Life of Mary Queen of Scots Volume II Part 4

Thus ended this famous conference, which Elizabeth had opened with so many professions of friendship, which she conducted with so much duplicity, and which she concluded without any conclusion, except that of endeavouring to blacken the character of her sister Mary, and give plausibility to her continued imprisonment. To a certain extent it answered her purpose. She had won the reputation, in the eyes of those who looked only at the surface of things, of having endeavoured to do justice between the Queen of Scots and her n.o.bility; she had secured the favour of the Regent; and had obtained a strong hold of the person of her rival, whom she now doomed to lingering and hopeless captivity.[173]

CHAPTER X.

MARY'S EIGHTEEN YEARS' CAPTIVITY.

The last eighteen years of Mary's life were spent in imprisonment, and are comparatively a blank in her personal history. She was transported, at intervals, from castle to castle, and was intrusted sometimes to the charge of one n.o.bleman, and sometimes of another; but for her the active scenes of life were past,--the splendour and the dignity of a throne were to be enjoyed no longer,--the sceptre of her native country was never more to grace her hand,--her will ceased to influence a nation,--her voice did not travel beyond the walls that witnessed her confinement. She came into England at the age of twenty-five, in the prime of womanhood, the full vigour of health, and the rapidly ripening strength of her intellectual powers. She was there destined to feel in all its bitterness, that "hope delayed maketh the heart sick." Year after year pa.s.sed slowly on, and year after year her spirits became more exhausted, her health feebler, and her doubts and fears confirmed, till they at length settled into despair.

Premature old age overtook her, before she was past the meridian of life; and for some time before her death, her hair was white "with other snows than those of age." Yet, during the whole of this long period, amid sufferings which would have broken many a masculine spirit, and which, even in our own times, have been seen to conquer those who had conquered empires, Mary retained the innate grace and dignity of her character, never forgetting that she had been born a queen, or making her calamities an excuse for the commission of any petty meanness, which she would have scorned in the day of her prosperity. Full of incident as her previous life had been,--brilliant in many of its achievements, fortunate in some, and honourable in all, it may be doubted whether the forbearance, fort.i.tude, and magnanimity, displayed in her latter years, does not redound more highly to her praise, than all that preceded. Many important events took place, and intrigues of various kinds were carried on, between the years 1569, and 1586, but as it is not the intention of this work to ill.u.s.trate any parts of the history either of Scotland or England, which do not bear immediate reference to the Queen of Scots, nothing but a summary of them, in so far as they were connected with her, need be introduced here.

It was on the 12th of January 1569, that the Earl of Murray and the Scottish Commissioners obtained permission to return home, the Regent having previously received from Elizabeth a loan of 5000_l._, lent him "for the maintenance of peace between the realms of England and Scotland,"

or in other words, as a bribe to secure his co-operation in all time coming.[174] Mary, on the contrary, was removed from Bolton, to the Castle of Tutbury in Staffordshire, farther in the interior of England, and was placed under the charge of Lord Shrewsbury, to whom Tutbury belonged.

Elizabeth was unwilling to allow her captive to remain long in any one place, lest she should form connections and friendships, which might lead to arrangements for an escape. Besides, Sir Francis Knollys had represented, that unless it was determined to keep the Scottish Queen so close a prisoner, that she should not be allowed to ride out occasionally, which would be death to her, she could not remain any longer at Bolton, for want of forage and provisions.[175] During the year, she was taken about by Shrewsbury, on occasional visits, to several mansions which he possessed in different parts of England; but Tutbury was her head-quarters; and wherever she went, she was very strictly guarded. "If I might give advice," says one of Cecil's friends, in a letter he wrote to him about this time, "there should very few subjects of this land have access to a conference with this lady; for, beside that she is a goodly personage (and yet in truth not comparable to our Sovereign), she hath withal an alluring grace, a pretty Scotch speech, and a searching wit, clouded with mildness. The greatest person about her is the Lord Livingston, and the lady his wife, which is a fair gentlewoman. She hath nine women more, fifty persons in her household, with ten horses. Lord Shrewsbury is very watchful of his charge; but the Queen overwatches them all, for it is one of the clock at least every night ere she go to bed. I asked her Grace, since the weather did cut off all exercise abroad, how she pa.s.sed the time within? She said, that all the day she wrought with her needle, and that the diversity of the colours made the work seem less tedious; and she continued so long till even pain made her give over; and with that laid her hand upon her left side, and complained of an old grief newly increased there. She then entered upon a pretty disputable comparison between carving, painting, and working with the needle, affirming painting, in her own opinion, for the most commendable quality."[176]

But though Mary thus attempted to beguile her solitude, the thought of her unjust imprisonment never ceased to prey upon her mind. Elizabeth and Cecil tried to defend themselves upon four grounds; but they were all alike weak. They said, _first_, that she was a lawful prisoner by good treaties. But as they did not mention to what treaties they alluded, Chalmers supposes they meant the same kind of treaties "which justify the Barbary Powers to detain all Christians as slaves." They said, _secondly_, that she could not be suffered to depart, till she had satisfied the wrong she had done to Elizabeth, in openly claiming the crown of England, and not making any just recompense. But the disavowal of that claim was all the recompense that was necessary; and though Mary had made the claim when married to Francis, she had expressly given it up ever since his death.

They said, _thirdly_, that Elizabeth possessed a superiority over the crown of Scotland. But this antiquated notion, arising from the subservience of John Baliol to Edward I., in 1292, had long been relinquished, and had never been acknowledged in any treaty between the two nations. They said, _fourthly_, that the Queen of England was bound to attend to the pet.i.tion of her subjects "in matters of blood." But though Lord and Lady Lennox had been brought forward to present a pet.i.tion against Mary, it was evident that Elizabeth had no power either to grant or refuse such pet.i.tion, the Queen of Scots not being one of her subjects.

Though Mary's enemies, however, prevailed, her friends were by no means discomfited. In Scotland, Murray found that only one half of the kingdom was disposed to submit to his authority; and it was not till after a protracted and disastrous civil war, that he was able to free himself from the resolute hostility of Chatelherault, Argyle, Huntly, and others. In England, the Duke of Norfolk was more active than ever in his intrigues.

So far from being alarmed by the pretended discoveries to her prejudice, he openly expressed his conviction of their falsehood, and prevailed upon a number of the English n.o.bility to second, to the best of their power, his honourable proposals to the Queen of Scots.[177] Though it does not appear that he was able to obtain a personal interview with Mary, many letters pa.s.sed between them; and as she soon perceived that her best chance of restoration to the throne of Scotland was by joining her interests with those of Norfolk, (whose power and estates were so extensive, that Melville calls him the greatest subject in Europe,) she promised that, though little disposed to form a new alliance, after the experience she had already had of matrimony, she would nevertheless bestow her hand on him as soon as she should regain her liberty, through his means. The Duke's machinations, however, which had been hitherto carefully concealed from Elizabeth, at length reached her ears, and in the utmost indignation she scrupled not, with her usual arbitrary violence, to send him to the Tower, where she kept him a close prisoner for upwards of nine months,--while the Earls of Arundel, Pembroke, and Leicester, who had favoured his views, all fell into disgrace. Mary was watched more narrowly than before; and Hastings, Earl of Huntingdon, who pretended a superior right to the English succession, was joined with Shrewsbury in the commission of superintending her imprisonment.

Norfolk had not been long in the Tower, when an open rebellion broke out in the Northern counties, headed by the Earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland. It is difficult to ascertain the precise causes which led to it. Though there is no reason to believe that Mary gave it any encouragement, it seems to have borne some reference to her; for in the "Declaration" published by the Earls, one ground of complaint was the want of a law for settling the succession. They marched also towards Tutbury, with the evident intention of restoring Mary to freedom, which they might have succeeded in doing, had she not been removed with all expedition to Coventry. Elizabeth sent an army against the rebels, and they were speedily dispersed;--Westmoreland concealed himself on the Borders; but Northumberland, proceeding further into Scotland, was seized by Murray, and confined in the castle of Loch-Leven,--probably in the very apartments which Mary had occupied.

The year 1570 opened with an event which materially affected the state of public affairs in Scotland, and which to Mary was the occasion of many mingled feelings. Elizabeth, perceiving the danger which accrued to herself from detaining a prisoner of so much importance, had commenced a negotiation with the Earl of Murray for replacing his sister in his hands, when she received the unexpected and unwelcome intelligence of his a.s.sa.s.sination. The manner and cause of his death are sufficiently known to all who are acquainted with Scottish History; and though nothing can justify a murder committed to gratify private revenge, yet it is impossible to read the story of the wrongs which the Regent had heaped upon Hamilton of Bothwellhaugh, without feeling towards the latter more of pity than of hatred.

Next to Mary herself, no one had held so prominent a place in Scotland as the Earl of Murray; and there is no one concerning whose character historians have more widely differed. There can be no doubt that, like most human characters, it was a very mixed one; but it is to be feared that the evil preponderated. Ambition was his ruling pa.s.sion, and the temptations which his birth, rank, and fortune, held out for its indulgence, unfortunately led him into errors and crimes which, had he been contented with an humbler sphere, he would in all probability have avoided. There are various sorts of ambition, and the most dangerous is not always that which is most apparent and reckless. Murray was ambitious under the cloak of patriotism, and the mask of religion. He had enough of knowledge of mankind to be aware, that no one could so safely play the villain as he who maintained a high name for integrity. Hence, though he may have loved honesty to a certain extent, for its own sake, he loved it a great deal more for the sake of the advantages to be derived from a reputation for possessing it. He was perhaps const.i.tutionally religious; but though he was very willing to fight as a leader in the armies of the Reformation, it is somewhat questionable that he would have served the good cause with equal zeal, had he been obliged to fill only a subordinate place in its ranks. There is every reason to believe that in many cases he did good only that he might the more safely do wrong; and that he rigidly observed all the external forms of religion, only that the less suspicion might attach to him when he infringed its precepts. He had enough of moral rect.i.tude to understand the distinctions between right and wrong, but too much selfishness to observe them unostentatiously, and too much prudence to disregard them openly. Thus to the casual observer he appeared strong in unshaken integrity, and full of the odour of sanct.i.ty. He possessed the art, which few but profound politicians can acquire, of going in the wrong path, as if he were in the right, and of gaining more estimation for his errors, than others do for their virtues. His conduct towards his sister was altogether unjustifiable; yet with the exception of his rebellion on the occasion of her marriage with Darnley, which was the least objectionable, because the boldest and most straight-forward part of the whole, he contrived to inflict, and to see inflicted, the deadliest injuries, as if he unwillingly submitted to them, rather than actively instigated them. He had little warmth of feeling; but what he had, prompted him to affect to feel as he never in reality did. He possessed all the talent compatible with cunning; he had abundance of military skill, and was not deficient in personal courage. He was not often cruel, because he saw it for his interest to be humane; he was a patron of literature, and attentive to his friends, because patronage and a numerous body of friends confer power. He affected nevertheless an ostentatious austerity in his manners, which it was impossible to reconcile with the worldliness of his pursuits. In short, he had so involved his whole character in disingenuousness, under a show of every thing that was exactly the reverse, that he was probably not aware himself when he acted from good, and when from bad motives. He had far too much ambition to be an upright man, and far too much good sense to be an undisguised villain.

Notwithstanding all the ill usage she had received from him, Mary shed tears when she heard of his untimely death; and to record this fact, is the highest euloguim which need be pa.s.sed on his memory.

The Scots chose the Earl of Lennox Regent in the place of Murray, whilst Elizabeth, says Robertson, "adhering to her old system with regard to Scottish affairs, laboured, notwithstanding the solicitations of Mary's friends, to multiply and to perpetuate the factions which tore in pieces the kingdom." At the same time, she pretended to enter into a new negotiation with Mary, as she frequently did at subsequent periods, when hard pressed by any of the more powerful friends of the Queen of Scots.

But after appointing Commissioners, and requiring Morton and others to meet them from Scotland, the affair ended as it began; Mary still continued in her prison, and Morton returned home, no proposals having been made, to which either of the parties would agree. About this period Elizabeth's temper was particularly soured, by an excommunication which Pope Pius V. issued against her, and which she erroneously supposed had been prepared in concert with Mary. A person of the name of Felton, affixed a copy of the Pope's Bull on the gate of the Bishop of London's palace, and, refusing either to fly or conceal himself, he was seized and executed for the crime. In her ill humour, Elizabeth also ordered that Mary should not be allowed to go abroad, and she did not revoke this order, until strong representations were made to her of the cruel effect produced by it on the health of the Queen, whose const.i.tution was now much broken. The weakness in one of her sides which had long pained her, had of late greatly increased, and she was obliged to have recourse to strengthening baths of white wine.[178] During this year she was removed from Tutbury to Chatsworth, and from Chatsworth she was taken to the Earl of Shrewsbury's castle at Sheffield,--"a town," says Camden, "of great renown for the smiths therein." She had not at the most above thirty attendants, among whom the princ.i.p.al were Lord and Lady Livingston, her young friend William Douglas, Castel her French physician, and Roulet her French Secretary. The latter died when she was at Sheffield, and his death afflicted her much. All communication with her friends at a distance was denied her; and her letters were continually intercepted, and either copies, or the originals, sent to Cecil. Yet she had too proud a spirit to give way to unavailing complaints; and when she wrote to inquire after her faithful servant the Bishop of Ross, whom Elizabeth had put into confinement, from a jealousy of his exertions for his mistress, all she allowed herself to say was, that she pitied poor prisoners, for she was used like one herself.

In the year 1571, the Duke of Norfolk, who had been by this time discharged from the Tower, had the imprudence to renew his intrigues for the liberation of Mary, and his own marriage with her. The secret correspondence was renewed between them; and the Queen of Scots sent him, says Stranguage, "a long commentary of her purposes, and certain love-letters in a private character, known to them two." The Duke was now resolved either to make or mar his fortune; and, deeply engaging in the dangerous game he was playing, he scrupled not to have recourse to many highly treasonable practices. He set on foot negotiations both with one Rodolphi, a Florentine merchant, residing in London, and an agent of the Court of Rome, and with the Spanish amba.s.sador; and with them he boldly entered into an extensive conspiracy, which, if successful, would entirely have subverted the Government. His plan was, that the Duke of Alva should land in England with a numerous army, and should be immediately joined by himself and friends. They were then to proclaim Mary's right to the throne, call upon all good Catholics to support them, and march direct for London. The Pope, and the King of Spain, readily entered into the scheme; and every thing appeared to be proceeding according to his wishes, when the treachery of one of Norfolk's servants made Elizabeth acquainted with the whole conspiracy. The Duke was immediately seized, and thrown into prison; and, after several private examinations, he was tried for high treason, found guilty, and condemned to death. Elizabeth, who cultivated a reputation for extreme sensibility, affected the greatest reluctance to sign the warrant for Norfolk's execution. But she was at length able to shut her heart against his many n.o.ble qualities, his princely spirit, and valuable services, and she ordered him to be led to the scaffold. He there confessed that he had been justly found guilty, in so far as he had dealt with the Queen of Scots, in weighty and important business, without the knowledge of his own Queen. He died, as he had lived, with undaunted courage. When the executioner offered him a napkin to cover his eyes, he refused it, saying, "I fear not death;" and, laying his head on the block, it was taken off at one blow.

Elizabeth was extremely anxious to implicate Mary in Norfolk's guilt, and, for this purpose, sent Commissioners to her to reproach her with her offences. Mary heard all they had to say with the utmost calmness; and, when they called upon her for her answer, she replied, that though she was a free Queen, and did not consider herself accountable, either to them or their mistress, she had, nevertheless, no hesitation to a.s.sure them of the injustice of their accusations. She protested that she had never imagined any detriment to Elizabeth by her marriage with Norfolk,--that she had never encouraged him to raise rebellion, or been privy to it, but was, on the contrary, most ready to reveal any conspiracy against the Queen of England which might come to her ears,--that though Rodolphi had been of use to her in the transmission of letters abroad, she had never received any from him,--that as to attempting an escape, she willingly gave ear to all who offered to a.s.sist her, and in hope of effecting her deliverance, had corresponded with several in cipher,--that so far from having any hand in the Bull of excommunication, when a copy of it was sent her, she burned it after she had read it,--and that she held no communication with any foreign State, upon any matters unconnected with her restoration to her own kingdom. Satisfied with this reply, the Commissioners returned to London.[179]

All the miseries of civil war were in the meantime desolating the kingdom of Scotland. The Earl of Lennox was a feeble and very incompetent successor to Murray. Perceiving him unable to maintain his authority, and observing that the current of popular feeling was becoming stronger against the unjust imprisonment which Mary was suffering, many of those who had stood by Murray deserted to the opposite faction. Among the rest were Secretary Maitland and Kircaldy of Grange, the first the ablest statesman, and the second the best soldier in the country. It was now almost impossible to say which side preponderated. Both parties levied armies, convoked Parliaments, fought battles, besieged towns, and ordered executions. "Fellow-citizens, friends, brothers," says Robertson, "took different sides, and ranged themselves under the standards of the contending factions. In every county, and almost in every town and village, _Kingsmen_ and _Queensmen_ were names of distinction. Political hatred dissolved all natural ties, and extinguished the reciprocal good-will and confidence which hold mankind together in society. Religious zeal mingled itself with these civil distinctions, and contributed not a little to heighten and to inflame them." One of the most successful exploits performed by the Regent, was the taking of the Castle of Dumbarton from the Queen's Lords. The Archbishop of St Andrews, whom he found in it, was condemned to be hanged without a trial, and the sentence was immediately executed. No Bishop had ever suffered in Scotland so ignominiously before; and while the King's adherents were glad to get rid of one who had been very zealous against them, the n.o.bles who supported the Queen were exasperated to the last degree by so violent a measure, and their watchword became,--"Think on the Archbishop of St Andrews!" Lennox was sacrificed to his memory; for the town of Stirling having been suddenly taken, in an expedition contrived by Grange, Lennox, after he had surrendered himself prisoner, was shot by command of Lord Claud Hamilton, brother to the deceased Archbishop; and in his room, the Earl of Mar was elected Regent.

In the year 1572, Mary's cause sustained a serious injury, by the atrocious ma.s.sacre of the Hugonots in France, which exasperated all the Protestants throughout Europe, and made the very name of a Catholic Sovereign odious. Although Mary herself, so far from having lent any countenance to this ma.s.sacre, had expressly avowed her unwillingness to constrain the conscience of any one, and had been all her life the strenuous advocate of toleration, yet, recollecting her connexion with Charles IX. and Catharine de Medicis, whose sanguinary fury made itself so conspicuous on this melancholy occasion, her enemies took care that she should not escape from some share of the blame. Elizabeth, in particular, taking advantage of the excitement which had been given to public feeling, used every exertion to secure the circulation of Buchanan's notorious "Detection of Mary's Doings," which had been published a short time before. She ordered Cecil to send a number of copies to Walsingham, her amba.s.sador at Paris, that they might be presented to the King, and leading persons of the French Court. "It is not amiss," Cecil wrote, "to have divers of Buchanan's little Latin books to present, if need be, to the King, as from yourself, and likewise to some of the other n.o.blemen of his Council; for they will serve to good effect to disgrace her, _which must be done before other purposes can be attained_." Cecil himself printed and circulated a small treatise, in the shape of a letter, from London to a friend at a distance, giving an account of the "Detection," and the credit it deserved. The publication, on the other hand, of Bishop Lesley's "Defence of Queen Mary's Honour," was positively interdicted; and Lesley was obliged to send the ma.n.u.script abroad, before he was able to present it to the world. To such low and cowardly devices were Elizabeth and her Minister under the necessity of resorting, to blacken the character of Mary, and justify their own iniquitous proceedings![180]

In Scotland, too, Mary's party, beginning to see the hopelessness of the cause, was gradually dwindling away. Through Mar's exertions, a general peace might have been obtained, had not Morton's superior influence and persevering cruelty drawn out the civil war to the last dregs. Mar, finding himself thwarted in every measure he proposed for the tranquillity of his country, fell into a deep melancholy, which ended in his death, before he had been a year in office. Morton succeeded him without opposition, and immediately proceeded to very violent measures against all the Queen's friends, who were now divided into two parties, the one headed by Chatelherault and Huntly, and the other by Maitland and Grange.

After gaining some advantages over both, he concluded a peace with the former; and having invested the Castle of Edinburgh on all sides, in conjunction with some troops which Elizabeth sent to his a.s.sistance, he at length forced the latter to surrender. Kircaldy of Grange, the bravest and most honest man in Scotland, was hanged at the Cross of Edinburgh; and Secretary Maitland, who, with all his talents, had vacillated too much to be greatly respected, antic.i.p.ating a similar fate, avoided it by a voluntary death, "ending his days," says Melville, "after the old Roman fashion."

About the same time, John Knox concluded his laborious, and, in many respects, useful life, in the 67th year of his age. Appearing as he did, in treacherous and turbulent times, the rough unpolished integrity of Knox demands the higher praise, because it enabled him the more successfully to maintain an influence over the minds of his countrymen, and effect those important revolutions in their modes of thought and belief, which his superior abilities pointed out to him as conducive to the moral and religious improvement of the land. He had many failings, but they were to be attributed more to the age to which he belonged, than to any fault of his own. His very violence and acrimony, his strong prejudices, and no less confirmed partialities, were perhaps the very best instruments he could have used for advancing the cause of the Reformation. He was without the cunning of Murray, the fickleness of Maitland, or the ferocity of Morton. He pursued a steady and undeviating course; and though loved by few, he was reverenced by many. Courage, in particular,--and not the mere common-place courage inspired by the possession of physical strength, but the far n.o.bler courage arising from a consciousness of innate integrity,--was the leading feature of his mind. Morton never spoke more truly than when he said at the grave of Knox,--"Here lies he who never feared the face of man."

In the year 1573, Mary, at her own earnest request, was removed, for the benefit of her health, from Sheffield to the Wells at Buxton. The news she had lately received from Scotland, and the apparent annihilation of all her hopes, had affected her not a little. "Though she makes little show of any grief," the Earl of Shrewsbury wrote to Cecil, "yet this news nips her very sore." At Buxton, which was then the most fashionable watering-place in England, she was obliged to live in complete seclusion; and it may easily be conceived, that the waters could be of little benefit to her, without the aid of air, exercise, and amus.e.m.e.nt. Lesley, though detained at a distance, took every means in his power to afford her consolation, and wrote two treatises, after the manner of Seneca, expressly applicable to her condition; both of which he sent to her. The first was ent.i.tled,--"_Piae afflicti animi meditationes divinaque remedia_," and the second,--"_Tranquillitatis animi conservatio et munimentum_." She thanked him for both of these productions, and a.s.sured him, that she had received much benefit from their perusal. With many parts of the first, in particular, she was so pleased, that she occupied herself in paraphrasing them into French verse.[181] Lesley was soon afterwards allowed by Elizabeth to pa.s.s into France, where he long continued to exert himself in the cause of his mistress, visiting, on her account, several foreign courts, and exposing himself to many inconveniences and hardships. He died at a good old age in 1596, and his memory deserves to be cherished, both for the many amiable qualities he possessed in private life, and his inflexible fidelity and attachment to the Queen of Scots.[182]

In 1574, a fresh misfortune overtook Mary, in the death of her brother-in-law, Charles IX. He was succeeded on the throne by the Duke of Anjou, who took the t.i.tle of Henry III., and was little inclined to exert himself in the cause of his sister, having been long at enmity with the house of Guise. But a still more fatal blow was the death of her uncle, the Cardinal of Lorraine, who had ever made it a part of his policy to identify her interests with his own, and to whom she had always been accustomed to turn, with confidence, in her greatest distresses.

From this period to the year 1581, Mary seems to have been nearly forgotten by all parties. Elizabeth, satisfied with keeping her rival securely imprisoned, busied herself with other affairs of political moment; and, in Scotland, as the Prince grew up, and years pa.s.sed on, death, or other causes, gradually diminished the number of Mary's adherents; and though the country was far from being in tranquillity, the dissensions a.s.sumed a new shape, for even they who opposed the regency of the Earl of Morton, found it more for their interest to a.s.sociate themselves with the young King than with the absent Queen. Mary became gradually more solitary and more depressed. Though yet only in the prime of womanhood, she had lived to see almost all her best friends, and some of her worst enemies, depart from the world before her. The specious Murray,--the imbecile Lennox,--Hamilton, the last supporter of Catholicism,--Knox, the great champion of the Reformation,--the gentle Mar,--the brilliant but misguided Norfolk,--the gallant Kircaldy,--and the sagacious Maitland,--had all been removed from the scene; and in the melancholy solitude of her prison, she wept to think that she should have been destined to survive them. But Elizabeth had no sympathy for her griefs, and every rumour which reached her ear, only served as an excuse for narrowing and rendering more irksome Mary's captivity. Even the few female friends who had been at first allowed to attend her, were taken from her; no congenial society of any sort was allowed her; it was rarely, indeed, that she was permitted to hunt or hawk, or take any exercise out of doors; and the wearisome monotony of her sedentary life, at once impaired her health and broke down her spirits. The manner in which she spoke of her own situation, in letters she wrote about this period to France and elsewhere, is not the less affecting, that it is characterized by that mental dignity and queenly spirit which no afflictions could overcome. "I find it necessary," she wrote from Tutbury in 1680, "to renew the memorial of my grievances respecting the remittance of my dowry, the augmentation of my attendants, and a change of residence,--circ.u.mstances apparently trivial, and of small importance to the Queen, my good sister, but which I feel to be essential to the preservation of my existence. Necessity alone could induce me to descend to earnest and reiterated supplications, the dearest price at which any boon can be purchased. To convey to you an idea, of my present situation, I am on all sides enclosed by fortified walls, on the summit of a hill which lies exposed to every wind of heaven: within these bounds, not unlike the wood of Vincennes, is a very old edifice, originally a hunting lodge, built merely of lath and plaster, the plaster in many places crumbling away. This edifice, detached from the walls, about twenty feet, is sunk so low, that the rampart of earth behind the wall is level with the highest part of the building, so that here the sun can never penetrate, neither does any pure air ever visit this habitation, on which descend drizzling damps and eternal fogs, to such excess, that not an article of furniture can be placed beneath the roof, but in four days it becomes covered with green mould. I leave you to judge in what manner such humidity must act upon the human frame; and, to say every thing in one word, the apartments are in general more like dungeons prepared for the reception of the vilest criminals, than suited to persons of a station far inferior to mine, inasmuch as I do not believe there is a lord or gentleman, or even yeoman in the kingdom, who would patiently endure the penance of living in so wretched an habitation. With regard to accommodation, I have for my own person but two miserable little chambers, so intensely cold during the night, that but for ramparts and entrenchments of tapestry and curtains, it would be impossible to prolong my existence; and of those who have sat up with me during my illness, not one has escaped malady. Sir Amias can testify that three of my women have been rendered ill by this severe temperature, and even my physician declines taking charge of my health the ensuing winter, unless I shall be permitted to change my habitation. With respect to convenience, I have neither gallery nor cabinet, if I except two little pigeon-holes, through which the only light admitted is from an aperture of about nine feet in circ.u.mference; for taking air and exercise, either on foot or in my chair, I have but about a quarter of an acre behind the stables, round which Somers last year planted a quickset hedge, a spot more proper for swine than to be cultivated as a garden; there is no shepherd's hut but has more grace and proportion. As to riding on horseback during the winter, I am sure to be impeded by floods of water or banks of snow, nor is there a road in which I could go for one mile in my coach without putting my limbs in jeopardy; abstracted from these real and positive inconveniences, I have conceived for this spot an antipathy, which, in one ill as I am, might alone claim some humane consideration. As it was here that I first began to be treated with rigour and indignity, I have conceived, from that time, this mansion to be singularly unlucky to me, and in this sinister impression I have been confirmed by the tragical catastrophe of the poor priest of whom I wrote to you, who, having been tortured for his religion, was at length found hanging in front of my window."[183]

In 1581, Mary made a still more melancholy representation of her condition. "I am reduced to such an excessive weakness," she says, "especially in my legs, that I am not able to walk a hundred steps, and yet I am at this moment better than I have been for these six months past.

Ever since last Easter, I have been obliged to make my servants carry me in a chair; and you may judge how seldom I am thus transported from one spot to another, when there are so few people about me fit for such an employment."[184] In the midst of all this distress, it was only from resources within herself that she was able to derive any consolation. Her religious duties she attended to with the strictest care, and devoted much of her time to reading and writing. At rare intervals, she remembered her early cultivation of the Muses; and she even yet attempted occasionally to beguile the time with the charms of poetry. She produced several short poetical compositions during her imprisonment; and of these, the following Sonnet, embodying so simply and forcibly her own feelings, cannot fail to be read with peculiar interest:

"Que suis je, helas! et de quoi sert ma vie?

Je ne suis fors q'un corps prive de coeur; Un ombre vain, un objet de malheur, Qui n'a plus rien que de mourir envie.

Plus ne portez, O ennemis, d'envie A qui n'a plus l'esprit a la grandeur!

Je consomme d'excessive douleur,-- Votre ire en bref ce voira a.s.souvie; Et vous amis, qui m'avez tenu chere, Souvenez vous, que sans heur--sans sante Je ne saurois aucun bon oeuvre faire: Souhaitez donc fin de calamite; Et que ci bas etant a.s.sez punie, J'aye ma part en la joye infinie."[185]

But the most celebrated of all Mary's efforts during her captivity, is a long and eloquent letter she addressed to Elizabeth, in 1582, when she heard that her son's person had been seized at the Raid of Ruthven,--and when, dreading, with maternal anxiety, that he might be involved in the woes which had overtaken herself, she gave vent to those feelings which had long agitated her bosom, and which she now, with pathetic force, laid before Elizabeth, as the author of all her misfortunes. The ability and vigour with which this letter is written, well ent.i.tle it, as Dr Stuart has remarked, to survive in the history of the Scottish nation. It was Mary's own wish that it should do so. "I am no longer able," she says, "to resist laying my heart before you; and while I desire that my just complaints shall be engraved in your conscience, it is my hope that they will also descend to posterity, to prove the misery into which I have been brought by the injustice and cruelty of my enemies. Having in vain looked to you for support against their various devices, I shall now carry my appeal to the Eternal G.o.d, the Judge of both, whose dominion is over all the princes of the earth. I shall appeal to him to arbitrate between us; and would request you, Madam, to remember, that in his sight nothing can be disguised by the paint and artifices of the world." She proceeds to recapitulate the injuries she had sustained from Elizabeth ever since she came to the throne of Scotland,--reminding her, that she had busied herself in corrupting her subjects and encouraging rebellion; that when imprisoned in Loch-Leven, she had a.s.sured her, through her amba.s.sador, Throckmorton, that any deed of abdication she might subscribe, was altogether invalid; yet that, upon her escape, though she at first allured her by fair promises into England, she had no sooner arrived there, than she was thrown into captivity, in which she had been kept alive only to suffer a thousand deaths; that she had tried for years to accommodate herself to that captivity, to reduce the number of her attendants, to make no complaint of the plainness of her diet, and the want of ordinary exercise, to live quietly and peaceably, as if she were of a far inferior rank, and even to abstain from correspondence with her friends in Scotland; but that the only return she had experienced for her good intentions was neglect, calumny, and increasing severity. "To take away every foundation of dispute and misunderstanding between us," Mary continued, "I invite you, Madam, to examine into every report against me, and to grant to every person the liberty of accusing me publicly; and while I freely solicit you to take every advantage to my prejudice, I only request that you will not condemn me without a hearing. If it be proved that I have done evil, let me suffer for it; if I am guiltless, do not take upon yourself the responsibility, before G.o.d and man, of punishing me unjustly. Let not my enemies be afraid that I aim any longer at dispossessing them of their usurped authority. I look now to no other kingdom but that of Heaven, and would wish to prepare myself for it, knowing that my sorrows will never cease till I arrive there." She then speaks of her son, and entreats that Elizabeth would interfere in his behalf. She concludes with requesting, that some honourable churchman should be sent to her, to remind her daily of the road she had yet to finish, and to instruct her how to pursue it, according to her religion, in which she would wish to die as she had lived. "I am very weak and helpless," she adds, "and do beseech you to give me some solitary mark of your friendship. Bind your own relations to yourself; let me have the happiness of knowing, before I die, that a reconciliation has taken place between us, and that, when my soul quits my body, it will not be necessary for it to carry complaints of your injustice to the throne of my Creator."[186] The only result which this letter produced, was a remonstrance from Elizabeth which she sent by Beal, the Clerk of her Privy Council, against such unnecessary complaints.[187]

In Scotland, meanwhile, the event of greatest consequence which had taken place, was the trial and execution of the Earl of Morton, for having been _art_ and _part_ in the murder of Darnley. Morton's intolerable tyranny having rendered him odious to the greater part of the n.o.bility, and the young King having nearly arrived at an age when he could act and think for himself, he found it necessary, very unwillingly, to retire from office.

He did not, even then, desist from carrying on numerous intrigues; and it was rumoured, that he intended seizing the King's person, and carrying him captive into England. Whether there was any truth in this report or not, it is certain that James became anxious to get rid of so factious and dangerous a n.o.bleman. The only plausible expedient which occurred to him, or his Council, was, to accuse Morton of a share in Bothwell's guilt. His trial does not seem to have been conducted with any very scrupulous regard to justice. But a jury of his peers was allowed him; and they, having heard the evidence in support of the charges, found him guilty of having been in the council or knowledge of the conspiracy against the late King, of concealing it, and of being _art_ and _part_ in the murder. It was to the latter part of this verdict alone that Morton objected. He confessed that he knew of the intended murder, and had concealed it, but positively disclaimed having been _art_ and _part_ in it. This seems, however, to have been a distinction without a difference. On the 1st of June 1581, he was condemned to the block, and next day the sentence was executed. The instrument called the _Maiden_, which was used to behead him, he had himself brought into Scotland, and he was the first to suffer by it. His head was placed on the public gaol at Edinburgh, and his body buried privately by a few menials. He had been universally hated, and there was hardly one who lamented his death.

CHAPTER XI.

MARY'S TRIAL AND CONDEMNATION.

The closing scene of Mary's life was now rapidly approaching. Debilitated as she was by her long confinement, and the many painful thoughts which had been incessantly preying on her peace of mind, it is not likely that she could have long survived, even though she had been left unmolested within the walls of her prison. But she had been the source of two much jealousy and uneasiness to Elizabeth, to be either forgotten or forgiven.

Weak as she was in body, and dest.i.tute alike of wealth and power, her name had nevertheless continued a watchword and a tower of strength, not only to all her own friends throughout Christendom, but to all who were disposed, from whatever cause, to stir up civil dissensions and broils in England. Scarcely a conspiracy against Elizabeth's person and authority had been contrived for the last sixteen years, with which the Queen of Scots was not supposed to be either remotely or immediately connected. Nor is it to be denied, that appeals were made to her sufferings and cruel treatment, to give plausibility to many an enterprise which was anti-const.i.tutional in its object, and criminal in its execution. Other less objectionable enterprises Mary herself expressly countenanced, for she always openly declared, that being detained a captive by force, she considered herself fully ent.i.tled to take every means that offered to effect her escape. She acted solely upon a principle of self-defence.

Whenever a n.o.bleman of influence like Norfolk, or a man of integrity like Lesley, undertook to arrange a scheme for her release, she willingly listened to their proposals, and was ever ready to act in concert with them. She had been detained in strict ward in a realm into which she had come voluntarily, or rather into which she had been seduced by specious promises and offers of a.s.sistance; and it would have been against every dictate of common sense and common justice, to suppose that she had not a right to free herself from her unwarrantable imprisonment. It is true, that many of her attempts, mixed up as they were with the interested and ambitious projects of others, gave Elizabeth no little inconvenience and anxiety. But this was the price she must have laid her account with paying for the pleasure of seeing the Queen of Scots a helpless hostage in her hands.

To discourage the numerous plots which were formed, either by Mary's real or pretended adherents, a number of persons of the first rank in the kingdom entered into a solemn "a.s.sociation," in which they bound themselves to defend Elizabeth against all her enemies, "and if any violence should be offered to her life, in order to favour the t.i.tle of any pretender to the crown, not only never to allow or acknowledge the person or persons _by_ whom, or _for_ whom such a detestable act should be committed, but, as they should answer to the Eternal G.o.d, to prosecute such person or persons to the death, and pursue them with the utmost vengeance to their overthrow and extirpation." The Parliament, which met in 1585, sanctioned this a.s.sociation; and, alarmed by the recent discovery of a fanatical design, on the part of a Roman Catholic, to a.s.sa.s.sinate the Queen, because she had been excommunicated by the Pope, they pa.s.sed an Act, by which they determined, with the most arbitrary injustice, "That if any rebellion should be excited in the kingdom, or any thing attempted to the hurt of her Majesty's person, _by_ or _for_ any person pretending a t.i.tle to the crown, the Queen should empower twenty-four persons, by a commission under the Great Seal, to examine into and pa.s.s sentence upon such offences; and that, after judgment given, a proclamation should be issued, declaring the persons whom they found guilty excluded from any right to the crown; and her Majesty's subjects might lawfully pursue every one of them to the death; and that, if any design against the life of the Queen took effect, the persons _by_ or _for_ whom such a detestable act was executed, and their issues, being in any wise a.s.senting or privy to the same, should be disabled for ever from pretending to the crown, and be pursued to death, in the like manner." That the persons _by_ whom any of these faults were committed, should be punished, was in strict accordance with equity; but that the persons _for_ whom they might be supposed to be done, should be considered as much involved in their guilt, was alike contrary to law and reason. The discontented were forming plots every year against Elizabeth, and, with the very existence of many of these plots, Mary was unacquainted; yet, by this statute, she was made answerable for all of them. There is little wonder, therefore, if she considered it only a forerunner of greater severities; and it was not long before an occasion occurred which afforded a plausible pretext for making a practical application of it.

In the year 1586, three English priests, who had been educated in a Catholic seminary at Rheims, and over whose minds the most illiberal superst.i.tion held unlimited sway, actually conceived the belief, that the bull of excommunication, issued by Pope Pius V. against Elizabeth, had been dictated under the immediate inspiration of the Holy Ghost. They looked, consequently, upon that Sovereign with a fanatical hatred, which they determined, if possible, to gratify. Having contrived to win over one or two others to their own way of thinking, and, in particular, an officer of the name of Savage, and another priest of the name of Ballard, they sent them into England to disseminate their principles among all on whose co-operation they thought they could depend; and, in the meantime, they set on foot a negotiation with the Spanish amba.s.sador in Paris, through whose means they hoped to obtain the a.s.sistance of a foreign force. He gave them a promise of encouragement, only on condition that they secured a strong party in England, and that means were taken to remove Elizabeth.

Among the first persons to whom Savage and Ballard communicated their designs, was Anthony Babington, a young gentleman of estate and fortune in Derbyshire. Having resided for some time in France, he had formed an acquaintance with the Archbishop of Glasgow, and from him had heard so many eulogiums on Mary, that he became inspired with the most enthusiastic feelings in her favour, and cherished a romantic desire of performing some exploit which might secure for him her grat.i.tude and esteem. By his advice and a.s.sistance, a knowledge of the conspiracy was intrusted to a number of persons of respectability of the Roman Catholic persuasion; and a secret correspondence was set on foot with the Queen of Scots, through the medium of her Secretaries Naw and Curl. Mary, however, was not disposed to give the conspirators much encouragement. She had been now so long accustomed to despair, and was so convinced of the fallaciousness of hope, that she was almost inclined to turn away from it, as from something painful. She had grown indifferent about her future fate, and had endeavoured to resign herself to the prospect of ending her days in captivity. Besides, she had the recent Act of Parliament before her eyes; and she was well aware, that though she did nothing but attempt an escape, she would be held responsible for the whole plot, whatever its extent or criminality might be. It is, however, not at all unlikely that she may, notwithstanding, have authorized her Secretaries to write once or twice to Babington and his a.s.sociates; but that she gave them any support in their designs against Elizabeth, was never proved, and is not to be believed. It was indeed with no little difficulty that Mary was able to hold any epistolary communication at all with her friends, so strictly was she watched by Sir Amias Paulet and Sir Drue Drury, to whose custody she had been committed, and who kept her in the Castle of Chartley in Staffordshire. The conspirators were obliged to bribe one of the servants, who conveyed to the Queen or her Secretaries, the letters which they deposited in a hole in the wall, and put the answers into the same place, from which they took them privately, when it was dark.

Every thing seemed to proceed smoothly, and all the necessary arrangements were now concluded. The different conspirators had different tasks allotted to them; by some a rebellion was to be excited in several parts of the kingdom at once; six others bound themselves by solemn oaths to a.s.sa.s.sinate Elizabeth; and Babington himself undertook to head a strong party, which he was to lead to the rescue of the Queen of Scots. Nor were they to be dest.i.tute of foreign a.s.sistance as soon as the first blow was struck, and the first symptoms of internal commotion appeared. So inspired were these infatuated men with an idea of the glory of the revolution they were about to achieve, that they had medals prepared representing themselves a.s.sembled together, with Babington in the midst, and bearing the motto,--"_Hi mihi sunt comites quos ipsa pericula duc.u.n.t._" But in all their fancied security and enthusiasm, they were ignorant that every step they took was known to Elizabeth and her minister Walsingham, and that they were advancing only to the foot of their own scaffold. It was through the treachery of one of their own a.s.sociates of the name of Polly, one of Walsingham's accredited spies, who had joined them only that he might betray them, that all their proceedings were discovered, and attentively watched. Savage, Ballard, and the other four who were bent on the murder of Elizabeth, had already come up to London, and were lying in wait for the first favourable opportunity to execute their purpose; and, as Walsingham was anxious to have complete evidence of their guilt in his possession before apprehending them, they were allowed to remain unmolested for some time. The Queen, however, fearing for her personal safety, at length insisted on their being seized, remarking, that, "in not taking heed of a danger when she might, she seemed more to tempt G.o.d than to hope in him." Ballard was first arrested; his accomplices, struck with astonishment and dismay, fled out of London; but, after lurking for some days in woods and byeways, cutting off their hair, disfiguring their faces, and submitting to every kind of deprivation and hardship to avoid the hot search which was made for them, they were at length taken; and so much had the public feeling been excited against them, that, when they were brought into London, the bells of the city were rung, and bonfires kindled in the streets. Walsingham had arranged his measures so effectively, that all the other conspirators, who were scattered throughout the kingdom, were also seized and brought to the capital within a very short time. Fourteen of the princ.i.p.al inventors of the plot were immediately tried, condemned, and executed. No mercy whatever was shown to them; for Elizabeth seldom forgave her enemies.[188]

But, in the death of these men, only one part of Elizabeth's vengeance was gratified. The wrongs and the merits of the Queen of Scots had been the means of imparting to this conspiracy a degree of respectability; and she, therefore, was regarded as the chief culprit. Walsingham had ascertained, that communications of some sort or another had pa.s.sed between Mary's secretaries and the conspirators; and before she was aware that Babington's plot had been discovered, he sent down Sir Thomas Gorges to Chartley to take her by surprise, and endeavour to discover some additional grounds of suspicion. Sir Thomas arrived just as she was about to ride out in a wheeled carriage which had been procured for her, and, without permitting her to alight, he rudely told her of Babington's fate; then entering the Castle, he committed Naw and Curl into custody; and, breaking into the private cabinets of the Queen, he seized all her letters and papers, and sent them off immediately to Elizabeth. He took possession too of all her money, "lest she should use it for corruption." She herself was not allowed to return to Chartley for some days, but conveyed about from one castle to another. When she was at length brought back, and saw how she had been plundered in her absence, she could not refrain from weeping bitterly. "There are two things, however," she said in the midst of her tears, "which they cannot take away,--my birth and my religion."[189]

In the excited state of feeling which then prevailed in the nation, and the fears which her subjects entertained for the safety of their Sovereign, Elizabeth perceived that she might now safely proceed to those extremities against Mary which she had so long meditated, but which considerations of selfish prudence had hitherto prevented her from putting into execution. She a.s.serted, that not only her own life, but the religion and peace of the country were at stake, and that either the Queen of Scots must be removed, or the whole realm given up as a sacrifice. By her own injustice, she had involved herself in inconveniences; and as soon as she began to feel their effects, she pretended to be indignant at the innocent victim of her tyranny. But it was not without difficulty that she brought all her ministers to think on this subject precisely as she herself did.

Many of them did not hesitate to state their conviction, that Mary had neither set on foot nor countenanced Babington's plot, and that, however the conspirators might have interwoven her name with it, she could not be punished for what she could not have prevented. Besides, they urged that she was not likely to live long at any rate, and that it would be more for the honour of the kingdom to leave her unmolested for the short remainder of her days. Nevertheless, by Elizabeth's exertions, and those of Walsingham, who had always courted the favour of his mistress by the most persevering persecution of Mary, opposition was at length silenced, and the trial of the Queen of Scots finally determined. To give as much dignity, and as great a semblance of justice as possible to a proceeding so unwarrantable as that of calling upon her to answer for an imaginary offence, forty of the most ill.u.s.trious persons in the kingdom were appointed Commissioners, and were intrusted with the charge of hearing the cause, and deciding upon the question of life or death.

On the 25th of September 1586, Mary had been taken from Chartley to the Castle of Fotheringay in Northamptonshire, where she was more strictly watched than ever by Sir Amias Paulet, who was a harsh and inflexible gaoler. On the 11th of October, Elizabeth's Commissioners arrived, the great hall of the Castle having been previously fitted up as a court-room for their reception. They would have proceeded with the trial immediately; but a difficulty occurred, which, though they scarcely can have failed to antic.i.p.ate, they were not prepared to obviate. Mary refused to acknowledge their jurisdiction, denying that they possessed any right either to arraign or try her. "I am no subject to Elizabeth," she said, "but an independent Queen as well as she; and I will consent to nothing unbecoming the majesty of a crowned head. Worn out as my body is, my mind is not yet so enfeebled as to make me forget what is due to myself, my ancestors, and my country. Whatever the laws of England may be, I am not subject to them; for I came into the realm only to ask a.s.sistance from a sister Queen, and I have been detained an unwilling prisoner." For two days the Commissioners laboured in vain to induce Mary to appear before them; and as she a.s.signed reasons for refusing, which it was impossible for fair argument to invalidate, recourse was at length had to threats. They told her that they would proceed with the trial, whether she consented to be present or not; and that, though they were anxious to hear her justification, they would nevertheless conclude that she was guilty, and p.r.o.nounce accordingly, if she refused to defend herself. It would have been well had Mary allowed them to take their own way; but, conscious that she was accused unjustly, she could not bear to think that she excited suspicion, by refusing the opportunity of establishing her innocence.

Actuated by this honourable motive, she at length yielded, after solemnly protesting that she did not, and never would, acknowledge the authority which Elizabeth arrogated over her.

On the 14th of October the trial commenced. The upper half of the great hall of Fotheringay Castle was railed off, and at the higher end was placed a chair of state, under a canopy, for the Queen of England. Upon both sides of the room benches were arranged in order, where the Lord Chancellor Bromley, the Lord Treasurer Burleigh, fourteen Earls, thirteen Barons, and Knights and Members of the Privy Council, sat. In the centre was a table, at which the Lord Chief Justice, several Doctors of the Civil Law, Popham, the Queen's Attorney, her Solicitors, Sergeants and Notaries, took their places. At the foot of this table, and immediately opposite Elizabeth's chair of state, a chair, without any canopy, was placed for the Queen of Scots. Behind, was the rail which ran across the hall, the lower part of which was fitted up for the accommodation of persons who were not in the commission.[190]

There was never, perhaps, an occasion throughout the whole of Mary's life on which she appeared to greater advantage than this. In the presence of all the pomp, learning, and talent of England, she stood alone and undaunted; evincing, in the modest dignity of her bearing, a mind conscious of its own integrity, and superior to the malice of fortune.

Elizabeth's craftiest lawyers and ablest politicians were a.s.sembled to probe her to the quick,--to press home every argument against her, which ingenuity could devise and eloquence embellish,--to dazzle her with a blaze of erudition, or involve her in a maze of technical perplexities.

Mary had no counsellor--no adviser--no friend. Her very papers, to which she might have wished to refer, had been taken from her; and there was not one to plead her cause, or defend her innocence. Yet was she not dismayed.

She knew that she had a higher Judge than Elizabeth; and that great as was the array of Lords and Barons that appeared against her, posterity was greater than they, and that to its decision all things would be finally referred. Her bodily infirmities imparted only a greater l.u.s.tre to her mental pre-eminence; and not in all the fascinating splendor of her youth and beauty--not on the morning of her first bridal day, when Paris rang with acclamations in her praise--was Mary Stuart so much to be admired, as when, weak and worn out, she stood calmly before the myrmidons of a rival Queen, to hear and refute their unjust accusations, her eye radiant once more with the brilliancy of earlier years, and the placid benignity of a serene conscience, lending to her countenance its undying grace.