[#] I do not think it can be any longer doubted that Mary learned in the course of time to regard her marriage with Bothwell as invalid; and I am surprised that so eminent and enlightened a writer as Mr. Skelton should argue that her "subsequent anxiety to obtain a divorce from Bothwell proves that she continued to believe that the marriage was binding." She was too well versed in Catholic doctrine and in the history of Henry the Eighth's conflict with Rome to hope for a divorce from Bothwell, if she believed the marriage was binding. At any rate, her instructions to Bishop Leslie, whom she sent to Rome in 1575, leave it beyond doubt that it was not a divorce, but merely a declaration that the marriage was null from the beginning, that she asked of the Pope. "Take good heed," she said, "that the Holy Father shall publicly announce that the pretended marriage contracted between me and Bothwell, without any legality but by a pretended procedure is of no (force). For although there are many reasons which, as you know, make it clearly invalid in itself, yet the matter will be much clearer if his Holiness, acting as the most certain lawyer of the Church, will come forward to annul it." (Published from a Cottonian MS. by the late Rev. Joseph Stevenson, S.J., in notes to his preface to Claude Nau's narrative.)During the nine days that intervened between the times he was brought back to Edinburgh and the day of her marriage, no effort was made to stay the proceedings. Craig, the minister of St. Giles, to whom it fell to publish the marriage banns, courageously declared his disapproval of the union, adding, however, the significant words that "the best part of the realm did approve it, either by flattery or by their silence"--words that show how completely the unfortunate Queen was left under the control of Bothwell.But as soon as Mary's fortunes were identified with Bothwell's by the bond of marriage, the sound of approaching war was heard. The Confederate lords rose in arms to avenge the murder of the late King (so they said), and to liberate the Queen; and many true friends of Mary's, little suspecting the real purpose of the prime movers, arrayed themselves under their standard. The two armies met at Carberry Hill; no battle ensued. The Confederates promised that if Mary would separate herself from Bothwell and confide in them, they would respect her as their true sovereign. Mary agreed, but once in their power her eyes were opened. She was brought back to Edinburgh, flouted along the way with a banner on which was depicted the effigy of her murdered husband, and exposed to the studied insults of a rabble, half frantic from the fierce harangues of the Knoxonian preachers. The following night she was hurried away, and placed in the lonely castle of Lochleven, situated on a rock in a lake of the same name, in the County of Kinross. And that was how they fulfilled their promises to restore her to her royal estate,--that was her reward for the confidence she had placed in their word.Froude attempts to justify the action of the Confederates on the ground that Mary, after reaching Edinburgh, refused to give up Bothwell, and that she wrote him a letter which was intercepted that same night, declaring her anxiety to be with him at almost any cost. Of course Froude was not the first to offer this explanation; but no writer who wishes to be classed among respectable historians would now embody that unauthenticated gossip in his narrative in the manner in which Froude has done. Froude evidently relies much on the gullibility of his readers; and not without reason; for how many of those who sweep over his dramatic pages, captivated by the brilliancy of his master style, ever suspect that his statements are reckless and unwarranted?But did the Confederate lords imprison the Queen because she refused to give up Bothwell? We cannot tell. The alleged letter to Bothwell is the only argument for it, and that letter was never afterwards produced, although the production of it would have been of incalculable value to her enemies. The fact is, the lords gave nobody access to the Queen--not even the English envoy and what she did, or what she desired, we know only through those whose interest it was to make out a case against her.CHAPTER VII.CAPTIVITY.--ESCAPE.--FLIGHT.The next step was to force Mary to abdicate in favour of her infant son. (To use the child against the parent monarch had long been a favourite policy with the Scottish rebel lords.) A delegation was sent to her for that purpose, headed by Lord Lindsay, whom Sir Walter Scott calls "the rudest baron of that rude age"--fit agent for the tyrranous deed. Moved partly by fear that refusal would lead to a violent death, and partly by the previous representation of some of her friends that what she did under constraint could not bind her if she regained her liberty, Mary signed the cruel document--"She wrote the words--She stood erect--a queen without a crown,"and although prudence would prevent her from uttering them with her lips, we may be sure that in her heart she spoke the words attributed to her by the poet:--"My lords,--my lords," the captive said, "were I but once more free,With ten good knights on yonder shore to aid my cause and me,That parchment would I scatter wide to every breeze that blows,And once more reign a Stewart queen o'er my remorseless foes."The next important visit the helpless Queen received in her prison was from the Earl of Moray. The cautious Earl had been absent in France during the troublous times that had elapsed since the murder of Darnley, but no doubt was well pleased with the success with which Morton and his associates had been advancing his cause. His sister was now dethroned, the infant James was crowned King, and he himself was named Regent. The goal of his ambition seemed near. He had returned to Scotland in time to receive the honours prepared for him, and--whatever his motives were--before formally accepting the Regency, he visited Mary in Lochleven Castle. It is thought by many that he paid this visit with a view to rendering his footing more secure, as he probably hoped that the prisoner, recognizing the helplessness of her condition, would ask him to accept the office of Regent. Depressed with the gravity of the trials she had just passed through, the tender-hearted Queen naturally hoped that her brother's visit would bear some comfort to her lonely prison. But she was disappointed. Ambition (if nothing more) had expelled from Moray's breast those feelings of natural tenderness with which we should presume every man to be moved towards a humiliated and afflicted sister. Even his friends are slow to commend his conduct on this occasion. "That visit" (writes Robertson, in the History of Scotland) "to a sister, and a queen in prison, from which he had neither any intention to relieve her, nor to mitigate the rigour of her confinement, may be mentioned among the circumstances which discover the great want of delicacy and refinement in that age."As long as the Queen was confined in Lochleven, her friends in Scotland were obliged to keep quiet, for it was intimated to them that if they attempted to liberate her, they would be presented with her head.The unhappy Queen, cut off from the world in the bloom and beauty of her youth, looked out from day to day across the dull waters that encircled her prison-house, and anxiously surveyed the neighbouring hills in which, she knew, her faithful friends were lingering, in hopes of discovering some means of effecting her deliverance. After various ineffectual attempts, a successful plan of escape was at length devised by the ingenuity of little Willie Douglas, a youth in the household of the Laird of Lochleven.Sunday, May 2nd, was the day chosen for what proved to be a successful attempt to escape. Lords Seton, Beton and George Douglas, with a number of followers, were lingering about the shore, near the village of Kinross, ready to receive the Queen and convey her to a place of safety. Within the castle prison all preliminaries were arranged, but the lowest point of the wall that Mary could reach was higher than she could venture to leap from, and the keys of the gate were scrupulously guarded by the Laird. Let us hear Nau relate how the problem was solved:--"An hour before supper-time, the Queen retired into her own chamber. She put on a red kirtle belonging to one of her women, and over it she covered herself with one of her own mantles. Then she went into the garden to talk with the old lady whence she could see the people who were walking on the other side of the loch."Everything being now ready, the Queen, who, of set purpose, had caused the supper to be delayed until that time, now ordered it to be served. When the supper was finished, the Laird (whose ordinary custom it was to wait upon her at table), went to sup along with his wife and the rest of the household, in a hall on the ground story. A person called Draisdel,[#] who had the chief charge in the establishment, and who generally remained in the Queen's room to keep her safe, went out along with the Laird, and amused himself by playing at hand ball.[#] When Draisdel--the original, no doubt, of Scott's imperturbable Dryfesdale in "The Abbott"--was informed by the two young girls that the queen was missing and had probably escaped, "he was amused at this, and said he would soon find her; he would give her leave to escape if she could. At one time he whistled, at another he cut capers." Romance must have been unfair in painting him a phlegmatic steward."In order to free herself from the two young girls who remained with her, Her Majesty in the meantime went into an upper room, above her own, occupied by her surgeon, on the plea that she wished to say her prayers; and, indeed, she did pray very devoutly, recommending herself to God, who then showed His pity and care for her. In this room she left her mantle, and, having put on a hood, such as is worn by the country-women of the district, she made one of her domestics, who was to accompany her, dress herself in the same fashion. The otherfemme-de-chambreremained with the two young girls to amuse them, for they had become very inquisitive as to the cause of the Queen's lengthened absence."While the laird was at supper, William Douglas, as he was handing him his drink, secretly removed the key of the great gate, which lay on the table before him. He promptly gave notice of this to the Queen, in order that she should come down stairs instantaneously; and immediately afterwards as he came out of the door he gave the sign to the young woman who was to accompany Her Majesty, as she was looking towards the window. This being understood, the Queen came down forthwith; but as she was at the bottom of the steps she noticed that several of the servants of the household were passing backwards and forwards in the court, which induced her to stand for some time the door of the stairs. At last, however, in the sight of the whole of them, she crossed the courtyard, and having gone out by the great gate, William Douglas locked it with the key and threw it into a cannon placed near at hand. The Queen and herfemme-de-chambrehad stood for some time close to the wall, fearing that they should be seen from the windows of the house; but at length they got into the vessel, and the Queen laid herself down under the boatman's seat. She had been advised to do this, partly to escape notice, partly to escape being hit, if a cannon shot should be sent after her. Several washerwomen and other domestics were amusing themselves in a garden near the loch when Her Majesty got into the boat. One of the washerwomen even recognized her, and made a sign to William Douglas that she was aware of it, but William called out to her aloud, by name, telling her to hold her tongue."As the boat was nearing the other side, William saw one of George's servants, but failed to recognize him, as he was armed. Apprehending some fraud, he hesitated to come nearer the shore; at length, however, the servant having spoken, he landed, and then Her Majesty was met and welcomed by George Douglas and John Beton, who had broken into the laird's stables and seized his best horses. Being mounted as best she might, the Queen would not set off until she had seen William Douglas on horse also--he who had hazarded so much for her release. She left herfemme-de-chambrebehind her, but with direction that she should follow her as soon as she could have an outfit."Being joined by her friends on shore, the Queen hurried south, and, having crossed the Firth at Queen's Ferry, reached Lord Seton's house at Niddry, about midnight. Thence she proceeded to Hamilton, where she remained until the 13th of May collecting her forces. The plan was, to place the Queen in safety in Dunbarton Castle, on the Clyde, and then muster all her forces for the overthrow of the Regent. It is not difficult now to see that her friends made a fatal blunder in not conveying her directly to Dunbarton from Lochleven. In Dunbarton she would be safe, and her followers could take time to properly organize. As it was, those who rallied round her standard during her stay at Hamilton were equal in number to the army under command of the Regent at Glascow. Her two main supports in the North, Lord Ogilvy and the powerful Earl of Huntly, had not yet succeeded in joining her; but the Earls of Argyle, Cassillis, Rothes and Eglinton, Lords Seton, Borthwick, Somerville, Livingstone, Claud Hamilton, Herries, Boyd, Yester, Ross and others, were already at her side. Bravery and chivalry were in her ranks, but organization and efficient generalship were wanting.The fact that, notwithstanding the persistent and ingenious efforts of her enemies to utterly defame her, so many nobles (most of whom were Protestants), hurried to her support as soon as her escape was made known, draws the following remarks from her Protestant biographer, Mr. Hosack--"That in spite of all the efforts of Moray and his faction, and in spite of all the violence of the preachers, she--the Catholic Queen of Scotland, the daughter of the hated house of Guise, the reputed mortal enemy of their religion--should now, after being maligned as the most abandoned of her sex, find her best friends among her Protestant subjects, appears at first sight inexplicable. A phenomenon so strange admits of only one explanation. If, throughout her reign, she had not loyally kept her promises of security and toleration to her Protestant subjects, they assuredly would not in her hour of need have risked their lives and fortunes in her defence."On their march to Dunbarton the Queen's forces were met by those of the Regent at Langside, and thrown into confusion. Attended by three brave nobles--Lords Herries, Fleming and Livingstone--and little Willie Douglas, she hurried towards the south, and, after a wearisome journey, reached Dundrennen Abbey, in Galloway. Here she resolved on a step that was the greatest mistake of her life. The majority of the Scottish people were loyal to her, and only needed time to muster, but in spite of the advice, persuasions and entreaties of Lord Herries and her other attendants, she determined to cross over to England. Elizabeth's recent expressions of friendship and promises of help had blinded the Scottish Queen; and her own generous nature, which would have instantly prompted her to assist, as far as she could, a sister queen in distress, rendered her for the time incapable of suspecting that Elizabeth could betray her in her hour of greatest need. She stepped forth from Scottish soil, never to set foot on it again, and steered across the Firth to the shores of England.CHAPTER VIII.IN THE HANDS OF ELIZABETH.Having landed in England, the Scottish Queen was, by order of Elizabeth, conveyed to Carlisle Castle, and there placed in custody of Sir Francis Knollys. She hastened to send Lord Herries to the English court, to request that Elizabeth, according to her promise, would help restore her to her throne; or at least would give her liberty to pass out of the kingdom and seek help elsewhere. Elizabeth could have pursued either course with honour, but she pursued neither; and as long as right is right and wrong is wrong--as long as justice is not synonymous with temporal advantage--so long will it remain impossible to frame a defence for Elizabeth Tudor in her conduct toward Mary Stewart. Her hostility to Mary, and her support of Mary's enemies, veil them as she would, were evident throughout the subsequent proceedings.Mary's friends in Scotland were rising in large numbers and preparing to take the field against the Regent. Elizabeth, leading Mary to believe that she would reinstate her, prevailed on her to request her partizans to desist from warfare; the Regent in the meantime continued his work of destruction against those who had fought for the Queen. Elizabeth offered to act as umpire between the Regent's party and Mary. The whole affair, so Mary was given to understand, would turn out to her profit. Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk; Thomas Ratcliff, Earl of Sussex, and Sir Ralph Sadler, were nominated commissioners by Elizabeth to hear the charge of political misgovernment which the Regent would bring against Mary. No charge affecting Mary's personal honour was to be admitted.The conference opened at York, in October, 1568. Of course it was mere fiction to speak of Mary's misgovernment. But would Cecil and Elizabeth lose their opportunity of disgracing, as far as they could, the Scottish Queen, in the eyes of the English people, and of rendering a compromise with her enemies in Scotland impossible? Such could hardly be expected. The Conference was transferred to Westminster, and, contrary to the conditions on which Mary had permitted her case to be referred to a commission, Moray was assured that he might bring forward accusations against her honour--in fact he was urged or encouraged to do so. He then accused her of being the author, with Bothwell, of her late husband's murder, and of having intended a like fate for her infant son; and in support of his charge he produced the celebrated documents known as the Casket Letters, consisting of letters and sonnets which, he claimed, had been written by Mary to Bothwell, and had fallen into the hands of the Earl of Morton, shortly after the surrender at Carberry Hill. Mary's commissioners protested against this violation of the conditions on which the conference had been opened, and demanded that, as Moray had been admitted to Elizabeth's presence, so should their Queen. Otherwise, they maintained, the conference was closed. Cecil disregarded their protests, and the Regent placed his accusations and papers before the commissioners and Lords of the Privy Council. Mary, hearing this, instructed her commissioners to declare that Moray himself and his faction were guilty of Darnley's murder, and that if she were furnished with the originals or even with copies of the Casket Letters, and admitted to the presence of Elizabeth as her accusers had been, she should prove them to be liars, and should convict certain persons of their number as the real murderers. But she was refused admittance to Queen Elizabeth. As soon as she was informed of the refusal, she directed her commissioners to resume the conference, and to throw back the charge of murder on Moray and his associates. But the conference was not resumed, nor was Mary furnished with the originals of the letters that had been brought forward as evidence against her honour. Elizabeth, Cecil and Moray shrank from a fair investigation of the case; and Moray, with his "Casket" and "Originals," and with £5,000 of Elizabeth's gold in his pocket, was hurried back to Scotland. Mary, however, was left as before--a prisoner whom Elizabeth would neither help to regain her throne, nor permit to pass out of the realm. Matters now seemed to stand in the condition in which Elizabeth had hoped to place them. The breach between Mary and the Regent's party had been rendered irreparable; and the English nation--in which she had had so many adherents--had been taught (so at least her enemies hoped), to regard the Scottish Queen as a criminal and abandoned woman.The celebrated Casket Letters demand at least a brief consideration. If they are genuine, Mary was undoubtedly implicated in the murder of her husband. If they are forged or interpolated, they are not only worthless as evidence against her, but are a crowning proof of her innocence. Much of the matter of these letters might have been written by Mary--and probably was written by her, though not to Bothwell--without being evidence that she shared in the murder. It is commonly believed by her friends that the Casket Letters are partly made up of letters written by her to Darnley. It is well known that, while she was in Lochleven, Holyrood was ransacked by the Morton-Moray faction, and that her papers, as well as those which Darnley may have left there, were at their disposal. They could easily select those letters which could be most readily doctored up so as to bear a sinister meaning, and those which, as they stood, would appear criminal if addressed to other than Darnley. There is, however, one letter, or at least part of one letter, that could not be written by Mary if she was innocent, namely, letter No. 2, represented as written to Bothwell from Glasgow, while she was visiting Darnley in his sickness.With regard to these letters, I would say, in the first place, that they cannot be adduced as conclusive evidence of Mary's guilt, because, at best, their genuineness is doubtful. I would say, in the second place, that at any rate as far as the incriminating portions are concerned, I cannot regard them as other than forged; and here in brief are my principal reasons for rejecting them:--First. Because, in view of the ill-treatment to which in other things she was subjected, and of the unfair tactics used against her, by those interested in producing the Casket Letters, no accusation proceeding from that same source against her honour as a woman, can be accepted, unless it is clearly substantiated. It can hardly be controverted that, whatever Mary's faults may have been, the Morton-Moray faction had already treated her dishonourably and unjustly. They had plotted with foreigners against her before ever the Bothwell imbroglio arose; they had tried to brand her with dishonour at the time of the Rizzio murder; they had broken their promise, given at Carberry Hill, and had cast her into prison; they had brutally forced her to abdicate, and then, in open Parliament, solemnly professed that she had voluntarily resigned. Besides, the Earl of Morton, whose testimony is the principal evidence in support of the genuineness of the Casket Letters, was probably the most vicious and unscrupulous man in Scotland. Can the testimony of such men,--men who had acknowleged that they had gone too far to recede,--given to protect their most cherished interests, to defend perhaps their very lives, be accepted as conclusive evidence, where there are so many evident reasons to suspect their veracity?Second. Because these letters, and these letters only, exhibit in Mary an indelicacy of language, and a jestful levity in treating of crime, which are altogether foreign to her character as learned from reliable and authentic sources.Third. Because a score, or thereabouts, of the most distinguished Scottish peers, in the instructions which they issued in September, 1568, to Mary's commissioners in England, declared that at least the incriminating portions of these letters were not in the Queen's handwriting. This valuable document recounts clearly and briefly the history of the disturbance which had ended in Mary's overthrow, and exposes, according to the view of the subscribers, the deceitful conduct of her enemies. I am not aware of any external evidence bearing on the Casket Letters that can compare in force and authority with this document. Whoever is acquainted with the history of the Scottish nobility of that time, must admit that the men whose names are subscribed thereto were at least as honest and honourable as the leaders of the Regent's party; and that the vindication of the Queen's honour would be no more profitable to them than her complete overthrow would be to those who had usurped her power and authority. Now these instructions state, in express terms, what many other evidences, both internal and external, have since gone to establish, that, however much of the Casket literature was Mary's the compromising parts had been interpolated by her enemies. "If it be alleged" (thus the instructions) "that Her Majesty's writing produced in Parliament should prove culpable, it may be answered that there is no place mention made in it by which she may be convicted, albeit it were her own hand-writing--which it is not--and also the same is devised by themselves in some principal and substantial clauses."Fourth. Because the papers that were passed off as the originals in Mary's hand-writing were kept out of sight and, far as can be known, were seen, neither then nor since, by anybody except the select few at Hampton Court; and though Mary repeatedly demanded them, they were never shown her.Fifth. Another document, represented as a warrant from the Queen requiring the lords to sign the celebrated Anslie tavern "band" for her marriage with Bothwell, was said to be in the Casket also, and was furtively shown in the Conference at York, but was never produced in the official enquiry at Westminster. The suppression of such a document, which, by reason of its public nature, could easily have been proved genuine, if it really were so, seems to admit of only one explanation--it could not stand the light of criticism, it was forged. But if the other Casket papers were genuine, Mary's accusers had no need of forged ones.Sixth. The Casket Letter number two, commonly known as the Glascow letter (because it was supposed to have been written to Bothwell from Glasgow while Mary was visiting her sick husband there) contains a report of a conversation between Mary and Darnley which corresponds so closely with another document adduced eighteen months later in evidence against the Queen, that the one must have been copied from the other. A brief explanation is necessary to make the importance of this circumstance clear. A certain Robert Crawfurd was in attendance on Darnley at Glasgow when Mary went thither to comfort him. At the request of the Earl of Lennox, Darnley's father, Crawfurd (so he states), noted down the conversations that passed between the royal couple; but, not being present at them, he learned what had been said only from the account which Darnley afterwards gave him. Also in the letter number two is recounted one of Darnley's plaintive discourses. It is clear, therefore, that if it could be shown that the conversation embodied in this letter was really held, something would be done to give an air of genuineness to the whole document. Hence, Crawfurd was called upon for an account of what had passed between Mary and Darnley, and his deposition was brought forward by the Regent and his associates before the English commissioners. Now, it turns out that Crawfurd's deposition and the portion of the Casket Letter that covers the same ground, agree almost verbally--agree, in fact, so wonderfully that, all the circumstances considered, it is impossible to resist the conclusion that either one must have been copied from the other, and that a fraud was practised somewhere, for both documents were represented as original. I have said, "all the circumstances considered." We must remember that reporters, especially if they are not skilled stenographers, recording a speech, even, while it is being delivered, exhibit a considerable divergence of vocabulary and phraseology in their respective reports. But here both Crawfurd and Mary reported from memory; in fact, Crawfurd had to struggle against the vagaries of two memories--his own and Darnley's. This is what makes the agreement suspiciously strange. More than that; Crawfurd's deposition was written in Scots, while the Casket letter was written in French, and afterwards translated into Scots; and it is these two documents which, in spite of so many causes why they should widely differ, are found to agree so closely.Here are the passages in question:--Deposition of Crawfurd."Ye asked me what I ment by the crueltye specified in my lettres; yat proceedethe of you onelye, that wille not accept mye offres and repentance. I confess that I have failed in som thingis, and yet greater faultes have bin made to you sundrye tymes, which ye have forgiven. I am but yonge, and ye will saye ye have forgiven me diverse tymes. Maye not a man of mye age, for lack of counselle, of which I am very destitute, falle twise or thrise, and yet repent, and be chastised bye experience? If I have made any faile that ye wul think a faile, howsoever its be, I crave your pardone, and protest that I shall never faile againe. I desire no other thinge but that we may be together as husband and wife. And if ye will not consent hereto, I desire never to ris futhe from this bed. Therefore I pray yow, give me an answer hereunto. God knoweth how I am punished for making mye god of yow, and for having no other thought but on yow. And if at ainie tyme I offend yow, ye are the cause; for that when anie offendethe me, if for mye refuge I might open mye minde to you, I would speak to no other; but when ainie thing is spoken to me, and ye and I not beinge as husband and wife ought to be, necessitee compelleth me to kepe it in my brest," etc.Alleged Letter of Mary's.(Translated from French into Scots.)"Ye ask me quhat I mene be the crueltie conteint in my letter; it is of you alone, that will not accept my offeris and repentance. I confess that I have faillit but not into that quihilk I ever denyit; and sicklyke hes faillit to sindrie of your subjeetis, quhilk ye have forgiven. I am young. Ye will say that ye have forgiven me ofttymes, and yit yat I return to my faultis. May not ane man of my age, for lack of counsell, fall twyse or thryse, or in lack of his promeis, and at last repent himself, and be chastisit be experience? If I may obtain pardoun, I proteste I shall never make faulte agane. And I craif na uther thing bot yat we may be at bed and buird togidder as husband and wyfe; and gif ye will not consent heirunto I sail nevir ryse out of yis bed. I pray yow tell me yoor resolution. God knawis how I am punischit for making my god of yow, and for having na uther thoucht bot on yow; and gif at ony tyme I offend yow, ye are the caus; because when ony offendis me, gif for my refuge I micht playne unto yow, I would speike it unto na uther body; but quhen I heir ony thing, not being familiar with you, necessitie constraine me to keip it in my briest," etc.It will be noticed that, not only are the words the same (the differences of spelling do not affect the case), but the clauses and phrases occupy the same relative positions in both documents. And yet we are asked to believe that these are independent reports of the same discourse, written down from memory.A distinguished Scottish writer has summed up the question thus: "That Mary and Darnley should have held a long private conversation on many topics of no particular importance; that after Mary was gone Darnley should have repeated the whole conversation to Crawfurd; that Crawfurd either then or eighteen months later should have written out a report in Scots of what Darnley had said; that Mary should have written within twenty-four hours a letter in French in which she also reported the conversation; that Mary's letter should have been afterwards translated into Scots; and that the Scots translation of Mary's letter should have been found to agree, word for word, with Crawfurd's report,--this series of marvels is more than the most devout credulity can stomach." (John Skelton, C.B., LL.D.)Seventh. The history of these letters makes it tolerably clear that it was many months after they were said to have been discovered by Morton, before they took definite form; in other words, that they were being concocted, at least, to use the words of the loyal nobility, "in some principal and substantial clauses." Even as late as the month of August, 1567, the rebel lords reiterated that Bothwell had laid violent hands on the Queen, and that they had risen up to rescue her from his thraldom. But on December 4th, the same lords declared, as we read in the Act of the Secret Counsel, that they had taken arms against her because she was an accomplice of Bothwell's in the murder of her husband, as shown "be divers hir previe lettres written and subscrivit with hir awen hand, and sent by hir to James Erll Boithwell." This flat contradiction between the statements of the same parties arouses the strongest suspicion of treachery. Nor will it avail to say that in their excessive charity, they had for a time chosen to make liars of themselves rather than unnecessarily reveal the vices of their former Queen; for, according to the deposition of Morton, at least according to what Mary's adversaries claim to be Morton's deposition, the Casket containing the incriminating documents was taken from a servant of Bothwell's on June 20th--nearly two weeks after the Confederate lords had taken up arms. Again, the minutes of the Secret Counsel describe the letters as "written and subscrit with hir (Mary's) awen hand, and sent by hir to James Erll Boithwell." Yet the letters exhibited at Hampton Court nearly a year later, were neither signed by Mary, nor addressed to Bothwell.Eighth. The Countess of Lennox, Darnley's mother, has indirectly furnished evidence against the genuineness of the Casket Letters that can scarcely be valued too highly. For some years she had ceased to be on friendly terms with the Queen. It was her husband, the Earl, who had demanded that Bothwell should be tried for the murder of their son; and by reason of the suspicions which fanatical clamour and cunning treachery had attached to Mary's conduct, the bereaved parents had naturally entertained bitter feelings for their royal daughter-in-law. But the villainy which had brought the unfortunate Queen to an English prison was at length revealed; close acquaintance with the Regent Morton, the quondam leading spirit of the rebel faction, afforded the Countess opportunities of discovering facts that neither she nor her husband had known during the strife of 1567; and, in November, 1575, she comforted the imprisoned exile by a letter in which, among other things, she said:--"I beseech Your Majesty, fear not, but trust in God that all shall be well; the treachery of your traitors is known better than before. I shall always play my part to Your Majesty's content, willing God, so as may ten to both our comforts." "The treachery of your traitors is known better than before." Could the mother of the murdered King change front and write thus, if she believed that Mary had written the Casket Letter number two, in all its parts?CHAPTER IX.THE QUEEN OF SCOTS DETAINED A PRISONER.Mary's cause, as far as Elizabeth was concerned, was now hopeless, although the unfortunate Queen was not given to understand as much. She was removed from Carlisle, which was too near her English friends and her faithful Scottish Borderers. The danger of leaving her at Carlisle is thus hinted by Mr. Skelton, where he describes the effect she produced on Sir Francis Knollys:--"When she first flashed upon him in her dishevelled beauty and strong anger--travel-stained though she was from her long ride after the Langside panic--the puritanic veteran warmed into unpremeditated welcome. When we read the remarkable letters in which he describes the fugitive Queen, we cease to wonder at the disquietude of Elizabeth; a glance, a smile, a few cordial words, from such a woman might have set all the northern counties in a blaze. The cold and canny Scot, whose metaphysical and theological ardour contrast so curiously with his frugal common sense, could stolidly resist the charm; but the Catholic nobles, the Border chivalry, would have responded without a day's delay to her summons."It will not be amiss to give, as recorded from time to time in his own words, the impression which the fugitive and impassioned Queen made on Sir Francis during the short time she was under his care."We found her," he writes, "in her chamber of presence ready to receive us, when we declared unto her Your Highness' (Queen Elizabeth's) sorrowfulness for her lamentable misadventure. We found her in answer to have an eloquent tongue and a discreet head; and it seemeth by her doings she hath stout courage and liberal heart adjoining thereto." Later: "This lady and princess is a notable woman. She seemeth to regard no ceremonious honour besides the acknowledgment of her estate royal. She showeth a disposition to speak much, to be bold, to be pleasant, to be very familiar. She showeth a great desire to be revenged of her enemies. She shows a readiness to expose herself to all perils in hope of victory. She desires much to hear of hardiness and valiancy, commending by name all approved hardy men of her country, although they be her enemies; and she concealeth no cowardice even in her friends. The thing she most thirsteth after is victory; and it seemeth to be indifferent to her to have her enemies diminished either by the sword of her friends, or by the liberal promises and rewards of her purse, or by division and quarrels among themselves. So that for victory's sake, pain and peril seem pleasant to her; and in respect of victory, wealth and all things seem to her contemptuous and vile. Now what is to be done with such a lady and princess, and whether such a lady and princess is to be nourished in our bosom, or whether it be good to halt and dissemble with such a lady, I refer to your judgment. The plainest way is the most honorable in my opinion." Yes; "the plainest way is the most honourable," but "to halt and dissemble" was esteemed the most profitable. Again Knollys writes: "She does not dislike my plain dealing. Surely she is a rare woman; for as no flattery can lightly abuse her, so no plain speech seemeth to offend her, if she think the speaker thereof to be an honest man." If we knew nothing of Mary but what we have learned from the pen of this cold and critical adversary, who saw her only when misfortune and disappointment might well have soured and irritated her nature, yet found her "eloquent, discreet, bold, pleasant, very familiar," unmoved by flattery and unruffled by "plain speech," we could legitimately infer that fascinating beyond all ordinary measure must have been the days of her unclouded girlhood in France, and even the less cheerful years of her prosperity in Holyrood;[#] and we could well understand why Elizabeth--who hated her for her claim to the English throne and for her surpassing personal beauty--was anxious to place her as far as possible beyond reach of her friends and sympathizers. The necessity of doing this was emphasized nearly a year later, when Mary was at Tutbury in charge of the Earl of Shrewsbury, by a certain friend of Cecil's named Nicholas White, whose curiosity had lead him to seek an audience with the far-famed captive. In a letter to Cecil, which, as its parenthetical clauses clearly demonstrate, was intended also for the eye of Elizabeth, he wrote:--[#] Randolph, the English Ambassador to Scotland, has left us, in a letter to Queen Elizabeth, a lively picture of the Scottish queen at the age of twenty-two. He had waited on her at St. Andrews, whither she had withdrawn to pass a few quiet days with some friends, and he describes how good-humouredly she upbraided him for interrupting their merriment with his "grave matters." Among other things he wrote:--"Immediately after the receipt of your letter to this Queen, I repaired to St. Andrews. So soon as time served, I did present the same, which being read, and as appeared in her countenance very well liked, she said little to me for that time. The next day she passed wholly in mirth, nor gave any appearance to any of the contrary; nor would not, as she said openly, but be quiet and merry. Her grace lodged in a merchant's house, her train were very few; and there was small repair from any part. Her will was, that for the time that I did tarry, I should dine and sup with her. Your Majesty was aftertimes dranken unto by her, at dinners and suppers. Having in this sort continued with her grace Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday, I thought it time to take occasion to utter unto her grace that which last I received in command from your Majesty, by Mr. Secretary's letter.... I had no sooner spoken these words, but she saith, I see now well that you are weary of this company and treatment. I sent for you to be merry, and to see how like a Bourgeois wife I live with my little troop; and you will interrupt our pastime with your great and grave matters. I pray you, sir, if you weary here, return home to Edinburgh, and keep your gravity and great embassade until the Queen come thither; for I assure you, you shall not get her here, nor I know not myself where she is gone; you see neither cloth nor estate, nor such appearance that you may think that there is a queen here; nor I would not that you should think that I am she, at St. Andrews, that I was at Edinburgh.""If I (who in the sight God bear the Queen's majesty a natural love beside my bounded duty) might give advice, there should be very few subjects in this land have access to, or conference with, this lady. For besides that she is a goodly personage (and yet in truth not comparable to our Sovereign), she hath withal an alluring grace, a pretty Scottish speech, and a searching wit, clouded with mildness." We are indebted to Mr. White for the following piece of information also: "Her hair of itself is black; and yet Mr. Knollys told me that she wears hair of sundry colours."From this time forward Mary's history is the history of sustaining hope and depressing disappointment. Hopes of an accommodation with her rebel subjects were held out to her by Elizabeth; non-committal promises of her restoration were made; kill-time negotiations were sometimes entered into. It is distressing to read the history of her nineteen years of imprisonment. She never ceased to hope for her release, and yet her hopes were repeatedly disappointed. She continued to write Elizabeth in a friendly tone, hoping, no doubt, to touch a chord of sympathy in her cousin's heart; but she never cringed, she never abased herself. The proud spirit of her forefathers, which she had so fully inherited, lent courage and dignity to her utterances. Various plans were laid for her rescue; but her great distance from any point from which she could be carried out of the realm, rendered them ineffectual. She was removed from place to place, more than a dozen times. The close confinement and the advance of years began to tell on her once lithe and beautiful form. And, indeed, what suffering could be more terrible to a young woman of Mary's lively temperament, than prolonged confinement under a rigorous regime and complete separation from the society of friends. No wonder the Bard of Ayr indignantly addresses Elizabeth:--The weeping blood in woman's breastWas never known to thee,Nor the balm that draps on wound of woeFrae woman's pitying e'e.If Mary continued to languish in an English prison, it was not because the majority of the Scottish people had not the good-will to liberate her and place her on the throne. But now, as in the days of her imprisonment in Lochleven Castle, the very love they bore her paralyzed their efforts in her behalf. A miscarried attempt at rescuing her would most probably involve the loss of her life. Elizabeth had received assurance that Mary would never be allowed to pass the precincts of her prison alive. The most distinguished and powerful nobles in Scotland--Argyll, Huntly, Chatelheraut, Athol, Herries, and many others--continued to support her cause, and there is hardly room to doubt, that if Scotland had been left to settle its own internal disputes, Mary would have been restored. But Elizabeth was resolved that Scotland should not settle its own disputes. She laid aside the mask, when she could no longer wear it, and, according as the need arose, sent her soldiers into Scotland to help overpower the friends of Mary. From the day on which Moray returned to Scotland from the Westminster farce, the Queen's party began to gain strength. But what could this avail, since Elizabeth was determined that the cause of the helpless captive should not prosper. The Regent was shot at Linlithgow in January, 1570, and the Earl of Lennox, who succeeded him in the Regency, gave notice to the Ambassador of Elizabeth that English aid would be necessary for the maintenance of his position. The aid, of course, was granted, and the English auxiliaries, under Sussex, by the severity which they exercised against the adherents of the Queen, fully demonstrated their claim to the title of "auld enemies." Mary's party had done enough to prove their loyalty, but when Elizabeth unreservedly cast her lot with the opposite side, they could not hope for permanent success, and they ultimately came to terms with the Regent.The disgust which Moray's conduct towards his sister had excited among the moderate Scottish nobles is apparent in the action of two leading personages, shortly after the breaking up of the Westminster Conference. William Maitland of Lethington--the "flower of Scottish wit"--and William Kirkaldy of Grange--the "mirror of chivalry"--had been attached to the Regent's party, although it is certain that at least Maitland aimed at a compromise with the Queen and opposed extreme measures. Seeing that a middle course was no longer possible, they unequivocally went over to the Queen's party. Kirkaldy was Governor of Edinburgh Castle, and in April, 1571, Maitland, broken down in body, but mentally the recognized leader of the Queen's men, passed within its walls. From this inacessible height Kirkaldy could look down with indifference on the futile efforts of the Regent's forces to dislodge him, and Maitland could send forth to his associates his letters of advice and encouragement. Throughout the country the opposing forces met in many a bloody conflict. Lennox was killed in an engagement with Huntly in 1571; the Earl of Mar, who succeeded him, died the following year, and the Regency passed into the hands of the fierce and licentious Earl of Morton. Morton renewed the conflict with redoubled vigour. But Kirkaldy's position remained impregnable. "Mons. Meg," the old monster gun, so famous in Scottish history, continued to roar defiance from the ramparts of the Castle, and the Standard of Mary still floated over David's tower. But the old story was repeated; English troops were sent from Berwick to reinforce Morton; and on May the 9th, 1573, the Castle surrendered.In England the sympathy for the fallen Queen had already burst forth in sudden but ill-directed revolt, under the leadership of two of the most ancient and powerful peers of the realm,--the Earls of Northumberland and Westmorland. Slight success at the outset was soon succeeded by disorder and disaster. The Earls fled to Scotland, whence Westmorland passed safely to Flanders. Northumberland was taken by the Regent Moray, and was afterwards, to the great disgust and humiliation of all honest Scotsmen, handed over to Elizabeth by the Regent Morton, in return for a suitable sum of money. Needless to say the Earl was put to death. Sir Walter Scott, always ready to view transaction from the standpoint of chivalry, makes the following reference to this bargain:--"The surrender of this unfortunate nobleman to England was a great stain, not only on the character of Morton, but on that of Scotland in general, which had hitherto been accounted a safe and hospitable place of refuge for those whom misfortune or political faction had exiled from their own country. It was the more particularly noticed because when Morton himself had been forced to fly to England, on account of his share in Rizzio's murder, he had been courteously received and protected by the unhappy nobleman whom he had now delivered up to his fate. It was an additional and aggravating circumstance, that it was a Douglas who had betrayed a Percy,[#] and when the annals of their ancestors were considered, it was found that while they presented many acts of open hostility, many instances of close and firm alliance, they never till now had afforded an example of any act of treachery exercised by one family against the other. To complete the infamy of the transaction, a sum of money was paid to the Regent on this occasion, which he divided with Douglas of Lochleven." (Tales of a Grandfather.)[#] Northumberland was a Percy; Westmoreland, a Nevil.On February 4th, 1568, Mary passed to the care of the Earl of Shrewsbury, who was destined to be her keeper for the next fifteen years. In November, 1570, she was brought to Sheffield where she was detained, almost without interruption, for fourteen years. Personally, Shrewsbury bore no ill-will to his charge. He appears to have been an upright and cultured man, and was evidently disposed to treat his prisoner with the consideration and leniency her rank and misfortune would seem to demand. But he was a loyal subject of Elizabeth's, and until she should be pleased to relieve him of his unpleasant duty, he would faithfully execute her will in regard to the restrictions which she thought fit to place on the liberty of the Scottish Queen.Great as were the bodily and mental sufferings which close confinement, disappointed hopes and the ingratitude of men produced, they would have been greatly aggravated, had Mary only known by what a slender thread her life sometimes hung. Elizabeth entered into negotiations with successive Regents, from Moray to Morton, for the delivery of Mary into their hands. The remonstrations of the French and Spanish Ambassadors, who represented that such an action would be equivalent to condemning her to instant death, arrested the progress of the first negotiations till the death of Moray brought them to an abrupt ending. During the regency of Mar, the project was revived and almost realized, the necessary condition that Mary should be quickly put to death having been agreed to by the Regent and Morton. But here the death of another Regent intervened to save the doomed Queen from assassination or judicial murder. On the death of Mar, Morton, who had hitherto been the real, though not the nominal Regent, assumed the reins of government. He had no scruples about executing the will of Elizabeth, but he demanded a higher price for his services than she cared to pay. Morton and Elizabeth were well matched; they both knew the value of money, and were unwilling to close a bargain that would not promise to be a safe business transaction. Morton was, no doubt, confident that he would not be hampered by competition in the work he was undertaking, and that he could exact what wages he pleased for his expert labour. Killegrew, the agent of Elizabeth, understood this, and was anxious that the bargain should be clinched before Morton took it into his mind to demand a greater reward. "I pray God," he wrote; "we prove not herein like those who refused the three volumes of Sibylla's prophecies, with the price that they were afterwards pleased to give for one; for sure I left the market here better cheap than now I find it." But Elizabeth would not be outwitted--and Mary lived on.A never-failing source of sorrow to Mary was the knowledge that her son, whom she had seen for the last time an infant, scarcely twelve months old, at Stirling, was in charge of those who had contrived her own overthrow, and was under the tutorship of the venal and ungrateful Buchanan. The burden of her captivity would have been immeasurably lightened, could she have been assured that he had learned to love her and feel for her misfortunes. But the young James, whatever may have been his desire, was in the hands of her enemies, and could communicate with his mother only in the manner and through the means that they were pleased to specify. Nevertheless, as he grew older he had ample opportunity of learning the real character of the men who had dethroned her, and would, it must be presumed, have done what he could to procure her release, did not the promptings of human interest run counter to the dictates of natural love. He was not of that stuff of which heroes are made. The bravery and chivalry for which his forefathers had long been distinguished, found no abode in his bosom. A sound skin and the prospect of succeeding to the English throne weighed more with him than the thought of adopting a firm and uncompromising policy in defence of his mother. While the projects of Mary's friends on the Continent gave promise of being carried to a successful issue, he was not averse to plotting with the Guises and seeking the aid of the Pope in behalf of his "dearest and most honoured lady mother"; but when these projects came to naught, he was found closely allied to the winning cause. Later on, it is true, when Mary was declared a party to a conspiracy against the life of Elizabeth, and her execution was imminent, he dispatched Ambassadors to the English Court to intercede for her life; and when at last the fatal blow was struck, he gave vent to angry feelings and expressed a desire of revenge. A large number of the Scottish nobility were anxious to avert by armed force the contemplated insult to their nation, and to secure Scotland against a humiliation such as their ancestors would never have tolerated. But a cowardly King and a divided nobility were not the forces which, in earlier days, had awakened terror in the heart of England. Elizabeth and her advisers know this, and were well aware that the fear of never reaching the goal of his ambition--the united thrones of England and Scotland--would curb within harmless limits the half-hearted anger of the selfish James.
[#] I do not think it can be any longer doubted that Mary learned in the course of time to regard her marriage with Bothwell as invalid; and I am surprised that so eminent and enlightened a writer as Mr. Skelton should argue that her "subsequent anxiety to obtain a divorce from Bothwell proves that she continued to believe that the marriage was binding." She was too well versed in Catholic doctrine and in the history of Henry the Eighth's conflict with Rome to hope for a divorce from Bothwell, if she believed the marriage was binding. At any rate, her instructions to Bishop Leslie, whom she sent to Rome in 1575, leave it beyond doubt that it was not a divorce, but merely a declaration that the marriage was null from the beginning, that she asked of the Pope. "Take good heed," she said, "that the Holy Father shall publicly announce that the pretended marriage contracted between me and Bothwell, without any legality but by a pretended procedure is of no (force). For although there are many reasons which, as you know, make it clearly invalid in itself, yet the matter will be much clearer if his Holiness, acting as the most certain lawyer of the Church, will come forward to annul it." (Published from a Cottonian MS. by the late Rev. Joseph Stevenson, S.J., in notes to his preface to Claude Nau's narrative.)
During the nine days that intervened between the times he was brought back to Edinburgh and the day of her marriage, no effort was made to stay the proceedings. Craig, the minister of St. Giles, to whom it fell to publish the marriage banns, courageously declared his disapproval of the union, adding, however, the significant words that "the best part of the realm did approve it, either by flattery or by their silence"--words that show how completely the unfortunate Queen was left under the control of Bothwell.
But as soon as Mary's fortunes were identified with Bothwell's by the bond of marriage, the sound of approaching war was heard. The Confederate lords rose in arms to avenge the murder of the late King (so they said), and to liberate the Queen; and many true friends of Mary's, little suspecting the real purpose of the prime movers, arrayed themselves under their standard. The two armies met at Carberry Hill; no battle ensued. The Confederates promised that if Mary would separate herself from Bothwell and confide in them, they would respect her as their true sovereign. Mary agreed, but once in their power her eyes were opened. She was brought back to Edinburgh, flouted along the way with a banner on which was depicted the effigy of her murdered husband, and exposed to the studied insults of a rabble, half frantic from the fierce harangues of the Knoxonian preachers. The following night she was hurried away, and placed in the lonely castle of Lochleven, situated on a rock in a lake of the same name, in the County of Kinross. And that was how they fulfilled their promises to restore her to her royal estate,--that was her reward for the confidence she had placed in their word.
Froude attempts to justify the action of the Confederates on the ground that Mary, after reaching Edinburgh, refused to give up Bothwell, and that she wrote him a letter which was intercepted that same night, declaring her anxiety to be with him at almost any cost. Of course Froude was not the first to offer this explanation; but no writer who wishes to be classed among respectable historians would now embody that unauthenticated gossip in his narrative in the manner in which Froude has done. Froude evidently relies much on the gullibility of his readers; and not without reason; for how many of those who sweep over his dramatic pages, captivated by the brilliancy of his master style, ever suspect that his statements are reckless and unwarranted?
But did the Confederate lords imprison the Queen because she refused to give up Bothwell? We cannot tell. The alleged letter to Bothwell is the only argument for it, and that letter was never afterwards produced, although the production of it would have been of incalculable value to her enemies. The fact is, the lords gave nobody access to the Queen--not even the English envoy and what she did, or what she desired, we know only through those whose interest it was to make out a case against her.
CHAPTER VII.
CAPTIVITY.--ESCAPE.--FLIGHT.
The next step was to force Mary to abdicate in favour of her infant son. (To use the child against the parent monarch had long been a favourite policy with the Scottish rebel lords.) A delegation was sent to her for that purpose, headed by Lord Lindsay, whom Sir Walter Scott calls "the rudest baron of that rude age"--fit agent for the tyrranous deed. Moved partly by fear that refusal would lead to a violent death, and partly by the previous representation of some of her friends that what she did under constraint could not bind her if she regained her liberty, Mary signed the cruel document--
"She wrote the words--She stood erect--a queen without a crown,"
"She wrote the words--She stood erect--a queen without a crown,"
"She wrote the words--She stood erect--a queen without a crown,"
and although prudence would prevent her from uttering them with her lips, we may be sure that in her heart she spoke the words attributed to her by the poet:--
"My lords,--my lords," the captive said, "were I but once more free,With ten good knights on yonder shore to aid my cause and me,That parchment would I scatter wide to every breeze that blows,And once more reign a Stewart queen o'er my remorseless foes."
"My lords,--my lords," the captive said, "were I but once more free,With ten good knights on yonder shore to aid my cause and me,That parchment would I scatter wide to every breeze that blows,And once more reign a Stewart queen o'er my remorseless foes."
"My lords,--my lords," the captive said, "were I but once more free,
With ten good knights on yonder shore to aid my cause and me,
That parchment would I scatter wide to every breeze that blows,
And once more reign a Stewart queen o'er my remorseless foes."
The next important visit the helpless Queen received in her prison was from the Earl of Moray. The cautious Earl had been absent in France during the troublous times that had elapsed since the murder of Darnley, but no doubt was well pleased with the success with which Morton and his associates had been advancing his cause. His sister was now dethroned, the infant James was crowned King, and he himself was named Regent. The goal of his ambition seemed near. He had returned to Scotland in time to receive the honours prepared for him, and--whatever his motives were--before formally accepting the Regency, he visited Mary in Lochleven Castle. It is thought by many that he paid this visit with a view to rendering his footing more secure, as he probably hoped that the prisoner, recognizing the helplessness of her condition, would ask him to accept the office of Regent. Depressed with the gravity of the trials she had just passed through, the tender-hearted Queen naturally hoped that her brother's visit would bear some comfort to her lonely prison. But she was disappointed. Ambition (if nothing more) had expelled from Moray's breast those feelings of natural tenderness with which we should presume every man to be moved towards a humiliated and afflicted sister. Even his friends are slow to commend his conduct on this occasion. "That visit" (writes Robertson, in the History of Scotland) "to a sister, and a queen in prison, from which he had neither any intention to relieve her, nor to mitigate the rigour of her confinement, may be mentioned among the circumstances which discover the great want of delicacy and refinement in that age."
As long as the Queen was confined in Lochleven, her friends in Scotland were obliged to keep quiet, for it was intimated to them that if they attempted to liberate her, they would be presented with her head.
The unhappy Queen, cut off from the world in the bloom and beauty of her youth, looked out from day to day across the dull waters that encircled her prison-house, and anxiously surveyed the neighbouring hills in which, she knew, her faithful friends were lingering, in hopes of discovering some means of effecting her deliverance. After various ineffectual attempts, a successful plan of escape was at length devised by the ingenuity of little Willie Douglas, a youth in the household of the Laird of Lochleven.
Sunday, May 2nd, was the day chosen for what proved to be a successful attempt to escape. Lords Seton, Beton and George Douglas, with a number of followers, were lingering about the shore, near the village of Kinross, ready to receive the Queen and convey her to a place of safety. Within the castle prison all preliminaries were arranged, but the lowest point of the wall that Mary could reach was higher than she could venture to leap from, and the keys of the gate were scrupulously guarded by the Laird. Let us hear Nau relate how the problem was solved:--
"An hour before supper-time, the Queen retired into her own chamber. She put on a red kirtle belonging to one of her women, and over it she covered herself with one of her own mantles. Then she went into the garden to talk with the old lady whence she could see the people who were walking on the other side of the loch.
"Everything being now ready, the Queen, who, of set purpose, had caused the supper to be delayed until that time, now ordered it to be served. When the supper was finished, the Laird (whose ordinary custom it was to wait upon her at table), went to sup along with his wife and the rest of the household, in a hall on the ground story. A person called Draisdel,[#] who had the chief charge in the establishment, and who generally remained in the Queen's room to keep her safe, went out along with the Laird, and amused himself by playing at hand ball.
[#] When Draisdel--the original, no doubt, of Scott's imperturbable Dryfesdale in "The Abbott"--was informed by the two young girls that the queen was missing and had probably escaped, "he was amused at this, and said he would soon find her; he would give her leave to escape if she could. At one time he whistled, at another he cut capers." Romance must have been unfair in painting him a phlegmatic steward.
"In order to free herself from the two young girls who remained with her, Her Majesty in the meantime went into an upper room, above her own, occupied by her surgeon, on the plea that she wished to say her prayers; and, indeed, she did pray very devoutly, recommending herself to God, who then showed His pity and care for her. In this room she left her mantle, and, having put on a hood, such as is worn by the country-women of the district, she made one of her domestics, who was to accompany her, dress herself in the same fashion. The otherfemme-de-chambreremained with the two young girls to amuse them, for they had become very inquisitive as to the cause of the Queen's lengthened absence.
"While the laird was at supper, William Douglas, as he was handing him his drink, secretly removed the key of the great gate, which lay on the table before him. He promptly gave notice of this to the Queen, in order that she should come down stairs instantaneously; and immediately afterwards as he came out of the door he gave the sign to the young woman who was to accompany Her Majesty, as she was looking towards the window. This being understood, the Queen came down forthwith; but as she was at the bottom of the steps she noticed that several of the servants of the household were passing backwards and forwards in the court, which induced her to stand for some time the door of the stairs. At last, however, in the sight of the whole of them, she crossed the courtyard, and having gone out by the great gate, William Douglas locked it with the key and threw it into a cannon placed near at hand. The Queen and herfemme-de-chambrehad stood for some time close to the wall, fearing that they should be seen from the windows of the house; but at length they got into the vessel, and the Queen laid herself down under the boatman's seat. She had been advised to do this, partly to escape notice, partly to escape being hit, if a cannon shot should be sent after her. Several washerwomen and other domestics were amusing themselves in a garden near the loch when Her Majesty got into the boat. One of the washerwomen even recognized her, and made a sign to William Douglas that she was aware of it, but William called out to her aloud, by name, telling her to hold her tongue.
"As the boat was nearing the other side, William saw one of George's servants, but failed to recognize him, as he was armed. Apprehending some fraud, he hesitated to come nearer the shore; at length, however, the servant having spoken, he landed, and then Her Majesty was met and welcomed by George Douglas and John Beton, who had broken into the laird's stables and seized his best horses. Being mounted as best she might, the Queen would not set off until she had seen William Douglas on horse also--he who had hazarded so much for her release. She left herfemme-de-chambrebehind her, but with direction that she should follow her as soon as she could have an outfit."
Being joined by her friends on shore, the Queen hurried south, and, having crossed the Firth at Queen's Ferry, reached Lord Seton's house at Niddry, about midnight. Thence she proceeded to Hamilton, where she remained until the 13th of May collecting her forces. The plan was, to place the Queen in safety in Dunbarton Castle, on the Clyde, and then muster all her forces for the overthrow of the Regent. It is not difficult now to see that her friends made a fatal blunder in not conveying her directly to Dunbarton from Lochleven. In Dunbarton she would be safe, and her followers could take time to properly organize. As it was, those who rallied round her standard during her stay at Hamilton were equal in number to the army under command of the Regent at Glascow. Her two main supports in the North, Lord Ogilvy and the powerful Earl of Huntly, had not yet succeeded in joining her; but the Earls of Argyle, Cassillis, Rothes and Eglinton, Lords Seton, Borthwick, Somerville, Livingstone, Claud Hamilton, Herries, Boyd, Yester, Ross and others, were already at her side. Bravery and chivalry were in her ranks, but organization and efficient generalship were wanting.
The fact that, notwithstanding the persistent and ingenious efforts of her enemies to utterly defame her, so many nobles (most of whom were Protestants), hurried to her support as soon as her escape was made known, draws the following remarks from her Protestant biographer, Mr. Hosack--
"That in spite of all the efforts of Moray and his faction, and in spite of all the violence of the preachers, she--the Catholic Queen of Scotland, the daughter of the hated house of Guise, the reputed mortal enemy of their religion--should now, after being maligned as the most abandoned of her sex, find her best friends among her Protestant subjects, appears at first sight inexplicable. A phenomenon so strange admits of only one explanation. If, throughout her reign, she had not loyally kept her promises of security and toleration to her Protestant subjects, they assuredly would not in her hour of need have risked their lives and fortunes in her defence."
On their march to Dunbarton the Queen's forces were met by those of the Regent at Langside, and thrown into confusion. Attended by three brave nobles--Lords Herries, Fleming and Livingstone--and little Willie Douglas, she hurried towards the south, and, after a wearisome journey, reached Dundrennen Abbey, in Galloway. Here she resolved on a step that was the greatest mistake of her life. The majority of the Scottish people were loyal to her, and only needed time to muster, but in spite of the advice, persuasions and entreaties of Lord Herries and her other attendants, she determined to cross over to England. Elizabeth's recent expressions of friendship and promises of help had blinded the Scottish Queen; and her own generous nature, which would have instantly prompted her to assist, as far as she could, a sister queen in distress, rendered her for the time incapable of suspecting that Elizabeth could betray her in her hour of greatest need. She stepped forth from Scottish soil, never to set foot on it again, and steered across the Firth to the shores of England.
CHAPTER VIII.
IN THE HANDS OF ELIZABETH.
Having landed in England, the Scottish Queen was, by order of Elizabeth, conveyed to Carlisle Castle, and there placed in custody of Sir Francis Knollys. She hastened to send Lord Herries to the English court, to request that Elizabeth, according to her promise, would help restore her to her throne; or at least would give her liberty to pass out of the kingdom and seek help elsewhere. Elizabeth could have pursued either course with honour, but she pursued neither; and as long as right is right and wrong is wrong--as long as justice is not synonymous with temporal advantage--so long will it remain impossible to frame a defence for Elizabeth Tudor in her conduct toward Mary Stewart. Her hostility to Mary, and her support of Mary's enemies, veil them as she would, were evident throughout the subsequent proceedings.
Mary's friends in Scotland were rising in large numbers and preparing to take the field against the Regent. Elizabeth, leading Mary to believe that she would reinstate her, prevailed on her to request her partizans to desist from warfare; the Regent in the meantime continued his work of destruction against those who had fought for the Queen. Elizabeth offered to act as umpire between the Regent's party and Mary. The whole affair, so Mary was given to understand, would turn out to her profit. Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk; Thomas Ratcliff, Earl of Sussex, and Sir Ralph Sadler, were nominated commissioners by Elizabeth to hear the charge of political misgovernment which the Regent would bring against Mary. No charge affecting Mary's personal honour was to be admitted.
The conference opened at York, in October, 1568. Of course it was mere fiction to speak of Mary's misgovernment. But would Cecil and Elizabeth lose their opportunity of disgracing, as far as they could, the Scottish Queen, in the eyes of the English people, and of rendering a compromise with her enemies in Scotland impossible? Such could hardly be expected. The Conference was transferred to Westminster, and, contrary to the conditions on which Mary had permitted her case to be referred to a commission, Moray was assured that he might bring forward accusations against her honour--in fact he was urged or encouraged to do so. He then accused her of being the author, with Bothwell, of her late husband's murder, and of having intended a like fate for her infant son; and in support of his charge he produced the celebrated documents known as the Casket Letters, consisting of letters and sonnets which, he claimed, had been written by Mary to Bothwell, and had fallen into the hands of the Earl of Morton, shortly after the surrender at Carberry Hill. Mary's commissioners protested against this violation of the conditions on which the conference had been opened, and demanded that, as Moray had been admitted to Elizabeth's presence, so should their Queen. Otherwise, they maintained, the conference was closed. Cecil disregarded their protests, and the Regent placed his accusations and papers before the commissioners and Lords of the Privy Council. Mary, hearing this, instructed her commissioners to declare that Moray himself and his faction were guilty of Darnley's murder, and that if she were furnished with the originals or even with copies of the Casket Letters, and admitted to the presence of Elizabeth as her accusers had been, she should prove them to be liars, and should convict certain persons of their number as the real murderers. But she was refused admittance to Queen Elizabeth. As soon as she was informed of the refusal, she directed her commissioners to resume the conference, and to throw back the charge of murder on Moray and his associates. But the conference was not resumed, nor was Mary furnished with the originals of the letters that had been brought forward as evidence against her honour. Elizabeth, Cecil and Moray shrank from a fair investigation of the case; and Moray, with his "Casket" and "Originals," and with £5,000 of Elizabeth's gold in his pocket, was hurried back to Scotland. Mary, however, was left as before--a prisoner whom Elizabeth would neither help to regain her throne, nor permit to pass out of the realm. Matters now seemed to stand in the condition in which Elizabeth had hoped to place them. The breach between Mary and the Regent's party had been rendered irreparable; and the English nation--in which she had had so many adherents--had been taught (so at least her enemies hoped), to regard the Scottish Queen as a criminal and abandoned woman.
The celebrated Casket Letters demand at least a brief consideration. If they are genuine, Mary was undoubtedly implicated in the murder of her husband. If they are forged or interpolated, they are not only worthless as evidence against her, but are a crowning proof of her innocence. Much of the matter of these letters might have been written by Mary--and probably was written by her, though not to Bothwell--without being evidence that she shared in the murder. It is commonly believed by her friends that the Casket Letters are partly made up of letters written by her to Darnley. It is well known that, while she was in Lochleven, Holyrood was ransacked by the Morton-Moray faction, and that her papers, as well as those which Darnley may have left there, were at their disposal. They could easily select those letters which could be most readily doctored up so as to bear a sinister meaning, and those which, as they stood, would appear criminal if addressed to other than Darnley. There is, however, one letter, or at least part of one letter, that could not be written by Mary if she was innocent, namely, letter No. 2, represented as written to Bothwell from Glasgow, while she was visiting Darnley in his sickness.
With regard to these letters, I would say, in the first place, that they cannot be adduced as conclusive evidence of Mary's guilt, because, at best, their genuineness is doubtful. I would say, in the second place, that at any rate as far as the incriminating portions are concerned, I cannot regard them as other than forged; and here in brief are my principal reasons for rejecting them:--
First. Because, in view of the ill-treatment to which in other things she was subjected, and of the unfair tactics used against her, by those interested in producing the Casket Letters, no accusation proceeding from that same source against her honour as a woman, can be accepted, unless it is clearly substantiated. It can hardly be controverted that, whatever Mary's faults may have been, the Morton-Moray faction had already treated her dishonourably and unjustly. They had plotted with foreigners against her before ever the Bothwell imbroglio arose; they had tried to brand her with dishonour at the time of the Rizzio murder; they had broken their promise, given at Carberry Hill, and had cast her into prison; they had brutally forced her to abdicate, and then, in open Parliament, solemnly professed that she had voluntarily resigned. Besides, the Earl of Morton, whose testimony is the principal evidence in support of the genuineness of the Casket Letters, was probably the most vicious and unscrupulous man in Scotland. Can the testimony of such men,--men who had acknowleged that they had gone too far to recede,--given to protect their most cherished interests, to defend perhaps their very lives, be accepted as conclusive evidence, where there are so many evident reasons to suspect their veracity?
Second. Because these letters, and these letters only, exhibit in Mary an indelicacy of language, and a jestful levity in treating of crime, which are altogether foreign to her character as learned from reliable and authentic sources.
Third. Because a score, or thereabouts, of the most distinguished Scottish peers, in the instructions which they issued in September, 1568, to Mary's commissioners in England, declared that at least the incriminating portions of these letters were not in the Queen's handwriting. This valuable document recounts clearly and briefly the history of the disturbance which had ended in Mary's overthrow, and exposes, according to the view of the subscribers, the deceitful conduct of her enemies. I am not aware of any external evidence bearing on the Casket Letters that can compare in force and authority with this document. Whoever is acquainted with the history of the Scottish nobility of that time, must admit that the men whose names are subscribed thereto were at least as honest and honourable as the leaders of the Regent's party; and that the vindication of the Queen's honour would be no more profitable to them than her complete overthrow would be to those who had usurped her power and authority. Now these instructions state, in express terms, what many other evidences, both internal and external, have since gone to establish, that, however much of the Casket literature was Mary's the compromising parts had been interpolated by her enemies. "If it be alleged" (thus the instructions) "that Her Majesty's writing produced in Parliament should prove culpable, it may be answered that there is no place mention made in it by which she may be convicted, albeit it were her own hand-writing--which it is not--and also the same is devised by themselves in some principal and substantial clauses."
Fourth. Because the papers that were passed off as the originals in Mary's hand-writing were kept out of sight and, far as can be known, were seen, neither then nor since, by anybody except the select few at Hampton Court; and though Mary repeatedly demanded them, they were never shown her.
Fifth. Another document, represented as a warrant from the Queen requiring the lords to sign the celebrated Anslie tavern "band" for her marriage with Bothwell, was said to be in the Casket also, and was furtively shown in the Conference at York, but was never produced in the official enquiry at Westminster. The suppression of such a document, which, by reason of its public nature, could easily have been proved genuine, if it really were so, seems to admit of only one explanation--it could not stand the light of criticism, it was forged. But if the other Casket papers were genuine, Mary's accusers had no need of forged ones.
Sixth. The Casket Letter number two, commonly known as the Glascow letter (because it was supposed to have been written to Bothwell from Glasgow while Mary was visiting her sick husband there) contains a report of a conversation between Mary and Darnley which corresponds so closely with another document adduced eighteen months later in evidence against the Queen, that the one must have been copied from the other. A brief explanation is necessary to make the importance of this circumstance clear. A certain Robert Crawfurd was in attendance on Darnley at Glasgow when Mary went thither to comfort him. At the request of the Earl of Lennox, Darnley's father, Crawfurd (so he states), noted down the conversations that passed between the royal couple; but, not being present at them, he learned what had been said only from the account which Darnley afterwards gave him. Also in the letter number two is recounted one of Darnley's plaintive discourses. It is clear, therefore, that if it could be shown that the conversation embodied in this letter was really held, something would be done to give an air of genuineness to the whole document. Hence, Crawfurd was called upon for an account of what had passed between Mary and Darnley, and his deposition was brought forward by the Regent and his associates before the English commissioners. Now, it turns out that Crawfurd's deposition and the portion of the Casket Letter that covers the same ground, agree almost verbally--agree, in fact, so wonderfully that, all the circumstances considered, it is impossible to resist the conclusion that either one must have been copied from the other, and that a fraud was practised somewhere, for both documents were represented as original. I have said, "all the circumstances considered." We must remember that reporters, especially if they are not skilled stenographers, recording a speech, even, while it is being delivered, exhibit a considerable divergence of vocabulary and phraseology in their respective reports. But here both Crawfurd and Mary reported from memory; in fact, Crawfurd had to struggle against the vagaries of two memories--his own and Darnley's. This is what makes the agreement suspiciously strange. More than that; Crawfurd's deposition was written in Scots, while the Casket letter was written in French, and afterwards translated into Scots; and it is these two documents which, in spite of so many causes why they should widely differ, are found to agree so closely.
Here are the passages in question:--
Deposition of Crawfurd.
"Ye asked me what I ment by the crueltye specified in my lettres; yat proceedethe of you onelye, that wille not accept mye offres and repentance. I confess that I have failed in som thingis, and yet greater faultes have bin made to you sundrye tymes, which ye have forgiven. I am but yonge, and ye will saye ye have forgiven me diverse tymes. Maye not a man of mye age, for lack of counselle, of which I am very destitute, falle twise or thrise, and yet repent, and be chastised bye experience? If I have made any faile that ye wul think a faile, howsoever its be, I crave your pardone, and protest that I shall never faile againe. I desire no other thinge but that we may be together as husband and wife. And if ye will not consent hereto, I desire never to ris futhe from this bed. Therefore I pray yow, give me an answer hereunto. God knoweth how I am punished for making mye god of yow, and for having no other thought but on yow. And if at ainie tyme I offend yow, ye are the cause; for that when anie offendethe me, if for mye refuge I might open mye minde to you, I would speak to no other; but when ainie thing is spoken to me, and ye and I not beinge as husband and wife ought to be, necessitee compelleth me to kepe it in my brest," etc.
Alleged Letter of Mary's.
(Translated from French into Scots.)
"Ye ask me quhat I mene be the crueltie conteint in my letter; it is of you alone, that will not accept my offeris and repentance. I confess that I have faillit but not into that quihilk I ever denyit; and sicklyke hes faillit to sindrie of your subjeetis, quhilk ye have forgiven. I am young. Ye will say that ye have forgiven me ofttymes, and yit yat I return to my faultis. May not ane man of my age, for lack of counsell, fall twyse or thryse, or in lack of his promeis, and at last repent himself, and be chastisit be experience? If I may obtain pardoun, I proteste I shall never make faulte agane. And I craif na uther thing bot yat we may be at bed and buird togidder as husband and wyfe; and gif ye will not consent heirunto I sail nevir ryse out of yis bed. I pray yow tell me yoor resolution. God knawis how I am punischit for making my god of yow, and for having na uther thoucht bot on yow; and gif at ony tyme I offend yow, ye are the caus; because when ony offendis me, gif for my refuge I micht playne unto yow, I would speike it unto na uther body; but quhen I heir ony thing, not being familiar with you, necessitie constraine me to keip it in my briest," etc.
It will be noticed that, not only are the words the same (the differences of spelling do not affect the case), but the clauses and phrases occupy the same relative positions in both documents. And yet we are asked to believe that these are independent reports of the same discourse, written down from memory.
A distinguished Scottish writer has summed up the question thus: "That Mary and Darnley should have held a long private conversation on many topics of no particular importance; that after Mary was gone Darnley should have repeated the whole conversation to Crawfurd; that Crawfurd either then or eighteen months later should have written out a report in Scots of what Darnley had said; that Mary should have written within twenty-four hours a letter in French in which she also reported the conversation; that Mary's letter should have been afterwards translated into Scots; and that the Scots translation of Mary's letter should have been found to agree, word for word, with Crawfurd's report,--this series of marvels is more than the most devout credulity can stomach." (John Skelton, C.B., LL.D.)
Seventh. The history of these letters makes it tolerably clear that it was many months after they were said to have been discovered by Morton, before they took definite form; in other words, that they were being concocted, at least, to use the words of the loyal nobility, "in some principal and substantial clauses." Even as late as the month of August, 1567, the rebel lords reiterated that Bothwell had laid violent hands on the Queen, and that they had risen up to rescue her from his thraldom. But on December 4th, the same lords declared, as we read in the Act of the Secret Counsel, that they had taken arms against her because she was an accomplice of Bothwell's in the murder of her husband, as shown "be divers hir previe lettres written and subscrivit with hir awen hand, and sent by hir to James Erll Boithwell." This flat contradiction between the statements of the same parties arouses the strongest suspicion of treachery. Nor will it avail to say that in their excessive charity, they had for a time chosen to make liars of themselves rather than unnecessarily reveal the vices of their former Queen; for, according to the deposition of Morton, at least according to what Mary's adversaries claim to be Morton's deposition, the Casket containing the incriminating documents was taken from a servant of Bothwell's on June 20th--nearly two weeks after the Confederate lords had taken up arms. Again, the minutes of the Secret Counsel describe the letters as "written and subscrit with hir (Mary's) awen hand, and sent by hir to James Erll Boithwell." Yet the letters exhibited at Hampton Court nearly a year later, were neither signed by Mary, nor addressed to Bothwell.
Eighth. The Countess of Lennox, Darnley's mother, has indirectly furnished evidence against the genuineness of the Casket Letters that can scarcely be valued too highly. For some years she had ceased to be on friendly terms with the Queen. It was her husband, the Earl, who had demanded that Bothwell should be tried for the murder of their son; and by reason of the suspicions which fanatical clamour and cunning treachery had attached to Mary's conduct, the bereaved parents had naturally entertained bitter feelings for their royal daughter-in-law. But the villainy which had brought the unfortunate Queen to an English prison was at length revealed; close acquaintance with the Regent Morton, the quondam leading spirit of the rebel faction, afforded the Countess opportunities of discovering facts that neither she nor her husband had known during the strife of 1567; and, in November, 1575, she comforted the imprisoned exile by a letter in which, among other things, she said:--
"I beseech Your Majesty, fear not, but trust in God that all shall be well; the treachery of your traitors is known better than before. I shall always play my part to Your Majesty's content, willing God, so as may ten to both our comforts." "The treachery of your traitors is known better than before." Could the mother of the murdered King change front and write thus, if she believed that Mary had written the Casket Letter number two, in all its parts?
CHAPTER IX.
THE QUEEN OF SCOTS DETAINED A PRISONER.
Mary's cause, as far as Elizabeth was concerned, was now hopeless, although the unfortunate Queen was not given to understand as much. She was removed from Carlisle, which was too near her English friends and her faithful Scottish Borderers. The danger of leaving her at Carlisle is thus hinted by Mr. Skelton, where he describes the effect she produced on Sir Francis Knollys:--
"When she first flashed upon him in her dishevelled beauty and strong anger--travel-stained though she was from her long ride after the Langside panic--the puritanic veteran warmed into unpremeditated welcome. When we read the remarkable letters in which he describes the fugitive Queen, we cease to wonder at the disquietude of Elizabeth; a glance, a smile, a few cordial words, from such a woman might have set all the northern counties in a blaze. The cold and canny Scot, whose metaphysical and theological ardour contrast so curiously with his frugal common sense, could stolidly resist the charm; but the Catholic nobles, the Border chivalry, would have responded without a day's delay to her summons."
It will not be amiss to give, as recorded from time to time in his own words, the impression which the fugitive and impassioned Queen made on Sir Francis during the short time she was under his care.
"We found her," he writes, "in her chamber of presence ready to receive us, when we declared unto her Your Highness' (Queen Elizabeth's) sorrowfulness for her lamentable misadventure. We found her in answer to have an eloquent tongue and a discreet head; and it seemeth by her doings she hath stout courage and liberal heart adjoining thereto." Later: "This lady and princess is a notable woman. She seemeth to regard no ceremonious honour besides the acknowledgment of her estate royal. She showeth a disposition to speak much, to be bold, to be pleasant, to be very familiar. She showeth a great desire to be revenged of her enemies. She shows a readiness to expose herself to all perils in hope of victory. She desires much to hear of hardiness and valiancy, commending by name all approved hardy men of her country, although they be her enemies; and she concealeth no cowardice even in her friends. The thing she most thirsteth after is victory; and it seemeth to be indifferent to her to have her enemies diminished either by the sword of her friends, or by the liberal promises and rewards of her purse, or by division and quarrels among themselves. So that for victory's sake, pain and peril seem pleasant to her; and in respect of victory, wealth and all things seem to her contemptuous and vile. Now what is to be done with such a lady and princess, and whether such a lady and princess is to be nourished in our bosom, or whether it be good to halt and dissemble with such a lady, I refer to your judgment. The plainest way is the most honorable in my opinion." Yes; "the plainest way is the most honourable," but "to halt and dissemble" was esteemed the most profitable. Again Knollys writes: "She does not dislike my plain dealing. Surely she is a rare woman; for as no flattery can lightly abuse her, so no plain speech seemeth to offend her, if she think the speaker thereof to be an honest man." If we knew nothing of Mary but what we have learned from the pen of this cold and critical adversary, who saw her only when misfortune and disappointment might well have soured and irritated her nature, yet found her "eloquent, discreet, bold, pleasant, very familiar," unmoved by flattery and unruffled by "plain speech," we could legitimately infer that fascinating beyond all ordinary measure must have been the days of her unclouded girlhood in France, and even the less cheerful years of her prosperity in Holyrood;[#] and we could well understand why Elizabeth--who hated her for her claim to the English throne and for her surpassing personal beauty--was anxious to place her as far as possible beyond reach of her friends and sympathizers. The necessity of doing this was emphasized nearly a year later, when Mary was at Tutbury in charge of the Earl of Shrewsbury, by a certain friend of Cecil's named Nicholas White, whose curiosity had lead him to seek an audience with the far-famed captive. In a letter to Cecil, which, as its parenthetical clauses clearly demonstrate, was intended also for the eye of Elizabeth, he wrote:--
[#] Randolph, the English Ambassador to Scotland, has left us, in a letter to Queen Elizabeth, a lively picture of the Scottish queen at the age of twenty-two. He had waited on her at St. Andrews, whither she had withdrawn to pass a few quiet days with some friends, and he describes how good-humouredly she upbraided him for interrupting their merriment with his "grave matters." Among other things he wrote:--"Immediately after the receipt of your letter to this Queen, I repaired to St. Andrews. So soon as time served, I did present the same, which being read, and as appeared in her countenance very well liked, she said little to me for that time. The next day she passed wholly in mirth, nor gave any appearance to any of the contrary; nor would not, as she said openly, but be quiet and merry. Her grace lodged in a merchant's house, her train were very few; and there was small repair from any part. Her will was, that for the time that I did tarry, I should dine and sup with her. Your Majesty was aftertimes dranken unto by her, at dinners and suppers. Having in this sort continued with her grace Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday, I thought it time to take occasion to utter unto her grace that which last I received in command from your Majesty, by Mr. Secretary's letter.... I had no sooner spoken these words, but she saith, I see now well that you are weary of this company and treatment. I sent for you to be merry, and to see how like a Bourgeois wife I live with my little troop; and you will interrupt our pastime with your great and grave matters. I pray you, sir, if you weary here, return home to Edinburgh, and keep your gravity and great embassade until the Queen come thither; for I assure you, you shall not get her here, nor I know not myself where she is gone; you see neither cloth nor estate, nor such appearance that you may think that there is a queen here; nor I would not that you should think that I am she, at St. Andrews, that I was at Edinburgh."
"If I (who in the sight God bear the Queen's majesty a natural love beside my bounded duty) might give advice, there should be very few subjects in this land have access to, or conference with, this lady. For besides that she is a goodly personage (and yet in truth not comparable to our Sovereign), she hath withal an alluring grace, a pretty Scottish speech, and a searching wit, clouded with mildness." We are indebted to Mr. White for the following piece of information also: "Her hair of itself is black; and yet Mr. Knollys told me that she wears hair of sundry colours."
From this time forward Mary's history is the history of sustaining hope and depressing disappointment. Hopes of an accommodation with her rebel subjects were held out to her by Elizabeth; non-committal promises of her restoration were made; kill-time negotiations were sometimes entered into. It is distressing to read the history of her nineteen years of imprisonment. She never ceased to hope for her release, and yet her hopes were repeatedly disappointed. She continued to write Elizabeth in a friendly tone, hoping, no doubt, to touch a chord of sympathy in her cousin's heart; but she never cringed, she never abased herself. The proud spirit of her forefathers, which she had so fully inherited, lent courage and dignity to her utterances. Various plans were laid for her rescue; but her great distance from any point from which she could be carried out of the realm, rendered them ineffectual. She was removed from place to place, more than a dozen times. The close confinement and the advance of years began to tell on her once lithe and beautiful form. And, indeed, what suffering could be more terrible to a young woman of Mary's lively temperament, than prolonged confinement under a rigorous regime and complete separation from the society of friends. No wonder the Bard of Ayr indignantly addresses Elizabeth:--
The weeping blood in woman's breastWas never known to thee,Nor the balm that draps on wound of woeFrae woman's pitying e'e.
The weeping blood in woman's breastWas never known to thee,Nor the balm that draps on wound of woeFrae woman's pitying e'e.
The weeping blood in woman's breast
Was never known to thee,
Was never known to thee,
Nor the balm that draps on wound of woe
Frae woman's pitying e'e.
Frae woman's pitying e'e.
If Mary continued to languish in an English prison, it was not because the majority of the Scottish people had not the good-will to liberate her and place her on the throne. But now, as in the days of her imprisonment in Lochleven Castle, the very love they bore her paralyzed their efforts in her behalf. A miscarried attempt at rescuing her would most probably involve the loss of her life. Elizabeth had received assurance that Mary would never be allowed to pass the precincts of her prison alive. The most distinguished and powerful nobles in Scotland--Argyll, Huntly, Chatelheraut, Athol, Herries, and many others--continued to support her cause, and there is hardly room to doubt, that if Scotland had been left to settle its own internal disputes, Mary would have been restored. But Elizabeth was resolved that Scotland should not settle its own disputes. She laid aside the mask, when she could no longer wear it, and, according as the need arose, sent her soldiers into Scotland to help overpower the friends of Mary. From the day on which Moray returned to Scotland from the Westminster farce, the Queen's party began to gain strength. But what could this avail, since Elizabeth was determined that the cause of the helpless captive should not prosper. The Regent was shot at Linlithgow in January, 1570, and the Earl of Lennox, who succeeded him in the Regency, gave notice to the Ambassador of Elizabeth that English aid would be necessary for the maintenance of his position. The aid, of course, was granted, and the English auxiliaries, under Sussex, by the severity which they exercised against the adherents of the Queen, fully demonstrated their claim to the title of "auld enemies." Mary's party had done enough to prove their loyalty, but when Elizabeth unreservedly cast her lot with the opposite side, they could not hope for permanent success, and they ultimately came to terms with the Regent.
The disgust which Moray's conduct towards his sister had excited among the moderate Scottish nobles is apparent in the action of two leading personages, shortly after the breaking up of the Westminster Conference. William Maitland of Lethington--the "flower of Scottish wit"--and William Kirkaldy of Grange--the "mirror of chivalry"--had been attached to the Regent's party, although it is certain that at least Maitland aimed at a compromise with the Queen and opposed extreme measures. Seeing that a middle course was no longer possible, they unequivocally went over to the Queen's party. Kirkaldy was Governor of Edinburgh Castle, and in April, 1571, Maitland, broken down in body, but mentally the recognized leader of the Queen's men, passed within its walls. From this inacessible height Kirkaldy could look down with indifference on the futile efforts of the Regent's forces to dislodge him, and Maitland could send forth to his associates his letters of advice and encouragement. Throughout the country the opposing forces met in many a bloody conflict. Lennox was killed in an engagement with Huntly in 1571; the Earl of Mar, who succeeded him, died the following year, and the Regency passed into the hands of the fierce and licentious Earl of Morton. Morton renewed the conflict with redoubled vigour. But Kirkaldy's position remained impregnable. "Mons. Meg," the old monster gun, so famous in Scottish history, continued to roar defiance from the ramparts of the Castle, and the Standard of Mary still floated over David's tower. But the old story was repeated; English troops were sent from Berwick to reinforce Morton; and on May the 9th, 1573, the Castle surrendered.
In England the sympathy for the fallen Queen had already burst forth in sudden but ill-directed revolt, under the leadership of two of the most ancient and powerful peers of the realm,--the Earls of Northumberland and Westmorland. Slight success at the outset was soon succeeded by disorder and disaster. The Earls fled to Scotland, whence Westmorland passed safely to Flanders. Northumberland was taken by the Regent Moray, and was afterwards, to the great disgust and humiliation of all honest Scotsmen, handed over to Elizabeth by the Regent Morton, in return for a suitable sum of money. Needless to say the Earl was put to death. Sir Walter Scott, always ready to view transaction from the standpoint of chivalry, makes the following reference to this bargain:--
"The surrender of this unfortunate nobleman to England was a great stain, not only on the character of Morton, but on that of Scotland in general, which had hitherto been accounted a safe and hospitable place of refuge for those whom misfortune or political faction had exiled from their own country. It was the more particularly noticed because when Morton himself had been forced to fly to England, on account of his share in Rizzio's murder, he had been courteously received and protected by the unhappy nobleman whom he had now delivered up to his fate. It was an additional and aggravating circumstance, that it was a Douglas who had betrayed a Percy,[#] and when the annals of their ancestors were considered, it was found that while they presented many acts of open hostility, many instances of close and firm alliance, they never till now had afforded an example of any act of treachery exercised by one family against the other. To complete the infamy of the transaction, a sum of money was paid to the Regent on this occasion, which he divided with Douglas of Lochleven." (Tales of a Grandfather.)
[#] Northumberland was a Percy; Westmoreland, a Nevil.
On February 4th, 1568, Mary passed to the care of the Earl of Shrewsbury, who was destined to be her keeper for the next fifteen years. In November, 1570, she was brought to Sheffield where she was detained, almost without interruption, for fourteen years. Personally, Shrewsbury bore no ill-will to his charge. He appears to have been an upright and cultured man, and was evidently disposed to treat his prisoner with the consideration and leniency her rank and misfortune would seem to demand. But he was a loyal subject of Elizabeth's, and until she should be pleased to relieve him of his unpleasant duty, he would faithfully execute her will in regard to the restrictions which she thought fit to place on the liberty of the Scottish Queen.
Great as were the bodily and mental sufferings which close confinement, disappointed hopes and the ingratitude of men produced, they would have been greatly aggravated, had Mary only known by what a slender thread her life sometimes hung. Elizabeth entered into negotiations with successive Regents, from Moray to Morton, for the delivery of Mary into their hands. The remonstrations of the French and Spanish Ambassadors, who represented that such an action would be equivalent to condemning her to instant death, arrested the progress of the first negotiations till the death of Moray brought them to an abrupt ending. During the regency of Mar, the project was revived and almost realized, the necessary condition that Mary should be quickly put to death having been agreed to by the Regent and Morton. But here the death of another Regent intervened to save the doomed Queen from assassination or judicial murder. On the death of Mar, Morton, who had hitherto been the real, though not the nominal Regent, assumed the reins of government. He had no scruples about executing the will of Elizabeth, but he demanded a higher price for his services than she cared to pay. Morton and Elizabeth were well matched; they both knew the value of money, and were unwilling to close a bargain that would not promise to be a safe business transaction. Morton was, no doubt, confident that he would not be hampered by competition in the work he was undertaking, and that he could exact what wages he pleased for his expert labour. Killegrew, the agent of Elizabeth, understood this, and was anxious that the bargain should be clinched before Morton took it into his mind to demand a greater reward. "I pray God," he wrote; "we prove not herein like those who refused the three volumes of Sibylla's prophecies, with the price that they were afterwards pleased to give for one; for sure I left the market here better cheap than now I find it." But Elizabeth would not be outwitted--and Mary lived on.
A never-failing source of sorrow to Mary was the knowledge that her son, whom she had seen for the last time an infant, scarcely twelve months old, at Stirling, was in charge of those who had contrived her own overthrow, and was under the tutorship of the venal and ungrateful Buchanan. The burden of her captivity would have been immeasurably lightened, could she have been assured that he had learned to love her and feel for her misfortunes. But the young James, whatever may have been his desire, was in the hands of her enemies, and could communicate with his mother only in the manner and through the means that they were pleased to specify. Nevertheless, as he grew older he had ample opportunity of learning the real character of the men who had dethroned her, and would, it must be presumed, have done what he could to procure her release, did not the promptings of human interest run counter to the dictates of natural love. He was not of that stuff of which heroes are made. The bravery and chivalry for which his forefathers had long been distinguished, found no abode in his bosom. A sound skin and the prospect of succeeding to the English throne weighed more with him than the thought of adopting a firm and uncompromising policy in defence of his mother. While the projects of Mary's friends on the Continent gave promise of being carried to a successful issue, he was not averse to plotting with the Guises and seeking the aid of the Pope in behalf of his "dearest and most honoured lady mother"; but when these projects came to naught, he was found closely allied to the winning cause. Later on, it is true, when Mary was declared a party to a conspiracy against the life of Elizabeth, and her execution was imminent, he dispatched Ambassadors to the English Court to intercede for her life; and when at last the fatal blow was struck, he gave vent to angry feelings and expressed a desire of revenge. A large number of the Scottish nobility were anxious to avert by armed force the contemplated insult to their nation, and to secure Scotland against a humiliation such as their ancestors would never have tolerated. But a cowardly King and a divided nobility were not the forces which, in earlier days, had awakened terror in the heart of England. Elizabeth and her advisers know this, and were well aware that the fear of never reaching the goal of his ambition--the united thrones of England and Scotland--would curb within harmless limits the half-hearted anger of the selfish James.