austrian and Spanish princes the new king of France her brother-in-law would perhaps have wedded her it married little to Mary in her hostile she felt that she was strong enough to hold her own and govern Scotland but who could govern a country such as Scotland was it was a land of broils and feuds of clan enmities and fierce vendettas its nobles were half barbarous and they fought and slashed at one another with drawn dirks almost in the presence of the queen herself no matter whom she favored there rose up a swarm of enemies here was a Corsica of the North more savage and untamed than even the other Corsica in her perplexity Mary felt a woman's need of some man on whom she could have the right to lean and whom she could make the king consort she thought that she had found him in the person of her cousin Lord Darnley, a Catholic and by his upbringing an Englishman Darnley came to Scotland and for the moment Mary fancied that she had forgotten both well here again she was in love with love and she idealized the man who came to give it to her Darnley seemed indeed well worthy to be loved for he was tall and handsome appearing well on horseback and having some of the accomplishments which Mary valued it was a hasty wooing and the queen herself was first of all the wooer her quick imagination saw in Darnley traits and gifts of which he really had no share therefore the marriage was soon concluded and Scotland had two sovereigns King Henry and Queen Mary so sure was Mary of her indifference to Bothwell that she urged the Earl to marry and he did marry a girl of the great house of Gordon Mary's self suggested love for Darnley was extinguished almost on her wedding night the man was a drunkard who came into her presence befuddled and almost bestial he had no brains his vanity was enormous he loved no one but himself and least of all this queen whom he regarded as having thrown herself at his empty head the first fruits of the marriage were uprisings among the Protestant lords Mary then showed herself a heroic queen at the head of a motley band of soldiery who came at her call half clad uncouth and savage she rode into the west sleeping at night upon the bare ground sharing the camp food dressed in plain tartan but swift and fierce as any eagle her spirit ran like fire through the veins of those who followed her she crushed the insurrection scattered its leaders and returned in triumph to her capital now she was really queen but here came in the other motive which was interwoven in her character she had shown herself a man in courage shouldn't she not have the pleasures of a woman to her court in Holyrood came Bothwell once again and this time Mary knew that he was all the world to her darnly had shrunk from the hardships of battle he was steeped in low intrigues he roused the constant irritation of the queen by his folly an utter lack of simpson decency Mary felt she owed him nothing but she forgot that she owed much to herself her old amorous ways came back to her and she relapsed into the joys of sense the scandal mongers of the capital saw a lover in every man with whom she talked she did in facts at convention at defiance she dressed in men's clothing she shared what the unemotional scots thought to be unseemly levity the French poet chastelard misled by her external signs of favor believed himself to be her choice at the end of one mad rebel found secreted beneath her bed and was driven out by force a second time he ventured to secrete himself within the covers of the bed then he was dragged forth imprisoned and condemned to death he met his fate without a murmur save at the last when he stood upon the scaffold and gazing toward the palace cried in French oh cruel queen I'd die for you my favorite the Italian David Rizio or Rizcio in like manner wrote love verses to the queen and she replied to them in kind but there is no evidence that she valued him safer his ability which was very great she made him her foreign secretary and the man whom he supplanted worked on the jealousy of darnley so that one night while Mary and Rizio were at dinner in a small private chamber darnley and the others broke in upon her darnley held her by the waist while Rizio was stabbed before her eyes with a cruelty the greater because the queen was soon to become a mother from that moment she hated darnley as one would hate a snake she tolerated him only that he might acknowledge her child as his son the child was a future James the sixth of Scotland and James the first of England it is recorded of him that never throughout his life could he bear to look upon drawn steel after this Mary some in Bathwell again and again it was revealed to her in a blaze of light that after all he was the one and only man who could be everything to her his frankness his cynicism his mockery his carelessness his courage and the power of his mind matched her moods completely she threw away all semblance of concealment she ignored the fact that he had married at her wish she was queen she desired him she must have him at any cost though I lose Scotland and England both she cried in a passion of abandonment I shall have him for my own Bathwell in his turn was nothing low and they leaped at each other like two flames it was then that Mary wrote those letters which were afterward discovered in a casket and which were used against her when she was on trial for her life these so called casket letters though we have not now the originals are among the most extraordinary letters ever written all shame all hesitation all innocence are flung away in them the writer is so fired with passion that each sentence is like a cry to a lover in the dark as the pester says in them the animal instincts override and spur and lash the pen Mary was committing to paper the frenzied madness of a woman consumed to her very marrow by the scorching blaze of unadurable desire events moved quickly darnly convalescent from an attack of smallpox was mysteriously destroyed by an explosion of gunpowder Bathwell was divorced from his young wife on curious grounds a dispensation allowed Mary to wet a Protestant and she married Bathwell three months after darnly's death here one sees the consummation of what had begun many years before in France from the moment that she and met their union was inevitable sees could not sunder them other loves and other fancies were as nothing to them even the bonds of marriage were burst asunder so that these two fury panting souls could meet it was the irony of fate that when they had so met it was only to be parted Mary's subjects outraged by her conduct rose against her as she passed through the streets of Edinburgh the women hurled after her indecent names great banners were raised with excruble dogs representing the murdered darnly the short and dreadful monosyllable which is familiar to us in the pages of the Bible was hurled after her wherever she went with Bathwell by her side she led a wild and ragged horde of followers against the rebellious nobles whose forces met her at Carberry Hill her motley followers melted away and Mary surrendered to the hostile chieftains who took her to the castle at Lochleven there she became the mother of twins a fact that is seldom mentioned by historians these children were the fruit of her union with Bathwell from this time forth she cared but little for herself and she signed with great reluctance a document by which she abdicated in favour of her infant son even in this place of imprisonment however her fascination had power to charm among those who guarded her two of the Douglas family George Douglas and William Douglas for love of her affected her escape the first attempt failed Mary disguised as a launderess was betrayed by the delicacy of her hands but the second attempt was successful the queen passed through a poster gate and made her way to the lake where George Douglas met her with a boat crossing the lake 50 horsemen under Lord Claude Hamilton gave her their escort and bore her away in safety but Mary was sick of Scotland for Bathwell could not be there she had tasted all the bitterness of life and for a few months she had no sweetness but she would have no more of this rough and barbarous country of her own free will she crossed the Solway into England to find herself at once a prisoner never again did she set eyes on Bathwell after the battle of Carberry Hill he escaped to the north gathered some ships together and prayed upon English merchant men very much as a pirate might have done along however when he had heard of Mary's fate he set sail for Norway King Frederick of Denmark made him a prisoner of state he was not confined within prison walls however but was allowed to hunt and ride in the vicinity of Malmo Castle and of Dragg's home it is probably in Malmo Castle that he died in 1858 a coffin which was thought to be the coffin of an Earl who was open which corresponds quite well with the other portraits of the ill-fated Scottish noble it is a sad story had Mary been less ambitious when she first met Bathwell or had he been a little bolder they might have reigned together and lived out their lives in the plentitude of that great love which held them both enthralled but a queen is not as other women and she found too late that the teaching of her heart was after all the truest teaching she went to her death as Bathwell went to his alone in a strange unfriendly land yet even this perhaps was better so it has at least touched both their lives with pathos and has made the name of Mary Stuart one to be remembered throughout all the ages End of Mary Queen of Scots and Lord Bathwell