[#] 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."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."[#] This statement, however, is too sweeping.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."CHAPTER V.THE QUEEN'S MARRIAGE AND FRESH TROUBLES.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.CHAPTER VI.THE TRAGEDY OF KIRK O'FIELD AND ITS SEQUEL.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 ofraptus, she was incapable, no matter how earnestly she may have desired it, of contracting valid matrimony with Bothwell, without having first regained his liberty.
[#] 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."
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."
[#] This statement, however, is too sweeping.
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."
CHAPTER V.
THE QUEEN'S MARRIAGE AND FRESH TROUBLES.
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.
The touch of care had blanched her cheek, her smile was sadder now;The weight of royalty had pressed too heavy on her brow.
The touch of care had blanched her cheek, her smile was sadder now;
The weight of royalty had pressed too heavy on her brow.
CHAPTER VI.
THE TRAGEDY OF KIRK O'FIELD AND ITS SEQUEL.
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 ofraptus, she was incapable, no matter how earnestly she may have desired it, of contracting valid matrimony with Bothwell, without having first regained his liberty.