.. -*- encoding: utf-8 -*-

.. meta::
   :PG.Id: 43074
   :PG.Title: Mary Queen of Scots in History
   :PG.Released: 2013-07-01
   :PG.Rights: Public Domain
   :PG.Producer: Al Haines
   :DC.Creator: \C. \A. Campbell
   :DC.Title: Mary Queen of Scots in History
   :DC.Language: en
   :DC.Created: 1903
   :coverpage: images/img-cover.jpg

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MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS IN HISTORY
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      MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS

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      IN

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      HISTORY

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      BY
      REV. C. A. CAMPBELL, D.D., Ph. D.

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      MONTREAL:
      D. & J. SADLIER & CO.
      1903 

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      Copyright, 1903, by
      JAMES A. SADLIER.

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   PREFACE.

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Much as has been written about Mary Queen
of Scots, it would be difficult to find in our
language a biography of her that recommends
itself to busy readers by its brevity, whilst
furnishing data and arguments with respect
to controverted points in her history, intended
to give satisfaction to inquiring minds.

If the present work has done thus much,
it has accomplished the aim of

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   THE AUTHOR.

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HALIFAX, N.S.,
    February 8th, 1902.

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   CONTENTS.

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   CHAPTER

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I.--`The Scotland of Mary's birth`_
II.--`Troubles surrounding her childhood`_
III.--`The Young Queen of Scots in France`_
IV.--`Facing troubles in Scotland`_
V.--`The Queen's marriage and fresh Troubles`_
VI.--`The Tragedy of "Kirk O'Field" and its sequel`_
VII.--`Captivity--Escape--Flight`_
VIII.--`In the hands of Elizabeth`_
IX.--`The Queen of Scots detained a prisoner`_
X.--`Elizabeth unmoved by her captive's appeals`_
XI.--`The beginning of the end`_
XII.--`The evidence against the Queen of Scots`_
XIII.--`Extracts from her addresses to the Commissioners`_
XIV.--`The sentence of death`_
XV.--`An interval of suspense`_
XVI.--`The end`_

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.. _`THE SCOTLAND OF MARY'S BIRTH`:

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   MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS.

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   CHAPTER I.

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   THE SCOTLAND OF MARY'S BIRTH.

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No tale of romance possesses a more lasting charm
than does the simple history of Mary Stewart, Queen
of Scots.  Since the day on which Sir Ralph Sadler,
Ambassador of Queen Elizabeth, was privileged to see
her in the nursery at Linlithgow, and pronounced her
a "right fair and goodly child," every fresh contribution
to her history has been welcomed with unparalleled
eagerness.  Nor is there any indication that her
life-story will lose its fascination with the lapse of time.
Scarcely a year passes away that does not see a
considerable addition made to the already ponderous store
of Mary-Stewart literature.  Nevertheless, very many
even of her admirers have, to say the least, an
inadequate knowledge of her life.  They know her only as
a heroine of romance, or as a pious widow,
kneeling in devotion with the Rosary hanging
at her girdle, or as a cheerful martyr resigning
her head to the block; and they forget that for
seven years she reigned over the most turbulent nation
of Europe, that she opened and closed parliament,
deliberated in the Council Chamber, led armies to the
field, that, in a word, she lived a most real and stirring
life.

I confess it is no easy task to present a complete
and, at the same time, correct picture of her career.
The difficulty is owing to the large amount of matter,
written in different and contradictory spirits, with
which some of the most important events of her life
have been obscured.  Religion, politics, patriotism,
avarice, personal friendships and hatreds, either
conjointly or individually, determined the actions of those
who had part in framing the history of the period.  It
becomes necessary, therefore, to learn how far the men
on whose testimony, or from whose conduct, we have
to pass judgment on certain incidents in Mary's life,
were influenced by one or other of these motives.

Mary Queen of Scots was born in Linlithgow
Palace, in Scotland, on the 8th of December, 1542.
The condition of Scotland at the time was sad and
evil-boding.  Her father, the well-beloved James V., was
at Falkland, dying of a broken heart, in consequence
of the humiliating conduct of the disaffected Scottish
nobles at Solway Moss.  When told that a daughter
had been born to him at Linlithgow, he gave no sign
of pleasure, but sadly said, "God's will be done."  Then,
his memory reverting to the person through whom the
Stewarts had ascended the throne of Scotland, he
added, "It (the crown) came with a lass and it will go
with a lass."  He died shortly after, in the thirty-first
year of his age, leaving to his distracted country an
infant queen, only six days old.

The care of the young queen devolved on her
mother, Mary of Lorraine, a lady of the famous French
house of Guise.  Did the scope of the present sketch
but sanction the digression, I should be pleased to
dwell a little on the character of this distinguished
woman, whose memory some historians have, according
to their custom, endeavoured to blacken, but who
stands out in the judgment of the best historians of
every creed as a generous, forgiving and heroic woman,
who conscientiously defended the rights of her daughter
and maintained the laws of Scotland, until an
edifying and pathetic death withdrew her from the troubled
scenes in which the years of her widowhood had been
passed.

It is the privilege, or perhaps the misfortune, of
rulers, that their marriage is one of the first things
that engage the attention of their people; and while
the nursery was disturbed by the cries of the infant
queen, the councils of England and Scotland were
agitated with the question of her marriage.  Henry VIII.,
of England, had an infant son, Edward, afterwards
Edward VI., for whom he wished to secure from the
Scottish parliament a solemn promise of marriage with
the young Queen of Scots.  As might be presumed, it
was not so much the desire of cultivating the
friendship of his northern neighbours that actuated the
English monarch, as the hope of accomplishing, by means
of a marriage, what his predecessors had failed to
accomplish by means of the sword, the subjugation of the
Scottish kingdom.  To have a clear conception of the
political relations between the two countries, and to
understand the foundation of the English claims, it
will be necessary to take a retrospective glance at the
history of Scotland.

In 844, the Scots of Dalriada and various Pictish
races became united under King Kenneth McAlpine.
During the reign of Malcolm I., who ascended the
throne of Alban a hundred years later, the district
of Cumberland was, by Edmund of England, made
over to the King of Scotland, on condition that the
latter should, in return, render him certain assistance
in time of war.  The acquisition of other districts
fronting the Scottish border was subsequently made,
in return for offered assistance against the common
enemy--the Danes.  But the annexation of Cumberland
was the principal source of the endless conflicts
between the sister kingdoms, until the union of the
crowns under James VI.  For those possessions which
he had acquired within the kingdom of England, the
Scottish king was obliged to pay homage to his
neighbouring monarch.  In the course of time, however, the
English Kings began to claim that the homage they
received from Scotland was for the entire Scottish
kingdom, as well as for the Scottish possessions within
the English borders.  This the Scots denied, protesting
that, while paying homage for the English border
lands which they had acquired, they were a free and
independent people.  Such a state of affairs may seem
strange to us, but it was nothing uncommon in those
feudal times.  William the Conqueror, for instance,
although independent sovereign of England, paid
homage to the King of France for the dukedom of
Normandy, which he held within French territory.

In those circumstances, any English king who
might desire to make war against Scotland could
always put forward the old claim as a plea for his action.
Unfortunately, the Scottish parliament, in order to
secure the release of their King, William the Lion, on one
occasion acknowledged the English claim of suzerainty.
A few years later, however, Richard the Lion-hearted
renounced the English claim, on payment by Scotland
of a certain sum of money, which that chivalrous
crusader needed to defray the expenses of his expedition
to the Holy Land.  The country remained independent
for about one hundred years; then disputes concerning
the rightful successor to Alexander III. having
disunited and weakened the Scottish people, Edward I. found
the time opportune for renewing the old claim.
Twelve competitors for the throne appeared in the
field, who, being not altogether averse to sacrificing
national honour to personal advantage, were willing to
acknowledge the supremacy of England, in order to
win the invaluable influence of Edward for their
respective causes.  The principal claimants were Robert
Bruce--not the great Bruce--and John Baliol.
Edward decided in favour of Baliol, who forthwith
ascended the throne as vassal of England.  But the Scottish
lion was soon aroused by the encroachments of Edward,
and Baliol was forced to disclaim allegiance to his
patron.  Entering into a league with France, he began
to prepare for the invasion of England.  (This was the
beginning of the long-continued friendship between
Scotland and France, which completely died out only
with the death of the Stewart cause.)  But Scotland
was not prepared to cope with the haughty
Longshanks, and it was reduced to the condition of a
province of England.  This could not endure long.
Disunion, and not lack of national valour, had opened the
way to defeat.  A leader only was needed, and a leader
soon arose in the person of William Wallace, the soldier
and hero-patriot.  Although Wallace, after having
driven the English out of his country, did not succeed
in establishing her independence on a lasting basis,
nevertheless his achievements were not vain; he had
aroused his countrymen to action, and his patriotic
conduct before the English judges in Westminster Hall,
could not fail to open the eyes of certain Scottish
nobles who, from motives of self-interest, had accepted
the foreign rule, to a realization of their dishonourable
position.  When accused of being a traitor to King
Edward, Wallace replied: "I could not be a traitor to
Edward, for I was never his subject."

Scarcely had death struck the torch of patriotism
from the hand of Wallace, when it was caught up by
a worthy successor, who had learned bravery by
the side of Wallace himself.  Robert Bruce was
the person whom Providence had destined, not merely
to defeat the enemies of his country on the field
of battle, but also to unite and consolidate his
kingdom and to cause it to be once more recognized
as free and independent.  David II., son and
successor of the great liberator, died without issue,
and thus the male line of the Bruce family became
extinct.  But the nation, being strongly attached to
the memory of their deliverer, called to the throne his
descendant through the female line.  Bruce's daughter,
Marjory, had married the Lord High Steward of
Scotland, and had a son, Robert.  Marjory Bruce was
the "lass" to whom James V. made reference on his
death-bed; and her son, who in 1370 ascended the
throne as Robert II., was the first of that long,
celebrated, and unfortunate line of Stewart monarchs.
Brave, witty, rash, affable, obstinate, magnanimous,
they exhibit a character in which all the qualities that
make men beloved, and nearly all that make men great,
are perversely blended with many frailties and follies.
Besides, some remorseless genius would seem to have
presided over their lives and to have ingeniously
contrived to make their miseries greater, and their lives
more pitiable, by leading them into full view of
prosperity and glory before it struck them to the earth.
The good Robert III. died of sorrow at the misfortune
of his sons; James I., the brave, learned and wise
monarch, died under the murderer's steel; James II. was
killed by the bursting of a cannon; James III., thrown
from his horse and wounded, was stabbed to death by
an assassin; James IV., the pride and darling of the
nation, fell, sword in hand, on a disastrous field of
battle; James V. died of a broken heart, and that, too,
like his predecessors, in the blossom of his manhood;
Mary (if I be permitted to anticipate), died at the
block, the victim of politico-religious utilitarianism
and her cousin's jealousy; and Charles I. died at the
block, the victim of a military despotism.

During these centuries successive regal minorities
afforded the nobles, at all times powerful and turbulent,
ample opportunity of increasing their power, until
it became a standing menace to the throne.  James
IV., besides his other good works for the welfare
of his people, did much towards reducing the power
of the nobles and centralizing authority in the
crown.  But the progress of the country received
a sudden check, and the bright career of the King
was brought to a mournful close, by an event that
did for Scotland, on the eve of the Reformation, what
the Wars of the Roses had already done for
England--deprived it of its best and bravest nobles.  James' rash
invasion of England ended in the doleful battle of
Flodden, which robbed Scotland of her king and
almost of her independence.  There is, however, one
feature in that sad event which is pleasing to
contemplate; it was the last great battle in which a united
Scotland stood with unwavering fidelity around its
monarch.

By the time Mary Stewart saw the light, an unexpected
element of disunion had been introduced into
the national life.  The religious revolution of the
sixteenth century, commonly called the Reformation, had
been spreading in the cities and towns of the
kingdom.  Already in England Henry VIII. had enriched
the throne, and the greedy nobles had enriched
themselves, from the spoils of churches and monasteries.
By his breach with Rome, Henry had made himself an
enemy to the Catholic powers, and it was important
that he should strengthen his position by drawing
Scotland out of its old alliance with France, and
bringing it into friendship with himself.  But this he could
not do while Scotland remained Catholic.  The title
of "Defender of the Faith," which, by his rebellion
against the Pope, Henry had forfeited, but which,
strange to say, neither he nor his successors have ever
relinquished, was conferred on James V. of Scotland
in 1537.  In 1540 Henry sent his wily envoy, Sir Ralph
Sadler, to bring the refractory young James to his own
way of thinking.  Sadler came with his plan of
temptation so skilfully arranged, that one would believe
him fresh from the study of the fourth chapter of
St. Matthew's Gospel.

First, he appealed to the vanity of the young
King, representing to him that if he yielded to
Henry's wishes, he would become independent of all
external authority.  But the device failed, and Sadler
was forced to inform his master, that James continued
in his persuasion that the "Bishop of Rome is the
Vicar of Christ."

He next attempted to gain the Scottish King
through avarice.  He pointed out the wealth of the
monasteries, which could be appropriated to the uses
of the crown, as it had been in England.  James
assured him there was no need of that, for the
"Kirkmen would give him all he wanted."  Finally, Sadler
reminded him that Henry was "stricken in years" and
that by showing consideration for his uncle's wishes,
James might be named his successor, and one day rule
over the whole island.  Yet the young northern king
did not fall down and adore, but merely answered that
he wished his uncle many years of life on the English
throne; as for himself, he added, he was happy among
his own people, and had no desire to extend his dominions.

Not all the Scottish nobles followed the example
of their monarch.  Across the border they could see
the English nobles enriching themselves from Church
property, and it was not clear to them why they should
not go and do likewise.  Accordingly, a number of them
became remarkably industrious in the cause of the new
religion, their zeal for the house of God being nowise
abated by the unprecedented wealth it brought to their
own house.  We should greatly err, however, if we
thought the avarice of the nobles of itself could have
made the change of religion possible.  The truth is,
the state of Religion in Scotland, at that time, was not
flourishing, and the country offered a good field for
the growth and spread of religious innovation.  The
long peace from external foes which the Church had
enjoyed was the occasion of a relaxation of discipline,
and of a widespread indifference to the full observance
of religious duties.  The custom of appointing lay
abbots, called Commendatory Abbots, to the charge of
the temporalities of monasteries, was another evil.  This
office was frequently controlled by powerful lords, who
had their own sons appointed thereto, not on account
of their virtue or their learning, but just because they
were scions of noble houses who had to be provided
for.  But what made the way smoothest for the
"Reformers" was the ignorance of the people in matters of
Christian doctrine.  The wars in which the country
had been for centuries engaged, had left little or no
time for the cultivation of the arts of peace, except
within the monasteries.  Had the people been properly
instructed in their religion, the work of the "Reformers"
would have made but little headway in Scotland.
A Reformation in the true sense--a recalling of the
people, high and low, to the practice of their religious
duties--was necessary; new creeds were not necessary.
But the true Reformation began too late; in the
meantime there came a revolution in which the religious
fabric of centuries was overthrown, and a new
profession of faith, gotten up in a few days by a committee
of divines, was adopted by Act of Parliament.  The
monasteries and churches, which vied in point of
richness and architectural beauty with the best on the
Continent, were plundered and demolished.  Voluminous
libraries, containing, together with the works of
the Ancients and the writings of the Church Fathers,
precious manuscript histories of Scottish institutions,
were made the fuel of bonfires; and the treasures of
sculpture and painting, which had been accumulating
for centuries, and in which men's religious hopes and
fears were depicted by the Master artists of Medieval
times, were hurled from their pedestals or consigned to
the flames.  While the frenzy lasted, the national loss
was not considered.  But cool heads soon began to
deplore the wanton destruction which robbed the
country of so many monuments, the history of which was
interwoven with the history of Scottish patriots and
heroic achievements.  And in truth what true
Scotsman, whatever his religious tenets, but deplores the
demolition of such venerable piles as Melrose Abbey,
Kelso, Scone? or who but would feel the noblest
emotions of his nature awakened could he now
approach the High Altar of Cambuskenneth's shrine,
before which, when Scotland lay prostrate at the feet of
the conqueror, the brave associates of Bruce knelt and
vowed the deliverance of their country?  But we must
return to Mary.





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.. _`TROUBLES SURROUNDING HER CHILDHOOD`:

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   CHAPTER II.


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   TROUBLES SURROUNDING HER CHILDHOOD.

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On the death of James V., the Earl of Arran, head
of the powerful house of Hamilton, became Governor
of Scotland.  Arran was weak and unreliable, and
favourably affected, both in religion and politics, toward
the English party.  On the other hand, Cardinal David
Beaton, Archbishop of St. Andrews, stood forth as the
representative of Scottish independence and the
French alliance; and through his influence the
progress of negotiations for the English alliance was
checked.  But, for reasons which I need not delay to
explain, an agreement of marriage between Mary and
Edward was afterwards signed.  So strongly, however,
were the masses of the people opposed to any measure
that might bring Scotland under the power of the
"auld enemy," and so enraged were they at certain
humiliating conditions attached to the marriage
contract, that the treaty was broken up within a fortnight
after it had been signed.  "I assure you," said a
Scotsman to the English envoy, "that our nation, being a
stout nation, will never agree to have an Englishman
King of Scotland; and though the whole nobility of
the realm should consent to it, yet the common people,
and the stones of the streets would rise and rebel against it."

Henry VIII., whose patience was not his predominant
virtue, was enraged at this opposition to his will,
and hastened troops into Scotland, both by land and
sea, with instructions so savagely cruel, that we could
hardly believe them to have been issued did we not
see them realized in the subsequent conduct of the
soldiery.  On the 3rd of May, 1544, an English fleet
suddenly appeared off Leith, which, in conjunction with
a land army, proceeded to carry out the instructions of
their royal master, namely, "To put all to fire and
sword, to burn Edinburgh town, and to raze and
deface it when you have sacked it and gotten what you
can out of it, as that it may remain for ever a perpetual
memory of the vengeance of God lighted upon it for
their falsehood and disloyalty."  "Do what you can,"
the instructions continue, "out of hand and without
long tarrying, to beat down and overthrow the Castle,
sack Holyrood House and as many towns and villages
about Edinburgh as you conveniently can.  Sack Leith
and burn and subvert it and all the rest, putting man,
woman and child to fire and sword, without exception,
when any resistance shall be made against you.  And
this done, pass over to Fifeland and extend like
extremities and destructions to all towns and villages
whereunto ye may reach conveniently; not forgetting
amongst all the rest to spoil and turn upside down the
Cardinal's town of St. Andrews, as the upper stone
may be the nether, and not one stick stand by another;
sparing no creature alive within the same, especially
such as either in friendship or blood be allied to the
Cardinal."

Another army sent into Scotland in September of
the same year, converted the southern portion of the
country almost into a waste, no scruple being made
of burning mothers and children in their homes.
Between the 8th and the 23rd of September, the army
destroyed, among other things, seven monasteries,
sixteen castles, five market towns, two hundred and
forty-three villages, thirteen mills and three hospitals.  These
barbarities had the effect of uniting the two parties
in Scotland and of retarding the very movement that
Henry had hoped they should accelerate.

The greatest obstacle to the progress of Henry's
designs on Scotland was still Cardinal Beaton.  Beaton
was not only a distinguished prelate, but also a
statesman of European reputation.  Henry was anxious to
get him out of the way; but negotiations for his
murder, though entered into on various occasions, fell
through, because the interested parties could not agree
on the price of the Cardinal's blood.  However, the
work was accomplished later; on the 29th of May, 1546,
a band of conspirators entered the Castle of St. Andrews,
murdered the Cardinal and, having dressed his
corpse in priestly vestments, suspended it from the
Castle wall.  Henry was shortly afterwards called to
his reward, but the war against Scotland was carried
on by Somerset, the Protector, and in September, 1547,
Scottish independence being seriously threatened, after
the disastrous battle of Pankie, the young queen was
quickly removed from Sterling and hurried away to the
Priory on Inchmahone, in the lake of Menteith, in
Perthshire.  Here, unconscious of the fierce conflicts
of which she was the occasion, Mary passed her days
in childish sports, in company with her four playmates,
who were destined to become her maids of honor--Mary
Beaton, Mary Seton, Mary Fleming and Mary
Livingston.

Some decisive step with regard to the young queen
had soon to be taken.  The Estates convened and
decided to give her in marriage to the Dauphin, and to
send her to France to be educated.  Accordingly, on
the 7th of August, 1548, Mary, being then scarcely six
years old, embarked at Dunbarton, and six days later
landed at Roscoff, near Brest.  Surrounded by every
mark of respect corresponding to her dignity, she was
conducted to the Court of Henry II., and was
henceforward treated with the distinction due to a
crowned queen (for the coronation ceremony had been
performed in Scotland), and the betrothed of the heir to
the French throne.





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.. _`THE YOUNG QUEEN OF SCOTS IN FRANCE`:

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   CHAPTER III.


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   THE YOUNG QUEEN OF SCOTS IN FRANCE.

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Those who have been accustomed to hearing the
French court of that time spoken of as dissolute and
vicious, and who have furthermore taken for granted
that Mary's early life was shaped by the unsavoury
habits of the courtiers, and that the crimes of which
she was afterwards accused were only the natural
outgrowth of her early training, will do well to remember
that her education was not intrusted to the French
court or courtiers.  Antoinette de Bourbon, maternal
grandmother of the young queen, a lady eminent
throughout France for her virtues, was the person in
whose hands Mary of Lorraine had placed the religious
education of her child.  The brave Duke of Guise (who
had won Calais from the English) and his brother the
Cardinal, were also particularly interested in the
welfare of their little niece.  To these Mary, from the
beginning, became warmly attached, and their landless
and uninterrupted solicitude for her well-being,
sealed that reciprocal love of uncles and niece which
lasted until death.

Mary was already Queen of Scotland and betrothed
of the future King of France, and would probably
succeed to the throne of England; nothing, therefore,
was overlooked that would help to qualify her for the
high position to which she was destined.  Her
education did not stop with the lighter accomplishments
suited to her sex and station; the deeper studies of
literature, ancient and modern; history, Sacred Scripture,
the languages and the fine arts, were assiduously
attended to.  An interesting document in the form of a
Latin exercise book which she used when about twelve
years of age, is preserved in the National Library
in Paris.  It contains sixty-four themes, written in
clear characters, which, however, vary in appearance
according to the quality of the pen and ink she
happened to have at hand.  She writes on subjects taken
from Plato, Cicero and other classical authors; she
cites different works of Erasmus; she discusses the
history of certain learned women of antiquity; she
speaks of the profit to be derived from the study of
Holy Scripture if approached with a pure heart; and
among other things she has a theme on Purgatory,
thrown into the form of an epistle addressed to Calvin.
Mary's physical, mental and moral development
were studiously watched, and carefully reported to her
mother in Scotland.  When she had just completed
her eleventh year, the Cardinal of Guise, in a letter to
her mother, writes of her as follows: "Your daughter
has grown much taller and she daily improves in
goodness and virtue, in beauty and intelligence.  She could
not possibly make greater progress than she does in
all that is excellent and of good reputation.  Never
have I seen her equal in this realm, either among high
or low....  You may be assured that in her you
have a daughter who will be the greatest of comforts
to you."  Further on the Cardinal drops a remark which
shows that Mary had already developed a trait of
character that was conspicuous throughout the remainder
of her life.  "In the settlement of your daughter's
establishment, it is my opinion that there should not be
anything that is either superfluous or mean, for
meanness is the thing which, of all others, she hates most in
the world."

In a letter written to her mother on the occasion
of her first communion, Mary uttered a prayer which
we who know--what she could not then know--the
trials that awaited her, cannot read without being
touched by the sad contrast between her first bright
hope and the subsequent gloom that settled over her
life.  "I have come," she said, "to Meudon to Madame
my grandmother, in order to keep the feast of Easter,
because she and my uncle--Monsieur the Cardinal--wish
that I should take the Sacrament.  I pray to God
very humbly to give me grace that I may make a good
beginning."

On Sunday, the 4th of April, 1558, the fair
Scottish queen, who was now in her sixteenth year, was
married to the young Dauphin, in the Cathedral of
Notre Dame.  All Paris was astir in its festive
garments.  Scotland and France vied in adding to the
splendour of the feast; the choicest music swelled along
the high arches of the grand old cathedral; the streets
of the gay capital re-echoed with the popular
demonstrations; nor need we doubt that the martial strains
of the Highland pipes mingled with the livelier tones
of the French fife and drum.  According to a chronicler
of the event, it was the universal opinion of the
multitude that, "if Scotland be a possession of value,
she who is queen of that realm is far more precious,
for if she had neither crown nor sceptre, her single
person, in her divine beauty, would be worth a kingdom."

In the following November, Mary Tudor, Queen
of England, died, and Mary Stewart, at least in the
opinion of the Catholics, who did not acknowledge the
legitimacy of Elizabeth, daughter of Ann Boleyn,
became, by right, Queen of England.  Mary's title to the
crown of England came through her paternal grandmother,
the Princess Margaret, eldest sister of Henry
VIII.  A few months later, the death of the French
King brought the Dauphin to the throne, and Mary
became Queen of France.  A little more than a year
afterwards, she was left a widow of eighteen.  She had
all along been, and still was, the pride and admiration
of France; yet she could truly say, "Now, I'm in the
world alone."  Her father had died when she was an
infant; her father-in-law, who was strongly attached
to her, had been cut off by a sudden death; her
husband died shortly after; and a few months later, the
news of her mother's death, under distressing
circumstances, reached her.  No wonder she turned her
thoughts away from royal splendour and gave herself
up to meditation on the hollowness of worldly greatness.
No wonder it took all the influence of her friends
to persuade her from entering the Convent at Rheims
and passing the remainder of her days under the habit
of an humble nun.  But this was not permitted her;
and the question of her return to Scotland began to
be discussed.  The Estates of Scotland convened to
consider the conditions on which they would permit
the return of their Sovereign.  The men who led this
movement had shortly before been in open rebellion,
and, with the assistance of Elizabeth of England, had
carried on war against the Queen-Regent, Mary of
Lorraine.  They had furthermore concluded a treaty with
Elizabeth that was prejudicial to Mary's right of
succession to the English throne; and had, by Act of
Parliament, proscribed the Catholic religion in Scotland.
The articles of the treaty and the acts against Catholic
worship had been presented to Mary for ratification;
but she had declined to sanction them, the question
being weighty and she being without counsel of her
nobles; more especially, however, because these were
not the work of the Scottish nation, but of a faction
in league with Queen Elizabeth.

Indeed, the English Ambassador to Paris, Sir
Nicholas Throckmorton, had repeatedly urged Mary
to ratify the treaty of Edinburgh.  It was after an
interview with her on this subject that this shrewd and
observant agent of Elizabeth and Cecil penned for the
information of the English court, the following
description of the young widow, which is valuable as the
testimony of an enemy who knew her well:--

"During her husband's life no great account was
made of her, for that being under bond of marriage
and subjection to him (who carried the burden and
care of all her matters), there was offered no great
occasion to know what was in her.  But since her
husband's death, she hath shewed (and so continueth) that
she is of great wisdom for her years, and of equal
modesty, and also of great judgment in the wise handling
of herself and her matters; which, increasing with her
years, cannot but turn greatly to her commendation,
reputation, honour and great benefit to herself and
her country....  Assuredly she carries herself so
honourably and discreetly that one cannot but fear her
progress."

Mary's "modesty and honour," therefore, were
already the cause of alarm to her English foes.  What
wonder, then, if they strove to dispoil her of both, or
that failing, endeavoured to convince her subject that
she had cast them both from her?

Two delegates were sent from Scotland to
negotiate with their Queen concerning her return.  One
represented the Congregation,[#] or what may be
called the Revolutionary party--and this was Mary's
own half-brother, Lord James Stewart, later known as
the Earl of Moray; the other, John Leslie, afterwards
Bishop of Ross and the life-long friend of Mary,
represented what may be called the old loyal party.  The
suspicions entertained by the loyal party as to the
honesty of Lord James' intentions are revealed by the fact
that Leslie advised Mary to have him arrested and
detained in France, until she should be firmly seated on
the throne.  If she did not care to do this, Leslie
recommended that, instead of going direct to Edinburgh,
which was the stronghold of the Congregation, she
should land at Aberdeen, where the Earl of Huntly,
with twenty thousand of her loyal subjects, was
prepared to welcome her and conduct her in triumph to
Edinburgh.  And when we consider the influence of
the powerful Gordon, who even then was "Cock of the
North," it seems probable that the Congregation,
without the aid of Elizabeth, could have raised no force
sufficient to oppose him.

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

[#] Since December, 1557, when a certain number of
Scottish nobles, at the instance of Knox, solemnly pledged
themselves to support the new religion and "to forsake and
renounce the congregation of Satan,"--by which they meant
the Catholic Church,--the Protestants in Scotland had been
known as the Congregation.

.. vspace:: 2

But Mary--for what reason we are not informed,
but probably from her aversion to strife and
bloodshed--declined the invitation of the Catholic Earl, and
decided to return to Scotland under the patronage of
neither the circumcised "Saints" of the Congregation,
nor the uncircumcised Philistines of the Gordon
country, but as a messenger of peace who would unite all
parties in the bonds of mutual forbearance, and would
seek her support in the undivided loyalty of the realm.
So far she had won all hearts, and had met no man
but would have thought it a privilege to be permitted
to devote his life to her service.  May we not suspect
that she hoped her personal influence, which had
hitherto known victory only, would soften the animosity
of rebel lords and religious fanatics?

At any rate she prepared to depart for Scotland.
"All the bravest and noblest gentlemen of France
assembled themselves around the fairest of Queens and
women," to give her a last proof of their love and
respect.  Among the Scottish nobles who formed part of
her cortege on her way to Calais, was he who, a few
years later, became the evil genius of her life--the
brave and reckless Earl of Bothwell.  In the following
soliloquy, the unfortunate Earl, outlawed and pining
away in a Danish prison, has been made to express his
impressions of the young widow when he first knew
her in France:--

   |  "O Mary, Mary, even now,
   |  Seared as I am to shame,
   |  The blood grows thick around my heart
   |  At utterance of thy name!
   |  I see her as in by-gone days,
   |  A widow, yet a child,
   |  Within the fields of sunny France,
   |  When heaven and fortune smiled.
   |  \*      \*      \*      \*      \*
   |  O lovelier than the fairest flower
   |  That ever bloomed on green,
   |  Was she, the darling of the land,
   |  The young and spotless queen.
   |  The sweet, sweet smile upon her lips,
   |  Her eyes so kind and clear,
   |  The magic of her gentle voice,
   |  That even now I hear!
   |  And nobles knelt, and princes bent,
   |  Before her as she came;
   |  A queen by gift of nature she,
   |  More than a queen in name."[#]

.. vspace:: 1

.. class:: noindent small

[#] "Bothwell," by William Edmondstoune Aytoun.

.. vspace:: 2

On the 15th of August, 1561, having bid farewell
to her uncles, the Cardinal and the Duke of Guise, to
her other relatives and the large number of friends
and admirers who accompanied her to the water's edge,
she embarked at Calais and turned with a heavy heart
to her new home, where her mother, only a few months
before, had been denied a grave; where the death of
her husband had been made the subject of rude jibes,
and where she herself had been denounced by the leader
of the new religion, as another Jezebel.  France may
be said in the meantime to have been in mourning;
and the words of the poet Ronsard, poetry though they
be, express a feeling that was common to the nation.

"Ho!  Scotland," he writes, "I would that thou
mightest wander like Delos on the face of the sea, or
sink to its profoundest depths, so that the sails of thy
bright queen, vainly striving to seek her realm, might
suddenly turn and bear her back to her fair Duchy of
Tourraine."

Six days after her departure, having evaded, under
cover of a dense fog, the English cruisers sent out to
intercept her, she landed at Leith, and proceeded to
the Royal Palace of Holyrood at Edinburgh.





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.. _`FACING TROUBLES IN SCOTLAND`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER IV.


.. class:: center medium

   FACING TROUBLES IN SCOTLAND.

.. vspace:: 2

The news of the unexpected arrival of the young
Queen, who had come unattended by armed force, and
had committed herself to the chivalry of the nation,
awakened a degree of enthusiasm even in the stern
"professors" of the Congregation.  Feelings of loyalty
to a long line of monarchs die hard in the human
breast, and especially was this so in those days when
the monarch, in the estimation of his people, stood
for something more than the chairman of a national
committee; and the mass of the Scottish people,
whether adherents of the old religion, or professors
of the new, saw in the fair Queen who had come
amongst them the representative of a line of brave
Sovereigns, around whom their forefathers had fought
and died for national independence, and whose deeds
of bravery were fresh in Scottish song and tradition,
indeed, the influence which Mary wielded over the
people was greater than could well be expected.
Shortly after her arrival, a number of the most
zealous nobles of the Congregation came to Edinburgh
to help Knox banish the Mass from her household.
But, after a few visits to Holyrood, their fierce
fervour disappeared.  "I have been here now for five
days," remarked one of them to a friend, "and at the
first I heard every man say, 'Let us hang the priest,'
but after that they had been twice or thrice in the
Abbey, all that fervency passed.  I think there be some
enchantment whereby men are bewitched."  And in
truth it can be said that, with scarcely an exception,
no one ever came directly under the influence of Mary
Stewart without being, in some degree, impressed in
her favour.

But in spite of the favourable signs that were
manifested on her arrival, no grave observer could
contemplate her environment and fail to foresee discord,
rebellion and her almost inevitable overthrow.  There
were the fierce nobles who, a few months before, had
been in arms against her mother, and who were
enjoying the property of the Church, which it was now their
interest to combat.  There were the stern "Professors"
of the Congregation, of which Knox was the life and
force, who considered her an idolatress, and,
consequently--according to the Jewish criminal code, which
they held in special esteem--deserving of death.  There
was her half-brother, Lord James, gruff, reticent and
ambitious, watching for a turn of affairs that might
bring him to the throne; and there, too, was Elizabeth,
with her able and unscrupulous Secretary, Cecil, who
had already fomented and supported rebellion in
Scotland, and even now had emissaries at work for the
overthrow of the young northern Queen.  Worst,
perhaps of all, Mary had very little counsel on which she
could rely.  Allowing for poetical exaggeration, a good
deal of truth is contained in the words of the Jacobite
bard:--

   |  "She stood alone without a friend,
   |  On whom her arm might lean,
   |  No true and trusty counsellors
   |  Were there to serve their Queen;
   |  But moody men, with sullen looks,
   |  And faces hard and keen."
   |

Mary was not long in Scotland before her courage
was put to the test.  It had been stipulated by Lord
James that she should be free to have Mass in her own
house.  It would seem, however, that the zealots of
the Congregation had little expected that in face of
their strong opposition to her religion, the young
Queen would venture to practice it on her return.  If
so, they miscalculated the extent to which she had
inherited the high spirit and unflinching courage of her
bravest ancestors.

The first Sunday after her arrival, she ordered
Mass to be celebrated in the Chapel-Royal of Holyrood.
A party of the Congregation, headed by Patrick, Lord
Lindsay, rushed into the apartment and attacked the
Chaplain.  The Queen immediately published a
proclamation to the effect that she did not intend to
interfere with the form of religion she had found
established in Scotland, and that she commanded her subjects
not to molest any of her servants or household.  Shortly
afterwards she made a tour of the country, and on
her return to Edinburgh, learned that the Provost and
his brethren in office had, in the meantime, issued a
proclamation commanding all Papists, under penalty of
death for the third offence, to depart from the town.
She caused the bailies who were responsible for this
act to be removed from office, and issued a
counter-proclamation, permitting "All good and faithful
subjects to repair to, or leave Edinburgh, according to
their pleasure or convenience."

Knox was horrified at the Queen's action, and
immediately predicted a sudden plague.  But what
annoyed him most was, that certain Protestant lords, who
had professed strong opposition to the Mass, were now
inclined to tolerate it in the Queen's chapel.  He took
care, in his weekly sermons, to make known his opinion
of these "politick heads" and to give the people timely
warning of the chastisement with which God would
certainly visit the nation for permitting idolatry.

The young Queen, who was still in her teens, must
have keenly felt the reproaches that were being cast
on herself and her religion, and, although she
succeeded in showing herself cheerful in company, we may
be sure her heart was sad and that memory often carried
her back to earlier days, in which she experienced
nothing but gentle treatment and the respectful
homage of a nation of brave men, ready to draw the sword
in her defence.  However, it would be unjust to the
Scottish people to think that the treatment which
Mary received in Edinburgh was a correct index to the
feeling of the country at large.  The hearts of the
Scottish people were with their Queen, and remained
with her unto the end.  Her fiercest enemies were
found in the extreme religious party led by Knox.  An
amicable understanding with these was impossible.  The
Protestant nobles--except those who were zealous
followers of Knox--did not, as far as I can see, care much
what religious devotions the Queen practised, so long
as she took no steps towards restoring the old religion.
The fact that many of them had enriched themselves
from church property readily explains their opposition
to every movement in that direction.

But the turbulent section of the nobles and the
Congregation controlled by Knox, were not the people
of Scotland.  This is a fact it would be well to note,
for, it seems to me, many people fall into the error that
the friends and the enemies of Mary in Scotland were
divided on purely religious lines.  It is true, the storm
in which she was shipwrecked, was mainly a religious
one; yet all the Protestants were by no means opposed
to her.  Many of her best friends, who stood by her
in every peril, and supported her cause until the last
hope of her restoration was dead, were Protestant
nobles.

Early in Mary's reign there appears to have been
some discontent among certain Catholic nobles, who
seemed disposed to attempt the restoration of the old
faith by force of arms.  The Earl of Huntly said that,
if the Queen would "sanction him in it, he could set
up the Mass again in the three countries."  She was
as zealous in the cause of religion, and willing to
suffer as much for it as Huntly; but the prospect of
effecting any permanent good by such means, was
extremely poor.  If the struggle would be left to
Scotland itself, Huntly's project would be more deserving
of consideration.  But Queen Elizabeth would never,
while she could prevent it, allow her adversaries to
gain advantages in Scotland; and in the event of the
Scottish Catholics attempting to gain freedom of
worship for themselves her gold and her soldiers would
soon flow over the border, as they did in the regency
of Mary of Lorraine.  But apart from this, Mary was
opposed to civil strife.  She had come to the
country in a peaceful manner, hoping, by a peaceful
policy, to conciliate the minds of her people and finally
to obtain an alleviation of the ills under which her
Catholic subjects were suffering.  But the difficulties
with which she had to contend were not fully
understood by her relations in France, nor, at the outset,
even by the Pope; and it is not improbable that for
a while they feared she was not so industrious as she
should be in promoting the interests of her religion.
And to this day a number of her Protestant
biographers--some of them enthusiastic vindicators of her
honour--speak of her leanings towards Protestantism,
either from policy or from conviction.  Some say that
early in her reign she, through policy, openly favoured
the Protestant cause, and as proof of her favour
overthrew--which she undoubtedly did--the powerful
house of Gordon, head of which was the Catholic Earl
of Huntly.  Others think if the proper means had been
employed, she would have become a Protestant from
conviction, and, in support of their opinion, they
adduce her readiness to read Protestant controversial
works, and that state of religious doubt which, they
say, she manifested in a certain conversation with
Knox.

A distinguished Scottish biographer of Mary's,
the late Sir John Skelton, has thought that the
uncharitable treatment she received from Knox was the
principal cause why she remained a Catholic.  "Knox,"
he writes, "was the foremost of the Reformers; yet
Mary had found that Knox was narrow-minded,
superstitious, and fiercely intolerant,--so narrow-minded,
intolerant and superstitious that he had no difficulty
in believing that the orderly course of nature was
interrupted because the Queen dined on wild fowl and
danced till midnight.  If this was Protestantism, she
would have none of it.  Nor can we blame her much.
The eccleciastical dictator at Edinburgh was as
violent and irrational (it might well appear to her) as
the ecclesiastical dictator at Rome.  Was it worth her
while to exchange the infallible Pope of the Vatican
for the infallible Pope of the High Street?"[#] (Maitland
of Lethington, Vol. II., Chap. I.)

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

[#] The inconsistency of those who, having appealed to private
judgment from the authority of the Pope, persecuted all
who would not recognize their own authority, is nowhere
more conspicuous than in the case of the early Scottish
Reformers.  By the end of the first six months of its
existence, the Congregation formulated the following anathema
with which to pursue rebellious subjects: "And this his
sin, by virtue of our ministry we bind, and pronounce the
same to be bound in heaven and earth.  We further give
over into the hands and power of the devil the said
A.B. of the destruction of his flesh; straitly charging all that
profess the Lord Jesus, to repute and to hold him accursed,
and unworthy of the familiar society of Christians;
declaring unto all men that such as hereafter, before his
repentance, shall haunt or familiarly accompany him are
partakers of his impiety, and subject to the like condemnation."

.. vspace:: 2

In spite of all this, I venture to say there is no
historical evidence that Mary ever contemplated a
change of religion.  What answer does she herself give
to these statements?  Just before her departure from
France, in conversation with Throckmorton, the
English Ambassador, who was probing her mind on the
question of religion, she made what may be called a
formal declaration of her faith:--

"I will be plain with you; the religion which I
profess I take to be the most acceptable to God, and
neither do I know, nor desire to know, any other.
Constancy becometh all folks well, but none better
than princes, and such as rule over realms, especially
in matters of religion.  I have been brought up in
this religion, and who might credit me in anything,
if I should show myself light in this case."

Her courageous opposition to every attempt to
deprive her of Mass in the Chapel-Royal of Holyrood, is
well known to readers of history; and furthermore it
is evident that she continued her religious devotions
there as long as it was in her power to do so.

Four years after her return to Scotland, when
Randolph, the Ambassador of Elizabeth, who had been
sent to her on business concerning her contemplated
marriage, suggested that she should change her
religion and thereby gain more favor from the English
Queen, Mary indignantly answered:--

"What would you that I should make merchandise
of my religion! ... It cannot be so."

Her words, in reply to those who, not long before
her execution, strove to prevail on her to renounce
her former "follies and abominations," throw light, if
that were necessary, on what her religious convictions
had all along been.

To Lord Buckhurst, who had informed her that
sentence of death had been passed upon her, and had
urged her to accept the spiritual ministration of the
Anglican Bishop of Peterborough, she said:--

"I have never had the intention of changing my
religion for any earthly kingdom, or grandeur, or good,
whatever, or of denying Jesus Christ, or his name, nor
will I now."

And again, the day before her execution, in
answer to similar demands, she said, amongst other
things:--

"I have not only heard, or read, the words of the
most learned men of the Catholic religion, but also
of the Protestant religion.  I have spoken with them
and have heard them preach, but I have been unable
to find anything in them that could turn me from
my first belief."

So much for Mary's own evidence.  It is, to say
the least, faulty reasoning, to adduce the Queen's
march against the Earl of Huntly as proof that she
wished, either from policy or from conviction, to
support the Protestant cause.  In view of the firm and
unequivocal stand she had hitherto taken in defence
of her religion, the presumption that she was now
prepared to sacrifice its interests, is unwarranted, and,
furthermore, is unnecessary, as other good and sufficient
reasons for her action can readily be found.

Being young and inexperienced in dealing with
such turbulent nobles as then surrounded her throne,
and having extremely few persons in whom she could
venture to put her trust, she at first allowed herself
to be influenced in her method of government by her
half-brother, the Lord James.  Now, Lord James, as
is commonly admitted by the best historians, hoped to
work his way to the Scottish throne, despite his
illegitimacy, and naturally he was anxious to overthrow
every power that would prove an obstacle to the
advancement of his cause.  Besides, he had his eye fixed
on the Earldom of Moray, which had for some time
been controlled by Huntly.  The obstacle could be
removed, and the Earldom gained, if Huntley could be
"worried" into war, and then overthrown by the
authority of the Queen.  Three most significant things are
certain,--that Lord James acquired the Earldom of
Moray (hence his title of Earl of Moray) immediately
that Huntly and his house were ruined; that he
attempted, without Mary's knowledge, to procure the
execution of Huntly's son, George, whose life had been
spared, but who had been placed in ward at Stirling;
and that the Gordons never after acted towards the
Queen as if they held her responsible for the injuries
they had suffered, but, on the contrary, gave ample
proof that they considered Moray the responsible
party.  However, if Mary thought no danger threatened
her from the Gordon country, she could not be
excused for allowing herself to be made the instrument
of Lord James' ambition in so grave a matter.

The fact is, the unfortunate tragedy was the
result of an old and bitter enmity between Huntly and
the Lord James.  The hated enemy came, confident in
the support of royal authority, which he almost fully
controlled, and committed acts that exasperated the
proud Highland Earl, and drove him into rebellion--for
to oppose Lord James in these circumstances was
to resist the Queen.  As far as Mary was concerned,
religion had as little to do with the overthrow of the
Gordons as it had to do with the execution of Chastellar.

Her conversation with Knox in which she is said
to have revealed a state of religious doubt, is, to my
mind, a proof of her polemical cleverness.  She takes
Knox on his own principle of private judgment and
delicately shows him that it cannot satisfy her mind--that
it cannot raise her above doubt.  Knox tells her
one thing; her uncle, the Cardinal, tells her another;
whom is she to believe?  She was setting a snare for
Knox, which he could not escape, except by acknowledging
an authority in religion that rested on a sounder
foundation than either his or the Cardinal's opinion.

But why, it may be asked, did she not make her
religious zeal more evident at the outset, by sending
Bishops to the Council of Trent, in compliance with
the request of the Pope, and by using her influence
to obtain at least religious toleration for her Catholic
subjects?  The answer is simple,--because it was
beyond her power to do either.  She had as much as she
could do to save the life of her chaplain when he said
Mass in the Chapel-Royal; how could she take any
steps publicly to relieve her Catholic subjects?

The report of the Papal Nuncio, Nicholas
Goudanus, who came to Edinburgh in June, 1562, throws
light on the helpless condition of the Queen, and
disposes us to sympathize with her in the miseries she
was destined to suffer at so early an age, rather than
to nourish suspicions of her sincerity and good
conscience.  He says he was in Edinburgh a month before
he could see the Queen, and even then he had to be
received in private, while the members of the court
were out.  Of all the Bishops, the Bishop of
Dunkeld alone ventured to receive him.  The nuncio came
to the Bishop's house disguised as a banker's clerk,
and, according to a pre-arranged device to avert
suspicion, the conversation during dinner was limited to
money matters.

Mary informed the nuncio that, in order to
preserve some remains of the Catholic faith, she had been
obliged to do many things much against her will.  As
regards the power exercised over her by the nobles,
Goudanus remarks: "The men in power acknowledge
the Queen's title, but prevent her from exercising any
of the rights of sovereignty;[#] whenever her opinion
does not agree with theirs, they oppose her at once.
Not only that, but they deceive her as well, and
frighten her with threats of an English invasion,
especially when she is meditating any steps in support
of her faith."


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.. class:: noindent small

[#] This statement, however, is too sweeping.

.. vspace:: 2

As time advanced, Mary became more and more
beloved by her people, although the opposition to her
religion never abated.  When, in 1563, she attended
the opening of her first parliament, she was
enthusiastically hailed by the populace, whose applause grew
all the louder when they heard her address the
assembly, not, as they had expected she would, in a strange
language, but in their own native tongue, marked
though it was by a foreign accent.  Knox, who feared
the "politick heads" among the children of God might
so far fall from grace as to extend a degree of
toleration to the outcast children of men, was irritated by
this display of affection for the Queen, and he took
revenge by denouncing the womanly vanity displayed
by her and her ladies, especially the "targetting of
their tails"--whatever that meant.

We are, as a rule, so much occupied with the
romantic and tragic features of Mary's life, that we are
apt to overlook her qualities as a ruler and the works
which she accomplished for the benefit of her people.
It may in brief be said, that she was deeply interested
in every measure that could promote their welfare, that
during her reign the country was comparatively
peaceful and prosperous, and that the beneficent influence
of her government is attested by various public records.
Sir Thomas Craig, one of her Privy Councillors, has
witnessed to her sound judgment in these words: "I
have often heard the most serene Princess Mary Queen
of Scotland discourse so appositely and rationally in all
affairs which were brought before the Privy Council
that she was admired by all....  She had not studied
law; and yet, by the natural light of her judgment,
when she reasoned on matters of equity and justice,
she oftimes had the advantage of the ablest lawyer.
Her other discourses and actions were suitable to her
great judgment.  No word ever dropped from her
mouth that was not exactly weighed and pondered.
*As for her liberality and other virtues they are well
known.*"




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.. _`THE QUEEN'S MARRIAGE AND FRESH TROUBLES`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER V.


.. class:: center medium

   THE QUEEN'S MARRIAGE AND FRESH TROUBLES.

.. vspace:: 2

It is hardly necessary to mention that Mary--a
Queen renowned throughout Europe for her beauty
and accomplishments--was a prize for which the royal
bachelors of the Continent eagerly grappled; and that
in Scotland she was a rock upon which hopeless
victims of her charms made shipwreck of their lives.
Under the spell of those charms, a cool-brained
Scotsman, the young Earl of Arran, went mad; and (what
perhaps, should not surprise us so much), the
hot-brained French poet, Chastellar, not only went mad,
but was precipitated into acts of indiscretion that
brought him to the scaffold.  In the question of the
Scottish Queen's marriage, however, Elizabeth wished
to have a controlling voice, and she left the young
Queen under the impression that, if she married the
person of Elizabeth's own choice, her right of
succession to the throne of England, in case the English
Queen died without issue, would be declared.  Accordingly,
Elizabeth began proposing Robert Dudley, afterwards
Earl of Leicester, as her choice of husband for
the Queen of Scots.  Leicester was a man of extremely
doubtful reputation, and most likely would never be
accepted by Mary, so long as she was free to reject
him.  He was the recognized favourite of Elizabeth, as
well--a fact that makes it hard to understand why she
put him forward in this connection.  But, all the
circumstances considered, it seems most likely that
Elizabeth never expected Mary to marry Leicester.  Indeed,
she would rather see Mary remain unmarried; but
William Maitland, the Scottish Queen's able Secretary,
had been urging on Cecil the necessity of settling
differences between the two Queens, and of recognizing
the Scottish right of succession.  Cecil made fair or
evasive promises.  In the meantime Elizabeth and he
played the Leicester farce, to kill time, and probably
in the hope that Mary, with her Stewart impulsiveness,
would make some sarcastic remark on Elizabeth's
policy, or that some other event would transpire upon
which they might seize, as a plea for discontinuing
negotiations, and as a screen behind which to develop
their long-settled design for the overthrow of the
northern Queen.  But Mary became tired of Elizabeth's
and Cecil's policy of evasion and delay, and feeling
that it would be unbecoming her dignity as an
independent sovereign, to allow herself to be played with
and deceived, she resolved to break away from their
snares and to marry where she would.  She escaped
Scylla only to be caught in Charybdis.

At the court of Elizabeth was an accomplished
young lord of eighteen years, connected by blood with
both the royal houses of Stewart and Tudor, whose
father, although a Scottish Earl, had resided twenty
years in England.  This youth was Henry Stewart--Lord
Darnley.  The question of a marriage with Darnley
had already been represented to Mary by his
friends, and now she decided to entertain it.  In May,
1655, after some opposition, especially on the part of
Moray, Parliament gave its unanimous consent to the
projected marriage, which was consequently celebrated
on July 29th, and a new era opened in the life of Mary
Stewart.

Immediately after the marriage, the royal pair
were called upon to take the field against insurgent
nobles.  Moray, although he had given his consent to
the proposed marriage, had subsequently declared
against it, and had raised an insurrection in the
country.  He feared, so at least he professed, that the
Queen's union with a "Papist" threatened the
well-being of the "reformed" religion in Scotland.  But
whoever is versed in the Earl's history can discover
another motive for his opposition, namely, his
well-founded fear that Mary's marriage and the return of
the Lennox Stewarts to Scotland would forever shut
himself out from the throne.  However, the marriage
was completed and the insurgent lords summoned to
appear at court, under pain of being considered rebels.
They heeded not the summons, but prepared for war.
With the assured support of Elizabeth, who likewise
was offended, or pretended to be offended, at the
Darnley marriage, what had they to fear?  This was a
critical moment for Mary.  Would she try to coax the rebels
into friendship by promises of pardon, and to conciliate
Elizabeth by humble apologies for whatever in the
late transaction might have offended her English
cousin, or would she take up the gauntlet that had been
thrown down, and risk the consequences of an armed
encounter with the rebels?  Her Secretary, Sir William
Maitland, saw the danger that threatened his mistress
and, in his correspondence with Cecil, strove to
secure an adjustment of difficulties, by a reasonable and
peaceful policy, notwithstanding the Darnley marriage.
But Elizabeth and Cecil would not lose the favourable
opportunity; they abandoned their attitude of
obstruction and delay, and assumed one of aggression and
command.  Maitland could do no more.  But there is
a force which diplomacy cannot measure, and which
cannot be applied through the ordinary medium of
governmental machinery.  Such is the force of a brave,
resolute and inspiring character.  Mary appealed to
the loyalty of her people, and in a few days thousands
of brave men were arrayed under her standard.  The
rebels, in spite of their attempts to raise the populace
on their side, were never strong enough to venture
an engagement with the Queen's forces; and after a
few weeks they were seeking refuge where Scottish
rebels of that period always found themselves
secure--across the English border.  The uprising served as a
test of the popular feeling, and the test proved that
the nation was devoted to Mary.

In an historical question like this, on which so
much divergence of opinion has existed, one must be
careful not lightly to dogmatize.  This, however, may
be said, that it is not easy to read the correspondence
of that period between the English agents in Scotland
and Berwick and the Secretary of State's office in
London, without being driven to conclude that the
subsequent rebellious movements that afflicted Scotland were
directed largely from Westminster and aimed at the
ultimate overthrow of Mary Queen of Scots.

The rebel nobles had suffered an inglorious
defeat.  Elizabeth, although she had encouraged them,
now, with her habitual duplicity, to clear herself in the
eyes of foreign princes, spurned them from her
presence as traitors to their lawful Queen.  Indeed, it
requires more than ordinary mental insight to
understand how Moray, if he was the conscientious and
high-minded worthy that many of his friends claim him
to have been--that "*vir pietate gravis*" of Buchanan--could
have acted the part he did in that "scene of
farce and falsehood" which Elizabeth contrived for
her own justification.  When he and the secularized
Abbot of Kilwinning, as representatives of the
discomfited rebels, approached their English patroness for
consolation, she refused to give them audience, until they
consented to make a solemn declaration in the presence
of the French and Spanish Ambassadors, that she had
given them no encouragement in their rebellion.  When
the humiliated Scotsmen finished their part, Elizabeth
immediately added: "The treason of which you have
been guilty is detestable; and as traitors, I banish you
from my presence."

What was next to be done?  Having given such
great cause for displeasure to their Queen, the rebel
nobles might well fear that the grants of property
which many of them had received from her childlike
lavishness, would be revoked at the first opportunity.
It was necessary, therefore, that something should be
done to prevent any measure of this kind and to
cripple the power of the Queen.  What means could be
employed to this end?

Darnley, at the time of his marriage, was handsome
and accomplished, but Cardinal Beaton, Mary's
Ambassador at Paris, warned her, unfortunately all too
late, against the match, saying that he was a "quarrelsome
coxcomb."  The truth of the remark was verified
shortly after, when the boyish follies and profligate
habits of the young King began to reveal themselves.
Instead of being a comfort and support to his consort,
who scarcely knew where to turn for trustworthy
advice, and who had known nothing but suffering since
she landed in the realm, Darnley only added fresh trials
to her life.  He looked for position that she could
not grant him; he looked for authority that he had
not judgment to exercise, and he became wrathy and
troublesome when refused.  Besides, he contracted the
habit of drunkenness, and associated with low
companions.  Here, then, was a tool whom the cunning
conspirators could use to work out their design.

There was in Mary's service, as Secretary, an
Italian named David Rizzio, a man fairly well advanced
in years, rather unprepossessing in appearance, but,
according to the testimony of those who knew him
well, very clever in business affairs, and of inflexible
fidelity.  Rizzio had so far been the faithful friend of
Darnley; but the conspirators represented to the young
King that the Italian had too much influence with the
Queen, and was instrumental in withholding from him
the authority he desired.  Finally, the traitors in
Scotland and the rebel lords sojourning in England,
working on Darnley's ambition, entered into a league with
him and signed a bond--Moray, the "*vir pietate
gravis*" among the rest--by which they pledged
themselves to give him the crown matrimonial, to advance
his cause, to be friends of his friends and enemies of
his enemies; Darnley in return promised the recall of
the rebels and the security of their estates.  Provisions
to justify their rebellious enterprise were made in the
alleged undue influence of Rizzio with the Queen, and
the helpless foreigner was marked for death.  A more
shameful contract would be difficult to imagine.  A
few months earlier these men had taken up arms
against their Queen, because she had decided on a
marriage which (they said) was inimical to the interests
of religion, and now they are signing a contract
to subvert her authority and promote to
unexpected power that self-same Darnley whose
advancement they had risen in arms to prevent.  Of
course, nobody versed in the history of the movement
believes that they intended to redeem their pledge.
They had need of Darnley until the Queen should be
disposed of.  After that the mad youth could be easily
cast aside, and the way to the throne would be clear
for Moray.  In defence of these nobles it may be
answered, that they were acting in the interest of
religion, which they were persuaded would be in danger
as long as a Catholic monarch occupied the throne.  I
admit the interests of religion are preferable to the
interests of a dynasty, and, if one must be sacrificed, it
should be the dynasty.  So far we might put ourselves
in the place of the conspirators and frame a defence
of their conduct.  But unless we likewise admit that
the end justifies the means we cannot deny the
baseness and villany of this plot.

The work proceeds.  Moray is notified to be within
convenient distance of Edinburgh.  On March 9th,
1566, about seven o'clock in the evening, while Mary
is at supper with a few attendants and Rizzio, a door
opening into a private stairway leading from
Darnley's apartments to the Queen's, opens, and Darnley
enters in an apparently friendly mood.  The meaning
of this unexpected entrance soon becomes evident.  The
evil-boding figure of Lord Ruthven, in full armour,
appears in the door, his face haggard and his eyes
sunken, for he has risen from a bed of sickness to direct
the work of blood.  A number of associates follow him.
Rizzio, understanding their purpose, flees for
protection behind the Queen, and cries out for justice.  The
Queen attempts to protect her faithful servant, but is
rudely thrust aside, and the defenceless Secretary,
being dragged, wounded and bleeding, to the door, is
dispatched with fifty-six stabs.  "Ah, poor Davit" (says
Mary as she hears the dying Rizzio's groans)--"ah,
poor Davit, my good and faithful servant; may the
Lord have mercy on your soul!"

Three months after this tragedy James VI. was
born.  Considering the time and place chosen for the
murder, we have good reason to suspect that harm was
intended to the Queen herself, and to the future heir
to the throne, as well as to Rizzio.  Add to this the
remarks dropped by a certain confidant of the conspirators,
and suspicion gives place to conviction.  Randolph,
the English Ambassador, writing nearly a month
before to Leicester, referred to the plot, and said that
if it should take place "David shall have his throat
cut within these ten days.  Many things," he adds,
"grievouser and worse than these are brought to my
ears, yea, of things intended against her own person,
which, because I think better to keep secret than to
write to Mr. Secretary (Cecil), I speak of them but
now to Your Lordship."

Mary was kept closely guarded, and Darnley himself,
observing the movements of the traitors, began to
fear for his own safety.

Darnley could be led by ambition into a rash act,
but he had not reached that depth of wickedness in
which the heart becomes callous to the feelings of humanity.

Stricken partly by remorse for his unfaithful and
ungrateful conduct to his wife, and partly by fear of his
threatened ruin, in the gray of the morning succeeding
the night of murder, while all was still in Holyrood,
the wretched and repentant youth stole quietly
up to the Queen's chamber, and, throwing himself on
his knees before her, said: "Ah, my Mary, I am bound
to confess at this time, though now it is too late, that
I have failed in my duty towards you.  The only
atonement which I can make for this, is to acknowledge
my fault and sue for pardon, by pleading my youth
and great indiscretion.  I have been most miserably
deluded and deceived by the persuasions of these
wicked traitors, who have led me to confirm and support all
their plots against you, myself, and all our family.  I
see it all now, and I see clearly that they aim at our
ruin.  I take God to witness that I never could have
thought, nor expected, that they would have gone to
such lengths.  I confess that ambition has blinded
me.  But since the grace of God has stopped me from
going further, and has led me to repent before it is
too late, as I hope, I ask you, my Mary, to have pity
on me, have pity on our child, have pity on yourself.
Unless you take some means to prevent it, we are all
ruined, and that speedily."

This report of Darnley's prayer for pardon is taken
from a fragmentary sketch of Mary's life, written most
probably by Claude Nau, her Secretary during the
most part of her imprisonment in England, who,
during the long hours of conversation with his captive
mistress, had special opportunities of hearing her own
account of that painful ordeal through which she had
passed.  It is all the more interesting, therefore, to note
the answer that Nau attributes to the Queen.  "The
Queen," he continues, "still troubled with the agitation
and weakness arising from the emotions of the previous
night, answered him frankly, for she had never been
trained to dissemble, nor was it her custom to do so:
'Sire,' she said, 'within the last twenty-four hours you
have done me such a wrong that neither the recollection
of our early friendship, nor all the hopes you can
give me of the future, can ever make me forget it.
As I do not wish to hide from you the impression which
it has made on me, I may tell you that I think you
will never be able to undo what you have done.  You
have committed a very grave error.  What did you
hope to possess in safety without me?  You are aware
that, contrary to the advice of those very persons whom
you now court, I have made earnest suit to obtain for
you of them the very thing which you think you can
obtain through their means and wicked devices.  I
have been more careful about your elevation than you
yourself have been.  Have I ever refused you anything
that was reasonable, and which was for your advantage,
by placing you above those persons who to-day are
trying to get both you and me into their power, that
they may tread us under their feet?  Examine your
conscience, Sire, and see the blot of ingratitude with
which you have stained it.  You say you are sorry for
what you have done, and this gives me some comfort;
yet I cannot but think that you are driven to it rather
by necessity than led by any sentiment of true and
sincere affection.  Had I offended you as deeply as can be
imagined, you could not have discovered how to avenge
yourself on me with greater disgrace and cruelty.  I
thank God that neither you nor anyone in the world
can charge me with ever having done or said aught
justly to displease you, were it not for your own
personal good.  Your life is dear to me, and God and my
duty oblige me to be as careful of it as of my own.
But since you have placed us both on the brink of
the precipice, you must now deliberate how we shall
escape the peril.'"

Such we can well believe to have been the feeling
words of the outraged wife and queen.  She had
been humiliated by her husband in the eyes of the
nation and of the world; and the ingratitude of him to
whom she had been so devoted had inflicted on her
heart a wound that she feared time could never heal.
The bonds of love, which had been severed in spite
of her and could not be reunited by an act of her
will, no longer bound her to him, but "God and her
duty" did, and his life would still be dear to her.

A plan of escape was arranged, and Darnley, acting
with more coolness and shrewdness than was his wont,
had the guards removed from the royal apartments,
and, two nights later, he and Mary, accompanied by
a few faithful attendants, having stealthily escaped
from the palace by a back way, mounted their horses
and hurried off to Dunbar.

Once more free to appeal to the loyalty of her
people, the Queen had nothing to fear.  The traitor
lords, outwitted and alarmed, dispersed and fled,
some--especially those most prominent in the execution
of the murder--betaking themselves across the border,
and others withdrawing to retreats in the country.
Mary was now in a position in which, had she been
of a vindictive nature, she could have taken complete
revenge on her enemies.  But her habitual clemency
prevailed, and her ear was soon again open to the
prayers for pardon that reached her from the
conspirators.

Her generous conduct could not fail to win hearts
even among her former foes, and when, three months
afterwards, James VI. was born in Edinburgh Castle,
hearty demonstrations of joy marked the event
throughout the whole realm.  "I never," wrote the
French Ambassador, Le Croc, to Cardinal Beaton, "saw
Her Majesty so much beloved, honoured and esteemed,
nor so great a harmony among all her subjects as at
present is by her wise conduct; for I cannot perceive
the smallest difference or division."

But the seeds of dissension were still alive.  A new
Cabinet had been formed in which hitherto discordant
elements were mechanically united.  Atholl, Huntly
and Bothwell held prominent places; and Moray, who,
by a plausible story, had exonerated himself from
responsibility in the Rizzio murder, was taken into
confidence.  Maitland was afterwards admitted to his
former post of Secretary.  Darnley was furious against
Moray and Maitland; against Bothwell he had no
complaint, a circumstance worth noting.  He was displeased
with Mary because she allowed herself to be influenced
by Moray and Maitland, whom he believed to
be traitors.  There may, perhaps, be some justification
for the unfortunate Darnley's conduct at this juncture.
It is possible that his brief complicity with the late
conspirators had taught him a lesson which Mary, who
was clement and forgiving almost to a fault, had yet
to learn, namely, the deep treachery of some in whom
she was putting her trust.  Be this as it may, Darnley
soon began to reap the bitter fruits of his mad crime.
The nobles that he had left in the lurch cordially hated
him; the Queen, whom he had so grievously betrayed,
while she did what she could to please and pacify him,
could not entrust him with the power he desired.  He
became the source of keen and uninterrupted grief to
Mary, which added to her partial loss of health since
the birth of her son, and the political dangers that
threatened her independence, made her wish for death.
She was brought to the point of death by an illness
with which she was stricken during a visit to the remote
border hamlet of Jedburgh, in October, 1566, but
recovered to drag on her weary life.  Her health and
spirits, however, seem to have been considerably
broken.  "The Queen breaketh much," wrote Drury,
"and is subject to frequent fainting fits."  Melville,
her close acquaintance, says, "she was somewhat sad
when solitary."  The French Ambassador gives his
opinion as to the cause of her troubles: "I do believe
the principal part of her disease to consist of a deep
grief and sorrow, nor does it seem possible to make
her forget the same.  Still she repeats these words:
'I could wish to be dead.'"

   |  The touch of care had blanched her cheek, her smile was sadder now;
   |  The weight of royalty had pressed too heavy on her brow.





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.. _`THE TRAGEDY OF "KIRK O'FIELD" AND ITS SEQUEL`:

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   CHAPTER VI.


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   THE TRAGEDY OF KIRK O'FIELD AND ITS SEQUEL.

.. vspace:: 2

Darnley left the court in one of his sullen moods
in December, 1566, and shortly after was stricken with
smallpox at Glasgow.  Notwithstanding his past
ingratitude and infidelity, Mary, on hearing of his
misfortune, sent her own physician to attend him, and a
little later, having proceeded to Glasgow herself,
brought him back with her to Edinburgh.  Not yet
being free from infection, he was placed in a house
known as the Kirk O'Field, on the outskirts of the
city.  Mary visited him frequently and, as far as could
be judged from outward signs, a complete reconciliation
was effected.  But the evil genius of the Stewarts
again held sway.  On February 10th, about 3 o'clock
in the morning, the Kirk O'Field was blown into the
air with gunpowder, and the mortal career of Darnley,
who had just turned his twentieth year, was brought
to a tragic close.  Suspicions pointed to Bothwell as
the author of the crime.  The Earl of Lennox,
Darnley's father, sued for a trial.  Bothwell promptly
offered himself up, and, being tried before his peers, was
acquitted.

I have now arrived at the most complicated question
in Mary's history, and before offering an opinion
on the events that ensued, I shall mention some of
them in chronological order.

Bothwell was acquitted on April 12th; on April
24th, Mary, while returning from a visit to her child
at Stirling, was intercepted by him, and--willingly or
unwillingly--carried off to the Castle of Dunbar.
Twelve days afterwards, a promise of marriage having
first been obtained from her, she was brought back
to Edinburgh by Bothwell and lodged in the Castle.
Eight days later she was married to Bothwell in
Holyrood, before a Protestant minister.

These events have all along been interpreted in
two widely different senses.  One interpretation makes
Mary an accomplice in the murder of her husband;
the other makes her an innocent but injured woman.
The historians hostile to her, catching their
inspiration from the pages of George Buchanan, maintain that
previously to Darnley's murder, she was familiar
beyond due measure with Bothwell; that when she
visited Darnley at Glasgow, it was as the agent of Bothwell
to enveigle the intended victim to where he could be
conveniently dispatched; that the reconciliation was
feigned on her part; that when the murder was
accomplished, she used her authority to shield Bothwell;
and, finally, that she was carried off by him according
to her own desire.

I admit that from a slight study of her life one
is apt to be impressed with the thought, that the Mary
Stewart of this period is not the Mary Stewart of
earlier, or even later times.  Something unusually weak,
which leaves the suspicion of guilt, seems to characterize
her conduct.  I believe, however, that the more
fully the sources of information are studied, the clearer
will it appear that no evidence on which she can be
justly convicted, has yet been adduced; but that, on
the contrary, the conviction will grow in the minds
of sincere enquirers, that she was first gravely injured,
and next gravely calumniated, for party ends.  It
should be borne in mind that an accused person must
be presumed innocent until his guilt is proved.  This
is a principle recognized in all law, and one that has
something exceptionally strong to recommend it in
the present case.

Until the death of Darnley, no word had been
uttered against Mary's character as a woman.  On the
contrary, her praises were sounded on all sides, and
even those who were leagued with her foes sometimes
bore testimony to her virtues.  The Privy Council
itself, shortly before Darnley fell ill, spoke of him as
one "honoured and blessed with a good and virtuous
wife."  But when lying served the purpose, especially
in a struggle against a Papist "idolatress," who would
scruple at it?  Men who could unctuously quote
Scripture, while engaged in the most disgraceful and
unlawful work, and could, as Skelton thinks, perjure
themselves with a good conscience, could hardly be expected
to lose an opportunity of blackening the character of
an unsanctified woman, for the glory of God and the
advancement of Calvinism.

Who, on the other hand, were Mary's accusers?
They were those who profited by her overthrow; those
who had been known traitors and had been guilty of
grievous offences against her; and those who, beyond
doubt, have been convicted of caluminating her in
many particulars.  Of the last mentioned class the
most notorious is George Buchanan, a man who owed
his life to her clemency, who had been enriched by her
warm-hearted liberality, who had penned his most
polished verses in praise of her distinguished beauty and
virtues, but who, when misfortune fell upon her, sold
his venal pen to her enemies, and clothed in classical
Latin the calumnies by which they hoped to overthrow
her cause and establish their own.  Now, students of
this period of Scottish history know that Buchanan
has been convicted of calumny in many particulars of
Mary's life.  This is beyond controversy, established
by official records of the time.  The presumption of
calumny, therefore, attaches to his other accusations,
and until these are proved to be true from reliable
sources, they cannot decide anything against her.
Furthermore, Buchanan's "Detectio," which was written
to ruin Mary's cause in England, was prepared at the
instigation of her enemies, and Buchanan's services
were engaged only because he was a good Latinist.  "The
book was written by him," writes Cecil, "not as of
himself, nor in his own name, but according to the
instructions given him by common conference of the
Lords of the Privy Council of Scotland"--the Moray
party.  It may also be mentioned that while the
English translation of the "Detectio" was fathered by Cecil,
and dedicated to Queen Elizabeth, the "Defence" of
Mary, written by Bishop Leslie, was suppressed by the
authorities at Westminster immediately it appeared.

So much for presumptive argument; but how explain
the strange series of events after Darnley's murder?

Mary, after the murder of her husband, was like
one who does not know what moment a mine is going
to explode under her feet.  She had got an inkling,
through reports from London, gathered by her
Ambassador in Paris, of the plot to murder Rizzio, of the
conspiracy against the life of Darnley, and of harm
intended to herself.  The two first having been so
emphatically verified, had she not reason to fear
that the next would soon be consummated in her
own person?  Her support, too, if we except
Bothwell, was, at that critical time, slender indeed.
Moray, her Prime Minister who, with something
akin to the wild goose instinct of approaching storms,
always managed to get away whenever any disagreeable
work was ready for execution, had left Edinburgh
on the eve of the murder and remained absent.

It is commonly asserted by Mary's adversaries that
Bothwell's trial was a farce; nor do I deny that it
was.  But was Mary responsible for the farce any more
than Bothwell's peers who acquitted him?  One reason
why the trial proved a farce was, that Bothwell
had too many secrets in his keeping--secrets which,
others besides himself, who perhaps were uttering
expressions of pious horror at the crime, were about
as deeply stained with the blood of Darnley as he.  I
do not claim that the Queen was perfectly persuaded
of Bothwell's innocence.  I say, however, that as
matters then stood, there were various reasons that well
might lead her to believe a plot had been formed
against him; some of which were, on the one hand, the
treasonable character of many who were now opposed
to him, and, on the other, Bothwell's strict loyalty.
With regard to this celebrated Earl, it may, I think,
be truly said, that whatever his faults or his vices,
besides being the most powerful, he had proved
himself one of the most loyal of the Scottish nobles.  James
Hepburn (Earl of Bothwell) had inherited many
important offices.  He was Lord Admiral of Scotland,
Keeper of Edinburgh Castle and of Hermitage Castle,
Sheriff of the Western Lothians, and Lieutenant of the
Border.  No Scottish nobleman of his rank was more
sincerely hated by Elizabeth.  As early as 1560,
Throckmorton, the English Ambassador to Paris,
referred to the "glorious, boastful, rash and hazardous"
Bothwell as one who should be watched.  The sword
of Bothwell was never wanting when the cause of his
sovereign required its aid.  A Protestant in religion,
he had stood by Mary of Lorraine in her troubles with
the Anglicizing party, and had intercepted a quantity
of Elizabeth's gold that had been sent to the Scottish
rebels; he had supported Mary herself against the
Moray faction who revolted after her marriage with
Darnley; and he was one of the first to escape from
Holyrood on the night of Rizzio's murder, and arouse
the country in her defence.  In view of these facts, and
of the widespread treachery existing among the nobles,
nobody should be surprised if, at the time of the Kirk
O'Field tragedy, Bothwell, considered in his public
character, stood high in the opinion of the Queen and
was regarded as her strongest and surest defence against
the dangers by which she was encompassed.

A week after Bothwell's acquittal, a curious deed
was accomplished which helps to explain the events
that immediately followed.  All the influential
members except one, who were present at the Parliament
held the same day, signed a document known in history
as the "Ainslie Tavern Band," by which they engaged
to do all in their power to promote a marriage between
Bothwell and the Queen.  In addition to this, if we
accept the testimony of Claude Nau, these nobles sent
a deputation to Mary, who represented that, seeing the
disturbed condition of the realm, it was necessary that
she should marry, and unanimously pressed her to
accept Bothwell for husband.  Mary refused, and
reminded them of the report current about his connection
with her late husband's death.  The deputies had
a ready reply.  Bothwell, they said, had been legally
acquitted by the Council; besides (to quote Nau), "they
who made the request to her do so for the public good
of the realm, and as they were the highest of the
nobility, it would be for them to vindicate a marriage
brought about by their advice and authority."

It is difficult to discover the motives that prompted
some of the nobles to sign this objectionable bond.
In this, very probably, as in many similar instances,
indifferentism, self-interest, or fear of differing from the
stronger party, led a number to subscribe.  But, if we
read the motives of the prime movers in the light of
subsequent events, we can discover the old design for
Mary's overthrow carried out under a new form.  Even
James Anthony Froude, one of the last men in the
world from whom we should expect to hear it, suggests
that several at least of the nobles appended their
names in deliberate treachery to the Queen.

But where the treachery?  I have already pointed
out that the attempts to overthrow Mary's authority
had hitherto failed chiefly because she was beloved by
the people.  To succeed against her, therefore, it was
necessary to bring her into disgrace before the
Scottish nation; and how could this be more successfully
done than by drawing her into a marriage with the
man who was widely believed to be the murderer of
her husband, and then rising up in apparent
indignation against the union?

In view of the facts I have just indicated, it is
not surprising that, having fallen into the hands of
Bothwell, and having been detained by him, Mary
should have made the best of the case by consenting to
marry him.  I do not pretend to decide how far her
consent was obtained by persuasion, or how far by
force.  Both were used.  But it should not be
forgotten, that for more than six mouths after the event,
the public records of Scotland refer to the intercepting
of the Queen by Bothwell as a forcible and treasonable
act, and speak of her as having been compelled,
through fear and other unlawful means, to give her
promise of marriage; and it was only when changed
circumstances demanded a change of tactics, that the
worthies who had hurled her from the throne began
to assert that what had been done by Bothwell had
been done with her consent.  However, leaving aside
the question of violence, see what influence persuasion
itself could have had.  Bothwell was not without
certain favourable qualities.  His sterling loyalty and
great power were invaluable to one in Mary's difficult
circumstances.  But if these were insufficient to gain
his end, there was the agreement signed by the nobles.
"And when," writes Mary, giving an account of her
marriage to her friends in France, "he saw us like to
reject all his suit and offers, in the end he showed us
how far he was proceeded with our whole nobility and
principals of our estate, and what they had promised
him under their handwrits.  If we had cause to be
astonished, we remit us to the judgment of the King,
the Queen, our uncle, and others our friends."  Could
Mary, with her sore experience of their turbulency,
lightly oppose the will of so many of her nobility as
set forth in that celebrated "Band?"  She might
express doubt as to the genuineness of their signatures;
but Bothwell could point out that, although she was
already in his power nearly twelve days, not one whose
name was subscribed thereto had moved hand or foot
to liberate her.

If, placed in these circumstances, without any
indication that protracted resistance would result in her
rescue, she consented to marry Bothwell, is there not
sufficient reason for her action, without the theory of
an old and ungovernable passion for the "rugged
Border Lord"?  It is poor philosophy to invent theories
to account for events of which we already see adequate
cause.  Mary may, or may not, have been infatuated
with Bothwell; but that she was must be proved--if
proved at all--independently of the fact that she
married him.  In the presumption, warranted by law,
reason and common sense, of her innocence, we can
account satisfactorily for her marriage.  Why then resort
to the presumption, warranted neither by law, reason
nor common sense, of her guilt, in order to explain it?

It may seem strange that, whatever her circumstances
were, she should have married a man who had
a wife living.  But it must not be forgotten that the
Catholic Archbishop of St. Andrews had declared
Bothwell's former marriage invalid on the ground of
consanguinity within the forbidden degree, from which
no dispensation had been obtained.  It is true that
at a later date Mary regarded her marriage with
Bothwell as invalid;[#] but it cannot be inferred that
she contracted it in bad faith, for in the meantime
doubts may have arisen as to whether the Archbishop's
decision was founded on fact.--A good deal of uncertainty
still hangs over the value of this decision.  Besides,
she must have learned, what does not appear to
have occurred to the mind of the Archbishop, that,
owing to the ecclesiastical impediment of *raptus*, she
was incapable, no matter how earnestly she may have
desired it, of contracting valid matrimony with
Bothwell, without having first regained his liberty.

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

[#] I do not think it can be any longer doubted that Mary
learned in the course of time to regard her marriage with
Bothwell as invalid; and I am surprised that so eminent
and enlightened a writer as Mr. Skelton should argue that
her "subsequent anxiety to obtain a divorce from Bothwell
proves that she continued to believe that the marriage was
binding."  She was too well versed in Catholic doctrine
and in the history of Henry the Eighth's conflict with Rome
to hope for a divorce from Bothwell, if she believed the
marriage was binding.  At any rate, her instructions to
Bishop Leslie, whom she sent to Rome in 1575, leave it
beyond doubt that it was not a divorce, but merely a
declaration that the marriage was null from the beginning, that
she asked of the Pope.  "Take good heed," she said, "that
the Holy Father shall publicly announce that the pretended
marriage contracted between me and Bothwell, without any
legality but by a pretended procedure is of no (force).  For
although there are many reasons which, as you know, make
it clearly invalid in itself, yet the matter will be much
clearer if his Holiness, acting as the most certain lawyer
of the Church, will come forward to annul it."  (Published
from a Cottonian MS. by the late Rev. Joseph Stevenson,
S.J., in notes to his preface to Claude Nau's narrative.)

.. vspace:: 2

During the nine days that intervened between the
times he was brought back to Edinburgh and the day
of her marriage, no effort was made to stay the
proceedings.  Craig, the minister of St. Giles, to whom it
fell to publish the marriage banns, courageously
declared his disapproval of the union, adding, however, the
significant words that "the best part of the realm did
approve it, either by flattery or by their silence"--words
that show how completely the unfortunate
Queen was left under the control of Bothwell.

But as soon as Mary's fortunes were identified
with Bothwell's by the bond of marriage, the sound
of approaching war was heard.  The Confederate lords
rose in arms to avenge the murder of the late King (so
they said), and to liberate the Queen; and many true
friends of Mary's, little suspecting the real purpose
of the prime movers, arrayed themselves under their
standard.  The two armies met at Carberry Hill; no
battle ensued.  The Confederates promised that if Mary
would separate herself from Bothwell and confide in
them, they would respect her as their true sovereign.
Mary agreed, but once in their power her eyes were
opened.  She was brought back to Edinburgh, flouted
along the way with a banner on which was depicted
the effigy of her murdered husband, and exposed to the
studied insults of a rabble, half frantic from the fierce
harangues of the Knoxonian preachers.  The following
night she was hurried away, and placed in the lonely
castle of Lochleven, situated on a rock in a lake of the
same name, in the County of Kinross.  And that was
how they fulfilled their promises to restore her to her
royal estate,--that was her reward for the confidence
she had placed in their word.

Froude attempts to justify the action of the
Confederates on the ground that Mary, after reaching
Edinburgh, refused to give up Bothwell, and that she wrote
him a letter which was intercepted that same night,
declaring her anxiety to be with him at almost any
cost.  Of course Froude was not the first to offer this
explanation; but no writer who wishes to be classed
among respectable historians would now embody that
unauthenticated gossip in his narrative in the manner
in which Froude has done.  Froude evidently relies
much on the gullibility of his readers; and not
without reason; for how many of those who sweep over his
dramatic pages, captivated by the brilliancy of his
master style, ever suspect that his statements are
reckless and unwarranted?

But did the Confederate lords imprison the Queen
because she refused to give up Bothwell?  We cannot
tell.  The alleged letter to Bothwell is the only
argument for it, and that letter was never afterwards
produced, although the production of it would have been
of incalculable value to her enemies.  The fact is, the
lords gave nobody access to the Queen--not even the
English envoy and what she did, or what she desired,
we know only through those whose interest it was to
make out a case against her.





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.. _`CAPTIVITY--ESCAPE--FLIGHT`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER VII.


.. class:: center medium

   CAPTIVITY.--ESCAPE.--FLIGHT.

.. vspace:: 2

The next step was to force Mary to abdicate in
favour of her infant son.  (To use the child against
the parent monarch had long been a favourite policy
with the Scottish rebel lords.)  A delegation was sent
to her for that purpose, headed by Lord Lindsay, whom
Sir Walter Scott calls "the rudest baron of that rude
age"--fit agent for the tyrranous deed.  Moved partly
by fear that refusal would lead to a violent death, and
partly by the previous representation of some of her
friends that what she did under constraint could not
bind her if she regained her liberty, Mary signed the
cruel document--

   |  "She wrote the words--She stood erect--a queen without a crown,"

and although prudence would prevent her from
uttering them with her lips, we may be sure that in her
heart she spoke the words attributed to her by the
poet:--

   |  "My lords,--my lords," the captive said, "were I but once more free,
   |  With ten good knights on yonder shore to aid my cause and me,
   |  That parchment would I scatter wide to every breeze that blows,
   |  And once more reign a Stewart queen o'er my remorseless foes."
   |

The next important visit the helpless Queen
received in her prison was from the Earl of Moray.  The
cautious Earl had been absent in France during the
troublous times that had elapsed since the murder of
Darnley, but no doubt was well pleased with the
success with which Morton and his associates had been
advancing his cause.  His sister was now dethroned, the
infant James was crowned King, and he himself was
named Regent.  The goal of his ambition seemed near.
He had returned to Scotland in time to receive the
honours prepared for him, and--whatever his motives
were--before formally accepting the Regency, he
visited Mary in Lochleven Castle.  It is thought by many
that he paid this visit with a view to rendering his
footing more secure, as he probably hoped that the
prisoner, recognizing the helplessness of her condition,
would ask him to accept the office of Regent.
Depressed with the gravity of the trials she had just
passed through, the tender-hearted Queen naturally hoped
that her brother's visit would bear some comfort to
her lonely prison.  But she was disappointed.
Ambition (if nothing more) had expelled from Moray's breast
those feelings of natural tenderness with which we
should presume every man to be moved towards a
humiliated and afflicted sister.  Even his friends are slow
to commend his conduct on this occasion.  "That
visit" (writes Robertson, in the History of Scotland) "to
a sister, and a queen in prison, from which he had
neither any intention to relieve her, nor to mitigate
the rigour of her confinement, may be mentioned among
the circumstances which discover the great want of
delicacy and refinement in that age."

As long as the Queen was confined in Lochleven,
her friends in Scotland were obliged to keep quiet, for
it was intimated to them that if they attempted to
liberate her, they would be presented with her head.

The unhappy Queen, cut off from the world in
the bloom and beauty of her youth, looked out from
day to day across the dull waters that encircled her
prison-house, and anxiously surveyed the neighbouring
hills in which, she knew, her faithful friends were
lingering, in hopes of discovering some means of effecting
her deliverance.  After various ineffectual attempts, a
successful plan of escape was at length devised by the
ingenuity of little Willie Douglas, a youth in the
household of the Laird of Lochleven.

Sunday, May 2nd, was the day chosen for what
proved to be a successful attempt to escape.  Lords
Seton, Beton and George Douglas, with a number of
followers, were lingering about the shore, near the
village of Kinross, ready to receive the Queen and convey
her to a place of safety.  Within the castle prison all
preliminaries were arranged, but the lowest point of
the wall that Mary could reach was higher than she
could venture to leap from, and the keys of the gate
were scrupulously guarded by the Laird.  Let us hear
Nau relate how the problem was solved:--

"An hour before supper-time, the Queen retired
into her own chamber.  She put on a red kirtle
belonging to one of her women, and over it she covered
herself with one of her own mantles.  Then she went
into the garden to talk with the old lady whence she
could see the people who were walking on the other
side of the loch.

"Everything being now ready, the Queen, who, of
set purpose, had caused the supper to be delayed until
that time, now ordered it to be served.  When the
supper was finished, the Laird (whose ordinary custom
it was to wait upon her at table), went to sup along
with his wife and the rest of the household, in a hall
on the ground story.  A person called Draisdel,[#] who
had the chief charge in the establishment, and who
generally remained in the Queen's room to keep her
safe, went out along with the Laird, and amused
himself by playing at hand ball.

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

[#] When Draisdel--the original, no doubt, of Scott's
imperturbable Dryfesdale in "The Abbott"--was informed by
the two young girls that the queen was missing and had
probably escaped, "he was amused at this, and said he
would soon find her; he would give her leave to escape if
she could.  At one time he whistled, at another he cut
capers."  Romance must have been unfair in painting him
a phlegmatic steward.

.. vspace:: 2

"In order to free herself from the two young girls
who remained with her, Her Majesty in the meantime
went into an upper room, above her own, occupied by
her surgeon, on the plea that she wished to say her
prayers; and, indeed, she did pray very devoutly,
recommending herself to God, who then showed His pity
and care for her.  In this room she left her mantle,
and, having put on a hood, such as is worn by the
country-women of the district, she made one of her
domestics, who was to accompany her, dress herself in
the same fashion.  The other *femme-de-chambre*
remained with the two young girls to amuse them, for they
had become very inquisitive as to the cause of the
Queen's lengthened absence.

"While the laird was at supper, William Douglas,
as he was handing him his drink, secretly removed the
key of the great gate, which lay on the table before
him.  He promptly gave notice of this to the Queen,
in order that she should come down stairs
instantaneously; and immediately afterwards as he came out
of the door he gave the sign to the young woman who
was to accompany Her Majesty, as she was looking
towards the window.  This being understood, the Queen
came down forthwith; but as she was at the bottom
of the steps she noticed that several of the servants
of the household were passing backwards and forwards
in the court, which induced her to stand for some time
the door of the stairs.  At last, however, in the
sight of the whole of them, she crossed the courtyard,
and having gone out by the great gate, William Douglas
locked it with the key and threw it into a cannon
placed near at hand.  The Queen and her *femme-de-chambre*
had stood for some time close to the wall, fearing
that they should be seen from the windows of the
house; but at length they got into the vessel, and the
Queen laid herself down under the boatman's seat.  She
had been advised to do this, partly to escape notice,
partly to escape being hit, if a cannon shot should be
sent after her.  Several washerwomen and other
domestics were amusing themselves in a garden near the loch
when Her Majesty got into the boat.  One of the
washerwomen even recognized her, and made a sign to
William Douglas that she was aware of it, but William
called out to her aloud, by name, telling her to hold
her tongue.

"As the boat was nearing the other side, William
saw one of George's servants, but failed to recognize
him, as he was armed.  Apprehending some fraud, he
hesitated to come nearer the shore; at length, however,
the servant having spoken, he landed, and then Her
Majesty was met and welcomed by George Douglas and
John Beton, who had broken into the laird's stables
and seized his best horses.  Being mounted as best she
might, the Queen would not set off until she had seen
William Douglas on horse also--he who had hazarded
so much for her release.  She left her *femme-de-chambre*
behind her, but with direction that she should follow
her as soon as she could have an outfit."

Being joined by her friends on shore, the Queen
hurried south, and, having crossed the Firth at Queen's
Ferry, reached Lord Seton's house at Niddry, about
midnight.  Thence she proceeded to Hamilton, where
she remained until the 13th of May collecting her
forces.  The plan was, to place the Queen in safety in
Dunbarton Castle, on the Clyde, and then muster all
her forces for the overthrow of the Regent.  It is not
difficult now to see that her friends made a fatal blunder
in not conveying her directly to Dunbarton from
Lochleven.  In Dunbarton she would be safe, and her
followers could take time to properly organize.  As it was,
those who rallied round her standard during her stay
at Hamilton were equal in number to the army under
command of the Regent at Glascow.  Her two main
supports in the North, Lord Ogilvy and the powerful
Earl of Huntly, had not yet succeeded in joining her;
but the Earls of Argyle, Cassillis, Rothes and Eglinton,
Lords Seton, Borthwick, Somerville, Livingstone,
Claud Hamilton, Herries, Boyd, Yester, Ross and
others, were already at her side.  Bravery and chivalry
were in her ranks, but organization and efficient
generalship were wanting.

The fact that, notwithstanding the persistent and
ingenious efforts of her enemies to utterly defame her,
so many nobles (most of whom were Protestants),
hurried to her support as soon as her escape was made
known, draws the following remarks from her
Protestant biographer, Mr. Hosack--

"That in spite of all the efforts of Moray and his
faction, and in spite of all the violence of the preachers,
she--the Catholic Queen of Scotland, the daughter
of the hated house of Guise, the reputed mortal enemy
of their religion--should now, after being maligned as
the most abandoned of her sex, find her best friends
among her Protestant subjects, appears at first sight
inexplicable.  A phenomenon so strange admits of only
one explanation.  If, throughout her reign, she had not
loyally kept her promises of security and toleration to
her Protestant subjects, they assuredly would not in
her hour of need have risked their lives and fortunes
in her defence."

On their march to Dunbarton the Queen's forces
were met by those of the Regent at Langside, and
thrown into confusion.  Attended by three brave
nobles--Lords Herries, Fleming and Livingstone--and little
Willie Douglas, she hurried towards the south, and,
after a wearisome journey, reached Dundrennen Abbey,
in Galloway.  Here she resolved on a step that was the
greatest mistake of her life.  The majority of the
Scottish people were loyal to her, and only needed time to
muster, but in spite of the advice, persuasions and
entreaties of Lord Herries and her other attendants, she
determined to cross over to England.  Elizabeth's
recent expressions of friendship and promises of help
had blinded the Scottish Queen; and her own
generous nature, which would have instantly prompted her
to assist, as far as she could, a sister queen in distress,
rendered her for the time incapable of suspecting that
Elizabeth could betray her in her hour of greatest need.
She stepped forth from Scottish soil, never to set foot
on it again, and steered across the Firth to the shores
of England.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`IN THE HANDS OF ELIZABETH`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER VIII.


.. class:: center medium

   IN THE HANDS OF ELIZABETH.

.. vspace:: 2

Having landed in England, the Scottish Queen
was, by order of Elizabeth, conveyed to Carlisle Castle,
and there placed in custody of Sir Francis Knollys.
She hastened to send Lord Herries to the English
court, to request that Elizabeth, according to her
promise, would help restore her to her throne; or at least
would give her liberty to pass out of the kingdom and
seek help elsewhere.  Elizabeth could have pursued
either course with honour, but she pursued neither;
and as long as right is right and wrong is wrong--as
long as justice is not synonymous with temporal
advantage--so long will it remain impossible to frame a
defence for Elizabeth Tudor in her conduct toward
Mary Stewart.  Her hostility to Mary, and her support
of Mary's enemies, veil them as she would, were
evident throughout the subsequent proceedings.

Mary's friends in Scotland were rising in large
numbers and preparing to take the field against the
Regent.  Elizabeth, leading Mary to believe that she
would reinstate her, prevailed on her to request her
partizans to desist from warfare; the Regent in the
meantime continued his work of destruction against
those who had fought for the Queen.  Elizabeth
offered to act as umpire between the Regent's party and
Mary.  The whole affair, so Mary was given to
understand, would turn out to her profit.  Thomas Howard,
Duke of Norfolk; Thomas Ratcliff, Earl of Sussex, and
Sir Ralph Sadler, were nominated commissioners by
Elizabeth to hear the charge of political misgovernment
which the Regent would bring against Mary.  No
charge affecting Mary's personal honour was to be admitted.

The conference opened at York, in October, 1568.
Of course it was mere fiction to speak of Mary's
misgovernment.  But would Cecil and Elizabeth lose
their opportunity of disgracing, as far as they could,
the Scottish Queen, in the eyes of the English people,
and of rendering a compromise with her enemies
in Scotland impossible?  Such could hardly be
expected.  The Conference was transferred to
Westminster, and, contrary to the conditions on which Mary
had permitted her case to be referred to a commission,
Moray was assured that he might bring forward
accusations against her honour--in fact he was urged or
encouraged to do so.  He then accused her of being the
author, with Bothwell, of her late husband's murder,
and of having intended a like fate for her infant son;
and in support of his charge he produced the
celebrated documents known as the Casket Letters,
consisting of letters and sonnets which, he claimed, had
been written by Mary to Bothwell, and had fallen into
the hands of the Earl of Morton, shortly after the
surrender at Carberry Hill.  Mary's commissioners
protested against this violation of the conditions on which
the conference had been opened, and demanded that,
as Moray had been admitted to Elizabeth's presence,
so should their Queen.  Otherwise, they maintained,
the conference was closed.  Cecil disregarded their
protests, and the Regent placed his accusations and
papers before the commissioners and Lords of the Privy
Council.  Mary, hearing this, instructed her
commissioners to declare that Moray himself and his faction
were guilty of Darnley's murder, and that if she were
furnished with the originals or even with copies of the
Casket Letters, and admitted to the presence of
Elizabeth as her accusers had been, she should prove them
to be liars, and should convict certain persons of their
number as the real murderers.  But she was refused
admittance to Queen Elizabeth.  As soon as she was
informed of the refusal, she directed her commissioners
to resume the conference, and to throw back the charge
of murder on Moray and his associates.  But the
conference was not resumed, nor was Mary furnished with
the originals of the letters that had been brought
forward as evidence against her honour.  Elizabeth, Cecil
and Moray shrank from a fair investigation of the case;
and Moray, with his "Casket" and "Originals," and
with £5,000 of Elizabeth's gold in his pocket, was
hurried back to Scotland.  Mary, however, was left as
before--a prisoner whom Elizabeth would neither help
to regain her throne, nor permit to pass out of the
realm.  Matters now seemed to stand in the condition
in which Elizabeth had hoped to place them.  The
breach between Mary and the Regent's party had been
rendered irreparable; and the English nation--in which
she had had so many adherents--had been taught (so
at least her enemies hoped), to regard the Scottish
Queen as a criminal and abandoned woman.

The celebrated Casket Letters demand at least a
brief consideration.  If they are genuine, Mary was
undoubtedly implicated in the murder of her husband.
If they are forged or interpolated, they are not only
worthless as evidence against her, but are a crowning
proof of her innocence.  Much of the matter of these
letters might have been written by Mary--and probably
was written by her, though not to Bothwell--without
being evidence that she shared in the murder.
It is commonly believed by her friends that the Casket
Letters are partly made up of letters written by her
to Darnley.  It is well known that, while she was in
Lochleven, Holyrood was ransacked by the Morton-Moray
faction, and that her papers, as well as those
which Darnley may have left there, were at their
disposal.  They could easily select those letters which
could be most readily doctored up so as to bear a
sinister meaning, and those which, as they stood, would
appear criminal if addressed to other than Darnley.
There is, however, one letter, or at least part of one
letter, that could not be written by Mary if she was
innocent, namely, letter No. 2, represented as written
to Bothwell from Glasgow, while she was visiting
Darnley in his sickness.

With regard to these letters, I would say, in the
first place, that they cannot be adduced as conclusive
evidence of Mary's guilt, because, at best, their
genuineness is doubtful.  I would say, in the second place, that
at any rate as far as the incriminating portions are
concerned, I cannot regard them as other than forged; and
here in brief are my principal reasons for rejecting
them:--

First.  Because, in view of the ill-treatment to
which in other things she was subjected, and of the
unfair tactics used against her, by those interested in
producing the Casket Letters, no accusation proceeding
from that same source against her honour as a
woman, can be accepted, unless it is clearly substantiated.
It can hardly be controverted that, whatever
Mary's faults may have been, the Morton-Moray
faction had already treated her dishonourably and
unjustly.  They had plotted with foreigners against her
before ever the Bothwell imbroglio arose; they had tried
to brand her with dishonour at the time of the Rizzio
murder; they had broken their promise, given at Carberry
Hill, and had cast her into prison; they had
brutally forced her to abdicate, and then, in open
Parliament, solemnly professed that she had voluntarily
resigned.  Besides, the Earl of Morton, whose testimony
is the principal evidence in support of the genuineness
of the Casket Letters, was probably the most vicious
and unscrupulous man in Scotland.  Can the testimony
of such men,--men who had acknowleged that they
had gone too far to recede,--given to protect their most
cherished interests, to defend perhaps their very lives,
be accepted as conclusive evidence, where there are so
many evident reasons to suspect their veracity?

Second.  Because these letters, and these letters
only, exhibit in Mary an indelicacy of language, and a
jestful levity in treating of crime, which are
altogether foreign to her character as learned from
reliable and authentic sources.

Third.  Because a score, or thereabouts, of the
most distinguished Scottish peers, in the instructions
which they issued in September, 1568, to Mary's
commissioners in England, declared that at least the
incriminating portions of these letters were not in the
Queen's handwriting.  This valuable document recounts
clearly and briefly the history of the disturbance
which had ended in Mary's overthrow, and exposes,
according to the view of the subscribers, the deceitful
conduct of her enemies.  I am not aware of any
external evidence bearing on the Casket Letters that can
compare in force and authority with this document.
Whoever is acquainted with the history of the Scottish
nobility of that time, must admit that the men
whose names are subscribed thereto were at least as
honest and honourable as the leaders of the Regent's
party; and that the vindication of the Queen's honour
would be no more profitable to them than her complete
overthrow would be to those who had usurped her
power and authority.  Now these instructions state, in
express terms, what many other evidences, both
internal and external, have since gone to establish, that,
however much of the Casket literature was Mary's the
compromising parts had been interpolated by her
enemies.  "If it be alleged" (thus the instructions) "that
Her Majesty's writing produced in Parliament should
prove culpable, it may be answered that there is no
place mention made in it by which she may be
convicted, albeit it were her own hand-writing--*which it
is not*--and also the same is devised by themselves in
some principal and substantial clauses."

Fourth.  Because the papers that were passed off
as the originals in Mary's hand-writing were kept out
of sight and, far as can be known, were seen, neither
then nor since, by anybody except the select few at
Hampton Court; and though Mary repeatedly
demanded them, they were never shown her.

Fifth.  Another document, represented as a
warrant from the Queen requiring the lords to sign the
celebrated Anslie tavern "band" for her marriage with
Bothwell, was said to be in the Casket also, and was
furtively shown in the Conference at York, but was
never produced in the official enquiry at Westminster.
The suppression of such a document, which, by reason
of its public nature, could easily have been proved
genuine, if it really were so, seems to admit of only one
explanation--it could not stand the light of criticism,
it was forged.  But if the other Casket papers were
genuine, Mary's accusers had no need of forged ones.

Sixth.  The Casket Letter number two, commonly
known as the Glascow letter (because it was supposed
to have been written to Bothwell from Glasgow while
Mary was visiting her sick husband there) contains a
report of a conversation between Mary and Darnley
which corresponds so closely with another document
adduced eighteen months later in evidence against the
Queen, that the one must have been copied from the
other.  A brief explanation is necessary to make the
importance of this circumstance clear.  A certain
Robert Crawfurd was in attendance on Darnley at Glasgow
when Mary went thither to comfort him.  At the
request of the Earl of Lennox, Darnley's father, Crawfurd
(so he states), noted down the conversations that
passed between the royal couple; but, not being present
at them, he learned what had been said only from the
account which Darnley afterwards gave him.  Also in
the letter number two is recounted one of Darnley's
plaintive discourses.  It is clear, therefore, that if it
could be shown that the conversation embodied in this
letter was really held, something would be done to give
an air of genuineness to the whole document.  Hence,
Crawfurd was called upon for an account of what had
passed between Mary and Darnley, and his deposition
was brought forward by the Regent and his associates
before the English commissioners.  Now, it turns out
that Crawfurd's deposition and the portion of the
Casket Letter that covers the same ground, agree almost
verbally--agree, in fact, so wonderfully that, all the
circumstances considered, it is impossible to resist the
conclusion that either one must have been copied from
the other, and that a fraud was practised somewhere,
for both documents were represented as original.  I
have said, "all the circumstances considered."  We must
remember that reporters, especially if they are not
skilled stenographers, recording a speech, even, while it is
being delivered, exhibit a considerable divergence of
vocabulary and phraseology in their respective reports.
But here both Crawfurd and Mary reported from
memory; in fact, Crawfurd had to struggle against the
vagaries of two memories--his own and Darnley's.  This
is what makes the agreement suspiciously strange.
More than that; Crawfurd's deposition was written in
Scots, while the Casket letter was written in French,
and afterwards translated into Scots; and it is these
two documents which, in spite of so many causes why
they should widely differ, are found to agree so closely.

Here are the passages in question:--

.. vspace:: 1

.. class:: center

   *Deposition of Crawfurd*.

.. vspace:: 1

"Ye asked me what I ment
by the crueltye specified in
my lettres; yat proceedethe
of you onelye, that wille not
accept mye offres and
repentance.  I confess that I
have failed in som thingis,
and yet greater faultes have
bin made to you sundrye
tymes, which ye have
forgiven.  I am but yonge, and
ye will saye ye have
forgiven me diverse tymes.
Maye not a man of mye age,
for lack of counselle, of
which I am very destitute,
falle twise or thrise, and yet
repent, and be chastised bye
experience?  If I have made
any faile that ye wul think
a faile, howsoever its be, I
crave your pardone, and
protest that I shall never
faile againe.  I desire no
other thinge but that we
may be together as husband
and wife.  And if ye will not
consent hereto, I desire
never to ris futhe from this
bed.  Therefore I pray yow,
give me an answer hereunto.
God knoweth how I
am punished for making
mye god of yow, and for
having no other thought but
on yow.  And if at ainie
tyme I offend yow, ye are
the cause; for that when
anie offendethe me, if for
mye refuge I might open
mye minde to you, I would
speak to no other; but when
ainie thing is spoken to me,
and ye and I not beinge as
husband and wife ought to
be, necessitee compelleth me
to kepe it in my brest," etc.

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: center

   *Alleged Letter of Mary's*.

.. class:: center

(*Translated from French
into Scots.*)

.. vspace:: 1

"Ye ask me quhat I mene
be the crueltie conteint in
my letter; it is of you alone,
that will not accept my
offeris and repentance.  I
confess that I have faillit
but not into that quihilk I
ever denyit; and sicklyke
hes faillit to sindrie of your
subjeetis, quhilk ye have
forgiven.  I am young.  Ye
will say that ye have
forgiven me ofttymes, and yit
yat I return to my faultis.
May not ane man of my age,
for lack of counsell, fall
twyse or thryse, or in lack
of his promeis, and at last
repent himself, and be
chastisit be experience?  If I
may obtain pardoun, I
proteste I shall never make
faulte agane.  And I craif na
uther thing bot yat we may
be at bed and buird togidder
as husband and wyfe; and
gif ye will not consent
heirunto I sail nevir ryse out of
yis bed.  I pray yow tell me
yoor resolution.  God knawis
how I am punischit for
making my god of yow, and for
having na uther thoucht bot
on yow; and gif at ony tyme
I offend yow, ye are the
caus; because when ony
offendis me, gif for my refuge
I micht playne unto yow,
I would speike it unto na
uther body; but quhen I heir
ony thing, not being familiar
with you, necessitie
constraine me to keip it in my
briest," etc.

.. vspace:: 2

It will be noticed that, not only are the words the
same (the differences of spelling do not affect the case),
but the clauses and phrases occupy the same relative
positions in both documents.  And yet we are asked
to believe that these are independent reports of the
same discourse, written down from memory.

A distinguished Scottish writer has summed up
the question thus: "That Mary and Darnley should
have held a long private conversation on many topics
of no particular importance; that after Mary was gone
Darnley should have repeated the whole conversation
to Crawfurd; that Crawfurd either then or eighteen
months later should have written out a report in Scots
of what Darnley had said; that Mary should have
written within twenty-four hours a letter in French in
which she also reported the conversation; that Mary's
letter should have been afterwards translated into
Scots; and that the Scots translation of Mary's letter
should have been found to agree, word for word, with
Crawfurd's report,--this series of marvels is more than
the most devout credulity can stomach."  (John
Skelton, C.B., LL.D.)

Seventh.  The history of these letters makes it
tolerably clear that it was many months after they were
said to have been discovered by Morton, before they
took definite form; in other words, that they were
being concocted, at least, to use the words of the loyal
nobility, "in some principal and substantial clauses."  Even
as late as the month of August, 1567, the rebel
lords reiterated that Bothwell had laid violent hands on
the Queen, and that they had risen up to rescue her
from his thraldom.  But on December 4th, the same
lords declared, as we read in the Act of the Secret
Counsel, that they had taken arms against her because
she was an accomplice of Bothwell's in the murder of
her husband, as shown "be divers hir previe lettres
written and subscrivit with hir awen hand, and sent
by hir to James Erll Boithwell."  This flat contradiction
between the statements of the same parties arouses
the strongest suspicion of treachery.  Nor will it avail
to say that in their excessive charity, they had for a
time chosen to make liars of themselves rather than
unnecessarily reveal the vices of their former Queen;
for, according to the deposition of Morton, at least
according to what Mary's adversaries claim to be Morton's
deposition, the Casket containing the incriminating
documents was taken from a servant of Bothwell's on
June 20th--nearly two weeks after the Confederate
lords had taken up arms.  Again, the minutes of the
Secret Counsel describe the letters as "written and
subscrit with hir (Mary's) awen hand, and sent by hir
to James Erll Boithwell."  Yet the letters exhibited
at Hampton Court nearly a year later, were neither
signed by Mary, nor addressed to Bothwell.

Eighth.  The Countess of Lennox, Darnley's
mother, has indirectly furnished evidence against the
genuineness of the Casket Letters that can scarcely be
valued too highly.  For some years she had ceased to
be on friendly terms with the Queen.  It was her
husband, the Earl, who had demanded that Bothwell
should be tried for the murder of their son; and by
reason of the suspicions which fanatical clamour and
cunning treachery had attached to Mary's conduct, the
bereaved parents had naturally entertained bitter
feelings for their royal daughter-in-law.  But the villainy
which had brought the unfortunate Queen to an English
prison was at length revealed; close acquaintance with
the Regent Morton, the quondam leading spirit of the
rebel faction, afforded the Countess opportunities of
discovering facts that neither she nor her husband had
known during the strife of 1567; and, in November,
1575, she comforted the imprisoned exile by a letter
in which, among other things, she said:--

"I beseech Your Majesty, fear not, but trust in
God that all shall be well; the treachery of your
traitors is known better than before.  I shall always play
my part to Your Majesty's content, willing God, so as
may ten to both our comforts."  "*The treachery of
your traitors is known better than before.*"  Could the
mother of the murdered King change front and write
thus, if she believed that Mary had written the Casket
Letter number two, in all its parts?





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.. _`THE QUEEN OF SCOTS DETAINED A PRISONER`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER IX.


.. class:: center medium

   THE QUEEN OF SCOTS DETAINED A PRISONER.

.. vspace:: 2

Mary's cause, as far as Elizabeth was concerned,
was now hopeless, although the unfortunate Queen was
not given to understand as much.  She was removed
from Carlisle, which was too near her English friends
and her faithful Scottish Borderers.  The danger of
leaving her at Carlisle is thus hinted by Mr. Skelton,
where he describes the effect she produced on Sir
Francis Knollys:--

"When she first flashed upon him in her dishevelled
beauty and strong anger--travel-stained though
she was from her long ride after the Langside panic--the
puritanic veteran warmed into unpremeditated
welcome.  When we read the remarkable letters in which
he describes the fugitive Queen, we cease to wonder
at the disquietude of Elizabeth; a glance, a smile, a
few cordial words, from such a woman might have
set all the northern counties in a blaze.  The cold and
canny Scot, whose metaphysical and theological ardour
contrast so curiously with his frugal common sense,
could stolidly resist the charm; but the Catholic nobles,
the Border chivalry, would have responded without a
day's delay to her summons."

It will not be amiss to give, as recorded from time
to time in his own words, the impression which the
fugitive and impassioned Queen made on Sir Francis
during the short time she was under his care.

"We found her," he writes, "in her chamber of
presence ready to receive us, when we declared unto
her Your Highness' (Queen Elizabeth's) sorrowfulness
for her lamentable misadventure.  We found her in
answer to have an eloquent tongue and a discreet head;
and it seemeth by her doings she hath stout courage
and liberal heart adjoining thereto."  Later: "This
lady and princess is a notable woman.  She seemeth
to regard no ceremonious honour besides the
acknowledgment of her estate royal.  She showeth a
disposition to speak much, to be bold, to be pleasant, to be
very familiar.  She showeth a great desire to be
revenged of her enemies.  She shows a readiness to
expose herself to all perils in hope of victory.  She
desires much to hear of hardiness and valiancy,
commending by name all approved hardy men of her
country, although they be her enemies; and she concealeth
no cowardice even in her friends.  The thing she most
thirsteth after is victory; and it seemeth to be indifferent
to her to have her enemies diminished either by
the sword of her friends, or by the liberal promises and
rewards of her purse, or by division and quarrels among
themselves.  So that for victory's sake, pain and peril
seem pleasant to her; and in respect of victory, wealth
and all things seem to her contemptuous and vile.  Now
what is to be done with such a lady and princess, and
whether such a lady and princess is to be nourished in
our bosom, or whether it be good to halt and dissemble
with such a lady, I refer to your judgment.  The
plainest way is the most honorable in my opinion."  Yes;
"the plainest way is the most honourable," but "to
halt and dissemble" was esteemed the most profitable.
Again Knollys writes: "She does not dislike my plain
dealing.  Surely she is a rare woman; for as no flattery
can lightly abuse her, so no plain speech seemeth to
offend her, if she think the speaker thereof to be an
honest man."  If we knew nothing of Mary but what
we have learned from the pen of this cold and critical
adversary, who saw her only when misfortune and
disappointment might well have soured and irritated her
nature, yet found her "eloquent, discreet, bold,
pleasant, very familiar," unmoved by flattery and unruffled
by "plain speech," we could legitimately infer that
fascinating beyond all ordinary measure must have been
the days of her unclouded girlhood in France, and even
the less cheerful years of her prosperity in Holyrood;[#]
and we could well understand why Elizabeth--who
hated her for her claim to the English throne and for
her surpassing personal beauty--was anxious to place
her as far as possible beyond reach of her friends and
sympathizers.  The necessity of doing this was
emphasized nearly a year later, when Mary was at
Tutbury in charge of the Earl of Shrewsbury, by a certain
friend of Cecil's named Nicholas White, whose curiosity
had lead him to seek an audience with the far-famed
captive.  In a letter to Cecil, which, as its parenthetical
clauses clearly demonstrate, was intended also for the
eye of Elizabeth, he wrote:--

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

[#] Randolph, the English Ambassador to Scotland, has
left us, in a letter to Queen Elizabeth, a lively picture of
the Scottish queen at the age of twenty-two.  He had waited
on her at St. Andrews, whither she had withdrawn to pass
a few quiet days with some friends, and he describes how
good-humouredly she upbraided him for interrupting their
merriment with his "grave matters."  Among other things
he wrote:--"Immediately after the receipt of your letter
to this Queen, I repaired to St. Andrews.  So soon as time
served, I did present the same, which being read, and as
appeared in her countenance very well liked, she said little
to me for that time.  The next day she passed wholly in
mirth, nor gave any appearance to any of the contrary;
nor would not, as she said openly, but be quiet and merry.
Her grace lodged in a merchant's house, her train were
very few; and there was small repair from any part.  Her
will was, that for the time that I did tarry, I should dine
and sup with her.  Your Majesty was aftertimes dranken
unto by her, at dinners and suppers.  Having in this sort
continued with her grace Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday, I
thought it time to take occasion to utter unto her grace
that which last I received in command from your Majesty,
by Mr. Secretary's letter....  I had no sooner spoken
these words, but she saith, I see now well that you are
weary of this company and treatment.  I sent for you to be
merry, and to see how like a Bourgeois wife I live with my
little troop; and you will interrupt our pastime with your
great and grave matters.  I pray you, sir, if you weary
here, return home to Edinburgh, and keep your gravity and
great embassade until the Queen come thither; for I
assure you, you shall not get her here, nor I know not
myself where she is gone; you see neither cloth nor estate,
nor such appearance that you may think that there is a
queen here; nor I would not that you should think that I
am she, at St. Andrews, that I was at Edinburgh."

.. vspace:: 2

"If I (who in the sight God bear the Queen's
majesty a natural love beside my bounded duty) might
give advice, there should be very few subjects in this
land have access to, or conference with, this lady.  For
besides that she is a goodly personage (and yet in truth
not comparable to our Sovereign), she hath withal an
alluring grace, a pretty Scottish speech, and a
searching wit, clouded with mildness."  We are indebted to
Mr. White for the following piece of information also:
"Her hair of itself is black; and yet Mr. Knollys told
me that she wears hair of sundry colours."

From this time forward Mary's history is the
history of sustaining hope and depressing disappointment.
Hopes of an accommodation with her rebel subjects were
held out to her by Elizabeth; non-committal promises
of her restoration were made; kill-time negotiations
were sometimes entered into.  It is distressing to read
the history of her nineteen years of imprisonment.  She
never ceased to hope for her release, and yet her hopes
were repeatedly disappointed.  She continued to write
Elizabeth in a friendly tone, hoping, no doubt, to touch
a chord of sympathy in her cousin's heart; but she never
cringed, she never abased herself.  The proud spirit
of her forefathers, which she had so fully inherited,
lent courage and dignity to her utterances.  Various
plans were laid for her rescue; but her great distance
from any point from which she could be carried out
of the realm, rendered them ineffectual.  She was
removed from place to place, more than a dozen times.
The close confinement and the advance of years began
to tell on her once lithe and beautiful form.  And,
indeed, what suffering could be more terrible to a
young woman of Mary's lively temperament, than
prolonged confinement under a rigorous regime and
complete separation from the society of friends.  No
wonder the Bard of Ayr indignantly addresses Elizabeth:--

   |  The weeping blood in woman's breast
   |    Was never known to thee,
   |  Nor the balm that draps on wound of woe
   |    Frae woman's pitying e'e.
   |

If Mary continued to languish in an English
prison, it was not because the majority of the Scottish
people had not the good-will to liberate her and place
her on the throne.  But now, as in the days of her
imprisonment in Lochleven Castle, the very love they
bore her paralyzed their efforts in her behalf.  A
miscarried attempt at rescuing her would most probably
involve the loss of her life.  Elizabeth had received
assurance that Mary would never be allowed to pass
the precincts of her prison alive.  The most
distinguished and powerful nobles in Scotland--Argyll,
Huntly, Chatelheraut, Athol, Herries, and many
others--continued to support her cause, and there is
hardly room to doubt, that if Scotland had been left to
settle its own internal disputes, Mary would have
been restored.  But Elizabeth was resolved that
Scotland should not settle its own disputes.  She
laid aside the mask, when she could no longer wear
it, and, according as the need arose, sent her
soldiers into Scotland to help overpower the friends
of Mary.  From the day on which Moray returned to
Scotland from the Westminster farce, the Queen's party
began to gain strength.  But what could this avail,
since Elizabeth was determined that the cause of the
helpless captive should not prosper.  The Regent was
shot at Linlithgow in January, 1570, and the Earl of
Lennox, who succeeded him in the Regency, gave
notice to the Ambassador of Elizabeth that English aid
would be necessary for the maintenance of his position.
The aid, of course, was granted, and the English
auxiliaries, under Sussex, by the severity which they
exercised against the adherents of the Queen, fully
demonstrated their claim to the title of "auld
enemies."  Mary's party had done enough to prove their loyalty,
but when Elizabeth unreservedly cast her lot with
the opposite side, they could not hope for permanent
success, and they ultimately came to terms with the
Regent.

The disgust which Moray's conduct towards his
sister had excited among the moderate Scottish nobles is
apparent in the action of two leading personages,
shortly after the breaking up of the Westminster
Conference.  William Maitland of Lethington--the "flower
of Scottish wit"--and William Kirkaldy of Grange--the
"mirror of chivalry"--had been attached to the
Regent's party, although it is certain that at least
Maitland aimed at a compromise with the Queen and
opposed extreme measures.  Seeing that a middle course was
no longer possible, they unequivocally went over to the
Queen's party.  Kirkaldy was Governor of Edinburgh
Castle, and in April, 1571, Maitland, broken down in
body, but mentally the recognized leader of the Queen's
men, passed within its walls.  From this inacessible
height Kirkaldy could look down with indifference on
the futile efforts of the Regent's forces to dislodge him,
and Maitland could send forth to his associates his
letters of advice and encouragement.  Throughout the
country the opposing forces met in many a bloody
conflict.  Lennox was killed in an engagement with
Huntly in 1571; the Earl of Mar, who succeeded him,
died the following year, and the Regency passed
into the hands of the fierce and licentious Earl of
Morton.  Morton renewed the conflict with redoubled
vigour.  But Kirkaldy's position remained impregnable.
"Mons. Meg," the old monster gun, so famous
in Scottish history, continued to roar defiance from the
ramparts of the Castle, and the Standard of Mary still
floated over David's tower.  But the old story was
repeated; English troops were sent from Berwick to
reinforce Morton; and on May the 9th, 1573, the Castle
surrendered.

In England the sympathy for the fallen Queen had
already burst forth in sudden but ill-directed revolt,
under the leadership of two of the most ancient and
powerful peers of the realm,--the Earls of Northumberland
and Westmorland.  Slight success at the outset
was soon succeeded by disorder and disaster.  The Earls
fled to Scotland, whence Westmorland passed safely to
Flanders.  Northumberland was taken by the Regent
Moray, and was afterwards, to the great disgust and
humiliation of all honest Scotsmen, handed over to
Elizabeth by the Regent Morton, in return for a suitable
sum of money.  Needless to say the Earl was put to
death.  Sir Walter Scott, always ready to view
transaction from the standpoint of chivalry, makes the
following reference to this bargain:--

"The surrender of this unfortunate nobleman to
England was a great stain, not only on the character
of Morton, but on that of Scotland in general, which
had hitherto been accounted a safe and hospitable place
of refuge for those whom misfortune or political
faction had exiled from their own country.  It was the
more particularly noticed because when Morton
himself had been forced to fly to England, on account of
his share in Rizzio's murder, he had been courteously
received and protected by the unhappy nobleman whom
he had now delivered up to his fate.  It was an
additional and aggravating circumstance, that it was a
Douglas who had betrayed a Percy,[#] and when the
annals of their ancestors were considered, it was found
that while they presented many acts of open hostility,
many instances of close and firm alliance, they never
till now had afforded an example of any act of treachery
exercised by one family against the other.  To complete
the infamy of the transaction, a sum of money
was paid to the Regent on this occasion, which he
divided with Douglas of Lochleven."  (*Tales of a Grandfather*.)


[#] Northumberland was a Percy; Westmoreland, a Nevil.


On February 4th, 1568, Mary passed to the care of
the Earl of Shrewsbury, who was destined to be her
keeper for the next fifteen years.  In November, 1570,
she was brought to Sheffield where she was detained,
almost without interruption, for fourteen years.
Personally, Shrewsbury bore no ill-will to his charge.  He
appears to have been an upright and cultured man,
and was evidently disposed to treat his prisoner with
the consideration and leniency her rank and misfortune
would seem to demand.  But he was a loyal subject
of Elizabeth's, and until she should be pleased to
relieve him of his unpleasant duty, he would faithfully
execute her will in regard to the restrictions which she
thought fit to place on the liberty of the Scottish
Queen.

Great as were the bodily and mental sufferings
which close confinement, disappointed hopes and the
ingratitude of men produced, they would have been
greatly aggravated, had Mary only known by what a
slender thread her life sometimes hung.  Elizabeth
entered into negotiations with successive Regents, from
Moray to Morton, for the delivery of Mary into their
hands.  The remonstrations of the French and Spanish
Ambassadors, who represented that such an action
would be equivalent to condemning her to instant
death, arrested the progress of the first negotiations till
the death of Moray brought them to an abrupt ending.
During the regency of Mar, the project was revived and
almost realized, the necessary condition that Mary
should be quickly put to death having been agreed to
by the Regent and Morton.  But here the death of
another Regent intervened to save the doomed Queen
from assassination or judicial murder.  On the death
of Mar, Morton, who had hitherto been the real,
though not the nominal Regent, assumed the reins
of government.  He had no scruples about executing
the will of Elizabeth, but he demanded a higher
price for his services than she cared to pay.  Morton
and Elizabeth were well matched; they both knew
the value of money, and were unwilling to close
a bargain that would not promise to be a safe
business transaction.  Morton was, no doubt, confident
that he would not be hampered by competition in the
work he was undertaking, and that he could exact
what wages he pleased for his expert labour.
Killegrew, the agent of Elizabeth, understood this, and was
anxious that the bargain should be clinched before
Morton took it into his mind to demand a greater
reward.  "I pray God," he wrote; "we prove not herein
like those who refused the three volumes of Sibylla's
prophecies, with the price that they were afterwards
pleased to give for one; for sure I left the market here
better cheap than now I find it."  But Elizabeth would
not be outwitted--and Mary lived on.

A never-failing source of sorrow to Mary was the
knowledge that her son, whom she had seen for the last
time an infant, scarcely twelve months old, at Stirling,
was in charge of those who had contrived her own
overthrow, and was under the tutorship of the venal and
ungrateful Buchanan.  The burden of her captivity
would have been immeasurably lightened, could
she have been assured that he had learned to love
her and feel for her misfortunes.  But the young
James, whatever may have been his desire, was
in the hands of her enemies, and could communicate
with his mother only in the manner and through
the means that they were pleased to specify.
Nevertheless, as he grew older he had ample opportunity
of learning the real character of the men who had
dethroned her, and would, it must be presumed,
have done what he could to procure her release,
did not the promptings of human interest run counter
to the dictates of natural love.  He was not of that
stuff of which heroes are made.  The bravery and
chivalry for which his forefathers had long been
distinguished, found no abode in his bosom.  A sound skin
and the prospect of succeeding to the English throne
weighed more with him than the thought of adopting
a firm and uncompromising policy in defence of his
mother.  While the projects of Mary's friends on the
Continent gave promise of being carried to a successful
issue, he was not averse to plotting with the Guises
and seeking the aid of the Pope in behalf of his "dearest
and most honoured lady mother"; but when these
projects came to naught, he was found closely allied to
the winning cause.  Later on, it is true, when Mary
was declared a party to a conspiracy against the life
of Elizabeth, and her execution was imminent, he
dispatched Ambassadors to the English Court to intercede
for her life; and when at last the fatal blow was struck,
he gave vent to angry feelings and expressed a desire
of revenge.  A large number of the Scottish nobility
were anxious to avert by armed force the contemplated
insult to their nation, and to secure Scotland against
a humiliation such as their ancestors would never have
tolerated.  But a cowardly King and a divided nobility
were not the forces which, in earlier days, had
awakened terror in the heart of England.  Elizabeth and her
advisers know this, and were well aware that the fear
of never reaching the goal of his ambition--the united
thrones of England and Scotland--would curb within
harmless limits the half-hearted anger of the selfish
James.





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.. _`ELIZABETH UNMOVED BY HER CAPTIVE'S APPEALS`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER X.


.. class:: center medium

   ELIZABETH UNMOVED BY HER CAPTIVE'S APPEALS.

.. vspace:: 2

Reading the history of Mary's prison life in
England, one is surprised at the frequent expressions of
hope in Elizabeth's good will which are found in her
letters.  How she could continue to hope in one who
had repeatedly deceived her is difficult to explain,
except on the supposition that she was constitutionally
incapable of believing that misery such as hers could
fail to awaken sympathy in the heart of a woman.
There can be little doubt, however, that she believed
considerably less in Elizabeth's friendship than she
professed.  But the absence of all well-founded hope,
except through the favourable action of Elizabeth, led
her to employ every subtle means in her power to
induce her "good cousin" to break the fetters of her
captivity, and restore her once more to liberty.  Still,
she did not always restrain her actions within these
diplomatic lines; she was human,--noble and
courageous, it is true, but only human--and the desire of
freedom, the sense of the injustice she suffered, and the
pains of her illness, occasionally broke forth in angry
and impassioned language.  But she never lost the
consciousness that she was a Queen, nor did she hesitate,
when mild and guarded language proved vain, to speak
with bold and dignified straightforwardness, that
seemed almost designed to challenge the direst
resentment of her royal captor.  Her letter to Elizabeth,
dated from Sheffield, November 8th, 1582, is a good
specimen, both of her plain, outspoken style, and
of her insinuating pathos, and likewise witnesses
the clearness and vigour of her mind, despite long
years of bodily and mental suffering.  The document is
lengthy, and I shall omit those paragraphs which
I may consider of lesser interest to the reader:--


"Madam,--

"Upon that which has come to my knowledge of
the last conspiracies executed in Scotland against my
poor child, having reason to fear the consequence of
it, from the example of myself; I must employ the
very small remainder of my life and strength before
my death, to discharge my heart to you fully of my
just and melancholy complaints, of which I desire that
this letter may serve you, as long as you live after me,
for a perpetual testimony and engraving upon your
conscience; as much for my discharge to posterity as
to the shame and confusion of all those who, under
your approbation, have so cruelly and unworthily
treated me to this time, and reduced me to the extremity in
which I am.  But, as their designs, practices, actions
and proceedings, though as detestable as they could
have been, have always prevailed with you against my
very just remonstrances, and sincere deportment; and
as the power which you have in your hands, has always
been a reason for you among mankind, I will have
recourse to the living God, our only judge, who has
established us equally and immediately under him for the
government of his people.

"I will invoke to the end of this, my very pressing
affliction, that he will return to you, and to me (as he
will do in his last judgment), the share of our merits,
and demerits, one towards the other.  And remember,
Madam, that to him we shall not be able to disguise
anything by the paint and policy of the world; though
mine enemies, under you, have been able, for a time,
to cover their subtle inventions to men, perhaps to you.

"In his name, and before him sitting, between you
and me, I will remind you, that by the agents, spies
and secret messengers sent in your name into Scotland
while I was there, my subjects were corrupted and
encouraged to rebel against me, *to make attempts upon my
person*, and, in one word to speak, to emprise and
execute that which has come to the said country during
my troubles.  Of which I will not at present specify
other proof than that which I have gained of it by the
confession of one who was afterwards amongst those
that were most advanced for this good service, and of
the witnesses confronted with him.  To whom, if I had
since done justice, he had not afterwards, by his ancient
intelligences, renewed the same practices against my
son, and had not procured for all my traitorous and
rebellious subjects, who took refuge with you, that aid
and support which they have had ever since my
detention on this side (i. e., in England); without which
support, I think, the said traitors could not since have
prevailed, nor afterwards have stood out so long as they
have done.

"During my imprisonment at Lochleven, Trogmorton
counselled me on your behalf to sign that
demission, which he advertised me would be presented to
me, assuring me that it could not be valid.  And there
was not afterwards a place in Christendom where it
was held for valid, except on this side, where it was
maintained, even to have assisted with open force,
the authors of it.  In your conscience, Madam, would
you acknowledge an equal liberty and power in your
subjects?  Notwithstanding this, my authority has been
by my subjects transferred to my son, when he was not
capable of exercising it.

"When I was escaped from Lochleven, ready to give
battle to my rebels, I remitted to you, by a gentleman,
express a diamond jewel, which I had formerly received
as a token from you, and with assurance to be succoured
by you against my rebels; and even that, on my retiring
towards you, you would come to the very frontiers
in order to assist me, which had been confirmed to me
by divers messengers.  This promise coming, and
repeatedly, from your mouth (though I had found myself
often abused by your Ministers), made me place such
affiance on the effectiveness of it that, when my army
was routed, I came directly to throw myself into your
arms, if I had been able to approach them.  But while
I was planning to set out to find you, there was I
arrested on my way, surrounded with guards, secured in
strong places, and at last reduced, all shame set aside,
to the captivity in which I remain to this day, after a
thousand deaths which I have already suffered for it.

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"In the meantime my rebels, perceiving that their
headlong course was carrying them much farther than
they had thought before, and the truth being evidenced
concerning the calumnies that had been propagated of
me at the conference, to which I submitted, in full
assembly of your deputies and mine, with others of the
contrary party in that country, in order to clear
myself publicly of them; there were the principals,[#] for
having come to repentance, besieged by your forces in
the Castle of Edinburgh, and one of the first among
them poisoned, and the other most cruelly hanged, after
I had twice made them lay down their arms, at your
request, in hopes of an agreement which God knows
whether my enemies aimed at, I have been for a long
time trying whether patience would soften the rigour
and ill-treatment, which they have begun, for these
ten years particularly, to make me suffer.  And
accommodating myself exactly to the order prescribed
me for my captivity in this house, as well in regard
to the number and quality of the attendants, which I
retain, dismissing the others; as for my diet, and
ordinary exercise for my health, I am living, even at
present, as quietly and peaceably as one much inferior
to myself, and more obliged, than with such treatment,
I was to you, had been able to do; even to deprive
myself, in order to take away all shadow of suspicion and
diffidence from you, of requiring to have some
intelligence with my son, and my country, which is what, by
no right or reason, could be denied me, and principally
with my child; whom, instead of this, they have
endeavoured by every way to persuade against me, in
order to weaken us by our division.

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

[#] Secretary Maitland and the Laird of Grange, whose
defection from the Regent's party has already been
mentioned.

.. vspace:: 2

"It was permitted me, you will say, to send one
to visit him there, about three years ago.  His
captivity then at Stirling, under the tyrrany of Morton, was
the cause of it; as his liberty was afterwards, of a
refusal to make the like visit.  All this year past I have
several times entered into divers overtures for the
establishment of a good amity between us, and a sure
understanding between these realms in future.  To
Chatsworth, about ten years ago, commissioners were
sent for that purpose.  A treaty had been held upon it
with yourself, by my ambassadours and those of France.
I even myself made, concerning it, the last winter, all
the advantageous overtures to Beal that it was possible
to make.  What return have I had thence?  My good
intention has been despised, the sincerity of my actions
has been neglected and calumniated, the state of my
affairs has been traversed by delays, postponings and
other such artifices.  And, in conclusion, a worse and
more unworthy treatment from day to day, anything
which I am compelled to do in order to deserve the
contrary, my very long, useless and prejudicial patience,
have rendered me so low that mine enemies, in their
habits of using me ill, think this day they have the
right of prescription for treating me, not as a prisoner,
which, in reason I could not be, but as some slave whose
life and whose death depend only upon their tyrrany.

"I cannot, Madam, suffer it any longer; and I must
in dying, discover the authors of my death, or, living,
attempt, under your protection, to find an end to the
cruelties, calumnies and traitorous designs of my said
enemies, in order to establish me in some little more
repose for the remainder of my life.  To take away the
occasions pretended for all differences between us, clear
yourself, if you please, of all which has been reported
of you concerning my actions; review the depositions
of the strangers taken in Ireland; let those of the
Jesuits last executed be represented to you; give liberty
to those who would undertake to charge me publickly,
and permit me to enter upon my defence; if any evil
be found in me, let me suffer it, it shall be patiently
when I shall know the occasion of it; if any good,
suffer me not to be worst treated for it, with your very
great commission before God and man.

"The vilest criminals that are in your prisons, born
under your obedience, are admitted to their justification;
and their accusers, and their accusations, are always
declared to them.  Why, then, shall not the same order
have place towards me, a Sovereign Queen, your nearest
relation and lawful heir?  I think that this last
circumstance has hitherto been, on the side of my enemies,
the principal cause of it, and of all their calumnies, to
make their unjust pretences slide between the two, by
keeping us in division.  But, alas, they have now little
reason and less need to torment me more upon this
account.  For I protest to you upon mine honour that
I look this day for no kingdom but that of my God;
whom I see preparing me for the better conclusion of
all my afflictions and adversities past."

Reverting to the injustices to which her son was
then subjected by traitors in Scotland, she exhorts
Elizabeth not to give countenance to their actions, and
proceeds in the following amazingly naive manner:--

"I shall be contented then, only at your not
permitting my son to receive any injury from this country
(which is all that I have ever required of you before,
even when an army was sent to the borders to prevent
justice from being done to that detestable Morton), and
that none of your subjects directly or indirectly
intermeddle any more in the affairs of Scotland, unless it is
with my knowledge, to whom all cognizance of these
things belongs, or with the assistance of some one on
the part of the most Christian King, my good brother;
whom, as our principal ally, I desire to make privy to
the whole of this cause, because of the little credit
that he can have with the traitors who detain my son
at present.

"But, Madam, with all this freedom of speech,
which, I foresee will in some sort displease you, though
it be the truth itself, you will find it more strange, I
assure myself, that I come now to importune you again
with a request of much greater importance, and yet
very easy for you to grant, and release to me.  This
is, that having not been able hitherto, by accommodating
myself patiently so long a time to the rigorous
treatment of this captivity, and carrying myself sincerely
in all things, yea, even to the last, that could
concern you a very little, to gain myself some assurance of
my entire affection towards you; all my hope being
taken away by it of being better treated for the very
short time which remains to me of life; I supplicate
you, by the honour of the sorrowful passion of our
Saviour and Redeemer, Jesus Christ, again I supplicate
you, at once to permit me to withdraw myself out of
your realm, into some place of repose, to search out
some comfort for my poor body, so wearied as it is with
continual sorrow, and with liberty of my conscience to
prepare my soul for God, who is calling for it daily."

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   \*      \*      \*      \*      \*

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"Your prison, without any right or foundation,
has already destroyed my body, of which you will
shortly have the end, if it continues there a little longer;
and my enemies will not have much time for glutting
their cruelties on me; nothing remains of me but the
soul, which all your power cannot make captive.  Give
it, then, room for aspiring a little more freely after its
salvation, which alone it seeks for at this day, more
than any grandeur of this world.  It seems to me that
it cannot be to you any great satisfaction, honour, and
advantage, for mine enemies to trample my life under
foot, till they have stifled me in your presence.  Whereas,
if in this extremity, however late it be, you release
me out of their hands, you will bind me greatly to you,
and bind all those who belong to me, particularly my
poor child, whom you will, perhaps, make sure to
yourself by it.

"Two things I have principally to require at the
close; the one that, near as I am to going out of this
world, I may have with me, for my consolation, some
honourable church-man, to remind me daily of the
course which I have to finish, and teach me how to
complete it according to my religion in which I am firmly
resolved to live and die.

"This is a last duty which cannot be denied to the
most mean and miserable person that lives; it is a
liberty which you grant to all foreign embassadours; as
also all other Catholick kings give to your embassadours
the exercise of their religion.  And even I myself have
not hitherto forced my own subjects to anything
contrary to their religion, though I had all power and
authority over them.  And that I in this extremity should
be deprived of such freedom, you cannot, with justice,
require.  What advantage will redound to you, when
you shall deny it to me?  I hope God will excuse me
if, oppressed by you in this manner, I do not render to
him any duty but what I shall be permitted to do in
my heart.  But you will set a very bad example to the
other Princes of Christendom, to act towards their
subjects with the same rigour that you shall show to me,
a Sovereign Queen, and your nearest relation; which
I am, and will be as long as I live, in despite of mine
enemies."

Here she enters upon a justification of her conduct
in view of a charge which had been brought against
her, namely, that contrary to her promise, and
without the knowledge of Elizabeth, she had entered into
certain political negotiations with her son in Scotland.
She reviews the circumstances of the case, indicates
her own and Elizabeth's respective practices, and then
refers to her cousin's consideration "which of us has
proceeded with the greatest sincerity."  Finally she
closes her lengthy letter with the following appeal:--

"Resume the ancient pledges of your good nature;
bind your relations to yourself; give me the satisfaction
before I die that, seeing all matters happily settled
again between us, my soul, when delivered from this
body, may not be constrained to display its lamentations
before God for the wrong which you have suffered to
be done me here below; but, rather, that being happily
united to you, it may quit this captivity to set forward
towards him, whom I pray to inspire you happily upon
my very just and more than reasonable complaints and
grievances.

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"At Sheffield, this 8th of November, one thousand
five hundred and eighty-two.

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"Your very disconsolate, nearest relation, and
affectionate cousin,

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.. class:: noindent

   "MARIE E."

.. vspace:: 2

But no appeal, however deeply it might possibly
touch the heart of the Tudor Queen, could turn her
from that one purpose which, in her ever-changing
policy, remained forever fixed, of preventing the
possibility of Mary's returning to public life.  With all her
unwomanly qualities, however, it cannot be presumed
that she was always insensible to the pathos of her
captive's language, or even to the better impulses of
her own heart.  She was not, as certain tyrants seem
to have been, cruel from the mere love of inflicting
pain.  The fierce outbursts of anger and the arbitrary
commands with which she overawed Parliament when
other means of carrying her point failed, did not
prevent her from being sincerely interested in procuring
the happiness of her people; and it is not wholly without
cause that she has received, from a portion of her
subjects, the title of "Good Queen Bess."  But woe to
him who stood between her and her interest.  Her
ambition would not be thwarted by any inconvenient
delicacy or dictate of conscience.  Whether in her more
peaceful hours she practised "modest stillness and
humility," is irrelevant to the present question; it is
beyond doubt however, that when the blast of jealousy,
suspicion, or hatred, blew in her ears she knew how to
"imitate the action of the tiger."  It must in truth be
admitted that her position in relation to the Scottish
Queen, was a difficult one; but it should, in equal truth,
be admitted that her own dishonesty was cause of
the most part of her trouble.  To have within her
realm the one whom a large portion of her subjects
considered by right Queen of England, and through
whom the Pope and the Catholic powers hoped to see
the island restored to the obedience of the Holy See,
was eminently calculated to make her life uncomfortable.
She was conscious that she was an object of
hatred to many who had power to do her no end of
mischief.  But she must have foreseen these troubles
when she elected to detain Mary a prisoner.  At any
rate she must soon have learned that so long as she
chose to be the jailer of the most beautiful, accomplished
and renowned woman in Europe, she could not hope
for a peaceful career.  Who so foolish as to think that
Mary would not use all her energy to regain her liberty,
or that powerful parties at home and abroad would not
make the captive's cause their own?  Certainly not
the crafty Elizabeth.  Yet a simple act of justice--the
release of the prisoner whom she unjustly and
ungenerously detained--would have removed the cause of half
her anxieties.  Elizabeth's troubles, therefore, were
voluntarily assumed, and were part of the price which
she was content to pay for the gratification of having
in her power the woman and queen whose superior
beauty, and title to the throne of England, had long
before aroused her undying hatred.  It is childish and
ridiculous for historians to excuse Elizabeth's
harshness on the plea that Mary's plotting and intriguing
rendered severe treatment necessary.  The same
argument would justify the bandit in maltreating his victim
who would be so ungrateful as to attempt escaping
from his custody.





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.. _`THE BEGINNING OF THE END`:

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   CHAPTER XI.


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   THE BEGINNING OF THE END.

.. vspace:: 2

The spacious park of Sheffield, in which Mary's
prison was situated, beautiful as was the natural scenery
of river, mountain and cultivated slope, that extended
far beyond it, could offer no antidote to the "*dura
catena, et misera paena*," in which she languished.  Her
mind had already been stored with pictures of the
choicest rural scenery in France, and of the rugged
grandeur of Aberdeen and Perthshire; and the
variegated charms on which she could now gaze from her
prison window only served to produce that sad
pleasure which we feel in renewing memories of joys that
have forever departed.  Well, has Mr. Samuel Roberts
(in his feeling lines in reference to her stay at Sheffield
Lodge) presumed that she gazed upon the "lovely scene"
"through tears":--

   |  Alone, here oft may Scotia's beauteous queen,
   |  Through tears have gazed upon the lovely scene,
   |  Victim of villainy, of woman's hate,
   |  Of fiery zeal, of wiles and storms of state;
   |  Torn from her throne, her country and her child,
   |  And cast an exiled monarch in this wild,
   |  She here was taught, what youthful beauty ne'er
   |  While seated on a throne, had deigned to hear,
   |  To say submissive, at the closing scene,
   |  "'Tis well that I have thus afflicted been;"
   |  Then calmly on the block, in faith, resign
   |  Three heart-corrupting crowns, for one divine.
   |  Reader,--the ways of God are not like thine.
   |

In August, 1584, Shrewsbury was released of his
charge.  He had served long and faithfully in a capacity
that was repulsive to his instincts; and after fifteen
full years of close acquaintance with the captive Queen,
he was able to assure Elizabeth "that if the Queen of
Scotland promise anything she will not break her
word."

With the withdrawal of Shrewsbury, a new and
more ominous period opened in the life of the Scottish
Queen.  She was removed from Sheffield to Wingfield;
and again from Wingfield to Tutbury.  Here, in April,
1585, she was committed to the charge of that "narrow,
boorish and bitter secretary," Sir Amias Paulet, who
seems to have been selected mainly with a view of
driving her to desperation and of rendering the last
days of her life as bitter and insufferable as possible.
Shrewsbury had, it is true, executed the commands of
his mistress; but he had done so without making it
clear that he found pleasure in being the instrument of
tyranny.  In the meantime his upright, gentlemanly
character modified, as far as was consistent with his
duty and safety, the rigour which it was his office to
enforce.  Paulet, on the contrary, carried into effect
the will of Elizabeth to the letter, and in addition
satiated his own fierce and fanatical hatred of his
helpless prisoner.  What wonder if Mary should become
desperate and resolve to embark on whatever expedition,
daring and reckless though it might be, that gave
even a probable hope of securing her liberty?  Seventeen
years of waiting and negotiating for a peaceable
settlement of her case, had resulted in failure; nay, had
left her in greater distress than ever.  Whatever quota
of humanity had tempered the severity of her
treatment, was now replaced by the studied rudeness of her
keeper; her son had just disassociated completely his
political interests from hers; and the movements and
tactics of her enemies awakened and intensified her old
fear that she should soon be visited with a secret and
unnatural death.

The defection of James deeply wounded the
mother's heart.  "This was the most unkindest cut of
all."  That the one for whom she had so long
defended the independence of Scotland against the English
claim of suzerainty; that the one from whom she had
hopefully waited through years of patient suffering to
receive even one word that would assure her that she had
a son growing up to love and assist her; that the one
whom she remembered only as an innocent and playful
infant, from whom she had been, torn away by
heartless traitors,--that he should abandon her when fresh
miseries were gathering thick and fast around her, was
more than she could calmly suffer, and for a short time
her wounded love and feelings of indignation were
revealed in sad and bitter complaint.  "Was it for this,"
she wrote to the French Ambassador, "that I have
endured so much, in order to preserve for him the
inheritance to which I have a just right?  I am far from
envying his authority in Scotland.  I desire no power,
nor wish to set my foot in that kingdom, if it were not
for the pleasure of once embracing a son, whom I have
hitherto loved with too tender affection.  Whatever he
either enjoys or expects, he derived it from me.  From
him I never received assistance, supply or benefit of any
kind.  Let not my allies treat him any longer as a
king; he holds that dignity by my consent; and if a
speedy repentance does not appease my just resentment,
I will load him with a parent's curse, and surrender my
crown, with all its pretensions, to one who will receive
them with gratitude, and defend them with vigour."

The English Parliament had recently framed a
statute, out of special consideration for the Queen of
Scots, by which it was enacted that, not only the
person *by* whom, but also the person *for* whom, a rebellion
should be excited against the majesty of Elizabeth,
might be visited with several penalties, and "pursued to
death," and it only remained to induce Mary to avail
herself of the benefits of that benign legislation.[#]  The
event long hoped for by her enemies ere long came to
pass.  The net of Secretary Walsingham's cunning
intrigue gradually involved the unsuspecting victim in its
deadly meshes.  In April, 1586, a young English
Catholic gentleman, named Babington, whom a spirit of
chivalry had deeply interested in the Scottish Queen's
behalf, and who was stung to desperation by the injustices
which he and his co-religionists were obliged to suffer
because they would not forswear the faith of their
English forefathers, was drawn into a plot, devised by
Morgan and Paget in France, for the overthrow of
Elizabeth and the liberation of Mary.  This plot is
known in English history as the Babington plot, though
it might, with far more truth, be called the
Walsingham plot.  Walsingham was aware of its existence for
some months before the services of Babington were
solicited.  His agents, especially Pooley and Gilbert
Gifford, combined the offices of staunch conspirators
and spies at the same time, and kept their master fully
informed of what was being done.  The assassination
of Elizabeth formed no part of the original design.  It
was only at a consultation, held at Paris, in April, in
which Gifford took an active part, that this daring
project was agreed upon, and that it was resolved to seek
the aid of the unfortunate young Babington.  In the
meantime, Walsingham, anxious that Mary might be
entangled as completely as possible in his net, and
tempted to ratify the compromising scheme that he
himself, through his worthy agent, had helped to
concoct, arranged that she should be given favourable
opportunities for communication with her outside friends;
but he equally provided that the medium of communication
should be persons in his own service.  Thus, the
letters she sent out, as well as those she received, all
passed through the office of the Secretary of State, were
deciphered there by another noted instrument of the
Secretary's, named Philipps, and forwarded to their
destination with whatever addition or interpolation
seemed best calculated to provoke a reply directly
implicating the unsuspecting captive.

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.. class:: noindent small

[#] In justice it must be stated, that it was not under this
statute, but under a later one requiring the complicity of
the party in whose interest the treasonable measures should
be taken, that the Queen of Scots was subsequently
condemned.

.. vspace:: 2

Elizabeth and her Minister knew that the plot had
now reached a point beyond which it would be perilous
to allow it to proceed.  Early in August, Babington
and his associates were arrested, and on the 16th of the
same month Mary, who was then at Chartley, in
Staffordshire, was removed without forewarning, her two
Secretaries, Curle and Nau being separated from her,
and all her papers seized; a few weeks later (25th
September) she was lodged in the ominous castle of
Fotheringay, in Northamptonshire.

"The name of Fotheringay had been connected
through a long course of years with many sorrows and
much crime, and during the last three years the castle
had been used as a state prison.  Catherine of Arragon,
more fortunate than her great-niece, had flatly refused
to be imprisoned within its walls, declaring that 'to
Fotheringay she would not go, unless bound with cart
rope and dragged thither.'  Tradition, often kinder
than history, asserts that James VI., after his accession
to the English throne, destroyed the castle; and though
it is no longer possible to credit him with this act of
filial love or remorse, time has obliterated almost every
trace of the once grim fortress.  A green mound, an
isolated mass of masonry, and a few thistles, are all that
now remain to mark the scene of Mary's last sufferings.
Very different was the aspect of Fotheringay at the
time of which we write.  Then, protected by its double
moat, it frowned on the surrounding country in almost
impregnable strength.  The front of the castle and
the great gateway faced the north, while to the
southwest rose the keep.  A large courtyard occupied the
interior of the building, in which were situated the
chief apartments, including the chapel and the great
hall destined to be the scene of the queen's death."[#]

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

[#] Hon. Mrs. Maxwell Scott in "*The Tragedy of Fotheringay*."

.. vspace:: 2

A moment had now arrived in which the helpless
Queen, broken down by nineteen years of close
confinement and consequent ill-health, had heed to
summon up all her native courage.  Her papers and most of
her private correspondence had been carried off to
London; her Secretaries, who had been privy to all her plots
and plans, had been separated from her, and with the
terrors of the rack before their minds would be forced
not only to divulge what they knew, but still worse
to subscribe, perhaps, to what they did not believe;
and she, without counsel or comfort, was left in the
hands of her enemies.  The manoeuvrings of her
enemies at this time show that they expected that, finding
herself alone and in the extremity of danger, she would
cast herself at the feet of Elizabeth, confess that she
was guilty, and sue for pardon.  But they had yet to
learn the calm dignity, the unflinching courage and the
Christian hopefulness with which Mary Stewart could
place her neck upon the block.

A commission of the nobles was appointed to try
her at Fotheringay, on the charge of plotting against
the life of Elizabeth.  Mary protested against the
manner in which she was to be tried as belittling an
independent sovereign, who was subject neither to the
laws nor to the Queen of England.  But at length,
through fear that her refusal to appear before the
commissioners would be interpreted as a sign of guilt, and
through dread of being dispatched secretly by poison--in
which case her enemies could assert what they wished
about the way she died--she consented to appear, and
for two days sat before the commissioners listening to
and answering accusations.

The proceedings in which she was constrained to
take part cannot properly be called a trial.  She was
deprived, as far as possible, of every means of defence;
she had no secretary, her correspondence was withheld
from her, she was refused counsel.  "Alas," she
said to her faithful servant Melville, as she took her
seat the first day before the Commissioners, "Alas,
here are many counsellors, but not one for me."  Nevertheless
she spoke with so much courage and energy,
and showed so little regard for the wrath of her
enemies, or even for death itself, so long as her honour was
vindicated, that she surprised and partly confounded
the hard-hearted zealots who were hounding her to death.

On the 14th of October, the trial was opened in
a large room in Fotheringay Castle.  Seated on benches
placed in the middle of the room and along both walls
were all the Peers of England who could conveniently
be brought together, as well as the various officers
of the court.  Once upon a time, in the brave days of
knight-errantry, no injured lady need have feared to
present herself and plead her cause before the
assembled chivalry of "Merry England," but 'old times were
changed, old manners gone.'  At 9 o'clock in the
forenoon, the Queen entered, supported by Melville and
Bourgoin her physician.  She had been personally
acquainted with but very few of those who sat there to
pass judgment upon her.  Many of them had been
known to her by name, a few had been attached to her
cause, and she looked about in the hope of meeting
an eye that would reveal the presence of a friend.  But
she was disappointed.  No one in that hostile assembly,
however he might feel in his heart, would venture now
to betray any sign of sympathy.  Three faces must have
impressed her more than all the rest as suggesting, in
three different periods, the history of her troubled
career.  There she saw Sir Ralph Sadler, the English
Ambassador who, forty-four years before, had stood
over her cradle in the nursery at Linlithgow and
pronounced her a "right fair and goodly child;" there she
saw Sir William Cecil (now Lord Burleigh), who had
been her ablest and most industrious enemy through
all the years of her short reign, and who had
contributed more perhaps that any other individual to
produce the Scottish anarchy in which she had lost her
crown; and there she met, for the first time, the gaze
of the crafty and vigilant Sir Francis Walsingham,
whose mephistophelian devices had led her to the
precipice over which she now hung, without an arm to
save her.





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.. _`THE EVIDENCE AGAINST THE QUEEN OF SCOTS`:

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   CHAPTER XII.


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   THE EVIDENCE AGAINST THE QUEEN OF SCOTS.

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Replying to the accusations brought against her,
Mary did not deny that, having given up hope of being
liberated by Elizabeth, she had treated with foreign
powers for her deliverance; but she protested that she
had never consented to the assassination of Elizabeth,
and that she would rather remain all her life in prison
than stain her conscience with that crime.  Nor can I
see that any evidence had been produced to prove that
she did.  Her intercepted letter in reply to Babington,
in which she was said to have sanctioned the projected
murder of Elizabeth, was not exhibited at the trial.
Here we find the same shuffling as in the case of the
Casket Letters.  If her accusers had decisive proof
of her guilt, why did they not give her a fair trial,
and employ those means which would make her guilt
evident?  Babington, instead of being kept as a
witness, was put to death.  Her two secretaries, who had
been terrified into testifying to something,--what
exactly they did testify we cannot be certain,--were kept
out of the way, and never confronted with their
mistress.  Her letter on which the case depended had been
written in cipher; yet the original in cipher was shown
neither to her secretaries nor to herself, but only what
was passed off as a translation of it into French.  But
what need of this traffic in second-hand documents, if
the original, which would settle all dispute, could be
safely exposed to the light of investigation?  Neither
the strained dialectics of a Hume, nor the brilliant
rhetoric of a Froude, can avail against the force of
argument springing from Walsingham's determination
not to exhibit the original documents.  Mary had been
charged with being party to a plot for the murder of
Elizabeth, and her correspondence with Babington was
made the basis of evidence against her.  Hence common
justice demanded that the correspondence should be
taken, as far as possible, at first hand.  Yet,
Walsingham and Philipps, although they had in their
possession, at least, a minute in Mary's own hand of her last
answer to Babington and the same cast into the form
of a letter in French by Nau, made use of what they
alleged was a copy of that incriminating answer.  Mary
denied that she had ever dictated the words of Philipps'
decipher in reference to the murder of Elizabeth.
Philipps, the associate of Walsingham, and the bitter
enemy of Mary, went sponsor for the correctness of
the decipher.  The trial therefore was reduced to a
contest between the veracity of Mary and the veracity
of Philipps.  It is hardly to be doubted that, guilty
or not guilty, Mary would have disowned the
authorship of the compromising clauses.  But if her denial
was worthless as evidence of her innocence, the
assertion of a forger in the employ of her enemies was
likewise worthless as evidence of her guilt.  Why, then,
were not the original papers laid before the
commissioners, that she might be reduced to silence by the
evidence of her own and of her secretary's handwriting?
Shall we be asked to believe that Walsingham, if
he had all he needed in the original, would have had
recourse to a copy?  Indeed, Mary's letter, as it has
reached us through Philipps and Walsingham, presents
an incoherence of parts which, even if every other
reason were wanting, would render its genuineness
extremely doubtful.  The argument founded on this
incoherence has been frequently used, but its strength
remains unimpaired.  Mary orders that nothing shall
be done towards releasing her from prison until
Elizabeth is murdered.  Four horsemen are to be kept in
readiness to immediately inform her that this has been
accomplished.  Then she is to be set at liberty, but
care must be taken that the army prepared to receive
her, or the stronghold destined to shelter her, be such
as will render her person secure, for (she writes) "it
were sufficient excuse given to that queen in catching
me again, to enclose me in some hold, out of which I
should never escape, if she did use me no worse."  This
precaution against the revenge of Elizabeth is quite
natural, and just what we should expect from Mary
in her letter to Babington; but it would be
inconceivable and absurd if Mary had already made provision
that Elizabeth should first of all be murdered.  Had
Philipps forged the entire letter, he would not have
committed this blunder, but even an expert may
reveal his identity when he attempts to interpolate a
lengthy document.

It will avail but little to insist that there remains
what Froude calls the "positive proof of two very
credible witnesses" in support of the charge against the
Scottish queen.  These "very credible witnesses" were
Mary's secretaries, Nau and Curle; and the "positive
proof" was their subscription to a "copy"--that ever
recurring "copy"--of Mary's deciphered answer to
Babington's last letter, which had been wrung from
them in circumstances little calculated to enhance its
value.

Since their forced separation from Mary at Chartley,
they had been carefully guarded and accurately
learned the nature of the evidence which they were
expected to give.  On the 20th. September, Babington
and six of his associates were made a ghastly and
terrifying spectacle to every weak-hearted friend of Mary's.
"They were all hanged but for a moment, according to
the letter of the sentence, taken down while the
susceptibility of agony was unimpaired, and cut in pieces
afterwards, with due precautions for the protraction
of pain."[#]

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[#] Froude, "History of England," Vol. XII., Chap. 69.

.. vspace:: 2

The third day following, while this ominous
lesson of vengeance was fresh in every mind, the two
secretaries were forced to ratify by their oath the
testimony which they had already given (Sept. 5th) to the
correctness of the "copy."  The testimony which they
now ratified had been appended to the copy in these
words:--"*Telle ou semblable me semble avoir esté la
reponse escripte en francoys par monsieur Nau, laquelle
J'ay traduict et mis en chiffre.--Gilbert Curle.*"  "*Je
pense de vray que c'est la lettre escripte par sa Majesté à
Babington, come il me souvient.--Nau.*"  "This letter
or one like it appears to me to have been the answer
written in French by monsieur Nau, which I
translated and put into cipher.--Gilbert Curle."

"I think in truth that this is the letter written
by Her Majesty to Babington, *as far as I can
remember*.--Nau."

These equivocal testimonies contain the force of
all the evidence produced against Mary.  It is
unnecessary to point out the impossibility of resting a
conviction upon them.  That is clear to every intelligent
reader acquainted with the circumstances in which they
were obtained and with the history of the prosecution
as already summarily indicated, up to this point.  The
phrases "*this or one like it,*" "*as well as I can
remember,*" insignificant as they might seem if employed in
the absence of compulsion, will in their present
connection strike every reflecting mind as the feeble
devices of men striving to hold a safe course between the
Scylla and the Charibdis of perjury and the rack.

Whether Mary would or would not accept an offer
of deliverance that involved the life of Elizabeth, is a
purely speculative question, which does not affect the
nature of the evidence produced against her.  This,
however, may be observed, that nearly four years
earlier, when a conspiracy similar to the Babington plot
against the life of Elizabeth was being organized by
some of her friends on the Continent, she, on being
acquainted of it, "refused," (so wrote the Papal Nuncio
at Paris to the Cardinal of Como), "to listen to it."
But, when hope in Elizabeth's good intentions
completely failed, and increased rigour deepened the
misery of her prison-life, reasons which had hitherto
seemed inadequate might now convince her that she
was not obliged to live with the axe of the executioner
or the dagger of the assassin, raised over her head
because liberty could be brought to her only through
the blood of her jailer.





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.. _`EXTRACTS FROM HER ADDRESSES TO THE COMMISSIONERS`:

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   CHAPTER XIII.


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   EXTRACTS FROM HER ADDRESSES TO THE COMMISSIONERS.

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Every word and act of this unhappy Princess,
more especially as her life neared its close, have proved
so interesting to students of her history, that I have
deemed it well to reproduce here some of her speeches
and utterances before the Commissioners appointed to
try her.

On the first day of the trial, the Lord Chancellor,
Bromley, having signified the causes which had
impelled Elizabeth to take action against her as the
disturber of religion and the public peace, Mary replied
as follows:--

"I came into this kingdom under promise of
assistance and aid against my enemies, and not as a
subject, as I could prove to you had I my papers; instead
of which I have been detained and imprisoned.  I
protest publicly that I am an independent sovereign
and princess, and I recognize no superior but God
alone.  I therefore require that before I proceed
further, it be recorded that whatever I may say in
replying here to the Commissioners of my good sister, the
Queen of England (who, I consider, has been wrongly
and falsely prejudiced against me), shall not be to my
prejudice, nor that of the princes, my allies, nor the
king, my son, or any of those who may succeed me.  I
make this protestation not out of regard to my life, or
in order to conceal the truth, but purely for the
preservation of the honour and dignity of my royal
prerogative, and to show that in consenting to appear
before this commission I do so, not as a subject to
Queen Elizabeth, but only from my desire to clear
myself, and to show to all the world that I am not
guilty of this crime against the person of the Queen,
with which it seems I am charged.  I wish to reply
to this point alone, I desire this protest to be publicly
recorded, and I appeal to all the lords and nobles
present to bear me testimony should it one day be
necessary."

In the course of the afternoon discussion, she
made bitter complaint of the unfair treatment to which
she had been subjected:--

"I have, as you see, lost my health and the use
of my limbs.  I cannot walk without assistance, nor
use my arms, and I spend most of my time confined
to bed by sickness.  Not only this, but through my
trials, I have lost the small intellectual gifts bestowed
on me by God, such as my memory, which would have
aided me to recall those things which I have seen and
read, and which might be useful to me in the cruel
position in which I now find myself ... Not
content with this, my enemies now endeavour to
complete my ruin, using against me means that are
unheard of towards persons of my rank, and unknown
in this kingdom before the reign of the present Queen,
and even now not approved by rightful judges, but
only by unlawful authority.  Against these I appeal
to Almighty God, to all Christian princes, and to the
estates of this kingdom duly and lawfully assembled.
Being innocent and falsely suspected, I am ready to
maintain and defend my honour, provided that my
defence be publicly recorded, and that I make it in
the presences of some princes or foreign judges, or
even before my natural judges; and this without
prejudice to my mother the Church, to kings, sovereign
princes and to my son.  With regard to the pretensions
long put forward by the English (as their chronicles
testify) to suzerainty over my predecessors, the
Kings of Scotland, I utterly deny and protest against
them, and will not, like a *femme-de peu de coeur*, admit
them, nor by any present act, to which I may be
constrained, will I fortify such a claim, whereby I should
dishonour those princes, my ancestors, and acknowledge
them to have been traitors and rebels.  Rather than
do this, I am ready to die for God and my rights in
this quarrel, in which, as in all others, I am innocent."

Burleigh had reproached her with having assumed
the arms of England, and a spirited discussion after
a somewhat legal fashion followed.  Passing with
characteristic facility from that unprofitable topic, Mary
proceeded in the following spirited and pathetic
manner:--

"God and you know whether I have a right or
not to the crown of England.  I have offered myself
to maintain the rights of my sister, Queen Elizabeth,
as being the eldest, but I have no scruple of conscience
in desiring the second rank, as being the legitimate
and nearest heir.  I am the daughter of James V., king
of Scotland, and grand-daughter of Henry VII.  This
cannot be taken from me by any law, or council or
assembly, or judgment, nor consequently can my rights.
I know well that my enemies and those who wish to
deprive me of those rights have done up till now all
that they can to injure me, and have essayed all
illegitimate means, even to attempting my life, as is well
known, and has been discovered in certain places and
by certain persons whom I could name, were it
necessary; but God, who is the best Judge, and who never
forgets His own, has until now, in His infinite mercy
and goodness, preserved me from all dangers, and I
hope that he will continue to do so and will not
abandon me, knowing that He is all truth, and that He
has promised not to abandon His servants in their
need.  He has extended His hand over me to afflict
me, but He has given me this grace of patience to bear
the adversities which it has pleased Him to send me.
I do not desire vengeance.  I leave it to Him who is
the just Avenger of the innocent and of those who
suffer for His name, under whose power and will I
take shelter.  I prefer the conduct of Esther to that
of Judith, although both are approved by the Church.
I pray God to do with me according to His good
pleasure, to His praise and honour, and to the greater
glory of His Church, in which I wish to live and die,
in which I have been brought up and educated, and
for which (as I have already protested several times),
I would shed my blood to the last drop, being resolved
to suffer all that God wishes.  I do not fear the menaces
of men.  I will never deny Jesus Christ, knowing well
that those who deny Him in this world, He will deny
before His Father.  I demand another hearing, and
that I be allowed an advocate to plead my cause, or
that I be believed on the word of a Queen....
I came to England relying on the friendship and
promises of your Queen.  Look here, my Lords, [at this
point she took a ring from her finger], see this pledge
of love and protection which I received from your
mistress, regard it well.  Trusting to this pledge, I came
amongst you.  You all know how it has been kept."

Her criticism of the second-hand evidence, secured
from her secretaries in her absence, is so just that I
cannot pass it over without giving, at least, some
extracts from it.  It will be observed, that while sharing
in the suspicion not uncommon at the time, that Nau
had betrayed her to save himself, her fairmindedness
and charitable disposition prevented her from
condemning him without a hearing.

"Why," she asked, "are not Nau and Curle
examined in my presence?  They at any rate are still
alive.  If my enemies were assured that they would
confirm their pretended avowals, they would be here
without doubt.  If they have written, be it what it
may, concerning the enterprise, they have done it of
themselves, and did not communicate it to me, and
on this point I disavow them." ......

"I know well that Nau had many peculiarities, likings
and intentions, that I cannot mention, in public, but
which I much regret, for he does me great injustice.
For my part, I do not wish to accuse my secretaries,
but I plainly see that what they have said is from fear
of torture and death.  Under promises of their lives,
and in order to save themselves, they have excused
themselves at my expense, fancying that I could
thereby more easily save myself; at the same time not
knowing where I was and not suspecting the manner
in which I am treated ... As to Curle, if he
has done anything suspicious, he has been compelled
to do it by Nau, whom he feared much to displease....
*And yet I do not think that either the one
or the other would have forgotten himself so far.*"

"I commanded him (Nau) it is true, and in a
general way supported his doings, as all princes are
accustomed to do, but it is for him to answer for his
private doings.  I cannot but think he has been acting
under constraint in this matter.  Feeling himself to
be feeble and weak by nature, and fearing torture, he
thought to escape by throwing all the blame on me."

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   \*      \*      \*      \*      \*

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"I dictated nothing to them (the secretaries) but
what nature herself inspired me, for the recovery at
least of my liberty.  I can only be convicted by my
words or by my own writings.  If, without my
consent, but have written something to the prejudice of
the Queen, your mistress, let them suffer the punishment
of their rashness.  *But of this I am very sure, if
they were now in my presence, they would clear me on
the spot of all blame, and would put me out of case*.
Show me, at least, the minutes of my correspondence
written by myself; they will bear witness to what I
now assert."

On the morning of the second day, Mary made a
strong and dignified protest against the manner in
which the trial had been conducted, and after
specifying the treatment she expected to receive when she
consented to appear before the Commissioners,
proceeded:--

"Instead of this, I find myself overwhelmed under
the importunity of a crowd of advocates and lawyers,
who appear to be more versed in the formalities of
petty courts of justice, in little towns, than in the
investigation of questions such as the present.  And
although I was promised that I should be simply
questioned and examined on one point,--that, namely,
concerning the attempt on the person of the Queen,--they
have presumed to accuse me, each striving who
should surpass the other in stating and exaggerating
facts, and attempting to force me to reply to questions
which I do not understand, and which have nothing
to do with the Commission.  Is it not an unworthy
act to submit to such conduct of such people, the title
of a princess, one little accustomed to such procedures
and formalities?  And is it not against all right,
justice and reason to deliver her over to them, weak and
ill as she is, and deprived of counsel, without papers
or notes or secretary?  It is very easy for many
together, and, as it appears to me, conspiring for the
same object, to vanquish by force of words a solitary
and defenceless woman.  There is not one, I think,
among you, let him be the cleverest man you will,
who would be capable of resisting or defending
himself, were he in my place.  I am alone, taken by
surprise, and forced to reply to so many people who are
unfriendly to me, and who have long been preparing
for this occasion; and who appear to be more influenced
by vehement prejudice and anger, than by a desire
of discovering the truth and fulfilling the duties laid
down for them by the Commission."

Referring to the complaint that, in Rome, public
prayers had been offered for her, under the title of
Queen of England, she remarked:--"If the Pope gives
me the title of Queen, it is not for me to correct him.
He knows what he does much better than I do.  I
thank him, all Christian people and all Catholic
nations for the prayers they daily offer for me, and I
pray them to continue to do so, and to remember me
in their Masses."

As regards her attitude towards her Protestant
subjects she said:--"You know very well that in my
own kingdom I never interfered with any of the
Protestants, but, on the contrary, tried to win them always
by gentleness and clemency, which I carried too far,
and for which I have been blamed.  It has been the
cause of my ruin, for my subjects became proud and
haughty, and abused my clemency; indeed, they now
complain that they were never so well off as under my
government."

The trial ended on the 15th October.  Mary rose
from her seat before the Commissioners and passed
out of the hall, addressing a few words of
good-humoured reproach to the lawyers for their
"quibbling," as she moved past the table around which they
were seated.  The Commissioners, in compliance with
instructions received from Elizabeth, withdrew to
Westminster before passing sentence.  Assembled in
the Star-Chamber ten days later, they declared Mary
"to be accessory to Babington's conspiracy, and to
have imagined diverse matters, tending to the hurt,
death, and destruction of Elizabeth, contrary to the
express words of the statute, made for the security of
the Queen's life" (Camden).  Parliament sat a few
days after, and both houses, having sanctioned the
sentence of the Commissioners, presented an address to
Elizabeth, requesting her to publish and execute
without delay the sentence against her dangerous rival.

Mary in the meantime was ignorant of what was
being done since the rising of the Commission at
Fotheringay.  However, she maintained an extraordinary
cheerfulness and surprised the observant Sir Amias
by her "quietness and serenity."  The feast of All
Saints arrived, but without the joyous anthems and
splendid ceremonial that marked it in Catholic lands.
The Queen passed the day reading the lives of the
Saints and Martyrs and praying in her oratory.  In
the afternoon she received a visit from Paulet.  In
the course of their conversation, this censorious pedant,
anxious to execute the will of Elizabeth, who had
instructed him to carefully observe whether his prisoner
should reveal a disposition to sue for pardon,
undertook to instruct her in the necessity of having a clear
conscience and of confessing her crimes before God
and the world.  Mary promptly answered, saying:--"No
one can say that he is free from sin.  I am a
woman and human, and have offended God, and I repent
of my sins, and pray God to forgive me, doing penance
for the same; but at present I do not know to whom
I could or should confess--God forbid that I should
ask you to be my confessor."





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.. _`THE SENTENCE OF DEATH`:

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   CHAPTER XIV.


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   THE SENTENCE OF DEATH.

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On November the 30th, 1586, Lord Buckhurst,
as envoy of Queen Elizabeth, waited upon the lonely
captive, and announced to her that sentence of death
had been passed upon her.  "The person of the
Queen," added Buckhurst, "the state and religion are
no longer safe; it is impossible for you both to live,
and therefore one must die.  For this end then, in
order that you should not be taken by surprise,
Mr. Beale and I have been sent to warn you to prepare for
death, and we will send you the Bishop of Peterborough
or the Dean of ---- for your consolation."

The news was, in some respects a relief to Mary; it
relaxed her consuming mental tension.  Now she knew
the worst, and her conduct needed no longer to be
disturbed by alternating hopes and fears.  She had striven
hard, during the weary years of her captivity, to
resign herself with Christian cheerfulness to the
inevitable.  But the love of liberty, and perhaps too a
subtle desire of revenge, had at times ruffled the serenity
of her spirit, and had dulled the pure flame of her
religious zeal.  Human aid now seemed no longer
available, human prospects of glory and power no longer
captivated her imagination, and the time and energy
which she had hitherto expended on profitless plans
and visionary deeds, she could now devote, with rich
and enduring profit, to the preparation for a better life.
When she heard Lord Buckhurst's message, her
face, as Camden relates, "became illumined with an
extraordinary joy at the thought that she was about
to die for the cause of religion," and with perfect
composure, she made answer:--"I expected nothing else.
This is the manner in which you generally proceed
with regard to persons of my quality, and who are
nearly related to the crown, so that none may live who
aspire to it.  For long I have known that you would
bring me to this in the end.  I have loved the queen
and the country, and have done all that I could for
the preservation of both.  The offers which I have
made are the proof of this, as Beale can bear me
witness.  I do not fear death, and shall suffer it with a
good heart.  I have never been the author of any
conspiracy to injure the queen.  I have several times been
offered my freedom, and have been blamed for refusing
my consent.  My partizans have abandoned me and
troubled themselves no more with my affairs.  To
prevent this I have attempted to obtain my deliverance
by gentle means, to my great disadvantage, till at last,
being repulsed on the one side and pressed on the
other, I placed myself in the hands of my friends, and
have taken part with Christian and Catholic princes,
not, as I have before declared, and as the English
themselves can bear witness by the papers which they
have in their possession, through ambition nor the
desire of a greater position, but I have done it for the
honour of God and His Church, and for my deliverance
from the state of captivity and misery in which
I am placed.  I am a Catholic,--of a different religion
from yourselves; and for this reason you will take care
not to let me live.  I am grieved that my death cannot
be of as much benefit to the kingdom as I fear it will
do it harm; and this I say not from any ill-feeling
or from any desire to live.  For my part, I am weary
of being in this world, nor do I, or any one else, profit
by my being here.  But I look forward to a better life,
and I thank God for giving me this grace of dying in
his quarrel.  No greater good can come to me in this
world; it is what I have most begged of God and most
wished for, as being the thing most honourable for
myself and most profitable for the salvation of my
soul.  I have never had the intention of changing my
religion for any earthly kingdom, or grandeur, or good
whatever, nor of denying Jesus Christ or His name,
nor will I now.  You may feel well assured that I shall
die in this entire faith and with my good will, and as
happy in doing so as I was ever for anything that has
come to me in my life.  I pray God to have mercy on
the poor Catholics of this kingdom, who are persecuted
and oppressed for their religion.  The only thing I
regret is, that it has not pleased God to give me before
I die the grace to see them, able to live in full liberty
of conscience in the faith of their parents, in the
Catholic Church, and serving God as they desire to do.
I am not ignorant that for long certain persons have
been plotting against me; and to speak plainly, I know
well it has been done at the instance of one who
professes to be my enemy.  But I have spoken sufficiently
of this before the Commissioners."

After this trying ordeal, Mary's first thought was
to send letters of final greeting to her dearest friends.
She wrote to the Archbishop of Glasgow, then in Paris;
to Pope Sixtus V., to Barnard De Mendoça, Spanish
Ambassador at Paris; and to the Duke of Guise.  In
the course of her letter to the Archbishop, referring
to the proposal that she should accept the services of
the Anglican divines, she writes:--

"As to their bishops, I praise God that without
their aid I know well enough my offences against God
and His Church, and that I do not approve their
errors, nor wish to communicate with them in any way.
But if it pleased them to permit me to have a Catholic
priest, I said I would accept that very willingly, and
even demanded it in the name of Jesus Christ, in order
to dispose my conscience, and to participate in the
Holy Sacraments, on leaving this world.  They
answered me that, do what I would, I should not be either
saint or martyr, as I was to die for the murder of their
queen and for wishing to dispossess her.  I replied
that I was not so presumptuous as to aspire to these
two honours; but that although they had power over
my body by divine permission, not by justice, as I am a
sovereign queen, as I have always protested, still they
had not power over my soul, nor could they prevent
me from hoping that, through the mercy of God, who
died for me, he will accept from me my blood and my
life which I offer to Him for the maintenance of His
Church outside of which I should never desire to rule
any worldly kingdom."

Her letter to the Pope is lengthy, but as no one
interested in her history would be satisfied with an
abbreviated form of so interesting a document, I shall
give it in full.

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"Jesus Maria,

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"Holy Father,--As it has pleased God by His
divine providence so to ordain, that in His Church,
under His Son, Jesus Christ crucified, all those who
should believe in Him and be baptized in the name of
the Holy Trinity, should recognize one universal
and Catholic Church as Mother, whose commandments
together with the ten of the law we should keep under
pain of damnation, it is requisite that each one who
aspires to eternal life should fix his eyes upon her.  I,
therefore, who am born of kings and relatives all
baptized in her, as I myself also was, and what is more,
from my infancy, unworthy as I am, have been called
to the royal dignity, anointed and consecrated by the
authority and by the ministers of the Church, under
whose wing and in whose bosom I have been nourished
and brought up, and by her instructed in the obedience
due by all Christians to him whom she, guided by the
Holy Spirit, has elected according to the ancient order
and decrees of the primitive Church, to the holy
Apostolic See as our head upon earth, to whom Jesus Christ
in His last will has given power (speaking to St. Peter
of her foundation on a living rock) of binding and
loosing poor sinners from the chains of Satan, absolving us
by himself or by his ministers for this purpose
appointed, of all crimes or sins committed or perpetrated
by us, we being repentant, as far as in us lies, making
satisfaction for them after having confessed them
according to the ordinance of the Church.  I call my
Saviour Jesus Christ to be my witness, the Blessed
Trinity, the glorious Virgin Mary, all the Angels and
Archangels, St. Peter, the pastor, my special intercessor
and advocate, St. Paul, Apostle of the Gentiles,
St. Andrew and all the holy apostles, St. George and
in general all the Saints of Paradise,--that I have
always lived in this faith, which is that of the universal
Catholic Church, Apostolic and Roman, in which being
regenerated, I have always had the intention of doing
my duty to the holy Apostolic See.  Of this, to my
great regret, I have not been able to render due
testimony to your Holiness, on account both of my
detention in this captivity and of my long illness; but now
that it has pleased God, my Holy Father, to permit for
my sins and those of this unfortunate island, that I
(the only one remaining of the blood of England and
Scotland who makes profession of this faith) should,
after twenty years of captivity, shut up in a narrow
prison and at last condemned to die by the heretical
States and Assembly of this country, as it has been
to-day signified to me by the mouth of Lord
Buckhurst, Amias Paulet my keeper, one Drew Drury,
knight, and a secretary named Beale, in the name of
their Queen, commanding me to prepare to receive
death, offering me one of their bishops and a dean for
my consolation (a priest that I had, having been taken
from me long before by them, and held by them I
know not where); I have thought it to be my first duty
to turn me to God, and then to relate the whole to
your Holiness in writing, to the end that, although I
cannot let you hear it before my death, at least
afterwards, the cause of it should be made manifest to you,
which is, all things well considered and examined,
their dread of subversion of their religion in this island,
which they say I plan, and which is attempted for my
sake, as well by those of their own subjects who obey
your laws and are declared enemies (and who cause
me to be prayed for as their Sovereign in their churches
whose priests profess duty and subjection to me), as
by strangers, and specially by the Catholic princes and
my relations, and who (so they say) maintain my right
to the crown of England.  I leave it to your Holiness
to consider the consequence of such a sentence,
imploring you to have prayers made for my poor soul,
and for all those who have died, or will die, in the
same cause and the like sentence, and even in honour
of God.  I beg you to give your alms and incite the
kings to do likewise to those who shall survive this
shipwreck.  And my intention being, according to the
constitution of the Church, to confess, do penance as
far as in me lies, and receive my Viaticum, if I can
obtain my chaplain, or some other legitimate minister,
to administer to me the said Sacraments; in default
of this, with contrite and repentant heart, I prostrate
myself at your Holiness' feet, confessing myself to God
and to His Saints, and to the same your Paternity, as
a very unworthy sinner and one meriting eternal
damnation, unless it pleases the good God who died for
sinners, to receive me in His infinite mercy among the
number of poor penitent sinners trusting in his
mercy--imploring you to take this my general
confession in testimony of my intention to accomplish the
remainder in the form ordained and commanded in the
Church, if it is permitted me, and to give me your
general absolution according as you know and think
to be requisite for the glory of God, the honour of
His Church, and the salvation of my poor soul,
between which and the justice of God, I interpose the
blood of Jesus Christ, crucified for me and all sinners,
one of the most execrable among whom I confess
myself to be, seeing the infinite grace I have received
through Him, and which I have so little recognized
and employed; the which would render me unworthy of
forgiveness if His promise made to all those who,
burdened with sin and spiritual woes coming to Him to
be assisted by Him, and His mercy, did not encourage
me, following His commandment to come to Him, bearing
my burden in order to be relieved by Him of it like
the prodigal son, and, what is more, offering my blood
willingly at the foot of His cross, for the unwearied
and faithful zeal which I bear to His Church, without
the restoration of which I desire never to live in this
unhappy world.

"And further, Holy Father, having left myself no
goods in this world, I supplicate your Holiness to
obtain from the very Christian king that my dowry
should be charged with the payment of my debts,
and the wages of my poor desolate servants, and with
an annual obit for my soul and those of all our brethren
departed in this just quarrel, having had no other
private intention, as my poor servants, present at this,
my affliction, will testify to you; as likewise how I have
willingly offered my life in their heretical Assembly
to maintain my Catholic, Apostolic and Roman religion,
and to bring back those of this island who have
ignorantly gone astray (to wit, themselves); protesting
that in this case I would willingly deprive myself of
all the title and dignity of a Queen, and do all honour
and service to theirs, if she would cease to persecute the
Catholics; as I protest that that is the end at which I
have aimed since I have been in this country, and I
have no ambition or desire to reign, nor to dispossess
any other for my personal advantage, as by illness and
by long afflictions I am so weakened that I have no
longer any desire to trouble myself in this world
except with the service of His Church, and to gain the
souls of this island to God; in testimony of which, at
my end, I do not wish to falter in preferring the public
salvation to my personal interests of flesh and blood,
which cause me to pray you,--with a mortal regret for
the perdition of my poor child, after having tried by
all means to regain him,--to be a true father to him,
as St. John the Evangelist was to the youth whom he
withdrew from the company of robbers; to take, in
short, all the authority over him that I can give you
to constrain him, and if it pleases you to call upon
the Catholic king, to assist you in what touches
temporal matters, and especially that you two may
together try to ally him in marriage.  And if God, for
my sins, permit that he should remain obstinate, I
knowing no Christian prince in these times who works
so much for the faith, or who has so many means to
aid him in the bringing back of this island, as the
Catholic king, to whom I am much indebted and
obliged, being the only one who aided me with his
money and advice in my needs, I, subject to your good
pleasure, leave him all that I can have of power or
interest in the government of this kingdom if my son
obstinately remains outside the Church.  But if he
finds he can bring him back, I desire he shall be
aided, supported and advised by him (the king of
Spain) and my relations of Guise, enjoining him by
my last will to hold them, after you, as his fathers,
and to ally himself by their advice and consent, or in
one of their two houses.  And if it pleased God, I would
he were worthy to be a son of the Catholic king.  This
is the secret of my heart and the end of my desires
in this world, tending as I mean them, to the good of
His Church and to the discharge of my conscience,
which I present at the feet of your Holiness, which I
humbly kiss.

"You shall have the true account of the manner
of my last taking, and all the proceedings against me,
and by me, to the end that, hearing the truth, the
calumnies which the enemies of the Church wish to
lay upon me may be refuted by you and the truth
known, and to this effect I have sent to you this bearer,
requesting your holy blessing for the end, and saying
to you for the last time *à Dieu*.  Whom I pray in His
grace to preserve your person for long, for the good
of His Church and your sorrowful flock, especially that
of this island, which I leave very much astray, without
the mercy of God and without your paternal care.

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"Fotheringay, 23rd November, 1586."

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She adds a postscript and signs herself,

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"Of your Holiness the very humble and devoted
daughter

.. vspace:: 1

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MARIE,
   Queen of Scotland,
      Dowager of France."

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Her letter to Mendoça is written in a freer and
clearer style, and is, I think, a truer picture of her
thoughts, as they spontaneously form in her mind, than
that to the Pope.

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LETTER TO DON BERNARD DE MENDOÇA.

.. vspace:: 1

"My very dear Friend,--As I have always known
you to be zealous in God's cause, and interested in my
welfare and deliverance from captivity, I have likewise
also always made you a sharer in all my intentions for
the same cause, begging you to signify them to the king,
Monsieur my good brother, for which at present,
according to the little leisure I have, I have wished to
send you this last adieu, being resolved to receive the
death-stroke which was announced to me last Saturday.

"I know not when or in what manner, but at least
you can feel assured and praise God for me that, by
His grace, I had the courage to receive this very unjust
sentence of the heretics with contentment for the
honour which I esteem it to be to me to shed my blood
at the demand of the enemies of His Church; whilst
they honour me so much as to say that theirs cannot
exist if I live; and the other point they affirm to be
that their Queen cannot reign in security, for the
same reason.  In both these 'conditions' I, without
contradicting them, accepted the honour they were so
anxious to confer upon me, as very zealous in the
Catholic religion, for which I had publicly offered my
life; and as to the other matter, although I had made
no attempt or taken any action to remove her who was
in the place, still as they reproached me with what is
my right, and is so considered by all Catholics, as they
say, I did not wish to contradict them, leaving it to
them to judge.  But they, becoming angry in consequence
of this, told me that, do what I would, I should
not die for religion, but for having wished to have
their Queen murdered, which I denied to them as being
very false, as I never attempted anything of the kind,
but left it to God and the Church to settle everything
for this island regarding religion and what depends
upon it.

"This bearer has promised me to relate to you how
rigorously I have been treated by this people, and ill
served by others, who I could wish had not so much
shown their fear of death in so just a quarrel, or their
inordinate passions.  Whereas from me they only
obtained the avowal that I was a free queen, Catholic,
obedient to the Church, and that for my deliverance
I was obliged--having tried for it by good means
without being able to obtain it--to procure it by the means
which were offered to me, without approving (all the
means employed).

"Nau has confessed all, Curle following his example,
and all is thrown on me.  They threaten me if
I do not ask for pardon, but I say that, as they have
already destined me to death, they may proceed in
their injustice, hoping that God will recompense me
in the other world.  And through spite because I will
not thus confess, they came the day before yesterday,
Monday, to remove my dais, saying that I was no longer
anything but a dead woman without any dignity.

"They are working in my hall; I think they are
making a scaffold to make me play the last scene of
the tragedy.  I die in a good quarrel, and happy at
having given up my rights to the king, your Master.
I have said that if my son does not return to the bosom
of the Church, I confess I know no princes more
worthy or more suitable, for the protection of the island.
I have written as much to His Holiness, and I beg you
to certify to him that I die in this same wish, that I
have written to you, and to him (you) know who is
his near relative and old friend, and to a fourth who,
above all others, I leave under the protection of the
king, and require him, in the name of God, not to
abandon them; and I beg them to serve him in my
place.  I cannot write to them.  Salute them for me,
and all of you pray God for my soul.

"I have asked for a priest, but do not know if I
shall have one; they offered me one of their bishops.
I utterly refused him.  Believe what this bearer tells
you, and these two poor women[#] who have been the
nearest to me.  They will tell you the truth.  I beg of
you to publish it, as I fear others will make it sound
quite differently.  Give orders that payment be made
where you know of, for the discharge of my conscience;
and may the churches of Spain keep me in remembrance
in their prayers.  Keep this bearer's secret; he
has been a faithful valet to me.

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[#] Jane Kennedy and Elizabeth Curle.

.. vspace:: 2

"May God give you a happy life.  You will receive
a token from me, of a diamond, which I valued
as being that with which the late Duke of Norfolk[#]
pledged me his faith, and which I have nearly always
worn.  Keep it for love of me.

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

[#] Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk and Premier Peer of
England, had been chairman of the Conference to which
Mary's dispute with the rebels had been submitted in 1568.
At that time, encouraged by many prominent members of
the English nobility, he formed the design of marrying the
Queen of Scots.  He was betrayed to Elizabeth by the
Regent Moray, to whom he had confided his plans.  After
a term of nine months in the Tower, he was set at liberty.
Resuming negotiations with Mary and her friends, he was
again betrayed--this time by his secretary--and being
convicted of treasonable practices, was put to death.

.. vspace:: 2

"I do not know if I shall be allowed to make a
will.  I have asked for leave, but they have all my
money.  God be with you.  Forgive me if I write with
pain and trouble, having not even one solitary person
to aid me or make my rough copies and to write from
my dictation.  If you cannot read my handwriting
this bearer will read it to you, or my Ambassador, who
is familiar with it.  Among other accusations, Criton's
is one about which I know nothing.  I fear much that
Nau and Pasquier have much hastened my death, for
they kept some papers, and also they are people who
wish to live in both worlds, if they can have their
commodities.  I would to God that Fontenay had been
here; he is a young man of strong resolution and
knowledge.  Adieu.

"Once more I recommend to you my poor destitute
servants, and beg you to pray for my soul.

"From Fotheringay, this Wednesday, the 23rd of
November.  I recommend to you the poor Bishop of
Ross, who will be quite destitute.

"Your much obliged and perfect friend.

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.. class:: noindent

MARIE R."

.. vspace:: 2

The Duke of Guise being nearly related to her,
would be expected to regard the treatment which she
received as something personally touching himself and
his family.  Wishing, therefore, to inspire him with
the thoughts that sustained her own spirits when, as
she was convinced, the gates of martyrdom were opening
to receive her into a better world, she penned him
the following spirited letter:--

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"From Fotheringay, the 24th of November,

.. vspace:: 1

"My Good Cousin:--You whom I hold as dearest
to me in the world, being ready through unjust
judgment, to be put to a death such as no one of our race,
thanks be to God, has ever suffered, still less one of
my quality; but my good cousin, praise God for it, as
I was useless in the world, for the cause of God and
His Church in the state I was, and I hope my death
will testify to my constancy in the faith, and my
readiness to die for the upholding and restoration of the
Church in this unhappy island.  And, although no
executioner has ever before dipped his hand in our
blood, be not ashamed of it my dear friend, for the
condemnation of heretics and enemies of the Church
(and who have no jurisdiction over me, a free queen)
is profitable before God for the children of His Church.
If I would belong to them I should not receive this
blow.  All those of our house have been persecuted by
this sect; for example, your good father, with whom I
hope to be received by the mercy of the just Judge.  I
recommend to you, then, my poor servants, the
discharge of my debts, and I beg you to have some
annual obit founded for my soul, not at your expense,
but please make the necessary solicitations and give
the orders which shall be required.  And you shall
understand my intention by these, my poor desolate
servants, eye-witnesses of my last tragedy.

"May God prosper you, your wife, children, brothers
and cousins, and above all our chief, my good
brother and cousin, and all his.  May the blessing of
God and that which I would give to children of my
own, be on yours, whom I recommend no less to God
than my own unfortunate and ill-advised child.

"You will receive some token from me, to remind
you to pray for the soul of your poor cousin, destitute
of all aid and advice but that of God, which gives me
strength and courage to resist alone so many wolves
howling after me.  To God be the glory.

"Believe, in particular, all that shall be said to
you by a person who will give you a ruby ring from
me, for I take it upon my conscience that the truth
shall be told you of what I have charged her with,
especially of what touches my poor servants, and
regarding one of them in particular.  I recommend you
this person on account of her straightforward sincerity
and goodness, and so that she may be placed in
some good situation.  I have chosen her as being most
impartial and the one who will the most simply convey
my orders.  I beg of you not to make it known that
she has said anything to you in private, as envy might
harm her.

"I have suffered much for two years or more, and
could not let you know it for important reasons, God
be praised for all, and may He give you the grace to
persevere in the service of His Church as long as you
live, and may this honour never leave our race; so that
we, men as well as women, may be ready to shed our
blood to maintain the quarrel of the faith, putting
aside all worldly interests.  And as for me, I esteem
myself born, both on the paternal and maternal side,
to offer my blood for it, and I have no intention of
degenerating.  May Jesus, for us crucified, and may
all the holy martyrs by their intercession, render us
worthy of willingly offering our bodies to His Glory.

"Thinking to degrade me, they had my dais taken
down, and afterwards my guardian came to offer to
write to their Queen, saying he had not done this by
her order, but by the advice of some of the council.  I
showed them the cross of my Saviour in the place
where my arms had been on the said dais.  You shall
hear of our conversation.  They have been more
gentle since.

"Your affectionate cousin and perfect friend,

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.. class:: noindent white-space-pre-line

MARIE,
   Queen of Scotland,
      Dowager of France."





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.. _`AN INTERVAL OF SUSPENSE`:

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   CHAPTER XV.


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   AN INTERVAL OF SUSPENSE.

.. vspace:: 2

The end did not come so quickly as Mary had
expected.  Although the sentence had been publicly
proclaimed throughout the kingdom, Elizabeth
hesitated to sign the death-warrant.  She saw that the
execution of the Scottish queen might be fraught with
dangerous consequences to herself and the realm, and
it was not her policy to make a perilous advance
without having provided the means for a safe retreat.  If
she could only find some servant who, "upon the
winking of authority could understand a law," her purpose
would be better served.  Mary would be secretly
removed, and a scapegoat would be at hand to bear the
sin, and, if needs be, the punishment due to it.  On
February the 1st, she signed the death-warrant, which
had been placed before her among a number of other
papers, and impressed upon Assistant Secretary
Davison that she did not wish to be troubled further with
that matter.  Indeed she continued to complain of the
lack of zeal in those who had joined the Association
for her defence.  She had done all, she said, that could
be required of her by law or reason, and those who
were interested in her welfare should relieve her of
further responsibility.  "Would it not be better for me,"
she remarked, "to risk personal danger than to take the
life of a relation.  But if a loyal subject were to save
me from the embarrassment of dealing the blow, the
resentment of Scotland and France might be
disarmed."  The prudence of those "loyal subjects"
who preferred to leave the responsibility on her own
shoulders, was amply vindicated immediately after the
execution, when, in the futile endeavour to deceive the
French and Spanish ambassadors, she visited Burleigh
and other Ministers with temporary suspension from
office, and cast Davison into the Tower, where she left
him to languish for the remainder of her lifetime,
because forsooth they had executed the death-warrant
without her knowledge.  Walsingham and Davison felt
constrained, however, to write Sir Amias Paulet
and Sir Drew Drury, whom the Queen thought should
be ready to do her will, to point out to them the
service their royal Mistress expected from them.  "We
find," they wrote, "by speech lately uttered by Her
Majesty that she doth note in you a lack of that care
and zeal of her service that she looked for at your
hands, in that you have not in all this time of
yourselves (without other provocation) found out some way
to shorten the life of the Queen, considering the great
peril she (Elizabeth) is subject unto hourly, so long
as the said Queen shall live........

"And therefore she (Elizabeth) taketh it most
unkindly towards her, that men professing that love
towards her that you do, should in any kind or sort, for
lack of the discharge of your duties, cast the burthen
upon her, knowing, as you do, her indisposition to
shed blood, especially of one of that sex and quality,
and so near to her in blood as the said Queen
is."  Closing, they commit Paulet and Drury "to the
*protection* of the Almighty"--which was very thoughtful,
seeing how persuasively they had just been soliciting
them to an act of assassination.  Paulet, in spite of
his fierce hatred of Mary, unequivocally refused to
entertain the suggestion and expressed his regret that
he had lived to see the unhappy day in which he was
"required by direction from her most gracious sovereign,
to do an act which God and the law forbiddeth."  Then,
with exquisite propriety of terminology, he commits
Walsingham and Davison, not to the "*protection*"--the
time when they most needed protection he
probably thought was past--but to "the *mercy* of the
Almighty."

In the meantime the preparations for the execution
were advancing.  Elizabeth having signed the
death-warrant, Davison handed it over to the Chancellor;
at the instance of the Lord Treasurer, Burleigh,
the Council convened, and, without waiting further
instructions from the Queen, appointed the Earls of
Kent and Shrewsbury to execute the warrant.

While her fate was being sealed at Westminster,
the doomed captive in Fotheringay was expecting, from
day to day, to receive the final blow.  Though
frequently confined to bed by rheumatism in her limbs,
she maintained a cheerfulness and composure that
greatly annoyed the irascible Paulet.  On December the
15th, he complains to Walsingham that "this lady
continues to show her perverse and obstinate character."  "She
shows," he adds, "no sign of repentance and no
submission.  She does not acknowledge her fault, does
not ask for forgiveness and shows no sign of wishing
to live."

On the 19th of December, she penned a letter of
which the following is a portion, to Queen Elizabeth:--

"Madame, in honour of Jesus (whose name all
powers obey), I require you to promise that when my
enemies shall have satisfied their dark desire for my
innocent blood, you will permit that my poor sorrowful
servants may altogether bear my body to be buried in
holy ground and near those of my predecessors who
are in France, especially the late queen, my mother;
and this because in Scotland the bodies of the kings,
my ancestors, have been insulted, and the churches
pulled down and profaned, and because, suffering death
in this country, I cannot have a place beside your
predecessors, who are also mine; and what is more
important, because in our religion we must prize being buried
in holy ground.  And as I am told you wish in nothing
to force my conscience or my religion, and have even
conceded me a priest, I hope that you will not refuse
this my last request, but will at least allow free
sepulture to the body from which the soul will be
separated, as being united, they never knew how to obtain
liberty to live in peace, or to procure the same for you,
for which before God I do not in any way blame
you--but may God show you the entire truth after my
death.

"And because I fear the secret tyranny of some
of those into whose power you have abandoned me, I
beg you not to permit me to be executed without your
knowledge--not from fear of the pain, which I am
ready to suffer, but on account of the rumours which
would be spread concerning my death if it was not
seen by reliable witnesses; how it was done, I am
persuaded, in the case of others of different rank.  It is
for this reason that in another place I require that my
attendants remain to be spectators and witnesses of my
end in the faith of my Saviour, and in the obedience of
His Church, and afterwards they shall all together
quickly withdraw, taking my body with them as
secretly as you wish, and so that the furniture and other
things which I may be able to leave them in dying,
be not taken from them, which will be, indeed a very
small reward for their good service.  Would you wish
me to return a jewel, which you gave me, to you with
my last words, or would it please you to receive it
sooner?  I implore of you anew to permit me to send
a jewel and a last adieu to my son, together with my
blessing, of which he has been deprived, owing to that
you informed me of his refusal to enter into a treaty
in which I was included,--by the unhappy advice of
whom?  The last point I leave to your conscience and
favourable consideration.  For the others I demand of
you, in the name of Jesus Christ, and in consideration
of our relationship, in remembrance of King Henry
VII., your grandfather and mine[#] and in honour of
the dignity we have both held, and of our common sex,
that my request be granted.

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[#] Henry VII. was Elizabeth's grandfather and Mary's
great-grandfather.

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"For the rest I think you will certainly have heard
that they pulled down my dais, by your order, as they
said, and that afterwards they told me that it was
not done by your command but by that of some of the
Council.  I praise God that such cruelty, which could
only show malice and affect me after I had made up
my mind to die, came not from you.  I fear it has been
like this in many other things, and that this is the
reason why they would not permit me to write to you
until they had, as far as they could, taken from me
all external mark of dignity and power, telling me I
was simply a dead woman, stripped of all dignity.

"God be praised for all.  I wish that all my papers,
without any exception, had been shown to you, so that
it might have been said that it was not solely the care
of your safety which animated all those who are so
prompt in pursuing me.  If you grant me this, my last
request, give orders that I shall see what you write
regarding it, as otherwise they will make me believe
what they like; and I desire to know your final reply
to my final request.

"In conclusion, I pray the God of mercy, the
just Judge, that He will deign to enlighten you by His
Holy Spirit, and that He will give me the grace to die
in perfect charity, as I am preparing myself to do,
pardoning all those who are the cause of my death, or
who have co-operated in it, and this shall be my prayer
till the end.  I consider it happy for me that it should
come before the persecution which I foresee threatens
this island--if God is not more truly feared and
revered, and vanity and worldly policy not more wisely
curbed.  Do not accuse me of presumption if, on the
eve of leaving this world, and preparing myself for a
better, I remind you that one day you will have to
answer for your charge as well as those who are
sent before, and that, making no account of my blood
or my country, I desire to think of the time when,
from the earliest dawn of reason, we were taught to
place our soul's welfare before all temporal matters,
which should cede to those of eternity.

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"Your Sister and Cousin wrongfully imprisoned,
   MARIE, QUEEN."

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She wrote again to Elizabeth nearly a month later,
but Paulet refused to dispatch her letter.





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.. _`THE END`:

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   CHAPTER XVI.


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   THE END.

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..

   |  What lovely form, in deepest gloom
   |  Of prison cave, awaits her doom?--
   |     *      *      *      *      *
   |  'Tis Scotia's basely-injured Queen;
   |  'Tis she who, cherished, would have been
   |  The loveliest, brightest, richest gem
   |  In Caledonia's diadem,--
   |  A gem too polished, pure and bright
   |  For Scotia's sons, in Scotia's night,
   |  When evil man and evil times
   |  Were stained in basest, blackest crimes.--
   |                          *The Royal Exile.*
   |

On Tuesday, the 7th of February (1587), the Earls
of Kent and Shrewsbury, who had been appointed to
conduct the execution of the Scottish queen, arrived
at Fotheringay.  Towards evening they sent her word
that they wished to see her on urgent business.  She
had gone to bed, but, on hearing their message, she
rose and prepared to receive them.  Shrewsbury and
Kent entered, accompanied by Beale, clerk of the
Council, and the two keepers, Paulet and Drury.
Shrewsbury, who in his heart sympathized with the helpless
queen, performed the unpleasant duty imposed upon
him by announcing to her the purpose of their visit,
and requesting her to listen to the sentence which Beale
was about to read.  When Beale had finished reading,
Mary thanked them for the welcome news.  "I have
long looked for this," she said, "and have expected
it day by day for eighteen years.  Unworthy though
I think myself, I am by the grace of God a Queen
born and a Queen anointed, a near relative of the Queen
(of England), grand-daughter of King Henry VII.,
and I have had the honour to be Queen of France,
but, in all my life I have had only sorrow."  In
answer to their urgent requests that she should accept
of the religious services of the Dean of Peterborough,
and renounce her former "abominations," she assured
them that all their efforts to persuade her in that
matter were useless.  "Having lived till now in the true
faith," she said, "this is not the time to change, but
on the contrary, it is the very moment when it is most
needful that I should remain firm and constant, as I
intend to do."  Turning from the profitless religious
discussion on which Kent seemed disposed to linger,
she enquired when she should die.  "To-morrow
morning at eight o'clock," was Shrewsbury's reply.

Short indeed was the notice, but Mary betrayed
no sign of alarm.  The lords shortly after retired, and
she was left alone to prepare for the closing scene in
the painful tragedy of her life.  She was denied the
assistance of a priest--a last act of cruelty for which
no excuse can be offered.

The little family of her faithful servants who had
shared with her the weary years of captivity, were
disconsolate.  She alone was bright and joyful.  "Well,"
she said, "let supper be hastened, so that I may put my
affairs in order.  My children, it is now no time to
weep; that is useless; what do you now fear?  You
should rather rejoice to see me on such a good road
to being delivered from the many evils and afflictions
which have so long been my portion."  During supper
she turned to her physician, Bourgoin, with a bright
countenance, and said:--"Did you remark what Lord
Kent said in his interview with me?  He said that my
life would have been the death of their religion, and
that my death will be its life.  Oh, how happy these
words make me............
They told me that I was to die because I had plotted
against the Queen, and here is Lord Kent sent to me
to convert me, and what does he tell me?--that I am to
die on account of my religion."

When the light repast was finished, her attendants
gathered around her on their knees, implored her
to forgive them whatever offences they had committed
against her.  "With all my heart, my children," she
fervently answered, "even as I pray you to forgive me
any injustice or harshness of which I may have been
guilty towards you."

Her unselfishness, which was one of the strongest
features of her character, showed itself to the last.  No
one would have thought it was she who had to die
next morning.  She was administering comfort, not
seeking it.  In all her life she had never abandoned a
friend, nor forgotten a good turn; nor did she now.
The night was already well advanced, and she began
parcelling out gifts of money and jewellery for her
attendants and friends.  Late in the night she wrote a
short letter to her chaplain, Preau, who was detained
in another part of the Castle and denied admittance
to her presence.

"I have," she wrote, "been attacked to-day
concerning my religion, and urged to receive consolation
from the heretics.  You will hear from Bourgoin and
others that I, at least, faithfully made protestation for
my faith, in which I wish to die.  I requested to have
you, in order that I might make my confession and
receive my Sacrament, which was cruelly refused me, as
well as leave for my body to be removed and the power
of making a free will, or writing anything except what
shall pass through their hands and be subject to the
good pleasure of their mistress.  In default of that, I
confess in general the gravity of my sins, as I had
intended to do to you in particular, begging you in the
name of God to pray and watch with me this night in
satisfaction for my sins, and to send me your absolution
and pardon for the things in which I have offended
you.  I shall try to see you in their presence, as they
have allowed me to see the steward,[#] and if I am
allowed, I shall ask the blessing on my knees before all.

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[#] Melville, the steward here referred to, and Preau had
been separated from Mary three weeks before.  Melville was
permitted to meet his mistress on her way to the scaffold.
Preau was denied even this.

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"Advise me as to the most appropriate prayers, for
this night and to-morrow morning, as the time is short
and I have no leisure to write; but I will recommend
you, as well as the others, and especially your benefices
will be spared to you, and I will recommend you to
the king.  I have no more time.  Tell me in writing
of all that you shall think best for the good of my
soul.  I shall send you a last little token."

"At two hours after midnight," she wrote a letter
to the King of France, and then, worn out with the
anxieties and labours of the last twelve hours, laid
down to rest.  But her women attendants, who watched
closely by her bedside, assure us that, though she lay
calm and motionless with her hands crossed on her
breast, her lips continued to move in prayer, and a
joyful expression occasionally rested on her countenance.

The royal victim rose early in the morning, and
attired herself in her most costly garments.[#]  Then she
called together her little household, gave to each the
present she had prepared the night before, and with
comforting words bade them farewell.  "I beg you
all," she said, "to assist at my death, and to testify to
my unalterable devotion to my religion.  Be ye
witnesses of my last acts and my last words."  This done,
she retired to her oratory to pray.  At eight o'clock the
sheriff interrupted her devotions, announcing that the
hour had come.  The Queen promptly answered the
summons, and, although suffering from a rheumatism
which prevented her from walking without support,
she strove to disguise her suffering and to march to
death with as firm a step as possible.  At the foot of
the stairs leading down from her apartments, her old
servant Melville awaited his mistress, and, on her
approach, threw himself on his knees before her, and
wept.  "Ah, madame," he said, "unhappy me, what
man on earth was ever before the messenger of so
important sorrow and heaviness as I shall be, when I
shall report that my good and gracious Queen and
Mistress is beheaded in England."

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[#] "Her robes--the only ones she had reserved of former
splendours--were such as were then worn by queens-dowager.
The skirt and bodice of black satin were worn over
a petticoat of russet-brown velvet; while the long regal
mantle, also of black satin, embroidered with gold and
trimmed with fur, had long hanging sleeves and a train.
The Queen's head-dress was of white crape, from which fell
a long veil of the same delicate material, edged with lace.
Round her neck she wore a chain of scented beads with a
cross, and at her waist a golden rosary."  (*The Tragedy of
Fotheringay*, by Hon. Mrs. Maxwell Scott.)

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"Not so," replied the Queen; "to-day, good
Melville, thou seest the end of Mary Stewart's miseries,
that should rejoice thee.  Thou knowest that this world
is but vanity and misery.  Be the bearer of this news,
that I die a Catholic, firm in my religion, a faithful
Scotchwoman and a true Frenchwoman.  God forgive
those who have sought my death."  She advanced
unmoved through the hall in which the scaffold stood,
carrying in her uplifted hand a large ivory crucifix.
After encountering much opposition, she succeeded in
obtaining permission for her two women, Jane Kennedy
and Elizabeth Curle, to assist her until she should
be disrobed for the execution.

Having mounted the scaffold, she seated herself
on a low stool covered with black, while the warrant
of execution was being read.  When it was finished,
she signed herself with the sign of the Cross and (as
an eye witness says), "She looked upon the assembly
with a joyous countenance, her beauty more apparent
than ever, a bright colour in her face."  Mr. Fletcher,
Dean of Peterborough, then approached the scaffold
railing and began to address her.  But she paid no
heed to him, except to inform him that he need not
trouble himself further, for she was settled in her
religion.  On the contrary, as if indifferent to what was
being said and done around her, she glided from the
stool on which she sat, and kneeling down prayed aloud
for the afflicted Church of Christ, for her son, for
Queen Elizabeth, "that she might prosper and serve
God aright," for her enemies who had long sought
her blood; finally, kissing the crucifix, which she held
in her hand, she begged that Jesus, whose arms were
there extended on the cross, would receive her into the
arms of his mercy.  Her prayer ended, the executioners
began to disrobe her.  At this point her women, no
longer able to control their feelings, broke into
lamentations, but she embracing them, prayed them not to
cry, or she would be obliged to send them away.
Turning to where her men-servants stood, a short distance
from the scaffold, she crossed them with her hands and
bade them farewell.

All being now ready, she embraced her women,
saying, "Adieu for the last time,--Adieu, au revoir,"
and then requested them to withdraw from the scaffold.

Seated on the black stool, her eyes bandaged, and
the crucifix raised in her hands, she prays aloud, "My
God, I have hoped in thee, I give back my soul into
Thy hands."  The executioners lead her to the block;
Lord Shrewsbury lifts up his wand; a deep silence
falls upon the hall as the axe trembles in the air, and
is broken only by the last words of Mary Stewart as
she awaits the deadly blow,--"Into Thy hands, O Lord,
I commend my spirit."

   |  "The neck is bared--the blow is struck--the soul is passed away,
   |  The bright, the beautiful, is now--a bleeding piece of clay."
   |

The executioner taking up the head, according to
custom, and exposing it to the gaze of the people, cried
out, "God save the Queen."  "So perish all the Queen's
enemies," added the Dean of Peterborough; "such be
the end of all the Queen's and the Gospel's enemies,"
remarked the Earl of Kent.  But even that hostile
assembly was melted to tears, and scarcely a voice was
heard to answer, "Amen."

The body of the Scottish Queen, notwithstanding
her dying request that it be consigned to the care of
her servants and by them borne away to France and
laid beside that of her mother, was detained for six
months in Fotheringay Castle.  It was then removed,
by order of Elizabeth, to the Cathedral of
Peterborough, a few miles distant, and laid in a vault
opposite the tomb of another noble victim of Tudor
tyranny, the blameless Catherine of Arragon.  Twenty-five
years later her son, King James, who had in the
meantime succeeded to the throne of England, in partial
reparation for his former neglects, removed her remains
to Westminster Abbey, and caused a beautiful monument,
with a marble effigy of the Queen in a recumbent
position, to be erected over them, in the south aisle of
Henry the Seventh's chapel.

No more need be added to this brief review of
Mary Stewart's history.  The opinions set forth and
defended in the above pages will not be received by all,
for the leading events of her life will continue to be
interpreted very generally according to theories
conceived by party zeal, before the historical evidence
bearing on them has been examined.  I do not pretend
that I myself have approached the study of her life
without prejudice.  Say what we will, where party
spirit has run high, our feelings are always enlisted
before our judgment has been moved.  This, however,
should be borne in mind: the prejudices of a writer
cannot destroy the force of the evidence with which
he supports his contention; and, whithersoever my
sympathies may tend, I have endeavoured to give my
reasons--the intelligent reader will judge of their
value--why I refuse to believe that Mary was the paramour of
Bothwell and a party to the murder of her husband,
and why I maintain that her conviction, on the charge
of having sanctioned the projected murder of Queen
Elizabeth, was unjust.

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