I share my 8 December birthday with one of the more fascinating Tudor family members (in my opinion), Mary, Queen of Scots. Perhaps I’m biased by our common birthday? 

Mary’s 8 December birth was in 1542, at Linlithgow Palace, west of Edinburgh. Six days later, bam!, her father died and she became queen before she could walk , talk, sleep through the night, or control her own limbs.  As she grew, she was known for her beauty, kindness, and intelligence. She was every bit the striking royal, tall with red hair and hazel eyes.  

When the 16-year-old Mary married the Dauphin of France, she became queen of France as well. He kicked the bucket two years later,  and she eventually came around to marry her first cousin (cue the fiddles), Henry Stuart, Lord Darnley. He was wimpy, unstable, and suspicious of her relationship with her secretary, David Rizzio. In fact, he and his comrades dragged Dave into a hallway in Holyrood and stabbed him to death while a terrified Mary stood nearby. This spot was pointed out to me on my tour of  the palace; it is a rather eerie experience.  Anyway, Henry Stuart got his six years later when those same comrades blew up his house with him in it. Touché!

Mary’s tragedy continued when she was forced to leave Scotland for England, and had a host of other problems there, eventually losing her head, of course. Her life had certainly been a mess, but what a story! Here’s to you, Mary — let’s celebrate with a spot of Champagne, shall we?