With regard to the asseverations of cotemporary writers, as to the effects which Mary's beauty produced, many of them are almost too extravagant to be believed. They prove, nevertheless, that, whatever beauty may be, whether a mere fortunate arrangement of material atoms, or a light suffused upon the face, from the secret and etherial mind, it was a gift which Nature had lavishly bestowed on Mary. A year or two previous to her marriage, when walking in a religious procession, through the streets of Paris, with a lighted torch in her hand, a woman among the crowd was so struck with her appearance, that she could not help stopping her to ask,--"Are you not indeed an angel?" Brantome, with more questionable sincerity, compares her, at the age of fifteen, to the sun at mid-day. He tells us also, that the brother of Francis, afterwards Charles IX., never saw even a picture of Mary, without lingering to gaze upon it, declaring passionately, that he looked upon Francis as the happiest man on earth, to possess a creature of so much loveliness. Nay, Brantome even goes the length of asserting, that no man ever saw Mary who did not lose his heart to her. He is pleased, likewise, with some naïveté, to pay her several high compliments at the expense of her native country. It appears that Mary, amidst all the gaieties of the French Court, had not forgot her early residence at Inchmahome, in the quiet lake of Monteith. Actuated by these recollections and other motives, she delighted to testify her regard for Scotland in various ways; and, among others, by frequently wearing in public the graceful Highland costume. The rich and national Stuart tartan became her exceedingly; and Brantome, who seems to have been greatly puzzled by the novelty of the dress, is nevertheless forced to declare, that when arrayed after "the barbarous fashion of the savages of her country, she appeared a goddess in a mortal body, and in a most outré and astonishing garb." Mary herself, was so fond of this costume, that she wore it in one of the portraits which were taken of her in France. If she appeared so beautiful thus "_habillée à la sauvage_," exclaims Brantome, "what must she not be in her rich and lovely robes made _à la Française, ou l'Espagnole_, or with a bonnet _à l'Italienne_; or in her flowing white dress, contending in vain with the whiteness of her skin!" Even when she sung, and accompanied herself upon the lute, Brantome found occasion to discover a new beauty,--"her soft snowy hand and fingers, fairer than Aurora's." "Ah royaume d'Escosse!" he touchingly adds, "Je croy que, maintenant, vos jours sont encore bien plus courts qu'ils n'estoient, et vos nuits plus longues, puisque vous avez perdu cette Princesse qui vos illuminoit!" The historian, Castelnau, in like manner, pronounces Mary "the most beautiful and accomplished of her sex;" and Mezeray tells us, that "Nature had bestowed upon her every thing that is necessary to form a complete beauty;" adding, that "by the study of the liberal arts and sciences, especially painting, music, and poetry, she had so embellished her natural good qualities, that she appeared to be the most amiable Princess in Christendom." On the occasion of her marriage, not only were the brains of all the jewellers, embroiderers, and tailors of Paris put in requisition, but a whole host of French poets felt themselves suddenly inspired. Epithalamiums poured in from all quarters, spiced with flattery of all kinds, few of which have been borne down the stream of time so honourably for their author's abilities as that of Buchanan, who, having long struggled with poverty, had at last risen to independence, under the patronage of Cardinal Lorraine. This poem is well known, but is not more complimentary than that of Joachim du Bellay, who, after comparing Mary to Venus, concludes his song with these lines:--