The poet Chatelard has been already mentioned as one of those who sailed in Mary's train, when she came from the continent. He had attached himself to the future Constable of France, the Duke Danville, and was a gentleman of good family and fortune, being by the mother's side the grand-nephew of the celebrated Chevalier Bayard. The manly beauty of his person was not unlike that of his ancestor; and, besides being well versed in all the more active accomplishments of the day, he had softened and refined his manners by an ardent cultivation of every species of belles-lettres. It was this latter circumstance that gained for him the occasional favourable notice of Mary. A poetess herself, as much by nature as by study, her heart warmed towards those who indulged in the same delightful art. Chatelard wrote both in French and Italian; and, finding that Mary deigned to read and admire his productions, he seems thenceforth to have made her the only theme of his enamoured and too presumptuous Muse. To the Queen this was no uncommon compliment. She received it, gracefully, and sometimes even amused herself with answering Chatelard's effusions. This condescension almost turned the young poet's brain. He had left Scotland with the Duke Danville, and Mary's other French friends, at the end of the year 1561; but he eagerly seized the opportunity afforded him, by the civil wars in France, to return before twelve months had elapsed. The Duke Danville sent him to Mary's court, there is every reason to believe, to press upon her attention once more his own pretensions to her hand. But Chatelard, in the indulgence of his mad passion, forgot the duty he owed his master; and, for every word he spoke in prose for the Duke, he spoke in verse twenty for himself. Mary, long accustomed to this species of adulation, and looking upon flattery as a part of a poet's profession, smiled at the more extravagant flights of his imagination, and forgot them as soon as heard. These smiles, however, were fatal to Chatelard. "They tempted him," says Brantome, "to aspire, like Phaeton, at ascending the chariot of the sun." In February 1563, he had the audacity to steal into the Queen's bedchamber, armed with sword and dagger, and attempted to conceal himself till Mary should retire to rest. He was discovered by her maids of honour; and Mary, though much enraged at his conduct, was unwilling, for a first offence, to surrender him to that punishment which she knew would be inflicted were it known to her Privy Council. She was contented with reprimanding him severely, and ordering him from her presence.