THE O'^TT' 
 
 CASE 
 
 OF 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 AND OF 
 
 ELIZABETH QUEEN OF ENGLAND, 
 
 LEGALLY, BRIEFLY, AND HISTORICALLY STATED : 
 
 EMBRACING THE 
 
 amorous Uit of tl^e ai'rgtn (Sueen, 
 
 AND IDENTIFYING HER WITH ALL THE PLANS THAT LED TO 
 
 iWarp's JRum ana jMucDer^ 
 
 WITH 
 
 AN ACCOUNT OF THE LAST MOMENTS OF MARY, HER LETTER 
 TO ELIZABETH, AND DAVISON'S APOLOGY ABOUT 
 THE DEATH-WARRANT : 
 
 THE W HOLE DRAWN FROM STATE PAPERS, AND THE MOSF AUTHENTIC SOURCES, 
 
 By HUGH CAMPBELL, LL.D. F.A.S. 
 
 Illustrator of Ossiau's Poems, and of the Love Letters of Mai y Queen of Scots. 
 
 Censen' te posse rcperire uUam mulieicm quae careat culpa ? 
 
 BOSTOK COLLEGE LIBRAKl terence, hec. 
 
 ^ . •-_2iiLiLJii^ ])/\ \ 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR SHERWOOD, JONES, AND CO. 
 
 PATERNOSTER-ROW. 
 
 18:25. 
 
B. M'MUlan, Priuter, 
 Bow.stieet, Coveni-garden. 
 
TO 
 
 WALTER R CAMPBELL, 
 
 OF ISLAY, ESQ. M. P. 
 
 4 c. 4 4"^. 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 I KNOW not to whom I can with so much since- 
 rity and propriety dedicate the present Work in favour 
 of Mary Queen of Scots, as to you ; who, uniting in 
 your person, the blood of two of her most loyal, pow- 
 erful, and strenuous Friends — the Earl of Argyll, 
 and Sir Hugh Campbell of Loudon, — exemplify the 
 virtues of your Illustrious Ancestors, whether in the 
 Senate, or in the more quiet walks of domestic life. 
 
 Accept then. Sir, a Volume, which is drawn from 
 the most authentic sources, and which is intended to 
 contain a chain of evidence, every link of which c'on- 
 nects the Virgin Queen with all the plots and plans 
 that led to Mary's murder. 
 
 And believe me, 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 Yours faithfully, 
 
 HUGH CAMPBELL. 
 
 Middle Temple, 
 Feb. 1825. 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2015 
 
 https://archive.org/details/caseofmaryqueenoOOcamp 
 
PREFACE 
 
 I PROMISED in " The Love Letters to Both- 
 well," to prove that Elizabeth was unkind, cruel, 
 and unmerciful to Mary; and in this volume I 
 redeem my pledge. 
 
 Because I fairly and honestly gave the advocacy 
 for and against the lovely Queen of Scots, I was 
 charged in a periodical work, that purports to 
 give a fair and impartial review of new publi- 
 cations, with having joined the Queen's ene- 
 mies ! It would be lost time and labour to 
 attempt to convince any person to the contrary, 
 who could arrive at such a conclusion, after havino 
 read my Preface and Introduction to the Love 
 Letters. To such persons let this Volume speak 
 for me ! — whilst I treat them with contempt. 
 
 In this Work I have selected proofs from a host 
 of Authors, that Elizabeth w^as either directly in 
 person, or indirectly through her Atabassadors^ 
 the primum mobile of all the intrigues, plots, and 
 
vi 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 plans, which led to involve Mary, first in diffi- 
 culties, then in dangers, and, subsequently, in 
 ruin. The following Case, I presume, will recon- 
 cile me to those readers who consider me an 
 enemy of Mary, or a distorter of truth. 
 
 CASE OF MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS : 
 
 BRIEFLY STATED, QUERIED, AND ANSWERED. 
 
 Driven from her throne by Rebels, and deeply dis- 
 tressed, she took refuge in the territory of a friendly 
 Princess, who was nearly related to her ; and, in fact, 
 she was her Heir Apparent in the Succession; and she 
 was by the said Princess detained, at first as a priso- 
 ner; and, subsequently, put to death, contrary to the 
 laws of courtesy, of nature, and of hospitality. 
 
 The following questions occur, of course : Was the 
 friendly Princess, in whose realm die Queen of Scots 
 took refuge, justified by any knowTi law of states or 
 nations ? No !— Are there any cases on English his- 
 torical record, in point with that of Mary Queen of 
 Scots? None in point!— But since the Conquest, 
 there are two cases mentioned in the History of Eng- 
 land, recording the fact of two Princes having been 
 detained, by friendly powers, when necessarily pass- 
 ing through their territories ! 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 vii 
 
 State the cases : The first is that of the brave 
 Richard, King of England, who was detained by the 
 reigning Duke of Austria, until ransomed, on his re- 
 turn from the Holy Land : the second is that of the 
 Prince of Scotland, who was detained by Henry IV. 
 King of England, after having been driven on the 
 coast of England by a violent storm ! 
 
 Were these cases precedents for the conduct of 
 Elizabeth towards the Queen of Scots? I should 
 think not; for they severally called forth the indigna- 
 tion of Europe at the time ; and I cannot conceive 
 that such violations of hospitality and the supreme 
 law of nature, could be in accordance with the spirit 
 and temper of the more refined nations of Europe in 
 the time of Queen Elizabeth— an age of chivalry, and 
 the dawn of true philosophy. 
 
 But were there no political causes for the detention 
 of Mary by Elizabeth? To short-sighted politicians 
 there were such causes, arising from prejudices v/hich 
 in the present, or in any enlightened age, would occa- 
 sion no obstacles — as in the late cases of the exiled 
 Families of Orange and of Bourbon — because England 
 then, had already the means to triumph over the 
 Catholic League, which was done the year after the 
 murder of Mary, by the defeat of the Armada : and, if 
 Mary had been allowed to return to France, which 
 she requested, after she found that her Son was 
 
viii 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 legally and firmly seated on the throne of his ances- 
 tors, there could have arisen no danger to England 
 
 inasmuch as the union of the Protestants of England 
 and Scotland, would then have been too formidable, 
 as they have since proved, for any efforts of the Con- 
 tinental Catholic Powers to disturb or destroy. 
 
 Then Mary cannot be justly considered blameable 
 for the intestine plots and conspiracies of the Catho- 
 lics, which occurred in England during a great part 
 of Elizabeth's reign ? Most certainly not ! — for Eliza- 
 beth, by her detention of Mary, must have foreseen, 
 or been less wise than -she is represented to have 
 been, that while the Queen of Scots continued in 
 England, a declared victim to the Popish religion, 
 she would naturally be not only an object of lively 
 commiseration and pity, but also a rallying point for 
 the Catholic standard. 
 
 Then it follows, as a matter of course, that Mary 
 must have been much more hardly treated, than she 
 deserved to have been treated by the Queen of Eng- 
 land ? Assuredly so ! — There can be but one rational 
 opinion on the subject ! Lord Burleigh's Vindication 
 of the Counsellors of the English Queen, recorded in 
 Murdin's State Papers, will only militate against the 
 propriety of the advice which went to detain Mary in 
 England after James VI. was publicly crowned in 
 Scotland. The influence of the Queen Mother, Ca- 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 ix 
 
 therine de Medicis, in France; her hatred of the 
 House of Lorraine and of Mary; and the feeble efforts 
 of her Son, after Mary was sentenced to die— prove 
 beyond the shadow of a doubt, the infallibility of the 
 foregoing conclusion. 
 
 It is an old and established maxim of the Laws of 
 England, that a person cannot take advantage of his 
 own wrong act ! — volenti non fit injuria. Now it is 
 clear to all, and follows .as a matter of course, that 
 Elizabeth burst this bond of her country's laws, when 
 she sentenced Mary to death : for she it was who had 
 done wrong from first to last, by a dangerous and 
 unjust detention of Mary in England! And she it 
 was, who, by so detaining the Scottish Queen, made 
 herself (by consequence), the origin of all the plots, 
 dangers, and results, to her and kingdom, which she 
 afterwards so unjustly visited with vengeance on 
 the head of her lovely prisoner. 
 
 Mary fell by the executioner ! — Elizabeth, in conse- 
 quence, will not cease to fall, high as she stands by 
 prejudices, when she is written of by the Historian, 
 who traces efi'ects to their causes. Groundless fears 
 of shadows, in the first instance, introduced jealousy ; 
 jealousy, in the second, led her to cruelty; and 
 cruelty, in the third instance, led her to murder. 
 
 HUGH CAMPBELL. 
 
X 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Such are my opinions, and such were nay opi- 
 nions, when I published The Love Letters of 
 Mary Queen of Scots notwithstanding all that 
 the shallow reader of that volume may think to the 
 contrary ! 
 
 Had I published " The Love Letters" without 
 the advocacy pro and con, I had then been 
 justly chargeable with partiality ; but, my object 
 was and is, in that and this volume, to clear up 
 the obscurity in which the true history of Mary is 
 involved by prej udiced writers ; so that the most 
 simple-minded, may understand the facts which 
 have been heretofore confined to the studies of 
 historians and antiquaries. 
 
 My object is now attained. The Love Letters 
 of Mary," and " The Case of Mary Queen of Scots, 
 and of Elizabeth Queen of England," embrace 
 an extensive vievt^ of all the public and private 
 events which occurred to the Queen of Scots, from 
 the moment of her landing in Scotland, until the 
 time of her barbarous decollation at Fotheringay- 
 castle. 
 
 Consequent!}', I might as justly entitle my two 
 volumes, The Spirit of the Life of Mary Queen 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 xi 
 
 of Scots," as, owing to circumstances, " The Love 
 Letters of Mary," and The Case of Mary Queen 
 of Scots, and of Elizabeth Queen of England to 
 complete which volumes, without egotism, I may 
 truly say, 
 
 " I have sipped the sweet from every flower" — 
 
 and, after having read the originals on which 
 modern historians founded their more elegant nar- 
 ratives, I have merely adopted their descriptions, 
 where faithfully and historically given, rather than 
 risk my own narration, which would have been 
 more liable to suspicion ; and, probably, less ele- 
 gant in composition. 
 
 Middle Temple f 
 Feb. 1825. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Introduction pa^e xvu 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 Of the House of Lorraine, and its bad Counsels to Mary's 
 Mother, the Queen Regent, and the Consequences — The 
 Earl of Glencairn, and Sir Hugh Campbell of Loudon, 
 chosen by the Scottish Protestants to represent the Impro- 
 priety of the Queen Regent's Conduct — Her imprudent 
 Answer, and Bloody Determination page 1 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 Of Settlements of the Scottish Crown, said to have been made 
 by Mary whilst under the influence of her Uncle the Car- 
 dinal of Lorraine, in France 11 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Of Mary's return from France, and supposed Origin of the 
 Discord between her and Elizabeth, who refuses her a 
 safe Conduct — Mary escapes from the English Fleet sent 
 to intercept her, and arrives in Scotland — State of that 
 Kingdom 17 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 Of Mary's Claim to the English Crown — Elisabeth sup- 
 ports the Scottish Protestants during Mary's stay in 
 France — Her Brother, James Stuart Earl of Murray, 
 and George Buchanan, his Tutor — Her Ideas of a Mar- 
 riage with Lord Darnley her Cousin 27 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 Proposed Interview between Mary and Elizabeth — Mary 
 solicited to marry into the House of Austria — subse- 
 quently by several other Princes — The Views of Elisa- 
 beth ; and of Mary's Subjects on that occasion 33 
 
xiv 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 Negotiatiotw with regard to the Queen' 8 Marriage — Elizabeth 
 recommends Leicester to Mary for an Husband — Mary 
 offended — Elizabeth's Views in recommending him — 
 Mary thinks of Lord Darnley — Elizabeth secretly pleased 
 — Elizabeth and Mary Qach dissemble about the Marriage 
 — Darnley arrives, and is beloved by Mary, who soon 
 marries him — Of Rizzio's Rise — Darnley esteems him 
 — Elizabeth angry at the Match — Approved of by France 
 — Elizabeth intrigues page 39 
 
 CHAP. vn. 
 
 Birth of King James — Darnley hated by Mary, and Both- 
 well loved — Elizabeth perplexed about Mary's successful 
 Pretensions to the Succession, among the English — Eliza- 
 beth soothes and gains her Parliament — Mary intrigues 
 in favour of Popery — Her extreme Hatred of the 
 Kins: 65 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 Secret Association of the Confederate Lords with Queen 
 Elizabeth, against Mary — Murray's design to kill 
 Darnley — His Insurrection, and Banishment — An Out- 
 line of his Character 78 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 Battle of Langside, and Mary's Flight to England — Eliza- 
 beth deliberates about the manner of treating her — Re- 
 solves to detain her in England — Letter of Mary to Eli- 
 zabeth on the subject — Letter from Queen Elizabeth to the 
 Earl of Murray, the Queen's Enemy 92 
 
 vCHAP. X. 
 
 Mary caught in the Snare laid for her by Elizabeth, who 
 takes advantage of Mary's offer to vindicate her Conduct 
 — Mary greatly offended by Elizabeth's Conduct — Ma7^y 
 suspects her, and demands a Personal Interview — Mary 
 accused by Murray of the Murder of her Husband — Is 
 treated with greater rigour by Elizabeth, who secretly 
 supports Murray, and hates Mary 102 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 XV 
 
 CHAP. XI. 
 
 Of the Earl of Murray— Buchanan's Writings—Of Murray , 
 and his Intrigues with the Court of France, and with 
 Elizabeth — Attempts to usurp the Crown after the Queen's 
 Marriage— His Conduct while Mary's Prime Minister-^ 
 His more open attempts to seize the Crown— Elizabeth 
 still intriguing — Conduct of the Conspirators after their 
 Disappointment at the Kirk of Beith— Murray again 
 appears in Scotland— His Murder— And his Character 
 by another Hand — Elisabeth's Grief on the occasion— And 
 cruel trifling with Mary's Feelings pag-e 117 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 
 The Massacre of Paris, and its evil Consequences to Mary — 
 Plots against Elizabeth — A severe Statute, tvhich proved 
 fatal to Mary iri^ the end — She quarrels with her Son 
 James — Critical situation of Elizabeth — Her Prudence, 
 and vigorous Conduct — Resolves to punish Mary, and 
 gain the King, her Son — Proposes a League with Scot- 
 
 land, which is adopted by that Country 175 
 
 CHAP. XIII. 
 
 Of Sir James Melvill, his Life o.nd Character 188 
 
 CHAP. XIV. 
 
 c/ty the Love Letters — And the great Industry and Care of 
 Elizabeth and Cecil in their Publication — Cruelty, in re- 
 fusing Mary Copies, or sights of the Originals — Sup- 
 posed to have been Forged — And serious Charges against 
 the Queen of England, for encouraging the supposed 
 Forgers 194 
 
 CHAP. XV. 
 
 Qf the Duke of Norfolk, a new Lover of Mary — Conceals his 
 Love from Elizabeth — Gains the Consent of the English 
 Nobles sub rosa — Discovered and defeated by Elizabeth — 
 More Plots against the English Queen, who resolves to 
 give up Mary to her Enemies in Scotland — Another Plot 
 — Marriage proposed to Elizabeth by Catherine de Me- 
 dicis, in favour of her Son the Duke of Anjou — Elizabeth 
 declares open Hostility to Mary's Party — League between 
 England and France 229 
 
xvi 
 
 CONTKNTS. 
 
 CHAP. XVI. 
 
 Of Buchanan's Forgeries— Death ; and Regret for his Ca- 
 lumnies heaped on Mary pag-e 248 
 
 CHAP. XVII. 
 
 Of Queen Elizabeth — Anecdotes from Sir Robert Naunton — 
 Elizabeth's Vanity, and Maiden Resolves— Of her Gal- 
 lants—Of the celebrated Letter from Mary to Elizabeth, 
 regarding the Countess of Shrewsbury's Gossip — Of 
 Walsingham's Treachery — Of Lady Shrewsbury— Part 
 of a Letter from Elizabeth to Mary — Melville flatters 
 Elizabeth— His Detail of her Manne7^s—Her loose Con- 
 duct—Her Favourites — Of Raleigh's Venus and Diana 
 in her Sixty-first Year— Her Love to Simier, and the 
 Duke of Anjou, his Master — Anecdotes 258 
 
 CHAP. XVIII. 
 
 Most Affecting Letter from Mary to Elizabeth, intended for 
 Posterity — Mary appeals to God, and reviews Eliza- 
 beth's Breach of Faith, and Cruelty 305 
 
 CHAP. XIX. 
 
 Of the Bahington Conspiracy— Is discovered by Walsing- 
 ham— Conspirators seized and punished — Mary impli- 
 cated— All England indignant against Mary in conse- 
 quence — Elizabeth determined to proceed to the utmost 
 Extremities against her — Her Domestics and Papers 
 seized — Elizabeth determines to try Mary publicly — The 
 Trial at Fotheringay -—Mary at first refuses, then con- 
 sents to plead — The Accusation against her — Her De- 
 fence — The Sentence — Is confirmed by Parliament, which 
 demands Execution — Elizabeth dissembles — France and 
 James interpose to save his Mother's Life — Warrant for 
 Mary's Execution signed — Mary's Behaviour at her 
 Death — Her Character — Her Death lamented by Eliza- 
 beth 322 
 
 CHAP. XX. 
 
 Of Davison the Secretary, and his Apology for the part he 
 had in the signing of the Death- Wa?' rant — Elizabeth 
 condemned by his Detail of the Proceedings thereon 3G7 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 By way of Introduction, the Editor judg-es it not impro- 
 per to g-ive a few outlines of the ancient history of Scotland, 
 leading- to a connected view of the principal facts and cha- 
 racters concerned in those transactions which g-ive rise to 
 the following case. 
 
 Mary Stuart, the lineal descendant of a long race of kings, 
 was the only daught©^r of James King of Scotland, the fifth 
 of that name, and Mary of Lorraine, daughter of Rene Duke 
 of Guise. Her misfortunes may be said to have begun at her 
 birth, by the death of her father, who died five days after 
 that event, leaving her and his kingdom in the midst of an 
 ocean of storms and tempests which threatened them on 
 every hand. 
 
 The government of this kingdom was from very remote 
 antiquity monarchical and hereditary. As the feudal system 
 was introduced very early among a fierce and brave race of 
 men, addicted to war, and fond of signalizing themselves 
 in the field under the banners of their chieftains; these 
 officers, who were possessed of large estates, descendant in 
 their families, and of a numerous vassalage, were, when 
 united, at all times more powerful than their monarch: 
 hence a perpetual jealousy subsisted between the king and 
 nobles. 
 
 James the Fifth, the father of Queen Mary, a high- 
 spirited prince, endued with many accomplishments, and 
 beloved by his people, formed a plan for lessening the 
 power of the nobles. He began by ingratiating himself 
 with the clergy, who at that time formed one of the three 
 
 c 
 
xviii 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 estates of the kiiig-dom ; and, by the liberality of the ancient 
 Scottish monarchs, were possessed of g-reat revenues an- 
 nexed to the church. James repaired his fortresses, filled 
 them with men, arms, and ammunition. He then, by de- 
 grees, began to restrain the insolence of some of the nobi- 
 lity, and, under various pretexts, to call them to account. 
 The Earl of Angus, the head of the ancient and potent 
 family of Douglas, was attainted for treason, and the Earl 
 of Bothwell was banished into France for holding a trea- 
 sonable correspondence with the King- of England. By 
 these and other examples, the resentment of the nobility 
 was awakened, which soon showed itself in a very extraor- 
 dinary manner. 
 
 Henry the Eighth, King- of England, having declared 
 w^ar against James his nephew, this last having summoned 
 his chieftains to attend his standard in defence of the king- 
 dom, they obeyed, and marched to repel the English 
 army, which had entered Scotland. These, through scarcity 
 of provisions and the inclemency of the season, being obliged 
 to retire before the Scots ; James, at the head of his army, 
 leading them on to the attack, his nobles, with their vassals, 
 followed him, until they saw the enemy repass the limits 
 of the kingdom, beyond which, to the great mortification 
 of the King, they refused to advance a step. On the return 
 of the season, James again called together an army, with 
 design, in his turn, to invade the English territories, and 
 gave the command to Oliver Sinclair, as general. On this 
 the army, by the influence of their chieftains, not only 
 refused to follow him, but on the first attack, surrendered 
 without a stroke to the English. This suprising event dis- 
 covered to the King the disaffection of his Barons, who in 
 all probability were gained over to the interest of the Eng- 
 lish monarch, and his own inability to reduce them to obe- 
 dience. A conflict of passions took place in his breast, and 
 impaired his health ; and the sudden death of his two sons 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 xix 
 
 happening- at this time, these concurring- disasters brought 
 this high-spirited Prince to an early grave. He died at the 
 age of thirty-three years, leaving behind him one infant 
 daughter, Mary, the heiress of his crov^n. 
 
 James, with a few failings, had much merit in his attempts 
 to reform the manners of his kingdom, and to enact good 
 laws. The courts of justice, which were unfixed and arbi- 
 trary, he made permanent and regular. He established the 
 Supreme Court of Session, under the name of The College 
 of Justice, and encouraged learning and arts, in which he 
 was himself well skilled, particularly in poetry and archi- 
 tecture. Most of the royal palaces were repaired by him ; 
 so that it is said few kings in Europe were more elegantly 
 lodged than King James V. Of his poetry there are, 
 according to tradition, some remains, which are esteemed 
 by his countrymen. 
 
 On the death of James V. the kingdom was divided by 
 faction: the clergy, from their concurrence in the King's 
 measures, were detested by the nobility, who now assumed 
 the ascendant. The Queen-Mother, a woman of prudence 
 and fine parts, at first wisely took no part in government, 
 but studied to ingratiate herself with all. The nobility 
 unanimously made choice of the Duke of Chatelherault, the 
 next heir to the crown, to be regent of the kingdom dur- 
 ing the infancy of the Queen. 
 
 The new opinions with regard to religion, first introduced 
 by Luther into Germany, had before this time got footing in 
 England. King Henry the Eighth's love for Anne Boleyn, 
 is well known to have been his motive for quarrelling with 
 the Pope, who refused his sanction to the King's divorce 
 with Queen Catherine, and to his marriage with Anne. 
 Henry, on this, renounced the Pope's authority, declared 
 himself the head of the English church, and gave encou- 
 ragement to the new, or reformed religion. Henry, at the 
 same time, gratified another passion— avarice. By abo-i 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 lishing" the abbeys and monasteries throughout his king-- 
 dom, he became master of an immense treasure, which for 
 ag-es had been accumulated in those sanctuaries. Some 
 time before the death of James, Henry his uncle had pro- 
 posed an interview and conference with him at York ; but 
 this was prevented by the Scottish Clerg-y, who, afraid of 
 the consequence, had influence with James, to keep him 
 steady to the Catholic religion. Many of the nobility, on 
 the other hand, from their hatred of the Clergy, but still 
 more from a view of sharing in their rich benefices, and in 
 the spoils of the religious foundations, which, on the King's 
 death, and while his infant daughter was under age, they 
 looked upon as a proper opportunity to lay hold of, became 
 converts to the new religion. Cardinal Beaton, Primate of 
 Scotland, who had long been prime minister to James, 
 foreseeing the growth of the new opinions, had, by many 
 severe examples, in vain endeavoured to put a stop to its 
 progress. The purity of the principles, and simplicity in the 
 worship of the Protestant religion, the unshaken firmness 
 of its converts, shown in the midst of torments, served only 
 to disseminate and establish their principles, while it excited 
 in the populace rage and hatred against the Cardinal and 
 Popish Clergy. 
 
 Many divines, who in the late reign had, on account of 
 their principles, fled the kingdom, and taken refuge at Ge- 
 neva, where they had become disciples of Calvin, now 
 eame over to Scotland, and professed and taught his doc- 
 trines. Their hatred against the tyrannic Cardinal, whom 
 they considered as the author of their persecution, prompted 
 a few desperate fanatics to assault his castle of St. Andrew's, 
 Avhere they barbarously murdered him. His death was a 
 fatal blow to the Catholic religion, which in him lost its 
 chief support ; for, although the Regent, Duke of Chatelhe- 
 rault, adhered to that religion, yet he wanted the parts and 
 firmness of the primate. Such was the unsettled state of 
 
INTDODUCTION. 
 
 xxi 
 
 the kingdom with regard to religion, after the death of 
 King James V. 
 
 With regard to the political state of Scotland, we must 
 o-o back to a few traces of its more ancient history, in order 
 to throw light upon the present era. The Scottish monarchs, 
 besides what properly was the kingdom of Scotland, had, 
 from a very remote antiquity, been in possession of some of 
 the northern provinces of England ; such as part of Nor- 
 thumberland and Cumberland, which they held as fiefs, and 
 did homage for them to the English crown. Upon pretext 
 of this partial homage, the English monarchs at different 
 eras made pretensions to the sovereignty of the kingdom of 
 Scotland, as its superiors, or lords paramount. The Scots, 
 ever jealous of their liberty and independence, constantly 
 rejected with disdain, this absurd and ill-founded claim. 
 The many obstinate wars between the English and Scots, 
 which this claim occasioned, are well known in the histories 
 of both kingdoms. 
 
 The policy and arms of Edward 1. though they embroiled 
 the country for many years, were effectually resisted by the 
 patriotic efforts and heroism of its defenders : and this prince, 
 while he transmitted upon his death-bed, an empty claim 
 of sovereignty over Scotland to his feeble successor, left him 
 a legacy from which he derived nothing but dishonour. The 
 defeat of the English by King Robert Bruce at Bannock- 
 burn, and their total extirpation from the kingdom, lulled 
 asleep for a considerable time those chimerical pretensions : 
 and they were afterwards solemnly renounced, with the 
 consent of parliament, by the high-spirited Edward III. 
 who, even in his treaty with his captive David II. consi- 
 dered the nation as free, and the Sovereign as an inde- 
 pendent Prince. Thus matters remained till the accession 
 of Henry VIII. who after many years attempted to revive 
 this antiquated claim, and endeavoured by force of arms to 
 accomplish the entire conquest of Scotland. This design, 
 
xxii 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 however, he found himself soon oblig-ed to abandon. The 
 Scots were now united ; their martial spirit and bravery, 
 the situation of the country, and the assistance they mig-ht 
 derive from France, with which they kept a perpetual 
 league, convinced Henry of the improbability of his suc- 
 ceeding" in his scheme by force of arms. He followed another 
 plan : the people he could not subdue, he chose to divide. 
 By g-old he found means to corrupt and gain over to his 
 interest some of the Scottish nobility, who formed a faction 
 which divided and embroiled the kingdom. We have already 
 seen its effect in some strong instances in the latter part of 
 the reign of James V. particularly their misbehaviour at 
 Solway Moss. Now, by the same means, that faction was 
 cherished and kept up in the infancy of his daughter Queen 
 Mary. This base policy, followed out by Elizabeth, the 
 daughter of Henry, through the whole unfortunate reign of 
 Queen Mary, we shall see traced in the following state- 
 ment, which finally brought that Princess to the scaffold. 
 To this corrupt party were now joined several of the heads 
 of the reformed, who, under the pretence of religion, had 
 not only the view of disturbing and perplexing government, 
 but likewise that of sharing in the spoils of the church, 
 which they successfully laboured to overturn. The infancy 
 of the Queen, and the weakness of the regent Duke of Cha- 
 telherault, opened a new view to the politic King Henry. 
 By making an overture of marriage between his son Ed- 
 ward and the infant Queen, he flattered himself with the 
 hopes of uniting the two kingdoms under his sway. Finding, 
 however, his proposal not relished by the patriot Scots, 
 who through it foresaw an end to the independency of their 
 country, h6 prepared to enforce his scheme by invading 
 Scotland with a numerous army — when death put a stop to 
 his career. 
 
 The Duke of Somerset being named Protector during the 
 non-age of the young Edward VI, followed out the scheme 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 of the late King-. With a great army he suddenly invaded 
 Scotland ; and coming to an engagement with the Scots at 
 Pinkey, gave them a great defeat. From this success, how- 
 ever, the English derived no advantage ; the Scots, by their 
 defeat, became united, and exasperated against the English ; 
 and to put an end at once to any future attempt of a mar- 
 riage with their young Queen, by the address of the Queen- 
 Mother, Mary of Lorraine, an embassy was sent to Henry II. 
 of France, soliciting his assistance against the English, with 
 an offer of the infant Queen in marriage to the Dauphin 
 Francis, his son. From the ancient league between France 
 and Scotland, which had subsisted from the time of Charle- 
 magne, reciprocal advantages were derived to each nation. 
 The offer now made, of their Queen in marriage, was with 
 joy accepted by the King of France ; in consequence of 
 which, the infant Mary was, at the age of six years, sent 
 over to that kingdom, where she acquired every accom- 
 plishment, in the most polite court in Europe, that could 
 adorn a princess. — Tytler. 
 
 N. B. Her marriage with Francis, and her subsequent 
 widowhood followed, after she had sat with her husband 
 some time on the French throne. During that period, it is 
 supposed she gave offence to the Queen-Mother, Catherine 
 de Medicis, who never after forgave her, but actually an- 
 noyed her so much, as to induce Mary reluctantly to embark 
 for Scotland. 
 
MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 AND 
 
 ELIZABETH. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 Of the House of Lorraine, and its had Counsels to Mary'^ 
 Mother, the Queen Regent, and the Consequences — The 
 Earl of Glencairn, and Sir Hugh Campbell of Loudon, 
 chosen by the Scottish Protestants to represent the Impro- 
 priety of the Queen Regent's Conduct — Her imprudent 
 Answer, and Bloody Determination. 
 
 This chapter may fairly be called a commencement, 
 or first link in the chain of evidence, to show the grounds 
 on which Elizabeth acted all through the tragedy. 
 
 The ambition of the Princes of Lorraine had been 
 no less successful than daring; but all their schemes 
 were distinguished by being vast and unbounded. 
 Though strangers at the court of France, their eminent 
 qualities had raised them, in a short time, to an 
 height of power superior to that of all other subjects,- 
 and had placed them on a level even with the princes 
 of the blood themselves. The church, the army, the 
 revenue, were under their direction. Nothing but the 
 royal dignity remained unattained, and they were 
 elevated to a near alliance with it, by the marriage of 
 the Queen of Scots to the Dauphin. In order to gratify 
 
2 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 their own vanity, and to render their niece more worthy 
 the heir of France, they set on foot her claim to the 
 Crown of England, which was founded on pretences 
 not unplausible. 
 
 The tragical amours and marriages of Henry VIII. 
 are known to all the world. Moved by the caprices 
 of his love, or of his resentment, that impatient and 
 arbitrary monarch had divorced or beheaded four of 
 the six Queens whom he married. In order to gratify 
 him, both his daughters had been declared illegitimate 
 by act of parliament; and yet, with that fantastic 
 inconsistence which distinguishes his character, he, in 
 his last will, whereby he was empowered to settle the 
 order of succession, called both of them to the throne 
 upon the death of their brother Edward ; and, at the 
 same time, passing by the posterity of his eldest sister 
 Margaret Queen of Scotland, he appointed the line of 
 succession to continue in the descendants of his 
 younger sister, the Duchess of Suffolk. 
 
 In consequence of this destination, the validity 
 whereof was admitted by the English, but never re- 
 cognised by foreigners, Mary had reigned in England, 
 without the least complaint of neighbouring princes. 
 But the same causes which facilitated her accession to 
 the throne, were obstacles to the elevation of her 
 sister Elizabeth, and rendered her possession of it 
 precarious and insecure. Rome trembled for the 
 Catholic faith, under a Protestant Queen of such emi- 
 nent abilities. The same superstitious fears alarmed 
 the Court of Spain. And France beheld with indig- 
 nation, a throne, to which the Queen of Scots could 
 form so many pretensions, occupied by a rival, whose 
 birth, in the opinion of all good Catholics, excluded 
 her from any legal right of succession. The impotent 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 3 
 
 hatred of the Roman PontifF, or the slow councils 
 of Philip II. would have produced no sudden or for- 
 midable effect. The ardent and impetuous ambition 
 of the Princes of Lorraine, who at that time governed 
 the Court of France, was more decisive, and more to 
 be dreaded. Instigated by them, Henry, soon after 
 the death of Mary, persuaded his daughter-in-law and 
 her husband, to assume the title of King and Queen 
 of England. They affected to publish this to all 
 Europe. They used that style and appellation in 
 public papers, some of which still remain. The arms 
 of England were engraved on their coin and plate, and 
 borne by them on all occasions. No preparations, 
 however, were made to support this impolitic and 
 premature claim. Elizabeth was already seated on 
 her throne ; she possessed all the intrepidity of spirit, 
 and all the arts of policy, which were necessary for 
 maintaining that station. England was growing into 
 reputation for naval power. The marine of Fremce 
 had been utterly neglected ; and Scotland remained 
 the only avenue by which the territories of Elizabeth 
 could be approached. It was on that side, therefore, 
 that the Princes of Lorraine determined to make their 
 attack ; and by using the name and pretensions of the 
 Scottish Queen, they hoped to rouse the English 
 Catholics, formidable at that time by their zeal and 
 numbers, and exasperated to the utmost against 
 Elizabeth, on account of the change which she had 
 made in the national religion. 
 
 It was vain to expect the assistance of the Scottish 
 Protestants to dethrone a Queen, whom all Europe 
 esteemed the guardian and defender of the reformed 
 faith. To break the power and reputation of that 
 party in Scotland, became, for this reason, a neces* 
 
 l2 
 
4 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 sary step towards the invasion of England. With this 
 the Princes of Lorraine resolved to open their scheme. 
 And as persecution was the only method for suppress- 
 ing religious opinions, known in that age, or dictated 
 by the despotic and sanguinary spirit of the Romish 
 superstition, this, in its utmost violence, they deter- 
 mined to employ. The Earl of Argyll, the Prior of 
 St. Andrew's, and other leaders of the party, were 
 marked out by them for immediate destruction ; and 
 they hoped, by punishing them, to intimidate their 
 followers. Instructions for this purpose were sent 
 from France to the Queen Regent. That humane and 
 sagacious Princess condemned a measure which was 
 equally violent and impolitic. By long residence in 
 Scotland, she had become acquainted with the eager 
 and impatient temper of the nation ; she well knew 
 the power, the number, and popularity of the Pro- 
 testant leaders, and had been a witness to the intrepid 
 and unconquerable resolution which religious fervour 
 could inspire. What then could be gained by rousing 
 this dangerous spirit, which, hitherto, all the arts of 
 policy had scarce been able to restrain ? If it once 
 broke loose, the authority of a Regent would be little 
 capable to subdue, or even to moderate its rage. And 
 if, in order to quell it, foreign forces were called in, 
 this would give the alarm to the whole nation, irritated 
 already at the excessive power which the French 
 possessed in the kingdom, and suspicious of all their 
 designs. Amidst the shock which this might occasion, 
 far from hoping to exterminate the Protestant doctrine, 
 it would be well if the whole fabric of the Established 
 Church were not shaken, and perhaps overturned from 
 the foundation. Tliese prudent remonstrances made 
 no impression on her brothers : precipitant, but in- 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 5 
 
 flexible in all their resolutions, they insisted on the 
 full and rigorous execution of their plan. Mary, 
 passionately devoted to the interest of France, and 
 ready^on all occasions to sacrifice her own opinions to 
 the inclinations of her brothers, prepared to execute 
 their commands with implicit submission ; and, con- 
 trary to her own judgment, and to all the rules of sound 
 policy, she became the instrument of exciting civil 
 commotions in Scotland, which ended with the ruin of 
 the French power, and of the Popish religion in that 
 kingdom. * 
 
 From the time of the Queen's competition for the 
 Regency with the Duke of Chatelherault*, the Popish 
 clergy, under the direction of the Archbishop of St. 
 Andrew's, had set themselves in opposition to all her 
 measures. Her first step towards the execution of her 
 new scheme, was to regain their favour. Nor was this 
 reconcilement a matter of difficulty. The Popish 
 ecclesiastics, separated from the rest of mankind by 
 the law of celibacy, the boldest and most successful 
 invention of human policy, and combined among 
 themselves in the closest and most sacred union, have 
 been accustomed in every age to sacrifice all private 
 and particular passions to the dignity and interest of 
 their order. Delighted on this occasion with the 
 prospect of triumphing over a faction, whose encroach- 
 ments they had long dreaded, and animated with the 
 hopes of re-establishing their declining grandeur on a 
 firmer basis, they at once cancelled the memory of 
 past injuries, and engaged to second the Queen in all , 
 her attempts to check the progress of the Reformation. 
 The Queen, being secure of their assistance, openly 
 
 * Hamilton, 
 
6 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 approved of the decrees of the Convocation, by which 
 the principles of the Reformers were condemned ; and 
 at the same time she issued a proclamation, enjoining 
 all persons to observe the approaching festival of 
 Easter according- to the Romish ritual. 
 
 As it was no longer possible to mistake the Queen's 
 intentions, the Protestants, who saw the danger ap- 
 proach, in order to avert it, employed the Earl of 
 Glencairn, and Sir Hugh Campbell of Loudon, to ex- 
 postulate with her concerning this change towards 
 severity; which their former services had so little 
 merited, and which her reiterated promises gave them 
 no reason to expect: she, without disguise or apo- 
 logy, avowed to them her resolution of extirpating the 
 Reformed Religion out of the kingdom. And upon 
 their urging her former engagements, with an uncourtly, 
 but honest baldness, she so fjar forgot her usual mo- 
 deration, as to utter a sentiment, which, however apt 
 those of royal condition may be to entertain it, pru- 
 dence should teach them to conceal as much as pos- 
 sible. "The promises of princes," says she, "ought 
 not to be too carefully remembered, nor the perform- 
 ance of them exacted, unless it suits their own con- 
 venieiicy.'* 
 
 The indignation which betrayed the Queen into 
 this rash expression, was nothing in comparison of 
 that with which she was animated, upon hearing that 
 the public exercise of the Reformed Religion had 
 been introduced into the town of Perth. At once she 
 threw off the mask, and commanded all the Protestant 
 preachers in the kingdom to be summoned to a court 
 of justice, which was to be held at Stirling on the 
 10th of May. The Protestants, who from their union 
 began about this time to be distinguished by the name 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 7 
 
 of the Congregation, were alarmed, but not intimidated 
 by this danger, and instantly resolved not to abandon 
 the men to whom they were indebted for the most 
 valuable of all blessings, the knowledge of truth. At 
 that time there prevailed in Scotland, with respect to 
 criminal trials, a custom, introduced at first by the 
 institutions of vassalage and clanship, and tolerated 
 afterwards under a feeble government— any person 
 accused of a crime, was accompanied to the place of 
 trial by a retinue of his friends and adherents, assem- 
 bled for that purpose from every corner of the king- 
 dom. Authorized by this ancient practice, the Re- 
 formed convened in great numbers, to attend their 
 pastors to Stirling. The Queen dreaded their approach 
 with a train so numerous, though unarmed, and in 
 order to prevent them from advancing, she empowered 
 John Erskine of Dun, a person of eminent authority 
 with the party, to promise, in her name, that she 
 would put a stop to the intended trial, on condition 
 the preachers and their retinue advanced no nearer 
 to Stirling. Erskine, being himself convinced of 
 the Queen's sincerity, served her with the utmost 
 zeal. And the Protestants, averse from proceeding to 
 any act of violence, listened with pleasure to so pacific 
 a proposition. The preachers, with a few leaders of 
 the party, remained at Perth; the multitude, which 
 had gathered from difl*erent parts of the kingdom, dis- 
 persed, and retired to their own habitations. 
 
 But, notwithstanding this solemn promise, the 
 Queen, on the 10th of May, proceeded to call to trial 
 the persons who had been summoned, and upon their 
 non-appearance, the rigour of justice took place, and 
 they were pronounced outlaws. By this ignoble arti- 
 fice, so incompatible with real dignity, and se incon- 
 
8 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 sistcnt with that integrity which should prevail in all 
 transactions between sovereigns and their subjects, 
 the Queen forfeited the esteem and confidence of the 
 whole nation. The Protestants, shocked no less at 
 the indecency, with which she violated the public 
 faith, than at the danger w^hich threatened themselves, 
 prepared boldly for their own defence. Erskine, 
 enraged at having been made the instrument for de- 
 ceiving his party, instantly abandoned Stirling, and 
 repairing to Perth, added to the zeal of his associates, 
 by his representations of the Queen's inflexible resolu- 
 tion to suppress their religion. 
 
 The popular rhetoric of Knox powerfully seconded 
 his representations : he having been carried a prisoner 
 into France, together with the other persons taken in 
 the castle of St. Andrew's, soon made his escape out 
 of that country ; and residing sometimes in England, 
 sometimes in Scotland, had, at last, been driven out 
 of both kingdoms by the rage of the Popish clergy, and 
 was obliged to retire to Geneva. Thence he was 
 called by the leaders of the Protestants in Scotland ; 
 and, in compliance with their solicitations, he set out 
 for his native country, where he arrived a few days 
 before the trial appointed at Stirling. He hurried 
 instantly to Perth, to share with his brethren in the 
 common danger, or to assist them in promoting the 
 common cause. While their minds were in that fer- 
 ment, which the Queen's perfidiousness and their owti 
 danger occasioned, he mounted the pulpit, and by a 
 vehement harangue against idolatry, inflamed the 
 multitude with the utmost rage. The indiscretion of 
 a priest, who, immediately after Knox's sermon, w^as 
 preparing to celebrate mass, and began to decorate 
 the altar for thcvt purpose, precipitated them into im^ 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 9 
 
 mediate action. With tumultuary, but irresistible 
 violence, they fell upon the churches in that city, 
 overturned the altars, defaced the pictures, broke in 
 pieces the images ; and proceeding next to the monas- 
 teries, they, in a few hours, laid those sumptuous 
 fabrics almost level with the ground. This riotous 
 insurrection was not the effect of any concert, or pre- 
 vious deliberation : censured by the reformed preach- 
 ers, and publicly condemned by the persons of most 
 power and credit with the party, it must be regarded 
 merely as an accidental eruption of popular rage. 
 
 But to the Queen herself, these proceedings appeared 
 in a very different light. Besides their manifest con- 
 tempt for her authority, the Protestants had violated 
 every thing in religion, which she esteemed venerable 
 or holy ; and, on both these accounts, she determined 
 to inflict the severest vengeance on the whole party. 
 She had already drawn the troops in French pay, to 
 Stirling; with these, and what Scottish forces she 
 could levy of a sudden, she marched directly to Perth, 
 in hopes of surprising the Protestant leaders, before 
 they could assemble their followers, whom out of con- 
 fidence in her disingenuous promises they had been 
 rashly induced to dismiss. Intelligence of these pre- 
 parations and menaces was soon conveyed to Perth. 
 The Protestants would gladly have soothed the Queen, 
 by addresses both to herself, and to the persons of 
 greatest credit in her court; but finding her inexorable, 
 they, with great vigour, took measures for their own 
 defence. Their adherents, animated with zeal for 
 religion, and eager to expose themselves in so good a 
 cause, flocked in such numbers to Perth, that they 
 not only secured the town from danger, but, within a 
 few days, were in a condition to take the field, and to 
 
10 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 face the Queen, who advanced with an army 7000 
 strong. 
 
 Neither party, however, was impatient to engage. 
 The Queen dreaded the event of a battle with men, 
 whom the fervour of religion raised above the sense of 
 fear, or of danger. The Protestants beheld with re- 
 gret, the Earl of Argyll, the Prior of St. Andrew's, and 
 some other eminent persons of their party, still ad- 
 hering to the Queen ; and destitute of their aid and 
 counsel, declined hazarding an action, the ill success 
 of which might have proved the ruin of their cause. 
 The prospect of an accommodation was, for these rea- 
 sons, highly acceptable to both sides : Argyll and the 
 Prior, who were the Queen's commissioners for con- 
 ducting the negotiation, seem to have been sincerely 
 desirous of reconciling the contending factions ; and 
 the Earl of Glencaim and Sir Hugh Campbell arriv- 
 ing unexpectedly with a powerful reinforcement to the 
 Congregation, augmented the Queen's eagerness for 
 peace. A treaty was accordingly concluded, in which 
 it was stipulated, that both armies should be dis- 
 banded, and the gates of Perth set open to the Queen ; 
 that indemnity should be granted to the inhabitants of 
 that city, and to all others concerned in the late insur- 
 rection; that no French garrison should be left in 
 Perth, and no French soldier should approach within 
 three miles of that place ; and that a parliament should 
 immediately be held, in order to compose whatever 
 differences might still remain. — Robertson. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 ]1 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 Of Settlements of the Scottish Crown, said to have been made 
 by Mary whilst under the influence of her Uncle the Car- 
 dinal of Lorraine, in France. 
 
 Among the ordinary historians or libellers of these 
 times, or those who have since transcribed their in- 
 ventions, some papers have appeared of late, which 
 argue that there were very perfidious underhand deal- 
 ings carried on at that time at the Court of France, to 
 wit, that they induced Queen Mary to subscribe three 
 several private deeds of a very extraordinary nature. 
 By one of which, in case she should die without chil- 
 dren, she makes over the kingdom of Scotland to the 
 King of France for the time then being, and to his 
 heirs, together with any right that might afterwards 
 devolve upon her to the kingdom of England ; and 
 this on account of her maintenance and other great 
 expences made by the Kings of France on her behalf. 
 By another, in case of her decease without children, 
 she pledges the kingdom of Scotland to the King of 
 France, till he should be reimbursed of a million of 
 gold, (ecus, or crowns, I suppose), which she did, 
 as the writing bears, by advice of her uncles, the Car- 
 dinal of Lorraine and Duke of Guise : but the former 
 mentions no such advice or consent: both bear to 
 have been accepted for the King of France and his 
 successors by the Cardinal de Sens, chancellor of that 
 kingdom. By the third she declares, that whatever 
 accord or consent she had made, or should make, to 
 the articles and instructions sent by the three estates 
 of her kingdom, and especially concerning the succes- 
 
12 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 sion in case of her decease without children, her will 
 and intention was, that these dispositions made by 
 her in favour of the King of France, should remain 
 entire and have full effect : in this the Dauphin also 
 joins, and subscribes along with her. All the three 
 papers are dated the 4th day of April, 1557, before 
 Easter, and signed below by Clausse and Bourdin, 
 who are called in the body of each paper, notaries 
 and secretaries of the crown of France. 
 
 Queen Mary's misfortunes sprung chiefly from such 
 sources as make other sovereign princes most adored, 
 and their people most happy, that she was born to 
 succeed to great dominions, and that she was endowed 
 with extraordinary goodness and a merciful disposition. 
 Because she was bom to inherit three kingdoms, her 
 enemies gave out that she had several times disposed 
 of them, in prejudice, not only of the collateral line, 
 but even of her own son. Thus the Prince of Conde, 
 in order to induce Elizabeth Queen of England to 
 assist him the more effectually to usurp the throne of 
 France, under the pretext of setting up the Protestant 
 religion, causes that Queen be informed in the month 
 of December, 1568, " that the Cardinal de Lorraine, 
 upon account of Queen Mary his niece, and to Popery 
 in England, had prevailed with his said niece to make 
 a cession of her right to the crown of England, to 
 Monsieur the King of France his brother; (that is, to 
 Henry Duke of Anjou, afterwards King of France and 
 Poland), and that the Pope had confirmed the gift, 
 and given the investiture thereupon, for which pur- 
 pose one Hannibal Rocheline had been sent away in 
 haste*." 
 
 * Haynes's State Papers, p. 474. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 13 
 
 As if this had not been enough, after the Queen was 
 taurdered, a story was spread, " that she had left 
 England to the King of Spain, by her testament writ- 
 ten with her own hand the night before the murder, in 
 case her son should not become Roman Catholic. 
 That this testament came to the hands of Cardinal de 
 Lauro, protector of the kingdom of Scotland, who 
 having examined it, by comparing it with letters which 
 he had formerly received from the Queen ; and having 
 made Lewis Owen Bishop of Casan to put his seal to 
 it, together with himself, as a certain and undoubted 
 deed, he delivered it to the Count de Olivarez, to be 
 by him transmitted to the King of Spain/' This story 
 was first broached in England ; for I have at present in 
 my hand, a pretended copy of a letter from the Queen 
 to Don Bernardino de Mendoza, bearing date 26th 
 May, 1586, subscribed by Cecil, Hatton, and Walsing- 
 ham, whereby she is made to acquaint him that she 
 intended to make such a testament ; desiring him to 
 let the King his master know so much, but no other 
 person. The three subscriptions above-mentioned are 
 for testifying that they had such an authentic letter 
 before them, from which they made this transcript; 
 and yet it is pretty plain there had not been two of 
 them present together at signing it ; for they all sub- 
 scribe with different ink. Cecil subscribes in the 
 same ink with which the paper is written, which serves 
 to discover from whence it proceeded. It seems to 
 have been sent down to Secretary Maitland, in order 
 to raise in King James a bad notion of his mother's 
 affection to him. 
 
 The next time that we hear of this matter is by the 
 Abb6 Pignerol, in his Life of the Cardinal de Lauro, 
 whose servant he had been. Then the story is re- 
 
14 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 peated hy Monsieur de Thou. Lastly, Dr. Gilbert 
 Burnet having got that life of the Cardinal, he exulted 
 as if he had found a vast treasure, and inserted the 
 Abb6 Pignerol's tale in his collection of papers, as an 
 unanswerable evidence that the Queen had left Eng- 
 land to the King of Spain. I can think of no better 
 or readier way to refute all these idle stories, than by 
 producing the real testament, written by the Queen the 
 night before her death, which I purpose to do before 
 this volume be ended ; and I hope it will be found 
 more probative than Cecil's letter, or the Abb6 Pig- 
 nerol's tale. 
 
 As to the Prince of Conde's information, who knows 
 but we may have such papers yet trumped up of that 
 cession to Henry Duke of Anjou, as we mentioned of 
 the cession said to have been made to the Dauphin ? 
 I make no doubt but the Prince of Cond6 was capable 
 enough of getting his information made good, so far 
 as the writing two or three papers could go, if he had 
 thought by that to come nearer to his purpose. The 
 crown of France was no small temptation, and both 
 he and his brother had gone pretty great lengths under 
 the then common pretext of reforming religion, to cut 
 oflf all the sons of King Henry II. to make way for 
 themselves ; which at last was one way or other effec- 
 tuated in the days of his nephew. His own designs 
 are very conspicuous, from his getting himself crowned 
 by his followers as King of France, while the throne 
 was yet full, and coining gold in his own name with 
 this modest inscription, Ludovicus Dei gratia Franco- 
 rum rex primus diristianus. Doubtless a king so com- 
 pletely christian, was capable to coin any thing for 
 attaining so high ends. 
 
 To return to the papers said to be the Queen's gift 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 15 
 
 of her kingdom of Scotland to the King of France, 
 failing heirs of her own body. The third of these 
 papers was printed in the year 1693, among a collec- 
 tion of treaties with France, published by Frederick 
 Leonard, in six volumes in quarto. For the second 
 time it appeared in a larger collection of treaties pub- 
 lished at Amsterdam, in four volumes in folio, the 
 year 1700 ; and lastly, in Du Mont's Corps Diploma- 
 tique. 
 
 The writer of it, whoever he was, seems to have 
 committed a slip, not easily to be accounted for, on 
 supposition that the paper is genuine ; for the Queen 
 is made to alledge the war then presently breaking out 
 betwixt France and England, as a cause why she made 
 that deed : vu memement le tems present de I'ouverture de 
 la guerre au royaume d'Angleterre, But the war with 
 England had broke out in June, 1557, and the French 
 had the worst of it, till the Duke of Guise got the 
 chief command of the French armies in December that 
 year, who, before the end of January preceding the 
 date of these papers, had taken Calais, Guines, and 
 the fort of Hames from the English, and driven them 
 altogether out of the places which for a long time 
 they had held in France. Therefore, to speak of that 
 war on the 4th of April, 1558, as only breaking out, 
 doth not look very well. It seems the later editors 
 were of this opinion, for which reason they took the 
 liberty to expunge the words, de Vouverture, which 
 are both in the manuscript copies, and first edition in 
 print. 
 
 The second paper bears expressly, that it was 
 granted by the advice of her uncles, the Cardinal of 
 Lorraine and Duke of Guise. Had it been so, one of 
 them, as her curators, ought to have signed it along 
 
IG 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 with her, and to have affixed his seal, as they used to 
 do in all her real deeds of importance, both before 
 and after this pretended gift. If it had been a real 
 deed, this would not have been omitted, for without 
 this it was less valid. 
 
 It is not easy to believe that the King of France, 
 who was himself also one of Queen Mary's curators, 
 would have accepted of such an illegal and invalid 
 deed in his own favour, from his pupil and intended 
 daughter-in-law, when at the age of fifteen years, whom 
 he himself ought to have dissuaded from granting any 
 deed of the like nature. And these loose detached 
 papers so carelessly executed, are not sufficient to 
 load the King of France and his ministers with so 
 much injustice and weakness, unless their credit could 
 be supported by some overt act or extrinsic adminicle ; 
 for it is not to be supposed that they would have 
 drawn up such illegal, null, and infamous papers, that 
 could serve to no manner of purpose but to reflect 
 dishonour on all parties concerned in them. But even 
 could it be made appear that they certainly did do, 
 the blame ought to lie entirely at their own door, and 
 no imputation for that matter ought to be cast upon 
 the young Queen, who was entirely under their direc- 
 tion, and at their disposal. — Goodall. 
 
 N. B. Goodall is probably a little biassed ; and we 
 should read what he says with a proper allowance for 
 prejudice. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 17 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Of Mary's return from France y and supposed Origin of the 
 Discord between her and Elizabeth, who refuses her a 
 safe Conduct — Mary escapes from the English Fleet sent 
 to intercept her, and arrives in Scotland — State of that 
 Kingdom, 
 
 In the mean time, Mary was in no haste to return 
 into Scotland. Accustomed to the elegance, splendour, 
 and gaiety of a polite court, she still fondly lingered 
 in France, the scene of all these enjoyments, and con- 
 templated, with horror, the barbarism of her own 
 country, and the turbulence of her subjects, which pre- 
 sented her with a very different face of things. The 
 impatience, however, of her people, the persuasions of 
 her uncles, but above all, the studied and mortifying 
 neglect with which she was treated by the Queen- 
 Mother, forced her to think of beginning this dis- 
 agreeable voyage. But while she was preparing for it, 
 there were sown between her and Elizabeth, the seeds 
 of that personal jealousy and discord, which embittered 
 the life, and shortened the days, of the Scottish Queen. 
 
 The ratification of the late treaty of Edinburgh, was 
 the immediate occasion of this fatal animosity: the"^ 
 true causes of it lay much deeper. Almost every 
 article in that treaty, had been executed by both 
 parties, with a scrupulous exactness. The fortifi- 
 cations of Leith were demolished, and the armies of 
 France and England withdrawn within the appointed 
 time. The grievances of the Scottish malecontents 
 were redressed, and they had obtained whatever they 
 could demand for their future security. With regard 
 
 c 
 
18 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 to all these, Mary could have little reason to decline, 
 or Elizabeth to urge, the ratification of the treaty. 
 
 The sixth article remained the only source of contest 
 and difficulty. No minister ever entered more deeply 
 into the schemes of his sovereign, or pursued them with 
 more dexterity and success, than Cecil. In the conduct 
 of the negotiation at Edinburgh, the sound under- 
 standing of this able politician had proved greatly an 
 overmatch for Monluc's refinements in intrigue, and 
 had artfully induced the French ambassadors, not only 
 to acknowledge that the crowns of England and Ireland 
 did of right belong to Elizabeth alone, but also to 
 promise, that in all times to come, Mary should abstain 
 from using the titles, or bearing the arms of those 
 kingdoms. 
 
 The ratification of this article would have been of 
 the most fatal consequence to Mary. The Crown of 
 England was an object worthy of her ambition. Her 
 pretensions to it gave her great dignity and importance 
 in the eyes of all Europe. By many, her title was 
 esteemed preferable to that of Elizabeth. Among the 
 English themselves, the Roman Catholics, who formed, 
 at that time, a numerous and active party, openly 
 espoused this opinion ; and even the Protestants, who 
 supported Elizabeth's throne, could not deny the Queen 
 of Scots to be her immediate heir. A proper oppor- 
 tunity to avail herself of all these advantages, could 
 not, in the course of things, be far distant, and many 
 incidents might fall in, to bring this opportunity nearer 
 than was expected. In these circumstances, Mary, by 
 ratifying the article in dispute, would have lost that 
 rank which she had hitherto held among neigh- 
 bouring princes ; the zeal of her adherents must have 
 gradually cooled ; and she might have renounced, from 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 19 
 
 that moment, all hopes of ever wearing the English 
 crown. 
 
 None of these beneficial consequences escaped the 
 penetrating eye of Elizabeth, who, for this reason, had 
 recourse to every thing, by which she could hope either 
 to soothe or frighten the Scottish Queen into a com- 
 pliance with her demands ; and if that Princess had 
 been so unadvised as to ratify the rash concessions of 
 her ambassadors, Elizabeth, by that deed, would have 
 acquired an advantage, which, under her management, 
 must have turned to great account. By such a renun- 
 ciation, the question, with regard to the right of suc- 
 cession, would have been left altogether open and 
 undecided ; and, by means of that, Elizabeth might 
 either have kept her rival in perpetual anxiety and 
 dependence, or, by the authority of her parliament, 
 she might have broken in upon the order of lineal suc- 
 cession, and transferred the crown to some other de- 
 scendant of the royal blood. The former conduct she 
 observed towards James VI. whom, during his whole 
 reign, she held in perpetual fear and subjection. The 
 latter, and more rigorous method of proceeding, would, 
 in all probability, have been employed against Mary, 
 whom, for many reasons, she both envied and hated. 
 
 Nor was this step beyond her power, unprecedented 
 in the history, or inconsistent with the constitution of 
 England. Though succession by hereditary right be 
 an idea so natural and so popular, that it has been 
 established almost in every civilized nation, yet Eng- 
 land affords many memorable instances of deviations 
 from that rule. The crown of that kingdom having 
 once been seized by the hand of a conqueror, this 
 invited the bold and enterprising in every age to imitate 
 such an illustrious example of fortunate ambition. 
 
 c2 
 
20 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 From the time of William the Norman, the regular 
 course of descent had seldom continued through three 
 successive reigns. Those prinees, whose intrigues or 
 valour opened to them a way to the throne, called in 
 the authority of the great council of the nation to con- 
 firm their dubious titles. Hence, parliamentary and 
 hereditary right became in England of equal con- 
 sideration. That great assembly claimed, and actually 
 possessed, a power of altering the order of regal suc- 
 cession ; and even so late as Henry VIII. an act of 
 parliament had authorized that capricious monarch to 
 settle the order of succession at his pleasure. The 
 English, jealous of their religious liberty, and averse 
 from the dominion of strangers, would have eagerly 
 adopted the passions of their sovereign, and might 
 have been easily induced to exclude the Scottish line 
 from the right of succeeding to the crown. These seem 
 to have been the views of both Queens, and these were 
 the difficulties which retarded the ratification of the 
 treaty of Edinburgh. 
 
 But, if the sources of their discord were to be traced 
 no higher than this treaty, an inconsiderable alteration 
 in the words of it, might have brought the present 
 question to an amicable issue. The indefinite and 
 ambiguous expression, which Cecil had inserted into 
 the treaty, might have been changed into one more 
 limited, but more precise ; and Mary, instead of pro- 
 mising to abstain from bearing the title of Queen of 
 England, in all times to come, might have engaged not 
 to assume that title, during the life of Elizabeth, or the 
 lives of her lawful posterity. 
 
 Such an amendment, however, did not suit the views 
 of either Queen. Though Mary had been obliged to 
 suspend, for some time, the prosecution of het title to 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 21 
 
 the English crown, she had not however relinquished 
 it. She determined to revive her claim, on the first 
 prospect of success, and was unwilling to bind herself, 
 by a positive engagement, not to take advantage of 
 any such fortunate occurrence. Nor w^ould the altera- 
 tion have been more acceptable to Elizabeth, who, by 
 agreeing to it, would have tacitly recognized the right 
 of her rival to ascend the throne after her decease. 
 But neither the Scottish nor English Queen durst avow 
 these secret sentiments of their hearts. Any open 
 discovery of an inclination to disturb the traiiquillity 
 of England, or to wrest the sceptre out of Elizabeth's 
 hands, might have proved fatal to Mary. Any sus- 
 picion of a design to alter the order of succession, and 
 to set aside the claim of the Scottish Queen, would 
 have exposed Elizabeth to much and deserved censure, 
 and have raised up against her many and dangerous 
 enemies. These, however carefully concealed, or art- 
 fully disguised, were, in all probability, the real motives 
 which determined the one Queen to solicit, and the 
 other to refuse the ratification of the treaty, in its 
 original form ; while neither had recourse to that ex- 
 plication of it, which to an heart unwarped by political 
 interest, and sincerely desirous of union and concord, 
 would have appeared so obvious and natural. 
 
 But though considerations of interest first occasioned 
 this rupture between the British Queens, rivalship of 
 another kind contributed to widen the breach, and 
 female jealousy increased the violence of their political 
 hatred. Elizabeth, with all those extraordinary quali- 
 ties, by which she equalled or surpassed, such of her 
 sex as have merited the greatest renown, discovered 
 an admiration of her own person, to a degree, which 
 women of ordinary understandings either do not enter- 
 
22 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 tain, or prudently endeavour to conceal. Her attention 
 to dress, her solicitude to display her charms, her love 
 of flattery, were all excessive. Nor were these weak- 
 nesses confined to that period of life, when they are 
 more pardonable. Even in very advanced years, the 
 wisest woman of that, or perhaps of any other age, 
 wore the garb, and affected the manners of a girl. 
 
 Though Elizabeth was as much inferior to Mary, in 
 beauty, and gracefulness of person, as she excelled 
 her in political abilities, and in the arts of government, 
 she was weak enough to compare herself with the 
 Scottish Queen ; and as it was impossible she could be 
 altogether ignorant how much Mary gained by the 
 comparison, she envied and hated her, as a rival by 
 whom she was eclipsed. In judging of the conduct of 
 princes, we are apt to ascribe too much to political 
 motives, and too little to the passions which they feel 
 in common with the rest of mankind. In order to 
 account for Elizabeth's present, as well as her subse- 
 quent conduct towards Mary, we must not always 
 consider her as a Queen, we must sometimes regard 
 her as a woman. 
 
 Elizabeth, though no stranger to Mary's difficulties 
 with respect to the treaty, continued to urge her by 
 repeated applications to ratify it. Mary, under 
 various pretences, still contrived to gain time, and to 
 elude the request. But while the one Queen solicited 
 with persevering importunity, and the other evaded 
 with artful delay, they both studied an extreme po- 
 liteness of behaviour, and loaded each other with 
 professions of sisterly love, with reciprocal declara- 
 tions of unchangeable esteem and amity. 
 
 It was not long before Mary was convinced that, 
 among princes, these expressions of friendship are 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 commonly far distant from the heart. In sailing from 
 France to Scotland, the course lies along the English 
 coast. In order to be safe from the insults of the 
 English fleet, or in case of tempestuous weather, to 
 secure a retreat in the harbours of that kingdom, Mary 
 sent M. D'Oysel to demand of Elizabeth a safe con- 
 duct during her voyage. This request, which decency 
 alone obliged one prince to grant to another, Eliza- 
 beth rejected, in such a manner as gave rise to no 
 slight suspicion of a design, either to obstruct the 
 passage, or to intercept the person of the Scottish 
 Queen*. 
 
 This ungenerous behaviour of Elizabeth filled Mary 
 with indignation, but did not retard her departure from 
 France. She was accompanied to Calais, the place 
 where she embarked, in a manner suitable to her 
 dignity as the Queen of two powerful kingdoms. Six 
 Princes of Lorraine, her uncles, with many of the most 
 eminent among the French nobles, were in her retinue. 
 Catherine, who secretly rejoiced at her departure, 
 graced it with every circumstance of magnificence and 
 respect. After bidding adieu to her mourning attend- 
 ants, with a sad heart, and eyes bathed in tears, Mary 
 left that kingdom, the short but only scene of her life 
 in which fortune smiled upon her. While the French 
 coast continued in sight, she intently gazed upon it, 
 and musing in a thoughtful posture on that height of 
 fortune whence she had fallen, and presaging, per- 
 haps, the disasters and calamities which embittered 
 the remainder of her days, she sighed often, and 
 cried out, " Farewell France ! Farewell beloved coun- 
 try, which I shall never more behold !" Even when 
 
 * Keith, 171. Camden. 
 
24 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 the darkness of the night had hid the land from her 
 view, she would neither retire to the cabin, nor 
 taste food, but commanding a couch to be placed 
 on the deck, she there waited the return of day 
 with the utmost impatience. Fortune soothed her on 
 this occasion : the galley made little way during the 
 night. 
 
 In the morning the coast of France was still within 
 sight, and she continued to feed her melancholy with 
 the prospect ; and as long as her eyes could distin- 
 guish it, to utter the same tender expressions of re- 
 gret*. At last a brisk gale arose, by the favour of 
 which for some days, and afterward under the covert 
 of a thick fog, Mary escaped the English fleet, which 
 y lay in wait to intercept her; and on the 19th of August, 
 after an absence of near thirteen years, landed safely 
 at Leith, in her native kingdom. 
 
 Mary was received by her subjects with shouts and 
 acclamations of joy, and with every demonstration of 
 welcome and regard. But as her arrival was unex- 
 pected, and no suitable preparation had been made 
 for it, they could not with all their efforts hide from 
 her the poverty of the country, and were obliged to 
 conduct her to the palace of Holyrood-house with 
 little pomp. The Queen, accustomed from her in- 
 fancy to splendour and magnificence, and fond of 
 them, as was natural at her age, could not help ob- 
 serving the change in her situation, and seemed to be 
 deeply affected with it. 
 
 Never did any prince ascend the throne at a junc- 
 ture which called for more wisdom in council, or more 
 courage and steadiness in action. The rage of reli- 
 
 * Brantome, 483. He himself was in the same galley with the Queen. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 26 
 
 gious controversy was still unabated. The memory 
 of past oppression exasperated the Protestants ; the 
 smart of recent injuries rendered the Papists despe- 
 rate ; both were zealous, fierce, and irreconcileable. 
 
 The absence of their sovereign had accustomed the 
 nobles to independence ; and during the late commo- 
 tions, they had acquired such an increase of wealth, 
 as threw great weight into the scale of the aristocracy, 
 which stood not in need of any accession of power. 
 The kingdom had long been under the government 
 of regents, who exercised a delegated jurisdiction, 
 attended with little authority, and which inspired no 
 reverence. A state of pure anarchy had prevailed for 
 the two last years, without a regent, without a su- 
 preme council, without the power, or even the form 
 of a regular government. A licentious spirit, unac- 
 quainted with subordination, and disdaining the re- 
 straints of law and justice, had spread among all 
 ranks of men. The influence of France, the ancient 
 ally of the kingdom, was withdrawn or despised. 
 
 The English, of enemies become confederates, had 
 grown into confidence with the nation, and had 
 gained an ascendant over all its councils. The Scot- 
 tish monarchs did not derive more splendour or power 
 from the friendship of the former, than they had 
 reason to dread injury and diminution from the inter- 
 position of the latter. Every consideration, whether 
 of interest, or of self-preservation, obliged Elizabeth 
 to depress the royal authority in Scotland, and to 
 create the Prince perpetual difficulties, by fomenting 
 the spirit of disaffection among the people. 
 
 In this posture were the affairs of Scotland, when 
 the administration fell into the hands of a young 
 
26 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 Queen, not nineteen years of age, unacquainted with 
 the manners and laws of her country, a stranger to 
 her subjects, without experience, without allies, and 
 almost without a friend. 
 
 On the other hand, in Mary's situation we find some 
 circumstances, which, though they did not balance 
 these disadvantages, contributed, however, to alle- 
 viate them ; and with skilful management, might have 
 produced great eflects. Her subjects, unaccustomed 
 so long to the residence of their Prince, were not only 
 dazzled by the novelty and splendour of the royal 
 presence, but inspired with awe and reverence. Be- 
 sides the places of power and profit bestowed by the 
 favour of a Prince, his protection, his familiarity, and 
 even his smiles, confer honour, and win the hearts of 
 men. From all comers of the kingdom the nobles 
 crowded to testify their duty and afi'ection to their 
 sovereign, and studied by every art to vnpe out the 
 memory of past misconduct, and to lay in a stock of 
 future merit. The amusements and gaiety of her 
 court, which was filled with the most accomplished 
 of the French nobility, who had attended her, be- 
 gan to soften and to polish the rude manners of the 
 nation. 
 
 Mary herself possessed many of these qualifications, 
 which raise afi'ection, and procure esteem. The 
 beauty and gracefulness of her person drew universal 
 admiration, the elegance and politeness of her man- 
 ners commanded general respect. To all the charms 
 of her own sex, she added many of the accomplish- 
 ments of the other. The progress she had made in all 
 the arts and sciences, which w^ere then CvSteemed 
 necessary or ornamental, was far beyond what is com- 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 27 
 
 monly attained by princes ; and ail her other qualities 
 were rendered more agreeable by a courteous affabi- 
 lity, which, without lessening the dignity of a prince, 
 steals on the hearts of subjects with a bewitching in- 
 sinuation. — Robertson. 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 Of Mary's Claim to the English Crown — Elisabeth sup- 
 ports the Scottish Protestants during Mary's stay in 
 France — Her Brother, James Stuart Earl of Murray, 
 and George Buchanan, his Tutor — Her Ideas of a Mar- 
 riage with Lord Darnley her Cousin. 
 
 From the time that Henry VIII. had formally 
 renounced the Papal authority, and declared himself 
 the head of the English Church, that nation had alter^ 
 nately fluctuated between the Catholic and Protestant 
 religion. The short reign of the cruel and bigotted 
 Mary of England, was a continued scene of persecution 
 and bloodshed to the Protestants; the effect of which, 
 instead of extinguishing, added numbers of converts 
 to their principles. On the succession of Elizabeth to 
 the throne, the Protestant religion was established by 
 law. 
 
 The Catholics, who were numerous, although they 
 made no opposition to the accession of Elizabeth, yet 
 trembled at the innovations which they saw introduced 
 into the religion and laws of the kingdom, by a Queen 
 of her ability, and the head of the new religion. In 
 their situation, and as Elizabeth had shown her aversion 
 to Mary, it was natural for them to turn their eyes to 
 Queen Mary of Scotland, the next lineal heir to the 
 
28 
 
 !\fARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 crown, whom they also considered as the head and 
 protectress of the Catholics. An incident which hap- 
 pened about this time, awakened and called forth that 
 resentment of Elizabeth against the Queen of Scots, 
 which was the source of all her misfortunes. 
 
 The Pope, and the Catholic Princes on the Conti- 
 nent, had always considered King Henry the Eighth's 
 marriage with Anne Boleyn, in the life-time of his wife 
 Queen Catherine, as criminal and illegal, according to 
 the act of the parliament of England ; and in conse- 
 quence, Elizabeth, the issue of that marriage, as of 
 spurious birth. On the marriage of the young Queen 
 of Scots with the Dauphin Francis, his father. King 
 Henry II. of France, began to look with envy and 
 indignation, at seeing the Crown of England, to which 
 he persuaded himself that Queen Mary, his daughter- 
 in-law, had so good a claim, possessed by Elizabeth, 
 whose illegitimate birth was sufficient to have excluded 
 her from it. By instigation of the King of France, 
 and the ambition of the Princes of Lorraine, Mary's 
 uncles, the Queen of Scots and her husband the 
 Dauphin, were persuaded to assume the title and arms 
 of King and Queen of England. 
 
 A claim thus declared, without ability to make it 
 good, was weak and foolish, and served no beneficial 
 purpose ; on the contrary, it called the attention of the 
 Queen of England to her own situation, and incited 
 her to guard against the designs that she suspected 
 might be carried on against her, both by the Catholic 
 Princes abroad, and by her own subjects at home, 
 over whom, during her whole reign, she held a steady 
 and strict hand ; and against her rival Queen Mary, 
 it kindled that hatred and resentment, which was 
 quenched only by her blood. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 29 
 
 In the time of the late Queen Regent, and while 
 Mary was in France, Elizabeth had supported the 
 Protestants in Scotland, and supplied them both with 
 money and troops, by which they were enabled, in 
 the end, to overturn the Popish religion, and to esta- 
 blish the Protestant in its room. 
 
 Although the pretext was religion, yet the heads of 
 the party had deeper designs in view ; no less than 
 the dethroning their Queen, and seizing the reins of 
 government. 
 
 The part which Queen Elizabeth took in the con- 
 spiracies carried on for this purpose, is developed in 
 the following statement : who were the principal actors 
 in them, shall now be mentioned. 
 
 James Stuart, Prior of St. Andrew's, the natural son 
 of the late King James V., showed a very early design 
 upon the crown. He was, by the will of his father, 
 destined and educated for the church, and endowed 
 with the Priory of St. Andrew's, one of the richest 
 benefices in the kingdom, with a view of preventing 
 him from interfering in the secular affairs of state. 
 But the infancy of the Queen at her father's death, 
 her absence from Scotland, and the growing strength 
 of the new religion, to which the Prior, from politic 
 views, had early become a convert, and of which he 
 aflfected to be the head, opened to his ambition the 
 dazzling prospect of a crown ! He was possessed of 
 excellent parts, a penetrating genius, and of great 
 intrepidity and ambition: those last qualities he 
 carefully covered, under the disguise of sanctity and 
 religion. Such was the Queen's natural brother. 
 He had, by his munificence, very early attached to 
 his service the celebrated George Buchanan, one of 
 the greatest geniuses of the age, an adept in clas- 
 
30 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 sical learning, an eminent historian, and a fine Latin 
 poet. 
 
 But these distinguished qualities of the head, were 
 balanced by the defects of his heart ! Has tantas animi 
 dotes vitia (Equahant. — On the young Queen's coming 
 over to her own dominions, she heaped extraordinary 
 favours both upon the Prior and his tutor Buchanan : 
 upon the first she conferred the Earldom of Mar, and 
 soon after created him Earl of Murray, with one of the 
 highest revenues in Scotland, and appointed him her 
 first minister. As to Buchanan, she had invited him 
 from France, with the view of his taking the charge of 
 the education of her infant son, and in the mean time 
 she settled on him a pension of 500?. during his life ; 
 which, at that time, was of more value than any 
 ecclesiastical living at this day in Scotland. Yet these 
 were not sufficient to bind to their duty men, who, 
 without principle, were instigated solely by their views 
 of ambition. How humiliating to human vanity ! What 
 a reproach to the human heart ! that the same hand 
 that penned the beautiful dedicatory Poem to Queen 
 Mary* ; which wrote that immortal Paraphrase of the 
 Psalms, should, soon after, be prostituted to defame 
 
 * " Nympha, Caledoniae quae nunc feliciter orae 
 
 Missa per innumeros sceptra tueris avos : 
 Quae sortem antevenis raeritis, virtutibus annos, 
 
 Sexum animis, morum nobilitate genus : 
 Accipe (sed facilis) cultu donata Latino 
 
 Carmina, fatidici nobile regis opus, 
 Ilia quidem, Cyrrha procul & Pennesside IjTnplia, 
 
 Psene sub Arctoi sidere nata poll : 
 Non tamen ausus eram male natum exponere foetum, 
 
 Ne mihi displiceant quae placuere tibi. 
 Nam quod ab ingenio doniini sperare nequibant. 
 
 Debebunt genio forsitan ilia tuo." 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 31 
 
 his sovereign by a most false and calumnious libel, in 
 order to pave the way for his patron the Earl of Mur- 
 ray's advancement to the Regency of the kingdom ! 
 That end accomplished, and Murray's ambition point- 
 ing directly to the throne, Buchanan, in that view, 
 wrote his famous Dialogue, ''De Jure Regni apud 
 Scotos" in which he endeavours to prove, that a right 
 to elect to the throne, was in the people*. 
 
 Two other persons, who make an eminent figure in 
 the history of those times, associated themselves with 
 the Prior in his scheme of ambition : Douglas Earl of 
 Morton, and William Maitland of Lethinton, then 
 Secretary of State, both of them of the new religion, 
 of eminent parts, bold, restless, and aspiring! Fit 
 instruments for the Prior, and capable of overturning 
 a greater and more settled state than that of Scotland 
 at that time. 
 
 Those men Queen Mary, on her coming to Scotland, 
 found to have great weight with the people, and with 
 the leading divines of the Protestants. She therefore, 
 to remove the people's jealousy and fears on account 
 of their religion, with great mildness, thought it proper 
 to continue them as her ministers and counsellors. 
 She little knew, that at that time all of them were 
 secretly enlisted in the service of Queen Elizabeth, 
 and deeply engaged in a conspiracy with that Princess 
 against their own sovereign, for overturning her go- 
 vernment. The evidence of this design is brought to 
 light in the following pages ; but, observe — 
 
 * This book was, in James the Sixth's reign, (1584), condemned by 
 parliament to the flames, as containing principles subversive of the con- 
 stitution, and of all good government. Buchanan wrote this piece soon 
 after Queen Mary's imprisonment, and about the time that Murray was 
 made Regent.*- Gocxi^^/, vol, i. p. 128. 
 
32 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 Queen Mary had now been three years in Scotland, 
 when the cares of government, and the thoughts of 
 providing for the succession of the kingdom in her 
 family, suggested to her a marriage with her nearest 
 relation in blood, Henry Stuart Lord Darnley, the 
 eldest son of the Earl of Lennox, who likewise was 
 first cousin to the Queen of England. In her choice, 
 she not only followed her own inclination, as Henry was 
 one of the handsomest young men in the kingdom, but 
 likewise the will of her father King James, who had 
 signified in his last moments his wishes of this mar- 
 riage. Fortunate might it have been, had the qualities 
 of Henry's mind been proportionate to his form ; but 
 unhappily they turned out the reverse ! Of mean un- 
 derstanding, he was headstrong and insolent, and 
 addicted to vicious pleasures. — Tytler. 
 
 He forgot — Virtus anteit omnibus rebus, — Editor. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 33 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 Proposed Interview betiveen Mary and Elizabeth — Mary 
 solicited to marry into the House of Austria— Suhse- 
 s quently by several other Princes — The Views of Elizabeth ; 
 and of Mary's Subjects on that occasion. 
 
 In the beginning of summer, Mary, who was de- 
 sirous of entering into a more intimate correspondence 
 and familiarity with Elizabeth, employed Maitland to 
 desire a personal interview with her, somewhere in 
 the north of England. As this proposal could not be 
 rejected with decency, the time, the place, and the 
 circumstances of the meeting were instantly agreed 
 upon. But Elizabeth was prudent enough not to 
 admit into her kingdom, a rival who outshone herself, 
 so far in beauty and gracefulness of person ; and who 
 excelled so eminently, in all the arts of insinuation 
 and address. Under pretence of being confined to 
 London, by the attention which she was obliged to 
 give to the civil wars in France, she put off the interview 
 for that season, and prevented her subjects from see- 
 ing the Scottish Queen, the charms of whose appear- 
 ance and behaviour she envied, and had some reason 
 to dread. 
 
 During this year, the Assembly of the Church met 
 twice. In both these meetings were exhibited many 
 complaints of the poverty and dependence of the 
 church ; and many murmurs against the negligence or 
 avarice of those, who had been appointed to collect, 
 and to distribute, the small fund appropriated for the 
 maintenance of preachers. A petition, craving redress 
 of their grievances, was presented to the Queen ; but 
 
 D 
 
u 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 without any effect. There was no reason to expect 
 that Mary would discover any forwardness to grant 
 the requests of such supplications. And as her 
 ministers, though all most zealous Protestants, were 
 themselves growing rich on the inheritance of the 
 church, they were equally regardless of the indigence 
 and demands of their brethren. 
 
 Mary had now continued above two years in a state 
 of widowhood. Her gentle administration had secured 
 the hearts of her subjects, who were impatient for her 
 marriage, and wished the crown to descend in the 
 right line from their ancient monarchs. She herself 
 was the most amiable woman of the age, and the fame 
 of her accomplishments, together with the favourable 
 circumstance of her having one kingdom already in her 
 possession, and the prospect of mounting the throne 
 of another, prompted many different Princes to solicit 
 an alliance so illustrious. Scotland, by its situation, 
 threw so much weight and power into whatever scale 
 it fell, that all Europe waited with solicitude for 
 Mary's determination ; and no event in that age 
 excited stronger political fears and jealousies ; none 
 interested more deeply the passions of several Princes, 
 or gave rise to more contradictory intrigues, than the 
 marriage of the Scottish Queen. 
 
 The Princes of the House of Austria remembered 
 what vast projects the French had founded on their 
 former alliance with the Queen of Scots ; and though 
 the unexpected death, first of Henry, and then of 
 Francis, had hindered these from taking effect, yet if 
 Mary should again make choice of a husband among 
 the French Princes, the same designs might be revived 
 and prosecuted with better success. 
 
 In order to prevent this„ the Emperor entered into 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 35 
 
 a negotiation with the Cardinal of Lorraine, who had 
 proposed to marry the Scottish Queen to the Archduke 
 Charles, Ferdinand's third son. The matter w^as com- 
 municated to Mary; and Melvil, who at that time 
 attended the Elector Palatine, was commanded to 
 enquire into the character and situation of the Arch- 
 duke. 
 
 Philip II. though no less apprehensive of Mary's 
 falling once more into the hands of France, envied his 
 uncle Ferdinand the acquisition of so important a 
 prize ; and as his own insatiable ambition grasped at 
 all the kingdoms of Europe, he employed his ambas- 
 sador at the French court, to solicit the Princes of 
 Lorraine in behalf of his son Don Carlos, at that time 
 the heir of all the extensive dominions which belonged 
 to the Spanish monarchy. 
 
 Catherine of Medicis, on the other hand, dreaded 
 the marriage of the Scottish Queen with any of the 
 Austrian Princes, which would have added so much to 
 the power and pretensions of that ambitious race. 
 Her jealousy of the Princes of Lorraine, rendered her 
 no less averse fronv an alliance, which, by securing 
 them the protection of the Emperor, or King of Spain, 
 would give new boldness to their enterprising spirit, 
 and enable them to set the power of the crown, which 
 they already rivalled, at open defiance: and as she 
 was afraid that these splendid proposals of the Austrian 
 family would dazzle the young Queen, she instantly 
 dispatched Castelnau into Scotland, to offer her in 
 marriage the Duke of Anjou, the brother of her former 
 husband, who soon after mounted the throne of France. 
 
 Mary attentively weighed the pretensions of so many 
 rivals. The Archduke had little to recommend him, 
 but his high birth. The example of Henry VIII. was 
 
 d2 
 
30 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 a warning against contracting a marriage with the 
 brother of her former husband ; nor could she bear the 
 thoughts of appearing in France, in a rank inferior to 
 that which she had formerly held in that kingdom. 
 She listened therefore, with partiality, to the Spanish 
 propositions, and the prospect of such vast power and 
 dominions flattered the ambition of a young and aspir- 
 ing Princess. 
 
 Three several circumstances, however, concurred 
 to divert Maiy from any thoughts of a foreign alliance. 
 
 The first of these was the murder of her uncle the 
 Duke of Guise. The violence and ambition of that 
 nobleman had involved his country in a civil war; which 
 was conducted with furious animosity, and various 
 success. At last the Duke laid siege to Orleans, the 
 bulwark of the Protestant cause ; and he had reduced 
 that city to the last extremity, when he was assassi- 
 nated by the frantic zeal of Poltrot. This blow proved 
 fatal to the Queen of Scots. The young Duke was a 
 minor; and the Cardinal of Lorraine, though subtle and 
 intriguing, wanted that undaunted and enterprising 
 courage, which rendered the ambition of his brother 
 so formidable. Catherine, instead of encouraging the 
 ambition, or furthering the pretensions of her daugh- 
 ter-in-law, took pleasure in mortifying the one, and 
 in disappointing the other. In this situation, and 
 without such a protector, it became necessary for 
 Mary to contract her views, and to proceed with cau- 
 tion ; and whatever prospect of advantage might allure 
 her, she could venture upon no dangerous or doubtful 
 measure. 
 
 The second circumstance which weighed with Mary, 
 was the opinion of the Queen of England. The mar- 
 riage of the Scottish Queen interested Elizabeth more 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 deeply than any other prince, and she observed all 
 her deliberations concerning it with the most anxious 
 attention. She herself seems early to have formed a 
 resolution of living unmarried, and she discovered no 
 small inclination to impose the same law on the Queen 
 of Scots. She had already experienced what use 
 might be made of Mary's power and pretensions, to 
 invade her dominions, and to disturb her possession of 
 the crown. The death of Francis II. had happily 
 delivered her from this danger, which she determined 
 to guard against for the future with the utmost care. 
 As the restless ambition of the Austrian Princes, the 
 avowed and bigotted patrons of the Catholic super- — 
 stition, made her, in a particular manner, dread their 
 neighbourhood, she instructed Randolph to remon- 
 strate in the strongest terms against any alliance with 
 them, and to acquaint Mary, that as she herself would 
 consider such a match to be a breach of the personal 
 friendship in w^hich they were so happily united, so 
 the English nation would regard it as the dissolution 
 of that confederacy which now subsisted between the 
 two kingdoms : that in order to preserve their own 
 religion and liberties, they would in all probability 
 take some step prejudicial to her right of succession, 
 which, as she well knew, they neither wanted power 
 nor pretences to invalidate and set aside. This threat- 
 ening was accompanied with a promise, but expressed 
 in very ambiguous terms, that if Mary's choice of a 
 husband should prove agreeable to the English nation, ^' 
 Elizabeth would appoint proper persons to examine 
 her title to the succession, and if well founded, com- 
 mand it to be publicly recognized. She observed, 
 however, a mysterious silence concerning the person 
 on whom she wished the choice of the Scottish Queen 
 
38 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 to fall. The revealing of this secret was reserved for 
 some future negotiation. Meanwhile she threw out 
 some obscure hints, that a native of Britain, or one 
 not of princely rank, would be her safest and most 
 inoffensive choice. An advice offered with such an air 
 of superiority and command, mortified, no doubt, the 
 pride of the Scottish Queen. But, under her present 
 circumstances, she was obliged to bear this indignity. 
 Destitute of all foreign assistance, and intent upon the 
 English succession, the great object of her wishes and 
 ambition, it became necessary to court a rival, whom, 
 without manifest imprudence, she could not venture to 
 offend. 
 
 The inclination of her own subjects was another, 
 and not the least considerable circumstance, which 
 called for Mary's attention at this conjuncture. They 
 had been taught by the fatal experiment of her former 
 marriage, to dread an union with any great prince, 
 whose power might be employed to oppress their re- 
 ligion and liberties. They trembled at the thoughts of 
 a match with a foreigner ; and if the crown should be 
 strengthened by new dominions or alliances, they fore- 
 saw that the royal prerogative would soon be stretched 
 beyond its ancient and legal limits. Their eagerness 
 to prevent this could scarce fail of throwing them into 
 the arms of England. Elizabeth would be ready to 
 afford them her aid towards obstructing a measure so _ 
 disagreeable to herself. 'Tv\ as easy for theni to seize 
 the person of the Sovereign. By the assistance of the 
 English fleet, they could render it difficult for any 
 foreign prince to land in Scotland. The Roman Ca- 
 tholics, now an inconsiderable party in the kingdom, 
 and dispirited by the loss of the Earl of Huntly, could 
 give no obstruction to their designs. To what violent 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 39 
 
 extremes the national abhorrence of a foreign yoke 
 might have been carried, is manifest from the trans- 
 actions both previous, and subsequent to the present 
 period. 
 
 For these reasons, Mary laid aside, at that time, 
 all thoughts of foreign alliance, and seemed willing to 
 sacrifice her own ambition, in order to remove the 
 jealousies of Elizabeth, and to quiet the fears of her 
 own subjects. — Robertson. 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 Negotiations with regard to the Queen's Marriage — Elizabeth 
 recommends Leicester to Mary for an Husband — Mary 
 offended— Elizabeth's Views in recommending him — 
 Mary thinks of Lord Darnley — Elizabeth secretly pleased 
 — Elizabeth and Mary eoxh dissemble about the Marriage 
 — Darnley arrives, and is beloved by Mary, who soon 
 marries him — Of Rizzio's Rise — Darnley esteems him 
 •^Elizabeth angry at the Match — Approved of by France 
 — Elizabeth intrigues. 
 
 The marriage of the Scottish Queen continued 
 still to be the object of attention and intrigue. Though 
 Elizabeth, even while she wished to direct Mary, 
 treated her with a disgustful reserve, though she kept 
 her, without necessity, in a state of suspense, and 
 hinted often at the person whom she destined to be 
 her husband, without directly mentioning his name, 
 yet Mary framed all her actions to express such a 
 prudent respect for the English Queen, that foreign 
 princes began to imagine she had given herself up im- 
 plicitly to her direction. The prospect of this union 
 
40 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 alarmed Catherine of Medicis. Though Catherine had 
 taken pleasure all along in doing ill offices to the 
 Queen of Scots ; though, soon after the Duke of Guise's 
 death she had put upon her a most mortifying indignity, 
 by stopping the payment of her dowry, by depriving 
 her subject the Duke of Chatelherault of his pension, 
 and by bestowing the command of the Scottish Guards 
 on a Frenchman; she resolved, however, to prevent 
 this dangerous conjunction of the British Queens. For 
 this purpose, she now employed all her art to appease 
 Mary, to whom she had given so many causes of 
 offence. The arrears of her dowry were instantly paid; 
 more punctual remittances were promised for the 
 future; and offers made, not only to restore, but to 
 extend the privileges of the Scottish nation in France. 
 It was easy for Mary to penetrate into the motives of 
 this sudden change; she well knew the character of 
 her mother-in-law, and laid little stress upon profes- 
 sions of friendship, which came from a princess of 
 such a false and unfeeling heart. 
 
 The negotiation with England, relative to the mar- 
 riage, suffered no interruption from this application of 
 the French Queen. As Mary, in compliance to her 
 subjects, and pressed by the strongest motives of in- 
 terest, determined speedily to marry, Elizabeth was 
 obliged to break that unaccountable silence which she 
 had hitherto affected. The secret was disclosed, and 
 her favourite Lord Robert Dudley, afterwards Earl of 
 Leicester, was declared to be the happy man whom 
 she had chosen to be the husband of a Queen courted 
 by so many princes. 
 
 Elizabeth's wisdom and penetration were remarkable 
 in the choice of her ministers ; in distinguishing her 
 favourites, those great qualities were less conspicuous. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 41 
 
 She was influenced in two cases so opposite, by merit 
 of very difi'erent kinds. Their capacity for business, 
 their knowledge, their prudence, were the talents to 
 which alone she attended, in choosing her ministers ; 
 whereas beauty and gracefulness of person, polished 
 manners, and courtly address, were the accomplish- 
 ments on which she bestowed her favour. She acted 
 in the one case with the wisdom of a Queen, in the 
 other, she discovered the weakness of a woman. To 
 this Leicester owed his grandeur. Though remarkable 
 neither for eminence in virtue, nor superiority of abi- 
 lities, the Queen's partiality distinguished him on 
 every occasion. She raised him to the highest honours, 
 she bestowed on him the most important employments, 
 and manifested an affection so disproportionate to his 
 merit, that, in the opinion of that age, it could be 
 accounted for only by the power of planetary in- 
 fluence*. 
 
 The high spirit of the Scottish Queen could not well 
 bear the first overture of a match with a subject. Her 
 own rank, the splendour of her former marriage, and 
 the solicitations, at this time, of so many powerful 
 princes, crowded into her thoughts, and made her 
 sensibly feel how humbling and disrespectful Eliza- 
 beth's proposal was. She dissembled, however, with 
 the English resident; and though she declared, in 
 strong terms, what a degradation she would deem this 
 alliance, which brought along with it no advantage 
 that could justify such neglect of her own dignity, she 
 mentioned the Earl of Leicester, notwithstanding, in 
 terms full of respectf. 
 
 Elizabeth, we may presume, did not wish that the 
 
 * Camden, 549. 
 
 t Keith, 252. 
 
42 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 proposal should be received in any other manner. 
 After the extraordinary marks she had given of her 
 own attachment to Leicester, and while he was still 
 in the very height of favour, it is not probable she 
 could think seriously of bestowing him upon another. 
 ^ 'Twas not her aim to persuade, but only to amuse 
 Mary*. Almost three years were elapsed since her 
 return into Scotland ; and though solicited by her 
 subjects, and courted by the greatest princes in Eu- 
 rope, she had hitherto been prevented from marrying, 
 chiefly by the artifices of Elizabeth. And if, at this 
 time, the English Queen could have engaged Mary to 
 listen to her proposal in favour of Leicester, her power 
 over this creature of her own, would have enabled her 
 to protract the negotiation at pleasure ; and by keep- 
 ing her rival unmarried, she would have rendered the 
 prospect of her succession less acceptable to the 
 English. 
 
 Leicester's own situation was extremely delicate 
 and embarrassing. To gain possession of the most 
 amiable woman of the age ; to carry away this prize 
 from so many contending princes ; to mount the throne 
 of an ancient kingdom, might have flattered the am- 
 bition of a subject much more considerable than him. 
 He saw all these advantages, no doubt ; and, in secret, 
 they made their full impression on him. But, without 
 olFending Elizabeth, he durst not venture on the most 
 distant discovery of his sentiments, or take any step 
 towards facilitating his acquisition of objects so worthy 
 of desire. 
 
 On the other hand, Elizabeth's partiality towards 
 him, which she was at no pains to conceal, might 
 
 * Melv. 104, 105. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 43 
 
 inspire him with hopes of attaining the supreme rank 
 in a kingdom more illustrious than Scotland. Eliza- 
 beth had often declared, that nothing but her resolution 
 to lead a single life, and his being born her own sub- 
 ject, vt^ould have hindered her from choosing the Earl 
 of Leicester for a husband. Such considerations of 
 prudence are, however, often surmounted by love ; 
 and Leicester might flatter himself, that the violence 
 of her affection would at length triumph both over the 
 maxims of policy, and the scruples of pride. These 
 hopes induced him, now and then, to conclude the 
 proposal of his marriage with the Scottish Queen to 
 be a project for his destruction ; and he imputed it to 
 the malice of Cecil, who, under the specious pretence 
 of doing him honour, intended to ruin him in the good 
 opinion both of Elizabeth and Mary. 
 
 A treaty of marriage, proposed by one Queen, who 
 dreaded its success ; listened to by another, who was 
 secretly determined against it; and scarce desired by 
 the man himself, whose interest and reputation it was 
 calculated, in appearance, to promote ; could not, 
 under so many unfavourable circumstances, be brought 
 to a fortunate issue. Both Elizabeth and Mary con- 
 tinued, however, to act with equal dissimulation. The 
 former, notwithstanding her fears of losing Leicester, 
 solicited warmly in his behalf. The latter, though 
 she began about this time to cast her eyes upon 
 another subject of England, did not, at once, venture 
 finally to reject Elizabeth's favourite. 
 
 The person towards whom Mary began to turn her 
 thoughts was Henry Stuart Lord Darnley, eldest son 
 of the Earl of Lennox. That nobleman having been 
 driven out of Scotland under the regency of the Duke 
 
44 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 of Chatelherault, had lived in banishment for twenty 
 years. His wife. Lady Margaret Douglas, was Mary's 
 most dangerous rival in her claim upon the English 
 succession. She was the daughter of Margaret, the 
 eldest sister of Henry VIII. by the Earl of Angus, 
 whom that Queen married after the death of her hus- 
 band James IV. In that age, the right and order of 
 succession was not settled with the same accuracy 
 as at present. Time, and the decision of almost 
 every case that can possibly happen, have at last in- 
 troduced certainty into a matter, which, naturally, is 
 subject to all the variety arising from the caprice of 
 lawyers, guided by obscure and often imaginary ana- 
 logies. Lady Lennox, though born of a second mar- 
 riage, was one degree nearer the royal blood of Eng- 
 land than Mary. She was the daughter, Mary only 
 the grand-daughter of Margaret. This was not the 
 only advantage over Mary which Lady Lennox en- 
 joyed. She was born in England, and by a maxim of 
 law in that country, with regard to private inheri- 
 tances, whoever is not born in England, or at least 
 of parents, who, at the time of his birth, were in the 
 obedience of the King of England, cannot enjoy any 
 inheritance in the kingdom." This maxim. Hale, an 
 English lawyer, produced in a treatise which he pub- 
 lished at this time, and endeavoured to apply it to the 
 right of succession to the crown. In a private cause, 
 these pretexts might have given rise to a long and 
 doubtful litigation; where a crown was at stake, 
 such nice disputes and subtleties were to be avoided 
 with the utmost care. If Darnley should happen to 
 contract an alliance with any of the powerful families 
 in England, or should publicly profess the Protestant 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 45 
 
 religion, these plausible and popular topics might be 
 so urged, as to prove fatal to the pretensions of a 
 foreigner, and of a Papist. 
 
 Mary was aware of all this ; and in order to prevent 
 any danger from that quarter, had early endeavoured 
 to cultivate a friendly correspondence with the family 
 of Lennox. In the year 1562, both the Earl and the 
 Lady Margaret w ere taken into custody by Elizabeth's 
 orders, on account of their holding a secret correspon- 
 dence with the Scottish Queen. 
 
 From the time that Mary became sensible of the 
 difficulties which would attend her marrying a foreign 
 prince, she entered into a still closer connexion with 
 the Earl of Lennox, and invited him to return into 
 Scotland. This she endeavoured to conceal from 
 Elizabeth ; but a transaction of so much importance, 
 did not escape the notice of that discerning princess. 
 She observed, but did not interrupt it. Nothing could 
 fall in more perfectly with her views concerning Scot- 
 tish affairs. She was pleased to see the pride of the 
 Scottish Queen stoop, at last, to the thoughts of taking 
 a subject to her bed. Darnley was in no situation to 
 excite her jealousy or her fears. His father's estate 
 lay in England, and by means of this pledge, she hoped 
 to keep the negotiation entirely in her own hands, to 
 play the same game of artifice and delay, which she 
 had planned out if her recommendation of Leicester 
 had been more favourably received. 
 
 As before the union of the two crowns, no subject 
 of one kingdom could pass into the other without the 
 permission of both sovereigns ; no sooner did Lennox, 
 under pretence of prosecuting his wife's claim upon 
 the earldom of Angus, apply to Elizabeth for her 
 license to go into Scotland, than he obtained it. To- 
 
46 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 gether with it, she gave him letters warmly recommend- 
 ing his person and cause to Mary's friendship and pro- 
 tection. But, at the same time, as it was her manner 
 to involve all her transactions with regard to Scotland 
 in some degree of perplexity and contradiction, she 
 warned Mary that this indulgence to Lennox might 
 prove fatal to herself, as his return could not fail of 
 reviving the ancient animosity between him and the 
 house of Hamilton. 
 
 This admonition gave umbrage to Mary, and drew 
 from her an angry reply, which occasioned for some 
 time a total interruption of all correspondence between ^ 
 the two Queens. Mary was not a little alarmed at 
 this ; she both dreaded the effects of Elizabeth's re- 
 sentment, and felt sensibly the disadvantage of being 
 excluded from a free intercourse with England, where 
 her ambassadors had all along carried on with some 
 success secret negotiations, which increased the number 
 of her partizans, and paved her way towards the throne. 
 In order to remove the causes of the present difficulty, 
 Melvil was sent express to the Court of England. He 
 found it no difficult matter to bring about a reconcile- 
 ment, and soon re-established the appearance, but 
 not the confidence of friendship, which was all that 
 had subsisted for some time between the two Queens. 
 
 During this negotiation, Elizabeth's professions of 
 love to Mary, and Melvil's replies in name of his 
 mistress, were made in the language of the warmest 
 and most cordial friendship. But what Melvil truly 
 observes, with respect to Elizabeth, may be extended 
 without injustice to both Queens: " There was 
 neither plain dealing, nor upright meaning, but great 
 dissimulation, envy, and fear." 
 
 Lennox, however, in consequence of the license 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 47 
 
 which he had obtained, set out for Scotland, and was 
 received by the Queen, not only with the respect due 
 to a nobleman so nearly allied to the royal family, 
 but treated with a distinguished familiarity, which 
 could not fail of inspiring him with more elevated 
 hopes. The rumour of his son's marriage to the 
 Queen began to spread over the kingdom, and the 
 eyes of all Scotland were turned upon him as the 
 father of their future master. The Duke of Chatelhe- 
 rault was the first to take the alarm. He considered 
 Lennox as the ancient and hereditary enemy of the 
 house of Hamilton ; and in his grandeur saw the ruin 
 of himself and his friends. But the Queen interposed 
 her authority to prevent any violent rupture, and em- 
 ployed all her influence to bring about an accommo- 
 dation of their diflferences. 
 
 The powerful family of Douglas no less dreaded 
 Lennox's return, from an apprehension that he would 
 wrest the earldom of Angus out of their hands. But 
 the Queen, who well knew how dangerous it would be 
 to irritate Morton, and other great men of that name, 
 prevailed on Lennox to purchase their friendship, by 
 allowing his lady's claim upon the earldom of Angus 
 to drop. 
 
 After these preliminary steps, Mary ventured to 
 call a meeting of parliament. The act of forfeiture 
 passed against Lennox in the year 1545, was repealed, 
 and he was publicly restored to the honours and estate 
 of his ancestors. 
 
 Two years had already been consumed in fruitless 
 negotiations concerning the marriage of the Scottish 
 Queen. Mary had full leisure and opportunity to 
 discern the fallacy and deceit of all Elizabeth's pro- 
 
48 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 ceedings, with respect to that affair. But, in order to 
 set the real intentions of the English Queen in a clear 
 light, and to bring her to some explicit declaration of 
 her sentiments, Mary, at last, intimated to Randolph, 
 that, on condition her right of succession to the crown 
 of England were publicly acknowledged, she was 
 ready to yield to the solicitations of his mistress in 
 behalf of Leicester. Nothing could be farther than 
 this from the mind and intention of Elizabeth. The 
 right of succession was a mystery, which, during her 
 whole reign, her jealousy preserved untouched, and 
 unexplained. She had promised, however, when she 
 first began to interest herself in the marriage of the 
 Scottish Queen, all that was now demanded. How 
 to retreat with decency, how to elude her former offer, 
 was, on that account, not a little perplexing. 
 
 The facility with which Lord Darnley obtained per- 
 mission to visit the Court of Scotland, was owing, in 
 all probability, to that embarrassment. From the time 
 of Melvil's embassy. Lady Lennox had warmly soli- 
 cited this liberty for her son. Elizabeth was no 
 stranger to the ambitious hopes with which that 
 young nobleman flattered himself. She had received 
 repeated advices from her ministers, of the sentiments 
 which Mary began to entertain in his favour. It was 
 entirely in her power to prevent his stirring out of 
 London. In the present conjuncture, however, no- 
 thing could be of more advantage to her, than Dam- 
 ley's journey into Scotland. She had already brought 
 one actor upon the stage, who, under her manage- 
 ment, had for a long time amused the Scottish Queen. 
 She hoped no less absolutely to direct the motions of 
 Darnley, who was likewise her subject; and again to 
 
AND EI.IZABETH. 
 
 49 
 
 involve Mary in all the tedious intricacies of negotia- 
 tion, Tiiese motives determined Elizabeth and her 
 ministers to yield to the solicitations of Lady Lennox. 
 
 But this deep laid scheme was in a moment discon- 
 certed. Such unexpected events as the fancy of poets 
 ascribes to love, are, at some times, really produced 
 by that passion. An affair which had been the object 
 of so many political intrigues, and had moved and in- 
 terested so many princes, was at last decided by the 
 sudden liking of two young persons. Lord Darnley 
 was at this time in the first bloom and vigour of youth. 
 In beauty and gracefulness of person, he surpassed all 
 his cotemporaries ; he excelled, eminently, in such 
 arts as add ease and elegance to external form, and 
 which enable it not only to dazzle, but to please. 
 Mary was of an age and of a temper to feel the full 
 power of these accomplishments. The impression 
 which Lord Darnley made upon her was visible from 
 the time of their first interview. The whole business 
 of the court was to amuse, and entertain this illus- 
 trious guest; and in all those scenes of gaiety, Darn- 
 ley, whose qualifications were altogether superficial 
 and showy, appeared to great advantage. His con- 
 quest of the Queen's heart became complete, and in- 
 clination now prompted her to conclude a marriage, 
 the first thoughts of which had been suggested by con- 
 siderations merely political. 
 
 Elizabeth contributed, and perhaps not without de- 
 sign, to increase the violence of this passion. Soon 
 after Darnley's arrival in Scotland, she, in return to 
 that message whereby Mary had signified her willing- 
 ness to accept of Leicester, gave an answer in such 
 terms as plainly unravelled her original intention in that 
 intrigue. She promised, if the Scottish Queen's marriage 
 
 E 
 
50 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 with Leicester should take place, to advance him to great 
 honours ; but with regard to her title to the English 
 succession, she would neither suffer any legal inquiry 
 to be made concerning it, nor permit it to be publicly 
 recognized, till she herself should declare her resolu- 
 tion never to marry. Notwithstanding Elizabeth's 
 former promises, Mary had reason to expect every 
 thing contained in this reply; her high spirit, how- 
 ever, could not bear with patience such a cruel dis- 
 covery of the contempt, the artifice, and mockery 
 with which, under the veil of friendship, she had been 
 so long abused. She burst into tears of indignation, 
 and expressed with the utmost bitterness, her sense of 
 that disingenuous craft which had been employed to 
 deceive her. 
 
 The natural effect of this indignation was, to add to 
 the impetuosity with which she pursued her o^\ti 
 scheme. Blinded by resentment, as well as by love, 
 she observed no defects in the man whom she had 
 chosen, and began to take the necessary steps towards 
 accomplishing her design, with ail the impatience 
 natural tojthose passions. 
 
 As Darnley was so nearly related to the Queen, the 
 canon law made it necessary to obtain the Pope's 
 dispensation, before the celebration of the marriage. 
 For this purpose, she early set on foot a negotiation 
 with the Court of Rome. 
 
 She was busy, at the same time, in procuring the 
 consent of the French King and his mother. Having 
 communicated her design, and the motives which de- 
 termined her choice, to Castelnau the French am- 
 bassador, she employed him, as the most proper person, 
 to bring his court to fall in with her views. Among 
 other arguments to this purpose, Castelnau mentioned 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 61 
 
 Mary's attachment to Dariiley, which he represented 
 to be so violent and deep-rooted, that it was no longer 
 in her own power to break off the match. Nor were 
 the French ministers backward in encouraging Mary's 
 passion. Her pride would never stoop to an alliance 
 with a subject of France. By this choice, they were 
 delivered from the apprehension of a match with any 
 of the Austrian princes, as w^ell as the danger of too 
 close an union with Elizabeth ; and as Darnley professed 
 the Roman Catholic religion, this suited the bigotted 
 schemes which that court had adopted. 
 
 While Mary was endeavouring to reconcile foreign 
 courts to a measure which she had so much at heart ; 
 Darnley, and his father, by their behaviour, were raising 
 up enemies at home, to obstruct it. Lennox had, 
 during the former part of his life, discovered no great 
 compass of abilities, or political wisdom ; and appears 
 to have been a man of a weak understanding, and 
 violent passions. Darnley was not superior to his 
 father in understanding, and all his passions were still 
 more impetuous. To these, be added that insolence, 
 which the advantage of external form, when accom- 
 panied with no quality more valuable, is apt to inspire. 
 Intoxicated witfe the Queen's favour, he began already 
 to assume the haughtiness of a king, and to put on that 
 imperious air, which majesty itself can scarce render 
 tolerable. 
 
 It was by the advice, or at least with the consent of 
 Murray and his party, that Lennox had been invited 
 into Scotland ; and yet, no sooner did he acquire a 
 firm footing in that kingdom, than he began to enter 
 into secret cabals with those noblemen, who w^ere 
 known to be avowed enemies to Murray ; and with 
 regard to religion, to be either neutrals, or favourers 
 
 e2 
 
&2 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 of Popery. Damley, still more imprudent, allowed 
 some rash expressions concerning those favours, which 
 the Queen's bounty had conferred upon Murray, to 
 escape him. 
 
 But, above all these, the familiarity which Damley 
 cultivated with David Rizzio the Italian, contributed 
 to increase the suspicion and disgust of the nobles. 
 
 The low birth, and indigent condition of this man, 
 placed him in a station, in which he ought naturally 
 to have remained unknown to posterity. But what 
 fortune called him to act, and to suffer in Scotland, 
 obliges history to descend from its dignity, and to 
 record his adventures. He was the son of a musician 
 in Turin, and having accompanied the Piedmontese 
 ambassador into Scotland, gained admission into the 
 Queen's family, by his skill in music. His servile 
 condition had taught him suppleness of spirit, and 
 insinuating manners. He quickly crept into the 
 Queen's fav^r; and her French secretary happening to 
 return at that time into his own country, was preferred 
 by her to that office. He now began to make a figure 
 in court, and to appear as a man of w eight and conse- 
 quence. The whole train of suitors and expectants, 
 who have an extreme sagacity in discovering the paths 
 which lead most directly to success, applied to him. 
 His recommendations were observed to have great 
 influence over the Queen, and he grew to be considered 
 not only as a favourite, but as a minister. Nor was 
 Bizzio careful to abate that envy, which always attends 
 such an extraordinary and rapid change of fortune. 
 He studied, on the contrary, to display the whole 
 extent of his favour. He affected to talk often, and 
 familiarly, with the Queen in public. He equalled the 
 greatest and most opulent subjects, in richness of dress. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 and in the number of his attendants. He discovered, 
 in all his behaviour, that assuming insolence, with 
 which unmerited prosperity inspires an ignoble mind. 
 It was with the utmost indignation that the nobles 
 beheld the power ; it was with the utmost difficulty, 
 that they tolerated the arrogance of this unworthy 
 minion. Even in the Queen's presence they could not 
 forbear treating him with marks of contempt. Nor was 
 it his exorbitant power alone, which exasperated the 
 Scots. They considered him, and not without reason, 
 as a dangerous enemy to the Protestant religion, and 
 suspected that he held for this purpose, a secret cor- 
 respondence with the Court of Eome*. 
 
 It was Damley's misfortune to fall under the manage- 
 ment of this man, who, by flattery and assiduity, easily 
 gained on his vanity and inexperience. Rizzio's whole 
 influence on the Queen was employed in his behalf, 
 and contributed, without doubt, towards establishing 
 him more firmly in her afi'ections. - But whatever benefit 
 he might reap from his patronage, it did not counter- 
 balance the contempt, and even the infamy, to which 
 he was exposed, on account of his familiarity with such 
 an upstart. 
 
 Though Darnley daily made progress in the Queen's 
 affections, she conducted herself, however, with such 
 prudent reserve, as to impose on Randolph, the English 
 resident, a man otherwise shrewd and penetrating. It 
 appears from his letters at this period, that he enter- 
 tained not the least suspicion of the intrigue which was 
 carrying on ; and gave his court repeated assurances, 
 that the Scottish Queen had no design of marrying 
 Darnley. In the midst of his security, Mary dispatched 
 
 * Buchan. 340. Melv. 107. 
 
54 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 Maitland to signify her intention to Elizabeth, and to 
 solicit her consent to the marriage with Darnley. 
 This embassy was the first thing which opened the 
 eyes of Randolph. 
 
 Elizabeth afiected the greatest surprise at this sudden 
 resolution of the Scottish Queen, but without reason. 
 The train was laid by herself, and she had no cause to 
 wonder when it took effect. She expressed, at the 
 same time, her disapprobation of the match, in the 
 strongest terms ; and pretended to foresee many dangers 
 and inconveniences arising from it, to both kingdoms. 
 But this, too, was mere afiectation. Mary had often 
 and plainly declared her resolution to marry. It was 
 impossible she could make any choice more inoffensive. 
 The danger of introducing a foreign interest into Britain, 
 which Elizabeth had so justly dreaded, was entirely 
 avoided. Darnley, thotigh allied to both crowns, and 
 possessed of lands in both kingdoms, could be for- 
 midable to neither. It is evident from all these cir- 
 cumstances, that Elizabeth's apprehensions of danger 
 could not possibly be serious; and that, in all her 
 violent declarations against Darnley, there was much 
 more of grimace than of reality*. 
 
 There were not wanting, however, political motives 
 of much weight, to induce that wise Princess to put on 
 the appearance of great displeasure. Mary, intimi- 
 dated by this, might perhaps delay her marriage ; 
 
 * Even the historians of that age acknowledge, that the mamage of the 
 Scottish Queen with a subject, was far from being disagreeable to Elizabeth. 
 Knox, 369, 373. Buchan. 339. Castelnau, who, at that time, was well 
 acquainted with the intrigues of both the British courts, asserts, upon grounds 
 of great probability, that the match was wholly Elizabeth's own work ; 
 Casteln. 462 ; and that she rejoiced at the accomplishment of it, appears from 
 the letters of her own ambassadors, Keith, 280, 288. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 55 
 
 which Eliz^abeth desired to obstruct with a weakness 
 that little suited the dignity of her mind, and the ele- 
 vation of her character. Besides, the tranquillity of 
 her own kingdom was the great object of Elizabeth's 
 policy ; and by declaring her dissatisfaction with Mary's 
 conduct, she hoped to alarm that party in Scotland, 
 which was attached to the English interest, and to 
 encourage such of the nobles, as secretly disapproved 
 the match, openly to oppose it. The seeds of discord 
 would, by this means, be scattered through that king- 
 dom. Intestine commotions might arise. Amidst 
 these, Mary could form none of those dangerous 
 schemes, to which the union of her people might have 
 prompted her. Elizabeth would become the umpire 
 between the Scottish Queen and her contending sub- 
 jects. And England might look on, with security, 
 while a storm, which she had raised, wasted the only 
 kingdom which could possibly disturb its peace. 
 
 In prosecution of this scheme, she laid before her 
 privy council the message from the Scottish Queen, 
 and consulted them with regard to the answer she 
 should return. Their determination, it is easy to con- 
 ceive, was perfectly conformable to her secret views. 
 They drew up a remonstrance against the intended 
 match, full of the imaginary dangers, with which that 
 event threatened the kingdom. Nor did she think it 
 enough, to signify her disapprobation of the measure, 
 either by Maitland, Mary's ambassador, or by Ran- 
 dolph, her own resident in Scotland : in order to add 
 more dignity to the farce which she chose to act, she 
 appointed Sir Nicholas Throgmorton her ambassador 
 extraordinary. She commanded him to declare, in the 
 strongest terms, her dissatisfaction with the step which 
 Mary proposed to take ; and, at the same time, to pro- 
 
56 
 
 MA.RY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 duce the determination of the privy council, as an 
 evidence that the sentiments of the nation were not 
 different from her own. Not long after, she confined 
 Lady Lennox as a prisoner, first in her own house, and 
 then sent her to the Tower. 
 
 Intelligence of all this reached Scotland, before the 
 arrival of the English ambassador. In the first tran- 
 sports of her indignation, Mary resolved, no longer to 
 keep any measures with Elizabeth ; and sent orders to 
 Maitland, who accompanied Throgmorton, to return 
 instantly to the English court, and, in her name, to 
 declare to Elizabeth, that after having been amused so 
 long to so little purpose ; after having been fooled, and 
 imposed on so grossly by her artifices ; she was now 
 resolved to gratify her own inclination, and to ask no 
 other consent, but that of her own subjects, in the 
 choice of an husband. Maitland, with his usual 
 sagacity, foresaw all the efi*ects of such a rash and 
 angry message, and ventured rather to incur the dis- 
 pleasure of his mistress, by disobeying her commands, 
 than to be made the instrument of tearing asunder, so 
 violently, the few remaining ties, which still linked 
 togedier the two Queens. 
 
 Mary herself soon became sensible of her error. 
 She received the English ambassador with respect : 
 justified her own conduct with decency; and though 
 unalterable in her resolution, she afi*ected a wonderful 
 solicitude to reconcile Elizabeth to the measure ; and 
 even pretended, out of complaisance towards her, to 
 put off the consummation of the marriage for some 
 months. It is probable, however, that the want of the 
 Pope's dispensation, and the prospect of gaining the 
 consent of her own subjects, were the real motives of 
 this delay. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 67 
 
 This consent Mary laboured with the utmost industry 
 to obtain. The Earl of Murray was the person in the 
 kingdom, whose concurrence was of the greatest im- 
 portance ; but she had reason to fear that it would not 
 be procured without extreme difficulty. From the time 
 of Lennox's return into Scotland, Murray perceived 
 that the Queen's alfections began gradually to be 
 estranged from him. Darnley, Athol, Rizzio, all the 
 court favourites, combined against him. His ambitious 
 spirit could not brook this diminution of his power, 
 which his former services had so little merited. He 
 retired into the country, and gave way to rivals, with 
 whom he was unable to contend. The return of the 
 Earl of Bothwell, his avowed enemy, who had been 
 accused of a design upon his life, and who had resided 
 for some time in foreign countries, obliged him to 
 attend to his own safety. No entreaty of the Queen 
 could persuade him to a reconcilement with that noble- 
 man. He insisted on having him brought to a public 
 trial, and prevailed, by his importunity, to have a day 
 fixed for it. Bothwell durst not appear in opposition 
 to a man, who came to the place of trial attended by 
 5000 of his followers on horseback. He was once 
 more constrained to leave the kingdom ; but, by the 
 Queen's command, the sentence of outlawry, which is 
 incurred by non-appearance, was not pronounced 
 against him. 
 
 Mary, sensible, at the same time, of how much im- 
 portance it was, to gain a subject so powerful and so 
 popular as the Earl of Murray, invited him back to 
 court, and received him with many demonstrations of 
 respect and confidence. At last she desired him to set 
 an example to her other subjects, by subscribing a 
 
58 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 paper, containing a formal approbation of her marriage 
 with Damley. Murray had many reasons to hesitate, 
 and even to withhold his assent. Darnley had not only 
 undermined his credit with the Queen, but discovered 
 on every occasion, a rooted aversion to his person. 
 By consenting to his elevation to the throne, he would 
 give him such an accession of dignity and power, as 
 no man willingly bestows on an enemy. The unhappy 
 consequences which might follow upon a breach with 
 England, were likewise of considerable weight with 
 Murray. He had always openly preferred a confede- 
 racy with England, before the ancient alliance with 
 France. By his means chiefly, this change in the 
 system of national politics had been brought about. 
 A league with England had been established ; and he 
 could not think of sacrificing, to a rash and youthful 
 passion, an alliance of so much utility to the kingdom ; 
 and which, he and the other nobles were bound, by 
 every obligation, to maintain. Nor was the interest 
 of religion forgotten on this occasion. Mary, though 
 surrounded by Protestant counsellors, had found 
 means to hold a dangerous correspondence with foreign 
 Catholics. She had even courted the Pope's protec- 
 tion, who had sent her a subsidy of 8000 crowns. 
 Though Murray had hitherto endeavoured to bridle the 
 zeal of the reformed clergy, and to set the Queen's 
 conduct in the most favourable light, yet her obstinate 
 adherence to her own religion, could not fail of alarm- 
 ing him ; and by her resolution to marry a papist, the 
 only hope of reclaiming her which remained, was for 
 ever cut off. Each of these considerations had its in- 
 fluence on Murray, and all of them determined him to de- 
 cline complying, at that time, with the Queen's request. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 59 
 
 The convention of nobles, which was assembled a 
 lew days afier, discovered a greater disposition to 
 gratify the Queen. Many of them, without hesitation, 
 expressed their approbation of the intended match; 
 but as others were startled at the same dangers which 
 had alarmed Murray, or were influenced by his ex- 
 ample, to refuse their consent, another convention was 
 appointed at Perth, in order to deliberate more fully 
 concerning this matter. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mary gave a public evidence of her own 
 inclination, by conferring upon Damley titles of ho- 
 nour peculiar to the royal family. The opposition she 
 had hitherto met with, and the many contrivances 
 employed to thwart and disappoint her inclination, 
 produced their usual efi'ect on her heart; they confirmed 
 her passion, and increased its violence. The simpli- 
 city of that age imputed an aflfection, so excessive, to 
 the influence of witchcraft. It was owing, however, 
 to no other charm, than the irresistible power of youth 
 and beauty, over a young and tender heart. Darnley 
 grew giddy with his prosperity. Flattered by the love 
 of a Queen, and the applause of many among her sub- 
 jects, his natural haughtiness and insolence became 
 insupportable, and he could no longer bear advice, 
 far less contradiction. Lord Ruthven, happening to 
 be the first person who informed him that Mary, in 
 order to soothe Elizabeth, had delayed, for some time, 
 creating him Duke of Albany, he, in a frenzy of rage, 
 drew his dagger and attempted to stab him. It required 
 all Mary's attention, to prevent his falling under that 
 contempt, to which such behaviour deservedly exposed 
 him. 
 
 In no scene of her life was ever Mary's own address 
 more remarkably displayed. Love sharpened her in- 
 
60 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 vention, and made her study every method of gaining 
 her subjects. Many of the nobles she won by her 
 address, and more by her promises. On some she 
 bestowed lands, to others she gave new titles of 
 honour. She even condescended to court the Pro- 
 testant clergy ; and having invited three of their super- 
 intendents to Stirling, she declared, in strong terms, 
 her resolution to protect their religion, expressed her 
 willingness to be present at a conference upon the 
 points in doctrine which were disputed between the 
 Protestants and Papists, and went so far as to show 
 some desire to hear such of their preachers, as were 
 most remarkable for moderation. By these arts, the 
 Queen gained wonderfully upon the people, who, 
 unless their jealousy be raised by repeated injuries, 
 are always ready to view the actions of their sovereign 
 with an indulgent eye. 
 
 On the other hand, Murray and his associates were 
 plainly the dupes of Elizabeth's policy. She talked 
 in so high a strain, of her displeasure at the intended 
 match; she treated Lady Lennox with so much rigour; 
 she wrote to the Scottish Queen in such strong terms ; 
 she recalled the Earl of Lennox and his son, in such 
 a peremptory manner, and with such severe denuncia- 
 tions of her vengeance, if they should presume to dis- 
 obey ; that all these expressions of aversion fully per- 
 suaded them of her sincerity. This belief fortified 
 their scruples with respect to the match, and encou- 
 raged them to oppose it. They began w ith forming 
 among themselves bonds of confederacy and mutual 
 defence; they entered into a secret correspondence 
 with the English resident, in order to secure Elizabeth's 
 assistance, whenit should become needful; they endea- 
 voured to fill the nation with such apprehensions of 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 61 
 
 danger, as might counterbalance the influence of those 
 arts which the Queen had employed. 
 
 Besides these intrigues, there were secretly carried 
 on, by both parties, dark designs of a more criminal 
 nature, and more suitable to the spirit of the age. 
 Damley, impatient of that opposition, which he im- 
 puted wholly to Murray, and resolving at any rate to 
 get rid of such a powerful enemy, formed a plot to 
 assassinate him, during the meeting of the convention 
 at Perth. Murray, on his part, despairing of prevent- 
 ing the marriage by any other means, had, together 
 with the Duke of Chatelherault, and the Earl of Argyll, 
 concerted measures for seizing Damley, and carrying 
 him a prisoner into England. 
 
 If either of these conspiracies had taken effect, this 
 convention might have been attended with conse- 
 quences extreniely tragical ; but both were rendered 
 abortive, by the vigilance or good fortune of those 
 against whom they were formed. Murray, being 
 warned of his danger by some retainers to the court, 
 who still favoured his interest, avoided the blow, by 
 not going to Perth. Mary, receiving intelligence of 
 Murray's enterprise, retired with the utmost expedition, 
 along with Damley, to the other side of Forth. Con- 
 scious, on both sides, of guilt, and inflamed with 
 resentment, it was impossible they could either forget 
 the violence, which themselves had meditated, or 
 forgive the injuries intended against them. From 
 that moment, all hope of reconcilement was at an end, 
 and their mutual enmity burst out with every symptom 
 of implacable hatred. 
 
 On Mary's return to Edinburgh, she summoned her 
 vassals by proclamation, and solicited them by her 
 letters to repair thither in arms for the protection of 
 
MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 her person against her foreign and domestic enemies. 
 She was obeyed with all the promptness and alacrity, 
 with which subjects run to defend a mild and popular 
 administration. This popularity, however, she owed 
 in a great measure to Murray, who had directed her 
 administration with great prudence. But the crime of 
 opposing her marriage obliterated the memory of his 
 former services ; and Mary, impatient of contradiction, 
 and apt to consider those who disputed her will, as 
 enemies to her person, determined to let him feel the 
 whole weight of her vengeance. For this purpose she 
 summoned him to appear before her upon a short 
 w^arning, to answer to such things as should be laid to 
 his charge. At this very time, Murray, and the lords 
 who had adhered to him, were assembled at Stirling, 
 to deliberate what course they should hold in such a 
 difficult conjuncture. But the current of popular favour 
 ran so strongly against them; and, notwithstanding 
 some fears and jealousies, there prevailed in the 
 nation such a general disposition to gratify the Queen 
 in a matter which so nearly concerned her, that, with- 
 out coming to any other conclusion than to implore 
 the Queen of England's protection, they put an end to 
 their ineffectual consultations, and returned every 
 man to his own house. 
 
 Together with this discovery of the weakness of 
 her enemies, the confluence of her subjects from 
 all comers of the kingdom, afforded Mary an agree- 
 able proof of her own strength. While the Queen w^as 
 in this prosperous situation, she determined to bring 
 to a period, an affair which had so long engrossed her 
 heart, and occupied her attention. On the 29th of 
 July, 1565, she married Lord Darnley. 
 
 Meanwhile Elizabeth endeavoured to embarrass 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 63 
 
 Mary, by a new declaration of disgust at her conduct. 
 She blamed both her choice of Lord Darnley, and the 
 precipitation with which she had concluded the mar- 
 riage. She required Lennox and Darnley, whom she 
 still called her subjects, to return into England ; and 
 at the same time, she warmly interceded in behalf of 
 Murray, whose behaviour she represented to be not 
 only innocent, but laudable. This message, so morti- 
 fying to the pride of the Queen, and so full of con-- 
 tempt for her husband, was rendered still more in- 
 supportable by the petulant and saucy demeanour of 
 Tamworth, the person who delivered it. Mary vindi- 
 cated her own conduct with warmth, but with great 
 strength of reason ; and rejected the intercession in 
 behalf of Murray, not without signs of resentment at 
 Elizabeth's pretending to intermeddle in the internal 
 government of her kingdom. After the failure of 
 Elizabeth's application in favour of Murray and his 
 faction, now banished to England, nothing which 
 Bedford's personal friendship for Murray could sup- 
 ply, was wanting to render his retreat agreeable. But 
 Elizabeth herself treated the rebels with extreme 
 neglect. She had fully gained her end, and by their 
 means, had excited such discord and jealousies among 
 the Scots, as would in all probability long distract and 
 weaken Mary's councils. Her business now, was to 
 save appearances, and to justify herself to the minis- 
 ters of France and Spain, who accused her of foment- 
 ing the troubles in Scotland by her intrigues. The 
 expedient she contrived for her vindication, strongly 
 displays her own character, and the wretched condi- 
 tion of exiles, who are obliged to depend on a foreign 
 prince. Murray, and Hamilton Abbot of Kilwinning, 
 being appointed by the other fugitives to wait on Eli- 
 
64 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 zabeth, instead of meeting with that welcome recep- 
 tion which was due to men, who out of confidence in 
 her promises, had hazarded their lives and fortunes, 
 could not even oMain the favour of an audience, until 
 they had meanly consented to acknowledge, in the 
 presence of the French and Spanish ambassadors, that 
 Elizabeth had given them no encouragement to take 
 arms. No sooner did they make this declaration, than 
 she astonished them with this reply — " You have de- 
 clared the truth ; I am far from setting an example of 
 rebellion to my own subjects, by countenancing those 
 who rebel against their lawful prince. The treason, 
 of which you have been guilty, is detestable ; and as 
 traitors, I banish you from my presence." Notwith- 
 standing this scene of farce and of falshood, so disho- 
 nourable to all the persons who acted a part in it, 
 Elizabeth permitted the malecontents peaceably to 
 reside in her dominions, supplied them secretly with 
 money, and renewed her intercession with the Scottish 
 Queen in their favour. — Robertson. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 65 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 B 'u^lh of King James — Darnley hated by Mary, and Both- 
 well loved — Elizabeth perplexed about Mary's successful 
 Pretensions to the Succession, -among the English — 
 Elisabeth soothes and gains her Parliament — Mary 
 intrigues in favour of Popery — Her extreme Hatred of 
 the King. 
 
 The hour of the Queen's delivery now approached. 
 As her palace was defended only by a slender guard, 
 it seemed imprudent to expose her person, at this 
 time, to the insults she might suffer in a kingdom torn 
 by factions, and prone to mutiny. For this reason, 
 the privy council advised the Queen to fix her resi- 
 dence in the castle of Edinburgh, the strongest fortress 
 in the kingdom, and the most proper place for the 
 security of her person. In order to render this security 
 more perfect, Mary laboured to extinguish the domes- 
 tic feuds which divided some of the principal nobles. 
 Murray and Argyll were exasperated against Huntly 
 and Bothwell, by reciprocal and repeated injuries. 
 The Queen, by her authority and entreaties, effected 
 a reconcilement among them, and drew from them a 
 promise to bury their discords in eyerlasting oblivion. 
 This reconcilement Mary had so much at heart, that 
 she made it the condition on which she again received 
 Murray into favour. 
 
 On the 19th of June, Mary was delivered of her only 
 son James, a prince whose birth was happy for the 
 whole island, and unfortunate to her alone. His 
 accession to the throne of England, united the two 
 divided kingdoms in one mighty monarchy, and 
 
 F 
 
66 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 established the power of Great Britain on a firm 
 foundation. While she, torn early from her son by 
 the cruelty of her fate, was never allowed to indulge 
 those tender passions, nor to taste those joys which 
 fill the heart of a mother. 
 
 Melvil was instantly dispatched to London with an 
 account of this event. It struck Elizabeth at first in 
 a sensible manner ; and the advantage and superiority 
 which her rival had acquired by the birth of a son, 
 forced tears from her eyes. But before Melvil was 
 admitted to audience, she had so far recovered the 
 command of herself, as to receive him not only with 
 decency, but with excessive cheerfulness ; and wil- 
 lingly accepted the invitation which Mary gave her, to 
 stand godmother to her son. 
 
 As Mary loved splendour and magnificence, she 
 resolved to celebrate the baptism of the young Prince 
 with great pomp; and for that purpose, sent invita- 
 tions of the same kind to the French King, and to the 
 Duke of Savoy, the uncle of her former husband. 
 
 The Queen, on her recovery, discovered no change 
 in her sentiments with respect to the King. The death 
 of Rizzio, and the countenance he had given to an 
 action so insolent and unjustifiable, were still fresh in 
 her memory. She was frequently pensive and dejected. 
 And though Henry sometimes attended at court, and 
 accompanied her in her progresses through difibrent 
 parts of the kingdom, he met with little reverence from 
 the nobles, while Mary treated him with the greatest 
 reserve, and did not suff*er him to possess any autho- 
 rity. The breach between them became every day 
 more apparent. Attempts were made towards a re- 
 concilement, particularly by Castelnau, the French 
 ambassador j but after such a violent rupture, it was 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 67 
 
 found no easy matter to bind the nuptial knot a-new ; 
 and though he prevailed on the King and Queen to pass 
 two nights together, we may, with great probability, 
 pronounce this appearance of union, to which Castel- 
 nau trusted, not to have been sincere; we know with 
 certainty that it was not lasting. 
 
 Bothwell all this while was the Queen^s prime con- 
 fident. Without his participation, no business was 
 concluded, and no favour bestowed. Together with 
 this ascendant over her councils, Bothwell, if we may 
 believe the cotemporary historians, acquired no less 
 sway over her heart. But at what precise time this 
 ambitious lord first allowed the sentiments of a lover 
 to occupy the place of that duty and respect which a 
 subject owes his sovereign ; or when Mary, instead of 
 gratitude for his faithful services, felt a passion of 
 another nature rising in her bosom, it is no easy mat- 
 ter to determine. Such delicate transitions of passion, 
 can be discerned only by those who are admitted near 
 the persons of the parties, and who can view the 
 secret workings of the heart with calm and acute ob- 
 servation. Neither Knox nor Buchanan enjoyed these 
 advantages. Their humble station allowed them only 
 a distant access to the Queen and her favourite. And 
 the ardour of their zeal, and the violence of their pre- 
 judices, rendered their opinions rash, precipitate, and 
 inaccurate. It is by the effects of this reciprocal pas- 
 sion, rather than by their accounts of it, that ^bse- 
 quent historians can judge of its reality. 
 
 Adventurous as Bothwell's project to gain the 
 Queen may appear, it was formed and carried on 
 under very favourable circumstances. Mary was 
 young, gay, and aff'able. She possessed gTeat sensi- 
 bility of temper, and was capable of the utmost ten- 
 
 f2 
 
68 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 demess of affection. She had placed her love on a 
 very unworthy object, who requited it with ingrati- 
 tude^ and treated her with neglect, with insolence, 
 and with brutality. All these she felt, and resented. 
 In this situation, the attention and complaisance of a 
 man who had vindicated her authority and protected 
 her person ; who entered into all her views, who 
 soothed all her passions, who watched and improved 
 every opportunity of insinuating his design and re- 
 commending his passion — could scarce fail of making 
 an impression on a heart of such a frame as Mary's. 
 
 The haughty spirit of Damley, nursed up in flattery, 
 and accustomed to command, could not bear the con- 
 tempt under which he had now fallen, and the state of 
 insignificance to which he saw himself reduced. But 
 in a country where he was universally hated or de- 
 spised, he could never hope to form a party, which 
 would second any attempt he might make to recover 
 power. He addressed himself, therefore, to the Pope, 
 and to the Kings of France and Spain, with many 
 professions of his own zeal for the Catholic religion, 
 and with bitter complaints against the Queen, for 
 neglecting to promote that interest: and soon after, 
 he took a resolution, equally wild and desperate, of 
 embarking on board a ship, which he provided, and 
 of flying into foreign parts. It is almost impossible to 
 form any satisfactory conjecture concerning the motives 
 which influence a capricious and irregular mind. He 
 hoped, perhaps, to recommend himself to the Catholic 
 Princes on the Continent, by his zeal for religion, and 
 that they would employ their interest towards reinstat- 
 ing him in the possession of that power which he had 
 lost. Perhaps he expected nothing more than the 
 comfort of hiding the disgrace under which he was 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 69 
 
 now fallen, among strangers, who had never been 
 witnesses of his former prosperity. 
 
 He communicated the design to the French ambas- 
 sador Le Croc, and to his father the Earl of Lennox. 
 They both endeavoured to dissuade him from it, but 
 without success. Lennox, who seems, as well as his 
 son, to have lost the Queen's confidence, and who, 
 about this time, was seldom at court, instantly com- 
 municated the matter to her by a letter. Henry, who 
 had refused to accompany the Queen from Stirling to 
 Edinburgh, was likewise absent from court. He arrived 
 there, however, on the same day she received the 
 account of his intended flight. But he was more than 
 usually wayward and peevish ; and scrupling to enter 
 the palace, unless certain lords who attended the 
 Queen were dismissed, Mary was obliged to meet him 
 without the gates. At last he suffered her to conduct 
 him into her own apartment. She endeavoured to 
 draw from him the reasons of the strange resolution 
 which he had taken, and to divert him from it. In 
 spite, however, of all her arguments and entreaties, he 
 remained silent and inflexible. Next day the privy 
 council, by her direction, expostulated with him on 
 the same head. He persisted, notwithstanding, in his 
 suUenness and obstinacy ; and neither deigned to ex- 
 plain the motives of his conduct, nor signified any 
 intention of altering it. As he left the apartment, he 
 turned towards the Queen, and told her, that she 
 should not see his face again for a long time. A few 
 days after, he wrote to Mary, and mentioned two 
 things as grounds of his disgust. She herself, he said, 
 no longer admitted him into any confidence, and had 
 deprived him of all pow er ; and the nobles, after her 
 example, treated him with open neglect, so that he 
 
70 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 appeared in every place without the dignity and splenr 
 dour of a king. 
 
 Nothing could be more mortifying to Mary, than 
 this intended flight of the King's, which would have 
 spread the infamy of their domestic quarrel all over 
 Europe. Compassion for a monarch who would then 
 appear to be forced into exile by her neglect and ill 
 usage, might have disposed mankind to entertain sen- 
 timents concerning the causes of their discord, little 
 to her advantage. In order, therefore, to prepossess 
 the minds of her allies, and to screen her reputation 
 from any censure with which Damley might endeavour 
 to load it, the privy council transmitted a narrative 
 of this whole transaction, both to the King, and to 
 the Queen Mother of France. It is drawn with great 
 art, and sets Mary's conduct in the most favourable 
 point of light. 
 
 About this time, the license of the Borderers called 
 for redress ; and Mary resolving to hold a court of 
 justice at Jedburgh, the inhabitants of several adjacent 
 counties were summoned to attend their sovereign in 
 arms, according to custom. Bothwell was at that time 
 lieutenant or warden of all the marches, an oflSce 
 among the most important in the kingdom ; and though 
 usually divided into three distinct governments, be- 
 stowed by the Queen's favour upon him alone. In order 
 to display his own valour and activity in the discharge 
 of this trust, he attempted to seize a gang of banditti, 
 who, lurking among the marshes of Liddesdale, in- 
 fested the rest of the country. But while he was 
 laying hold of one of those desperadoes, he was 
 wounded by him in several places, so that his follow- 
 ers were obliged to carry him to Hermitage-castle. 
 Mary instantly flew thither, with an impatience which 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 71 
 
 strongly marks the anxiety of a lover, but little suited 
 the dignity of a Queen. Finding that Bothwell was 
 threatened with no dangerous symptom, she returned 
 that same day to Jedburgh. The fatigue of such a 
 journey, added to the anguish of mind she had suffered 
 on BothwelFs account, threw her next morning into a 
 violent fever. Her life was despaired of; but her 
 youth, and the vigour of her constitution, resisted the 
 malignity of her disease. During the continuance of 
 the Queen's illness, the King, who resided at Stirling, 
 never came near Jedburgh; and when he afterwards 
 thought fit to make his appearance there, he met with 
 such a cold reception, as did not encourage him to 
 make any long stay. Mary soon recovered strength 
 enough to return along the eastern borders to Dunbar. 
 
 While she resided in this place, her attenti{)n was 
 turned towards England. Elizabeth, notwithstanding 
 her promise, and even proclamations to the contrary, 
 not only allowed, but encouraged Morton and his 
 associates to remain in England. Mary, on the other 
 hand, afforded her protection to several English fugi- 
 tives. Each Queen watched the motions of the other 
 with a jealous attention, and secretly countenanced 
 the practices which were carrying on, to disturb the 
 administration of her rival. 
 
 For this purpose, Mary's ambassador, Robert Mel- 
 vil, and her other emissaries, were extremely active 
 and successful. AVe may impute, in a good degree, 
 to their intrigues, that spirit which appeared in the 
 parliament of England, and which raised a storm that 
 threatened Elizabeth's domestic tranquillity, more 
 than any other event of her reign, and required all her 
 art and dexterity to allay it. 
 
 Elizabeth had now reigned eight years, without 
 
72 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 discovering the least intention to marry. A violent 
 distemper, with which she had lately been seized, 
 having endangered her life, and alarmed the nation 
 with the prospect of all those calamities which are 
 occasioned by a disputed and dubious succession ; a 
 motion was made, and eagerly listened to in both 
 houses, for addressing the Queen, to provide against 
 any such danger in times to come, either by signifying 
 her own resolution to marry, or by consenting to an 
 act, establishing the order of succession to the crown. 
 Her love to her subjects, her duty to the public, her 
 concern for posterity, it was pretended, not only 
 called upon, but obliged her to take one of these 
 steps. The insuperable aversion which she had all 
 along discovered for marriage, made it improbable 
 that she would choose the former; and if she complied 
 with the latter request, no title to the crown could, 
 with any colour of justice, be set in opposition to that 
 of the Scottish Queen. Elizabeth was sagacious enough 
 to see the remotest consequences of this motion, and^ 
 observed them with the greatest anxiety. Mary, by 
 refusing so often to ratify the treaty of Edinburgh, had 
 plainly intimated a design of embracing the first pro- 
 mising opportunity for prosecuting her right to the 
 English crown; and by her secret negotiations, she 
 had gained many to favour her title. All the Roman 
 Catholics ardently wished for her succession. Her 
 gentleness and humanity had removed many of those 
 apprehensions which the Protestants entertained on 
 account of her religion. The court faction, which 
 envied the power of Cecil, and endeavoured to wrest 
 the administration out of his hands, advanced the 
 pretensions of the Scottish Queen in opposition to 
 him. The union of the two kingdoms was a desirable 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 73 
 
 object to all wise men in both nations ; and the birth 
 of the young Prince was a security for the continuance 
 of this blessing, and gave hopes of its perpetuity. 
 
 Under these circumstances, and while the nation 
 was in such a temper, a parliamentary declaration of 
 Mary's title would have been highly detrimental to 
 Elizabeth. The present unsettled state of the succes- 
 sion left much in her power. Her resentment alone 
 might have gone far towards excluding any of the 
 competitors from the crown ; and the dread of this had 
 hitherto restrained and overawed the ambition of the 
 Scottish Queen. But if this check should be removed, 
 by the legal acknowledgment of her title, Mary would 
 be at full liberty to pursue her dangerous designs, and 
 to act without fear or reserve. Her partizans were 
 already meditating schemes for insurrections in different 
 parts of the kingdom ; and an act of parliament, re- 
 cognizing the rights of that Princess, whose pretensions 
 they favoured, would have been nothing less than a 
 signal to arms ; and, notwithstanding Elizabeth's just 
 title to the affections of her subjects, might have 
 shaken and endangered her throne. 
 
 While this matter remained in suspense in both 
 houses, an account of it w as transmitted to Mary by 
 Melvil her ambassador. As she did not want advocates 
 for her right, even among those who were near Eliza- 
 beth's person, she endeavoured to cultivate the dis- 
 position which appeared towards settling the right of 
 succession in her favour, by a letter to the privy 
 counsellors of England. She expressed in it a grate- 
 ful sense of Elizabeth's friendship, which she ascribes 
 chiefly to their good offices with their Sovereign, in 
 her behalf. She declared her resolution to live in 
 
74 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 perpetual amity with England, without urging or pur- 
 suing her claim upon the crown, any farther than 
 should be agreeable to the Queen. But, at the same 
 time, as her right of succession was undoubted, she 
 hoped it would be examined with candour, and judged 
 of with impartiality. The nobles who attended her 
 wrote to the English privy council in the same strain. 
 Mary artfully gave these letters the air of being nothing 
 more than a declaration of her own, and of her subjects' 
 gratitude towards Elizabeth. But as she could not be 
 ignorant of the jealousy and fear with which Elizabeth 
 observed the proceedings of parliament, a step so 
 uncommon as this, of one Prince's entering into public 
 correspondence with the privy counsellors of another, 
 could not be otherwise construed than as taken with 
 an intention to encourage the spirit which had already 
 been raised among the English. In this light it seems 
 to have appeared to Elizabeth herself. But the dis- 
 position of her people rendering it necessary to treat 
 Mary's person with great decency, and her title with 
 much regard, she mentioned it to her only in the 
 softest language. 
 
 Nothing, however, could be a more cruel mortifica- 
 tion to a princess of Elizabeth's character, than the 
 temper which both houses of parliament discovered 
 on this occasion. She bent all her policy to defeat, 
 or elude the motion. After allowing the first heat of 
 their zeal to evaporate, she called into her presence a 
 certain number of each house. She soothed and ca- 
 ressed them ; she threatened and promised ; she re- 
 mitted subsidies which were due ; and refused those 
 which were ofi'ered ; and in the end prevailed, to have 
 this formidable motion put off for that session. Hap- 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 75 
 
 pily for hor, the conduct of the Scottish Queen, and 
 the misfortunes which befel her, prevented the revival 
 of such a motion in any future parliament. 
 
 Meantime, in order to preserve the reputation of 
 impartiality, and that she might not drive Mary into 
 any desperate measure, she committed to the Tower 
 one Thornton, who had published something dero- 
 gatory to the right of the Scottish line ; and signified 
 her displeasure against a member of the house of 
 commons, who seemed, by some words in a speech, 
 to glance at Mary. 
 
 Amidst all her other cares, Mary was ever solicitous 
 to promote the interest of that religion which she 
 professed. The re-establishment of the Romish doc- 
 trine seems to have been her favourite passion ; and 
 though the design was concealed with care, and con- 
 ducted with caution, she pursued it with a persevering 
 zeal. At this time, she ventured to lay aside some- 
 what of her usual reserve ; and the aid which she ex- 
 pected from the Popish princes, who had engaged in 
 the league of Bayonne, encouraged her to take a step, 
 which, if we consider the temper of the nation, appears 
 to be extremely bold. Having formerly held a secret 
 correspondence with the Court of Rome, she now re- 
 solved to allow a Nuncio from the Pope publicly to 
 enter her dominions. Cardinal Laurea, at that time 
 Bishop of Mondovi, was the person on whom Pius V. 
 conferred this office, and along with him he sent the 
 Queen a present of 20,000 crowns. It is not the 
 character of the Papal court, to open its treasury 
 upon distant or imaginary hopes. The business of the 
 Nuncio in Scotland, could be no other, than to attempt 
 a reconciliation of that kingdom to the Romish see. 
 Thus iVIary herself understood it; and in her answer 
 
76 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 to a letter which she received from the Pope, after 
 expressing her grateful sense of his paternal care and 
 liberality, she promises that she would bend her whole 
 strength towards the re-establishment and propagation 
 of the Catholic faith; that she would receive the 
 Nuncio with every possible demonstration of respect, 
 and concur, with the utmost vigour, in all his designs 
 towards promoting the honour of God, and restoring 
 peace to the kingdom ; that she would celebrate the 
 baptism of the Prince according to the ceremonies 
 which the Romish ritual prescribes, hoping that her 
 subjects would be taught, by this example, again to 
 reverence the sacraments of the church, which they 
 had so long treated with contempt; and that she 
 would be careful to instil early into her son, the prin- 
 ciples of a sincere love and attachment to the Catholic 
 faith. But though the Nuncio was already arrived at 
 Paris, and had sent over one of his attendants with 
 part of the money, the Queen did not think the junc- 
 ture proper for his reception. Elizabeth was preparing 
 to send a magnificent embassy into Scotland, against 
 the time of the Prince's baptism ; and as it would have 
 been improper to offend her, she wisely contrived, 
 under various pretences, to detain Laurea at Paris. 
 The convulsions into which the kingdom was thrown 
 soon after, made it impossible for him to pursue his 
 journey any farther. 
 
 At the very time that Mary was secretly carrying on 
 these negotiations for subverting the reformed church, 
 she did not scruple publicly to employ her authority 
 towards obtaining for its ministers a more certain and 
 comfortable subsistence. During this year, she issued 
 several proclamations and acts of council for that 
 purpose, and readily approved of every scheme which 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 77 
 
 was proposed for the more efifectual payment of their 
 stipends. This part of her conduct does little honour 
 to Mary's integrity ; and though justified by the ex- 
 ample of princes, who often reckon falshood and 
 deceit among the necessary arts of government, and 
 even authorized by the pernicious casuistry of the 
 Roman church, which transfers breach of faith to 
 heretics, from the list of crimes to that of duties, such 
 dissimulation, however, must be numbered among 
 those blemishes which never stain a truly great and 
 generous character. 
 
 As neither the French nor Piedmontese ambassadors 
 were yet arrived, the baptism of the Prince was put 
 oflf from time to time. Meanwhile Mary fixed her re- 
 sidence at Craigmillar. Such a retirement, perhaps, 
 suited the present temper of her mind, and induced her 
 to prefer it before her own palace of Holyrood-house 
 Her aversion for the King grew every day more con- 
 firmed, and was become altogether incurable. A deep 
 melancholy succeeded to that gaiety of spirit which 
 was natural to her. The rashness and levity of her 
 own choice, and the King's ingratitude and obstinacy, 
 filled her with shame and with despair. A variety of 
 passions preyed at once on a mind, all of whose sen- 
 sations were exquisite, and all its emotions strong, 
 and often extorted from her the last wish of the un- 
 fortunate, that life itself would come to an end. — 
 Robertson. 
 
78 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 Secret Association of the Confederate Lords with Queen 
 Elizabeth, against Mary — Murray's Design to kill 
 Darnley — His InMirrection, and Banishment — An Out- 
 line of his Character. 
 
 I NOW proceed to my subject; and in order to 
 enable the reader to form a judgment of what part 
 Murray, Morton, Elizabeth, and secretary Lethington, 
 had in the great event of Darnley's death, it is neces- 
 sary to trace their conduct for some time preceding 
 that period. 
 
 On the death of the Queen-Regent, mother to Mary, 
 then in France, the Earl of Murray, then Prior of St. 
 Andrew's, and the Queen's bastard-brother, was at 
 the head of the refomied party in Scotland ; at which 
 time it was reported, that he had the crown in view 
 for himself. Our authority for this is, in the first 
 place, a letter from Sir Nicholas Throckmorton, the 
 English ambassador in France, to secretary Cecil, 
 dated the 26th of July, 1559 : " I am, (says he), se- 
 cretly informed, that there is a party in Scotland for 
 placing the Prior of St. Andrew's in the state of Scot- 
 land, and that the Prior himself, by all the secret 
 means he can, aspires thereto." 
 
 Queen Elizabeth, in her instructions to the Earl of 
 Shrewsbury, owns her knowledge of this scheme: 
 " Before the treaty of Edinburgh (says that Queen), 
 there was an intent discovered unto us by Lethington, 
 to deprive her (Queen Mary) of her crown, which we 
 utterly rejected." 
 
 At a meeting of the nobility and clergy at Dunbar- 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 79 
 
 ton, 12th September, 1568, in a paper signed by 
 nineteen lords, eight bishops, and eight abbots, and 
 sent to Queen Mary's Commissioners at Westminster, 
 in the time of the conferences, it is thus affirmed by 
 them: " It is dilligentlie to be remembered, how short- 
 lie aftir our sovereign's hame-coming fra the realm of 
 France, in Scotland, the Erie of Murray having respect 
 then, and as appears, yet, by his proceedings, to place 
 himself in the government of this realme, and to usurp 
 this kingdom." 
 
 Let us now see what evidence there is of any steps 
 taken by Murray in the prosecution of these views. 
 Queen Mary having determined to leave France, and 
 come over to her own kingdom, made application to 
 Queen Elij^abeth for a safe conduct, and leave to pass 
 through England in her way to Scotland. Both these 
 suits were refused to her; and on Mary's taking her 
 way by sea, some ships of war were suddenly sent out 
 by Elizabeth, in order to intercept her in her passage. 
 The learned Camden, from the letters of the Earl of 
 Murray's party in Scotland, to Queen Elizabeth and 
 her ministers, with whom a secret correspondence was 
 at that time kept, informs us of the part Murray acted 
 on that occasion: "James, the bastard (says that 
 learned writer), having returned from France through 
 England, gave advices underhand to intercept her, 
 both for Elizabeth's security and the interest of reli- 
 gion. Lethington (adds he), advised the same thing; 
 lest, if she should return, she should raise wonderful 
 tragedies, cut off their intercourse with the English, 
 and depress the faction that favoured them." Camden 
 mentions the letters of the party in Scotland, which he 
 had seen. And what confirms his veracity beyond 
 dispute is, that Lethington's letter addressed to Cecil, 
 
80 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 to this very purpose, is still preserved in the Cotton 
 Library. This letter shows plainly the confederacy be- 
 tween the English minister, Cecil, and Murray and his 
 party, that was then forming to disturb the government : 
 " I have been (says Lethington), these forty days in 
 the north parts of Scotland with my Lord James 
 (Murray) ; where we have not been altogether unoccu- 
 pied, but advancing the religion, and the common 
 cause. T do allow your opinion of the Queen our 
 sovereign's journey to Scotland, whose coming hither 
 shall not fail to raise wonderful tragedies. She will 
 not be served wdth those that bear any good will to 
 England. Some quarrel shall be picked with them, 
 not directly for religion at the first; but when the 
 accusation of heresy would be odious, men must be 
 charged with treason. A few number thus disgraced, 
 dispatched, or dispersed, the rest will be an easy 
 prey; and then may the butchery of Bonnar, plainly . 
 begin." 
 
 That Queen Elizabeth actually intended to have 
 intercepted Queen Mary in her voyage from France to 
 Scotland, is proved by her minister the Lord Keeper 
 Bacon's direct acknowledgment, in a speech made in 
 the privy council of England, anno 1562, on the occa- 
 sion of a proposal then made, for an interview between 
 Elizabeth and Mary : " Think you (says Lord Bacon), 
 that the Scottish Queen's suit, made in a friendly man- 
 ner, to come through England, at the time she left 
 France to come into Scotland, and the denial thereof, 
 is by them forgotten? Or else your sending your ships 
 to sea at the time of her passage ?" 
 
 Such is the evidence of the Earl of Murray's views 
 at this time, and those of his party in Scotland, for 
 having Queen Mary intercepted in her way to Scotland, 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 and detained a prisoner in England, that they might 
 themselves seize the government of the kingdom. 
 
 Here the reader is desired to attend to the following 
 evidence, which shows, that, at this time, the fatal 
 association of Murray, Morton, and Lethington, in 
 confederacy with Queen Elizabeth, and her minister 
 Cecil, was formed ; which constantly after this sub- 
 sisted, and was the source whence sprung all that 
 series of insurrections and rebellions against Mary and 
 her government, and from which all the calamitous 
 disasters of her reign were derived, which ended in her 
 overthrow and death. 
 
 Before the Queen's arrival from France, which was 
 on the 22d of August 1561, Queen Elizabeth had taken 
 care to have a minister at Edinburgh. This was the 
 noted Mr. Randolph, who, upon pretence of bearing 
 Elizabeth's compliments of congratulation, continued 
 about Queen Mary's court as a spy, giving the most 
 minute intelligence of every thing done there, to his 
 mistress Elizabeth, and her prime minister Cecil, and 
 countenancing and encouraging every cabal formed to 
 disturb Mary's government. Of all this, Handolph's 
 own letters, still extant, are a full demonstration. 
 
 It appears that he had very soon cultivated a good 
 understanding with the most fit persons for his purpose, 
 such as the famous John Knox, one of the chief of the 
 reformed preachers, and particularly with the three 
 confederates, Murray, Morton, and Lethington. 
 
 That Knox v, as in the party, appears from the fol- 
 lowing evidence. Randolph, in a letter to Cecil, in 
 September 1561, soon after the Queen's arrival in Scot- 
 land, thus writes: "I am earnestly required to let your 
 honour understand, from Mr. Knox, that he has received 
 your letter by the Laird of Lethington^ to which he will 
 
 G 
 
8^ 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 make answer at the next." Cot, Lib. Calig. book x. — 
 The result of this correspondence between Cecil and 
 Knox may be gathered from what follows. Randolph 
 thus continues : Where your honour exhorteth us 
 (the faction in the English interest) to stoutness, I 
 assure you the voice of one man is able, in an hour, to 
 put more life in us, than 600 trumpets continually 
 blustering in our ears. , 
 
 " Mr. Knox spoke on Tuesday to the Queen : he 
 knocked so hastily upon her heart, that he made her to 
 weep, as well for anger as for grief. 
 
 Upon Sunday the 24th of September, 1561, her 
 Grace's chaplains, in the chapel-royal, would have 
 sung high mass : the Earl of Argyle and Lord James 
 (i, e. Murray) so disturbed the quire, that some, both 
 priests and clerks, left their places with broken heads 
 and bloody ears. It was a great sport to behold it." 
 
 24th October, 1651. As to Mr. Knox, I commend 
 better the success of his doings and preachings> than 
 the manner thereof. His prayer is daily for her (the 
 Queen), That God will turn her obstinate heart against 
 God and his truth ; or, if the holy will be otherwise, to 
 strengthen the hearts and hands of his chosen and elect, 
 stoutly to withstand the rage of all tyrants, &c. in 
 words terrible enough." — Cot. Lib. Cal. x. 
 
 In what a piteous situation must this Princess have 
 been, surrounded with those men, in league with her 
 mortal foe, who, on the moment of her arrival among 
 them, could, in her own capital, use their sovereign 
 with such brutality ! 
 
 To show that the English resident does not misrepre- 
 sent Knox, we shall quote a short passage from one of 
 his own sermons, and another from his History. 
 
 Soon after the Queen's marriage, the King came to 
 
AND ELIjJABETH. 
 
 83 
 
 bear divine service in St. Giles's church in Edinburgh, 
 where Knox preached before him. Among other se- 
 ditious passages, he had this remarkable one : " That 
 God, for the offences and ingratitude of the people, set 
 in the room (i. e. place) of princes, boys and women : 
 that God justly punished Ahab and his posterity, 
 because he would not take order with that harlot 
 Jezebel." Knox's Hist. b. v. — In his History he says, 
 " Of the tyranny of the Guisian blood, in her, that for 
 our unthankfulness now reigneth over us, we have had 
 sufficient experience ; but of any virtue that ever was 
 espied in King J ames V. whose daughter she is called, 
 to this hour we have never seen any sparkle." — Keith, 
 p. 130. 
 
 Dr. Robertson, in his History, vol. 1. p. 157, is 
 pleased thus to characterise Mr. Knox : " Knox (says 
 he) infused generous sentiments of government in the 
 minds of his hearers." 
 
 I oppose to this Mr. Hume's character of Knox: 
 
 The Queen (says Mr. Hume) endeavoured, by the 
 most gracious condescension, to win his favour; all 
 her insinuations could gain nothing on his obdurate 
 heart. The political principles of the man, which be 
 communicated to his brethren, were as full of sedition, 
 as his theological were of rage and bigotry." Vol. v. 
 p. 51, octavo edit. — The reader will be at no loss to 
 judge, which of the historians has given the justest 
 character of this theological demagogue. 
 
 In this letter to Cecil, 9th of August, 1561, a fortnight 
 before Mary's arrival in Scotland, he thus writes : *' I 
 have shown your honour's letter unto the Lord James 
 (Murray), Lord Morton, and Lethington: they wish, as 
 your honour doth, that she (Mary) might be stayed yet 
 iox a space ; and if it were not for their obedience sake, 
 
 G 2 
 
84 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 some of tbem care not though they never saw her face* 
 They have need to look unto themselves ; for their 
 hazard is great ; and they see there is no remedy nor 
 safety for themselves, but to repose upon the Queen's 
 (Elizabeth's) majesty's favour and support. They are 
 in mind shortly to try what they may be assured at, of 
 the Queen's majesty, and what they may assuredly 
 perform, of that they intend to offer for their parts. 
 They intend to expostulate with me hereupon. I have 
 my answer ready enough to them. 
 
 By such talk, as I have of late had with the Lord 
 James and Lethington, I perceive that they are of 
 mind, that immediately of the next convention, I shall 
 repair to you with their determination and resolution 
 in all purposes, wherein your honour's advice is 
 earnestly and shortly looked for. The Lord of Le- 
 thington leaveth nothing at this time unwritten, that he 
 thinketh may be able to satisfy your desire in know- 
 ledge of the present state of things here." 
 
 We see from this letter, that the affected pretence of 
 those persons, for associating themselves, and carrying 
 on this underhand treacherous intelligence and cor- 
 respondence with England, was their fears from Mary 
 on her arrival in her own dominions. How false these 
 pretences were, may be judged from the conduct of 
 this deluded Princess ; who, immediately on her arrival, 
 threw herself into the arms of these very men, Murray, 
 Morton, and Lethington ; who, notwithstanding they 
 had the sole power in their hands, still continued to 
 carry on their treacherous practices with England. 
 
 In the abstract of Randolph's letters to Cecil, now 
 in the Cotton Library, we find in one of them, of the 
 19th June, 1563, these words : " If any suspected letters 
 be taken on the border, open them not, but send them 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 85 
 
 to my Lord of Murray, of whose service the Qaeen of 
 England is sure." 
 
 We now proceed to unfold some ouvert acts of 
 Murray, in prosecution of his view of disturbing the 
 government, and seizing the reins into his own hands. 
 
 The Queen's purpose to marry the Lord Damley, in 
 the year 1565, was an event which seemed to cross 
 Murray's ambitious views, in placing a master over him 
 for the present, and, by the prospect of the Queen's 
 issue, cutting oiF all his future hopes. 
 
 Mary, then the most amiable and most accomplished 
 woman of the age, had received solicitations of marriage 
 from many of the Princes on the Continent : but the 
 aversion of her subjects to a foreign alliance, and the 
 will of her father King James V. determined her choice 
 in favour of her cousin, Henry Stuart, Lord Darnley, 
 the eldest son of the Earl of Lennox. Upon this head, 
 John Knox, in his History of the Reformation, has a 
 just and singular remark. It is doing him justice to 
 give it in his own w ords : " The Queen being at Stirling, 
 order was given to Secretary Lethington to pass to the 
 Queen of England, — to declare, that Queen Mary was 
 minded to marry her cousin, the Lord Darnley; and 
 the rather, because he was so near of blood to both 
 Queens : for by his mother he was cousin-german to the 
 Queen of Scotland ; also of near kindred, and the same 
 name, by his father: his mother* was cousin-german 
 to the Queen of England. Here mark God's providence : 
 King James V. having lost his two sons, did declare 
 his resolution to make the Earl of Lennox his heir of 
 
 * She was daughter of Margaret, the eldest sister of King Henry VIII. by 
 Douglas Earl of Angus, whom she married after the death of King James JV. 
 her first husband. 
 
86 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 the crown ; but he, prevented by sudden death, that 
 design ceased : then came the Earl of Lennox from 
 France, with intention to marry King James's widow ; 
 but that failed also: he marries Mary Douglas; and 
 his son (Lord Darnley) marrieth Queen Mary, King 
 James V/s daughter: and so the King's desire is ful- 
 filled, to wit, the crown continueth in the name and in 
 the family." A marriage which thus connected every 
 claim and title of succession to two kingdoms, often 
 at variance together, and in whose quarrels a deluge 
 of blood had been shed on both sides, was an event 
 much to be wished for by all good men, and by none 
 so much as by the friends of Queen Mary and her 
 family, to whom so great a prospect opened. 
 
 Let us now see the sentiments and behaviour of her 
 patriot brother, the Earl of Murray, on this occasion. 
 1 shall still follow my author, Knox: "The Queen 
 (says he), wTote incontinent for all the lords to come 
 to Stirling. — The special cause of this convention was 
 to give to the Lord Darnley title of honour openly and 
 solemnly, with consent of the nobles, before the mar- 
 riage. The fourth day of May, the Earl of IMurray 
 came to Stirling; where he was well received by the 
 Queen's majesty, as appeared ; and as he passed with 
 her to my Lord Darnley's chamber, they presented to 
 him a contract, containing, in effect, that forasmuch 
 as since the Queen had contracted marriage with the 
 Lord Darnley, and that therefore sundry lords of the 
 nobility had underwritten, ratified, and approved the 
 same, and obliged themselves to grant unto him, in 
 full parliament, the crown matrimonial ; to serve and 
 obey him and her as their lawful sovereigns : the Queen 
 desired my Lord Murray to subscribe, as others had 
 done before ; which he refused to do ; because, said 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 87 
 
 he, it is required, necessarily, that the whole nobility 
 be present, at least the principal, and such as he him- 
 self was posterior unto, before that so grave a matter 
 should be advised and concluded. 
 
 " The Queen, noways content with this answer, in- 
 sisted still upon him, saying, the greatest part of the 
 nobility were there present, and content with the mat- 
 ter ; wished him to be so much a Stuart, as to consent 
 to the keeping of the crown in the family and the sur- 
 name, according to their father's will and desire, as 
 was said of him a little before his death. But he still 
 refused, for the causes above written." 
 
 This fact speaks aloud : here we have a glimpse of 
 those black designs which lay brooding at the heart of 
 this bastard-brother of the Queen : and from this time 
 we shall see these designs gradually unfold themselves 
 into ouvert acts. 
 
 For preventing the Queen's marriage, a conspiracy 
 and association was formed, of which Murray was at 
 the head, to seize the Queen and Lord Darnley at the 
 kirk of Beith, on their return from Perth, on the 1st of 
 July, 1565 ; to imprison her in the castle of Lochleven ; 
 and to murder or seize Darnley, and send him prisoner 
 to England. Of all this the evidence follows. 
 
 Randolph, Queen Elizabeth's minister at Edinburgh, 
 from his letters, appears to have been deeply engaged 
 with the conspirators in this plot. In his letter 3d 
 June, he thus writes to Cecil : " People have small 
 joy in this their new master, and find nothing, but that 
 God must find him a short end, or them a miserable 
 life. The dangers of these he now hateth are great; 
 but they find some support, that what he intendeth to 
 others, may light upon himself." 
 
 In his letter of the 2d of July, he writes thus to 
 
MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 Cecil : *' With my Lord of Murray I have lately spoken : 
 he is grieved to see the extreme follies in his sovereign ; 
 he lamenteth the state of the country, that tendeth to 
 utter ruin ; he feareth that the nobility shall be forced 
 to assemble themselves together, to do her honour and 
 reverence, as they are in duty bound ; but, at the same 
 time, to provide for the state, that it do not utterly 
 perish. The Duke, the Earl of Argyle, and he (Murray), 
 concur in this device; many others are like to join in 
 the same device, what will ensue, let wise men judge." 
 
 How the ruin of the state was to ensue from this 
 marriage, founded, to all appearance, upon principles 
 both wise and salutary for the state, and approved by 
 all good men, is not so easy to be comprehended. 
 That the Queen's marriage was a very great bar in the 
 way of Murray, is extremely obvious ; and for that 
 reason, that the most desperate measures were put in 
 execution by him, to prevent its having effect, we shall 
 soon see. At this very period, however, it is acknow- 
 ledged by all our historians, that the Queen was the 
 darling of her people, and that her government was 
 mild and unexceptionable to all. This Dr. Robertson 
 candidly acknowledges. The only grievance therefore 
 here complained of by Murray and associates, seems 
 to be, that the Queen should think of marrying, which 
 they foresaw might put an end to that party in the 
 English interest, which Elizabeth cherished and kept 
 up, for the purpose of disturbing Mary's government, 
 and of which Munay, for his own private views, was 
 at the head. 
 
 What lengths this association was resolved to go, in 
 prosecution of their scheme to prevent the marriage, 
 we proceed to unfold. 
 
 Raiidolph thus writes to Cecil, in the above letter of 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 89 
 
 the 2d of July : " Darnley's behaviour is such, as he is 
 run in contempt of all men, even of those that were 
 his chief friends : what shall become of him I know 
 not, but it is greatly to be feared that he can have no 
 long life among this people." H^re is a prediction, 
 which, without the gift of prophecy, Randolph might 
 very safely make from v^ hat follows in his letter : " The 
 question (says he), has been askt me, whether, if they 
 (Darnley and his father Lennox) were delivered to us 
 at Berwick, we would receive them? 1 answered, we 
 would receive our own, in what sort soever they came 
 in to us;" i. e. dead or alive. 
 
 This conspiracy being detected by the Queen, the 
 very day before it was concerted to have been put in 
 execution, she, with the assistance of the Earl of 
 Athol, and what men he could instantly raise, made a 
 sudden march to Edinburgh; which entirely discon- 
 certed Murray and his confederates, insomuch that, 
 seeing themselves detected, they made their retreat to 
 Stirling; where they assembled their strength, and soon 
 after took arms, and rose in open rebellion. This 
 open attempt appeared to be so unprovoked and un- 
 justifiable to the nation at large, that the Queen, with 
 her whole people upon her side, found it an easy 
 matter to crush Murray and his desperate party, who 
 for refuge fled into England. 
 
 The desperate resolution of Murray and his party, 
 of thus rising in open rebellion against their Sovereign, 
 is opened to us by their confident, Randolph, the 
 English minister, in his letter to Cecil at this very time, 
 3d September, 1565: "The Lords were forced from 
 Edinburgh. The Queen suspects Morton, yet hath he 
 not the wit to leave her. She weareth a pistol charged 
 >vhen in the field ; and of all her troops, her husband 
 
90 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 only has gilt armour. Divers of the other side are 
 appointed to set upon the Queen's husband, and either 
 kill him, or die themselves. They expect relief from 
 England: much promised, but little received as yet. 
 If her majesty will now help them, they doubt not but 
 one country will receive both the Queens." I shall 
 only add one testimony more ; and that is, no less than 
 the affirmation of most of the Scotch nobility ; among 
 whom were the Earls of Argyle, Rothes, and the Lord 
 Boyd, who at first joined with Murray, but afterwards 
 submitted, and were pardoned by the Queen, and 
 must have certainly known the truth of what they sub- 
 scribed to against Murray, their associate, in this 
 affair. They declare in these words : " That he, Murray, 
 at this time, conspired the slaughter of the Lord Dam- 
 ley, and to have imprisoned her Highness in Lochleven, 
 and usurped the government." 
 
 Thus have we full and clear proof, from the con- 
 current testimonies of the conspirators themselves, of 
 a plot and confederacy formed by Murray and his 
 party for overturning the government, dethroning 
 Queen Mary, and murdering the Lord Damley ; and 
 this carried into execution by an open rebellion, 
 headed by Murray, which Queen Mary was so suc- 
 cessful as to crush, and oblige him to fly the kingdom, 
 and to take refuge under Queen Elizabeth, whose 
 share in this enterprise is sufficiently proved by the 
 preceding testimonies. 
 
 What motives, we now ask in our turn, could induce 
 Murray, at this time, when the kingdom was in uni- 
 versal peace and quiet, under the mild government of 
 his sister and benefactress, who had raised him to the 
 height of power next to herself, and trusted him with 
 the administration of all affairs, thus, unprovoked, to 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 91 
 
 form a plot to dethrone her, and murder her husband ? 
 What else, surely, but that inordinate lust of power 
 and ambition, to set himself at the head of govern- 
 ment, which ever has been, and will be a tempting 
 motive to ambitious men to cut through the strongest 
 ties, and to commit the w orst of crimes ! And although 
 Murray failed at this time in his attempt, yet, by per- 
 severing in his scheme, and laying his plan deeper, he 
 soon after was successful. 
 
 Let us hear Mr. Hume's sentiments.— "The conspi- 
 racy," says he, "of which Murray complains, is 
 founded on very doubtful evidence.*' Vol. iv. p. 463. 
 
 Murray was the natural son of James V. by a daugh- 
 ter of Lord Erskine ; and as that amorous monarch had 
 left several others a burden upon the crown, they were 
 all destined for the church, where they could be placed 
 in stations of dignity and affluence. In consequence 
 of this resolution, the priory of St. Andrew's had been 
 conferred upon James : but, during so busy a period, 
 he soon became disgusted with the indolence and 
 retirement of a monastic life ; and his enterprising 
 genius called him forth, to act a principal part on a 
 more public and conspicuous theatre. The scene in 
 which he appeared, required talents of different kinds : 
 military virtue, and political discernment, were equally 
 necessary in order to render him illustrious. These 
 he possessed in an eminent degree. To the most un- 
 questionable personal bravery, he added great skill in 
 the art of war, and in every enterprise his arms were 
 crowned with success. His sagacity and penetration 
 in civil affairs enabled him, amidst the reeling and 
 turbulence of factions, to hold a prosperous course. 
 While his boldness in defence of the Reformation, 
 together with the decency, and even severity of his 
 
92 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 manners, secured him the reputation of being sincerely 
 attached to religion, without which, it was impossible, 
 in that age, to gain an ascendant over mankind. 
 
 It was not without reason, that the Queen dreaded 
 the enmity of a man, so capable to obstruct her designs. 
 And as she could not, with all her address, make the 
 least impression on his fidelity to his associates, she 
 endeavoured to lessen his influence, and to scatter 
 among them the seeds of jealousy and distrust, by 
 insinuating that the ambition of the Prior, aspired 
 beyond the condition of a subject, and aimed at nothing 
 less than the crown itself. — Tytler, and Editor. 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 Battle of Langside, and Mary's Flight to England — Eliza- 
 beth deliberates about the manner of treating her — R 
 solves to detain her in England — Letter of Mary to Eli- 
 sabeth on the subject — Letter from Queen Elisabeth to 
 the Earl of Murray, the Queen's Enemy. 
 
 This chapter alone, proves the fact of Elizabeth 
 having been particeps criminis in all that led to Mary's 
 ruin. 
 
 Mary's imprudence, in resolving to fight, was not 
 greater than the ill conduct of her generals in the 
 battle. Between the two armies, and on the road to- 
 wards Dunbarton, there was an eminence called Lang- 
 side-Hill. This the Regent had the precaution to 
 seize, and posted his troops in a small village, and 
 among some gardens and enclosures adjacent. In this 
 advantageous situation he waited the approach of the 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 93 
 
 enemy, whose superiority in cavalry could be of no 
 benefit to them, on such broken ground. The Hamil- 
 tons, who composed the vanguard, ran so eagerly to 
 the attack, that they put themselves out of breath, 
 and left the main battle far behind. The encounter of 
 the spearmen was fierce and desperate; but as the 
 forces of the Hamiltons were exposed, on the one 
 flank, to a continued fire from a body of musqueteers, 
 attacked on the other by the Regent's most choice 
 troops, and not supported by the rest of the Queen's 
 army, they were soon obliged to give ground, and the 
 rout immediately became universal. Few victories, in 
 a civil war, and among a barbarous people, have been 
 pursued with less violence, or attended with less 
 bloodshed. Three hundred fell in the field; in the 
 flight scarce any were killed. The Regent and his 
 principal officers rode about, beseeching the soldiers 
 to spare their countrymen. The number of prisoners 
 was great, and among them many persons of distinc- 
 tion. The Regent marched back to Glasgow, and 
 returned public thanks to God for this great, and, on 
 his side, almost bloodless victory. 
 
 During the engagement, Mary stood on a hill, at no 
 great distance, and beheld all that passed in the field, 
 with such emotions of mind as are not easily de- 
 scribed. When she saw the army, which w as her last 
 hope, thrown into irretrievable confusion, her spirit, 
 which all her past misfortunes had not been able en- 
 tirely to subdue, sunk altogether. In the utmost 
 consternation, she began her flight, and so lively were 
 her impressions of fear, that she never closed her eyes 
 till she reached the abbey of Dundrenan in Galloway, 
 full sixty Scottish miles from the place of battle. 
 
 Thes# revolutions in Mary's fortune had been no 
 
94 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 less rapid than singular. In the short space of eleven 
 days, she had been a prisoner at the mercy of her 
 most inveterate enemies; she had seen a powerful 
 army under her command, and a numerous train of 
 nobles at her devotion ; and now she was obliged to 
 fly, in the utmost danger of her life, and to lurk, with 
 a few attendants, in a comer of her kingdom. Not 
 thinking herself safe, even in that retreat, her fears 
 impelled her to an action, the most unadvised, as 
 well as the most unfortunate in her whole life. This 
 was her retiring into England, a step, which, on many 
 accounts, ought to have appeared to her rash and 
 dangerous. 
 
 Before Mary's arrival in Scotland, mutual distrust 
 and jealousies had arisen between her and Elizabeth. 
 All their subsequent transactions had contributed to 
 exasperate and inflame these passions. She had en- 
 deavoured, by secret negotiations and intrigues, to 
 disturb the tranquillity of Elizabeth's government, and 
 to advance her own pretensions to the English crown. 
 Elizabeth, who possessed greater power, and acted 
 with less reserve, had openly supported Mary's rebel- 
 lious subjects, and fomented all the dissensions and 
 troubles in which her reign had been involved. The 
 maxims of policy still authorized that Queen to pursue 
 the same course ; as by keeping Scotland in confusion, 
 she efi'ectually secured the peace of her own kingdom. 
 The Regent, after his victory, had marched to Edin- 
 burgh, and not knowing what course the Queen had 
 taken, it was several days before he thought of pur- 
 suing her. She might have been concealed in that 
 retired corner, among subjects devoted to her interest, 
 till her party, which was dispersed rather than broken 
 by the late defeat, should gather such strength, that 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 95 
 
 she could again appear with safety at their head. 
 There was not any danger which she ought not to 
 have run, rather than throw herself into the hands of 
 an enemy, from whom she had already suffered so many 
 injuries, and who was prompted both by inclination, 
 and by interest, to renew them. 
 
 But, on the other hand, during Mary's confinement, 
 Elizabeth had declared against the proceedings of her 
 subjects, and solicited for her liberty, with a warmth 
 which had all the appearance of sincerity. She had 
 invited her to take refuge in England, and had pro- 
 mised to meet her in person, and to give her such a 
 reception as was due to a Queen, and an ally. What- 
 ever apprehension Elizabeth might entertain of Mary's 
 designs, while she had power in her hands, she was, 
 at present, the object, not of fear, but of pity ; and 
 to take advantage of her situation, would be both 
 ungenerous and inhuman. The horrors of a prison 
 were fresh in Mary's memory, and if she should fall a 
 second time into the hands of her subjects, there was 
 no injury to which the presumption of success might 
 not embolden them to proceed. To attempt escaping 
 into France, was dangerous; and in her situation, 
 almost impossible ; nor could she bear the thoughts of 
 appearing as an exile, and a fugitive, in that kingdom, 
 where she had once enjoyed all the splendour of a 
 Queen. England remained her only asylum ; and, in 
 spite of the entreaties of Lord Herreis, Fleming, and 
 her other attendants, who conjured her, even on their 
 knees, not to confide in Elizabeth's promises or gene- 
 rosity, her infatuation was invincible, and she re- 
 solved to fly thither. Herreis, by her command, wrote 
 to Lowther, the deputy-governor of Carlisle, to know 
 what reception he would give her; and, before his 
 
96 
 
 IVIARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 answer could return, her fear and impatience were so 
 great, that she got into a fisher-boat, and with about 
 twenty attendants, landed at Workington in Cumber- 
 land, and thence she was conducted with many marks 
 of respect to Carlisle. 
 
 So soon as Mary arrived in England, she wrote a 
 long letter to the Queen, representing, in the strongest 
 terms, the injuries which she had suffered from her 
 own subjects, and imploring that pity and assistance 
 which her present situation demanded. An event so 
 extraordinary, and the conduct which might be proper 
 in consequence of it, drew the attention, and employed 
 the thoughts of Elizabeth and her council. If their 
 deliberations had been influenced by considerations of 
 justice or generosity alone, they would not have found 
 them long or intricate. A Queen, vanquished by her 
 own subjects, and threatened by them with the loss of 
 her liberty, or of her life, had fled from their violence, 
 and thrown herself into the arms of her nearest neigh- 
 bour and ally, from whom she had received repeated 
 assurances of friendship and protection. These cir- 
 cumstances entitled her to respect and to compassion, 
 and required that she should either be restored to her 
 own kingdom, or at least be left at full liberty to seek 
 aid from any other quarter. But with Elizabeth and 
 her counsellors, the question was, not what was most 
 just or generous, but what was most beneficial to her- 
 self and to the English nation. Three different reso- 
 lutions might have been taken with regard to the 
 Queen of Scots. To re-instate her in her throne, was 
 one ; to allow her to retire into France, was another ; 
 to detain her in England, was a third. Each of these 
 drew consequences after it, of the utmost importance, 
 which were examined, as appears from papers still 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 97 
 
 extant, with that minute accuracy which Elizabeth's 
 ministers employed in all their consultations upon 
 affairs of moment. 
 
 To restore Mary to the full exercise of the royal 
 authority in Scotland, they observed, would render 
 her more powerful than ever. The nobles who were 
 most firmly attached to the English interest, would 
 quickly feel the utmost weight of her resentment. And 
 as the gratitude of princes is seldom strong or lasting, 
 regard to her own interest might soon efface the me- 
 mory of her obligations to Elizabeth, and prompt her 
 to renew the alliance of the Scottish nation with 
 France, and revive her own pretensions to the English 
 crown. Nor was it possible to fetter and circumscribe 
 the Scottish Queen by any conditions that would pre- 
 vent these dangers. Her party in Scotland was nu- 
 merous and powerful. Her return, even without any 
 support from England, would inspire her friends with 
 new zeal and courage ; a single victory might give 
 them the superiority, which they had lost by a single 
 defeat, and render Mary a more formidable rival than 
 ever to Elizabeth. 
 
 The dangers arising from suffering Mary to retire 
 into France, were no less obvious. The French King 
 could not refuse his assistance towards restoring his 
 sister and ally to her throne. Elizabeth would once 
 more see a foreign army in the island, overawing the 
 Scots, and ready to enter her kingdom ; and if the 
 commotions in France, on account of religion, were 
 settled, the Princes of Lorraine might resume their 
 ambitious projects, and the united forces of France 
 and Scotland might invade England where it was 
 weakest and most defenceless. 
 
 Nothing therefore remained, but to detain her in 
 
 H 
 
98 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 England; and to permit her either to live at liberty 
 there, or to confine her in a prison. The former was 
 a dangerous experiment. Her court would become a 
 place of resort to all the Roman Catholics, to the dis- 
 affected, and to the lovers of innovation. Though 
 Elizabeth affected to represent Mary's pretensions to 
 the English crown as altogether extravagant and ill- 
 founded, she w as not ignorant that they did not ap- 
 pear in that light to the nation, and that many thought 
 them preferable even to her own title. If the activity 
 of her emissaries had gained her so many abettors, 
 her own personal influence was much more to be 
 dreaded ; her beauty, her address, her sufi*erings, by 
 the admiration and pity which they would excite, 
 could not fail of making many converts to her party. 
 
 'Twas indeed to be apprehended, that the treating 
 Mary as a prisoner, would excite universal indignation 
 against Elizabeth, and that by this unexampled se- 
 verity towards a Queen who implored, and to whom 
 she had promised her protection, she would forfeit 
 the praise of justice and humanity, w hich was hitherto 
 due to her administration. But the English monarchs 
 were often so solicitous to secure their kingdom 
 against the Scots, as to be little scrupulous about the 
 means which they employed for that purpose. Henry 
 IV. had seized the heir of the crown of Scotland, who 
 was forced, by the violence of a storm, to take refuge 
 in one of the ports of his kingdom ; and, in contempt 
 of the rights of hospitality, without regarding his ten- 
 der age, or the tears and entreaties of his father, de- 
 tained him a prisoner for many years. This action, 
 though detested by posterity, Elizabeth resolved now 
 to imitate. Her virtue was not more proof than Henry's 
 had been, against the temptations of interest; and 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 99 
 
 the possession of a present advantage was preferred 
 to the prospect of future fame. The satisfaction which 
 she felt in mortifying a rival, whose beauty and ac- 
 complishments she envied, had, perhaps, no less in- 
 fluence than political considerations, in bringing her 
 to this resolution. But, at the same time, in order to 
 screen herself from the censure which this conduct 
 merited, and to make her treatment of the Scottish 
 Queen look like the effect of necessity, rather than of 
 choice, she determined to put on the appearance of 
 concern for her interest, and of deep sympathy with 
 her sufferings. — Robertson. 
 
 QUEEN MARY TO QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 [Cotton Lib.] 
 
 " MADAM, 
 
 Although the necessity of my cause (which maketh me to be impor- 
 tune to you) do make you to judge that I am out of the way ; yet such as 
 have not my passion, nor the respects whereof you are persuaded, will 
 think that I do as ray cause doth require. Madam, I have not accused you, 
 neither in words, nor in thought; to have used yourself evil towards me. 
 And I believe, that you have no want of good understanding, to keep you 
 from perswasion against your natural good inclination. But in the mean 
 time I can't chuse (having my senses) but perceive very evil furtherance in 
 my matters, since my coming hither. I thought that I had sufficiently dis- 
 coursed unto you the discommodities, which this delay bringeth unto me. 
 And especially that they think in this next month of August, to hold a par- 
 liament against me and all my servants. And in the mean time, I am 
 stayed here, and yet will you, that I should put myself forther into your 
 country, (vrithout seeing you) and remove me further from mine ; and 
 there do me this dishonour, at the request of my rebels, as to send commis- 
 sioners to hear them against me, as you wold do to a mere subject, and not 
 hear me by mouth. Now, madam, I have promised you to come to 
 you, and having there made my moan and complaint of these rebels, and 
 they coming thither, not as possessors, but as subjects to answer. I would 
 have besought you to hear my justification of that which they have falsly 
 set furth against me, and if I could not purge myself thereof, you might 
 then discharge your hands of my causes, and let me go for such as I ^m. 
 
 H 2 
 
100 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 But to do as you say, if I were culpable I would be better advis'd ; but 
 being not so, I can't accept this dishonour at their hands, that being in 
 possession they will come and accuse me before your commissioners, 
 whereof I can't like : And seeing you think it to be against your honour and 
 consignage to do otherwise, I beseech you that you will not be mine enemy, 
 untill you may see how I can discharge myself every way. And to suffer me 
 to go into France, where I have a dowry to maintain me ; or at the least to 
 go into Scotland, with assurance that if there come any strangers thither, I 
 will bind myself for their return without any prejudice to you, or if it pleis 
 you not to do thus, I protest that I will not impute it to falshood, if I re- 
 ceive atrangers in my country, withou* making you any other discharge for 
 it. Do with my body as you will, the honour or blame shall be yours. 
 For I had rather die here, and that my faithful servants may be succoured 
 (tho' you wou'd not so) by strangers, than to suffer them to be utterly 
 undone, upon hope to receive, in time to come, particular commodity. 
 There be many things to move me to fear that I shall have to do, in this 
 country, with others, than with you. But forasmuch as nothing hath fol- 
 lowed upon my last moan I hold my peace, happen what may happ. I have 
 
 as lief to "j^e^^'^^^e} fortune, as to seek it, and not find it. Further, 
 it pleased you to give licence to my subjects to go and come. This hath 
 been refused by my Lord Scroop and Mr. Knolls (as they say) by your 
 commandment, because I would not depart hence to your charge, untill I 
 had answer of this letter, tho' I shewed them that you required my answer, 
 upon the two points, contained in your letter. 
 
 ** The one is to let you briefly understand, I am come to you to make my 
 moan to you, the which being heard, I would declare unto you mine inno- 
 cency, and then require your aid, and for lack thereof, I can't but make my 
 moan and complaint to God, that I am not heard in my just quarrel, and to 
 appeal to other Princes to have respect thereunto, as my case requireth ; and 
 to you, madam, first of all, when you shall have examined your conscience 
 before him, and have him for witness. And the other, which is to come 
 further into your country, and not to come to your presence, I will esteem 
 that as no favour, but will take it for the contrary, obeying it as a thing 
 forced. In the mean time, I beseech you, to return to me my Lord Herries, 
 for I can't be without him, having none of my counsal here, and also to suffer 
 me, if it please you, without further delay, to depart hence whithersoever it 
 be out of this country. I am sure you will not deny me this sunple request 
 for your honour's sake, seeing it doth not please you to use your natural 
 goodness towards me otherwise, and seeing that of mine own accord, I am 
 come hither, let me depart again, with yours. And if God permit my causes 
 to succeed well, I shall be bound to you for it ; and happening otherwise, yet 
 I caa't blame you. As for my Lord Fleeming, seeing that upon my credit 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 101 
 
 you hare suffered him to go home to his house, I warrant you he shall pass 
 no further, but shall return when it shall please you. In that you trust me, 
 I will not (to die for it) deceive you. But from Dumbarton I answer not, 
 when my L. Fleeming shall be in the Tower. For they which are within 
 it, will not forbear to receive succour, if I don't assure them of yours ; no, 
 tho' you would charge me withal, for I have left them in charge, to have 
 more respect to my ser%'ants and to my estate, than to my life. Good sister 
 be of another mind, win the heart, and all shall be yours, and at your com- 
 mandment. I thought to satisfy you wholly, if I might have seen you. 
 Alas ! do not as the serpent, that stoppeth his hearing, for I am no inchanter, 
 but your sister, and natural cousin. If Caesar had not disdained to hear or 
 read the complaint of an advertiser, he had not so died : why should Princes 
 ears be stopped, seeing that they are painted so long ? Meaning that they 
 should hear all and be well advised, before they answer. I am not of the 
 nature of the basilisk, and less of the chamelion, to turn you to my likeness, 
 and tho' I should be so dangerous and curs'd as men say, you are sufficiently 
 armed with constancy and with justice, which I require of God, who give 
 you grace to use it well with long and happy life. From Carlile, the 5th of 
 July, 1568." 
 
 QUEEN ELIZABETH TO THE EARL OF MURRAY. 
 
 [Burleigh Papers.] 
 
 * * Right trusty and right well beloved cousin, we greet you well . Where we 
 hear say, that certain reports are made in sundry parts of Scotland, that 
 whatsoever should fall out now upon the hearing of the Queen of Scotts 
 cause, in any proof to convince or to acquit the said Queen concerning the 
 horrible murder of her late husband our cousin, we have determined to 
 restore her to her kingdom and government, we do so much mislike hereof, 
 as we cannot indure the same to receive any credit : and therefore we have 
 thought good to assure you, that the same is untruly devised by the authors 
 to our dishonour. For as we have been always certified from our said sister, 
 both by her letters and messages, that she is by no means guilty or participant 
 of that murder, which we wish to be true, so surely if she should be found 
 justly to be guilty thereof as hath been reported of her, whereof we would 
 be very sorry, then, indeed, it should behoove us to consider otherwise of 
 her cause than to satisfy her desire in restitution of her to the government of 
 that kingdom. And so we would have you and all others think, that should 
 be disposed to conceive honourably of us and our actions." 
 
 Indorsed 20 Sept. 1568. 
 
 \ 
 
102 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 Mary caught in the Snare laid for her by Elizabeth, who 
 takes advantage of Mary' s off er to vindicate her Conduct 
 ^Mary greatly offended by Elizabeth's Conduct— Mary 
 suspects her, and demands a Personal Interview —Mary 
 accused by Murray of the Murder of her Husband — Is 
 treated with greater rigour by Elizabeth, who secretly 
 supports Murray, and hates M ary. 
 
 On her flight into England, Mary demanded a 
 personal interview with the Queen, that she might lay 
 before her the injuries which she had suffered, and 
 receive from her those friendly offices which she had 
 been encouraged to expect. They answered, that it 
 was with reluctance this honour was at present denied 
 lier ; that while she lay under the imputation of a crime 
 so horrid, as the murder of her husband, their mistress, 
 to whom he was so nearly allied, could not, without 
 bringing a stain upon her own reputation, admit her 
 into her presence; but as soon as she had cleared her- 
 self from that aspersion, they promised her a reception 
 suitable to her dignity, and aid proportioned to her 
 distress. 
 
 Nothing could be more frivolous than this pretence. 
 It was the occasion, however, of leading the Queen 
 of Scots into the snare, in which Elizabeth and her 
 ministers wished to entangle her. Mary expressed 
 the utmost surprize at this unexpected manner of evad- 
 ing her request; but as she could not believe so many 
 professions of friendship to be void of sincerity, she 
 frankly offered to submit her cause to the cognizance 
 of Elizabeth, and undertook to produce such proofs of 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 103 
 
 her own innocence, and of the falshood of the accusa- 
 tions brought against her, as should fully remove the 
 scruples, and satisfy the delicacy of the English Queen. 
 This was the very point to which Elizabeth laboured 
 to bring the matter. By this appeal of the Scottish 
 Queen, she became the umpire between her and her 
 subjects, and had it entirely in her own power to pro- 
 tract the inquiry to any length, and to perplex and 
 involve it in endless difficulties. In the mean time, 
 she w^as furnished with a plausible pretence for keeping 
 her at a distance from court, and for refusing to con- 
 tribute towards replacing her on her throne. As Mary's 
 conduct had been extremely incautious, and the pre- 
 sumptions of her guilt were many and strong, it was 
 possible her subjects might make good their charge 
 against her; and if this should be the result of the 
 inquiry, she would, thenceforth, cease to be the object 
 of regard, or of compassion, and the treating her with 
 coldness and neglect would merit little censure. In 
 a matter so dark and mysterious, there was no proba- 
 bility that Mary could bring proofs of her innocence, 
 so incontested, as to render the conduct of the English 
 Queen altogether culpable. And perhaps, her impa- 
 tience under restraint, her suspicion of Elizabeth's 
 partiality, or her discovery of her artifices, might en- 
 gage her in such cabals, as would justify the using her 
 with greater rigour. 
 
 Elizabeth early foresaw all those advantages, which 
 would arise from an inquiry into the conduct of the 
 Scottish Queen, carried on under her direction. There 
 was some danger, however, that Mary might discover 
 her secret intentions too soon, and by receding from 
 the offer which she had made, endeavour to disappoint 
 them. Buil even in that eveat, she determined not to 
 
104 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 drop the inquiry, and had thought of several different 
 expedients for carrying it on. The Countess of Lennox, 
 convinced that Mary was accessory to the murder of 
 her son, and thirsting for that vengeance which it was 
 natural for a noother to demand, had implored Eliza- 
 beth's justice, and solicited her, with many tears, in 
 her own name, and in her husband's, to bring the 
 Scottish Queen to a trial for that crime. The parents 
 of the unhappy prince had a just right to prefer this 
 accusation ; nor could she, who was their nearest 
 kinswoman, be condemned for listening to so equitable 
 a demand. Besides, as the Scottish nobles openly 
 accused Mary of the same crime, and pretended to be 
 able to confirm their charge by sufiicient proof; it 
 would be no difficult matter to prevail on them, to 
 petition the Queen of England to take cognizance of 
 their proceedings against their sovereign ; and it was 
 the opinion of the English council, that it would be 
 reasonable to comply with the request. At the same 
 time, the obsolete claim of the superiority of England 
 over Scotland, began to be talked of; and, on that 
 account, it was pretended that the decision of the con- 
 test between Mary and her subjects belonged of right 
 to Elizabeth. But though Elizabeth revolved all these 
 expedients in her mind, and kept them in reserve, to 
 be made use of as occasion might require, she wished 
 that the inquiry into Mary's conduct should appear to 
 be undertaken purely in compliance with her own de- 
 mand, and in order to vindicate her innocence ; and 
 so long as that appearance could be preserved, none 
 of the other expedients were to be employed. 
 
 When Mary consented to submit her cause to Eliza- 
 beth, she was far from suspecting that any bad con- 
 sequences could follow, or that any dangerous pre- 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 105 
 
 tensions could be founded on her offer. She expected 
 that Elizabeth herself would receive, and examine her 
 defences ; she meant to consider her as an equal, for 
 whose satisfaction she was willing to explain any part 
 of her conduct, that was liable to censure ; not to 
 acknowledge her as a superior, before whom she was 
 bound to plead her cause. But Elizabeth put a very 
 different sense on Mary's offer. She considered herself 
 as chosen to be judge in the controversy between the 
 Scottish Queen and her subjects, and began to act in 
 that capacity. She proposed to appoint commissioners 
 to hear the pleadings of both parties ; and wrote to 
 the Regent of Scotland, to empower proper persons to 
 appear before them, in his name, and to produce 
 what he could alledge in vindication of his proceedings 
 against his sovereign. 
 
 Mary had, hitherto, relied with unaccountable cre- 
 dulity on Elizabeth's professions of regard, and ex- 
 pected that so many kind speeches would, at last, be 
 accompanied with some suitable actions. But this 
 proposal entirely undeceived her. She plainly per- 
 ceived the artifice of Elizabeth's conduct, and saw 
 what a diminution it would be to her own honour, to 
 appear on a level with her rebellious subjects, and to 
 stand together with them at the bar of a superior and 
 a judge. She retracted the offer which she had made, 
 and which had been perverted to a purpose so contrary 
 to her intention. She demanded, with more earnest- 
 ness than ever, to be admitted into Elizabeth's pre- 
 sence ; and wrote to her in a strain very different from 
 what she had formerly used, and which fully discovers 
 the grief and indignation that prayed on her heart. 
 " In my present situation (says she), I neither will, 
 nor can reply to the accusations of my subjects. I 
 
106 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 am ready, of my own accord, and out of friendship to 
 you, to satisfy your scruples, and to vindicate my own 
 conduct. My subjects are not my equals; nor will I, 
 by submitting my cause to a judicial trial, acknowledge 
 them to be so. I fled into your arms, as into those of 
 my nearest relation, and most perfect friend. I did 
 you honour, as I imagined, in choosing you, preferably 
 to any other prince, to be the restorer of an injured 
 Queen. Was it ever known that a prince was blamed 
 for hearing, in person, the complaints of those who 
 appealed to his justice, against the false accusations 
 of their enemies ? You admitted into your presence 
 my bastard brother, who had been guilty of rebellion ; 
 and you deny me that honour ! God forbid that I 
 should be the occasion of bringing any stain upon 
 your reputation. I expected that your manner of 
 treating me would have added lustre to it. Suffer me 
 either to implore the aid of other princes, whose de- 
 licacy on this head will be less, and their resentment 
 of my wrongs greater; or let me receive from your 
 hands that assistance which it becomes you, more 
 than any other prince, to grant ; and by that benefit, 
 bind me to yourself iu the indissoluble ties of grati- 
 tude." 
 
 This letter somewhat disconcerted Elizabeth's plan, 
 but did not divert her from the prosecution of it. She 
 laid the matter before the privy council, and it was 
 there determined, notwithstanding the entreaties and 
 remonstrances of the Scottish Queen, to go on with 
 the inquiry into her conduct ; and till that were finish- 
 ed, it was agreed that Elizabeth could not, consist- 
 ently with her own honour, or with the safety of her 
 government, either give her the assistance which she 
 demanded, or permit her to retire out of the kingdom. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 107 
 
 And lest she should have an opportunity of escaping, 
 while she resided so near Scotland, it was thought 
 advisable to remove her to some place at a greater 
 distance from the borders. 
 
 The conference had, hitherto, been conducted in a 
 manner which disappointed Elizabeth's views, and 
 produced none of those discoveries which she had 
 expected. The distance between York and London, 
 and the necessity of consulting her upon every diflSculty 
 which occurred, consumed much time. Norfolk's ne- 
 gotiation with the Scottish Regent, however secretly 
 carried on, was not, in all probability, unknown to a 
 princess so remarkable for her sagacity in penetrating 
 the designs of her enemies, and seeing through their 
 deepest schemes. Instead, therefore, of returning any 
 answer to the Regent's demands, she resolved to re- 
 move^ the conference to Westminster, and to appoint 
 new commissioners, in whom she could more abso- 
 lutely confide. Both the Scottish Queen and the 
 Regent were brought, without difficulty, to approve 
 of this resolution. 
 
 We often find Mary boasting of the superiority of 
 her commissioners during the conference at York, and 
 how, by the strength of their arguments, they con- 
 founded her adversaries, and silenced all their cavils. 
 The dispute stood, at that time, on a footing which 
 rendered her victory not only apparent, but easy. Her 
 participation of the guilt of the King's murder, was the 
 only circumstance which could justify the violent 
 proceedings of her subjects. And while they indus- 
 triously avoided mentioning that, her cause gained 
 as much as that of her adversaries lost, by suppressing 
 this capital argument. 
 
 i Elizabeth resolved that Mary should not enjoy the 
 
108 
 
 MARY t^^EEN OF SCOTS/ 
 
 same advantage in the conference to be held at West- 
 minster. She deliberated with the utmost anxiety, 
 how she might overcome the Regent's scruples, and 
 persuade him to accuse the Queen. She considered 
 of the most proper method for bringing Mary's com- 
 missioners to answer such an accusation ; and as she 
 foresaw that the promises with which it was necessary 
 to allure the Regent, and which it was impossible to 
 conceal from the Scottish Queen, would naturally 
 exasperate her to a great degree, she determined to 
 guard her more narrowly than ever ; and though Lord 
 Scroop had given her no reason to distrust his vigilance 
 or fidelity, yet, because he was the Duke of Norfolk's 
 brother-in-law, she thought it proper to remove the 
 Queen as soon as possible to Tuthbury in Staflford- 
 shire, and commit her to the keeping of the Earl of 
 Shrewsbury, to whom that castle belonged. 
 
 Mary began to suspect the design of this second 
 conference ; and, notwithstanding the satisfaction she 
 expressed at seeing her cause taken more immediately 
 under the Queen's own eye, she framed her instruc- 
 tions to her commissioners in such a manner as to 
 avoid being brought under the necessity of answering 
 the accusation of her subjects, if they should be so 
 desperate as to exhibit one against her. These sus- 
 picions were soon confirmed by a circumstance ex- 
 tremely mortifying. The Regent having arrived at 
 London, in order to be present at the conference, was 
 immediately admitted into Elizabeth's presence, and 
 received by her, not only with respect, but with afi*ec- 
 tion. This Mary justly considered as an open decla- 
 ration of that Queen's partiality towards her adver- 
 saries. In the first emotions of her resentment, she 
 wrote to her commissioners, and commanded them to 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 109 
 
 complain, in the presence of the English nobles, and 
 before the ambassadors of foreign princes, of the usage 
 she had hitherto met with, and the additional injuries 
 which she had reason to apprehend. Her rebellious 
 subjects were allowed access to the Queen ; she was 
 excluded from her presence ; they enjoyed full liberty, 
 she languished under a long imprisonment; they were 
 encouraged to accuse her; in defending herself she 
 laboured under every disadvantage. For these reasons, 
 she once more renewed her demand of being admitted 
 into the Queen's presence ; and if that were denied, 
 she instructed them to declare, that she recalled the 
 consent she had given to the conference at Westmin- 
 ster, and protested, that whatever was done there, 
 should be held to be null and invalid. 
 
 This, perhaps, was the most prudent resolution 
 Mary could have taken. The pretences on which she 
 declined the conference were plausible, and the junc- 
 ture for offering them well chosen. But either the 
 Queen's letter did not reach her commissioners in due 
 time, or they suffered themselves to be deceived by 
 Elizabeth's professions of regard for their mistress, and 
 consented to the opening of the conference. 
 
 To the commissioners who had appeared in her 
 name at York, Elizabeth now added Sir Nicholas 
 Bacon, Keeper of the Great Seal, the Earls of Arundel 
 and Leicester, Lord Clinton, and Sir William Cecil. 
 The difficulties which obstructed the proceedings at 
 York were quickly removed. A satisfying answer 
 was given to the Regent's demands; nor was he so 
 much disposed to hesitate, and raise objections, as 
 formerly. His negotiation with Norfolk had been 
 discovered to Morton by some of Mary's attendants, 
 and he had communicated it to Cecil. His personal 
 
110 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 safety, as well as the continuance of his power, de- 
 pended on Elizabeth. By favouring Mary, she might, 
 at any time, ruin him, and by a question which she 
 artfully started, concerning the person who had a right, 
 by the law of Scotland, to govern the kingdom during 
 a minority, she let him see, that even without re- 
 storing the Queen, it was an easy matter for her to 
 deprive him of the supreme direction of affairs. These 
 considerations, which were powerfully seconded by 
 most of his attendants, at length determined the 
 Regent to produce his accusation against the Queen. 
 
 He endeavoured to lessen the infamy, with which he 
 was sensible this action would be attended, by pro- 
 testing, that it was with the utmost reluctance he un- 
 dertook this disagreeable task ; that his party had long 
 suffered their conduct to be misconstrued, and had 
 borne the worst imputations in silence, rather than 
 expose the crimes of their sovereign to the eyes of 
 strangers ; but that now the insolence and importunity 
 of the adverse faction forced them to publish, what 
 they had hitherto, though with loss to themselves, 
 endeavoured to conceal. These pretexts are decent ; 
 and had the party discovered any delicacy or reserve, 
 with regard to the Queen's actions, in the rest of their 
 conduct, might have passed for the real principles by 
 which they were influenced. But their former treat- 
 ment of the Queen, renders it impossible to give any 
 credit to these professions. And the Regent, it is 
 plain, was drawn by the necessity of his affairs, and 
 Elizabeth's artifices, into a situation, where no liberty 
 of choice was left him ; and was obliged either to ac- 
 knowledge himself to be guilty of rebellion, or to 
 charge Mary with having committed murder. 
 The accusation itself was conceived in the strongest 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 Ill 
 
 tenns. Mary was charged, not only with having con- 
 sented to the murder, but with being accessory to the 
 contrivance and execution of it. Bothwell, it was 
 pretended, had been screened from the pursuits of 
 justice by her favour; and she had formed designs no 
 less dangerous to the life of the young Prince, than 
 subversive of the liberties and constitution of the 
 kingdom. If any of these crimes should be denied, 
 an offer was made, to produce the most ample and 
 undoubted evidence in confirmation of the charge. 
 
 At the next meeting of the commissioners, the Earl 
 of Lennox appeared before them ; and after bewailing 
 the tragical and unnatural murder of his son, he im- 
 plored Elizabeth's justice against the Queen of Scots, 
 whom he accused, upon oath, of being the author of 
 that crime, and produced papers, which, as he pre- 
 tended, would make good what he alledged. The 
 entrance of a new actor on the stage, so opportunely, 
 and at a juncture so critical, can scarce be imputed to 
 chance. This contrivance was manifestly Elizabeth's, 
 in order to increase, by this additional accusation, the 
 infamy of the Scottish Queen. 
 
 Mary's commissioners expressed the utmost surprize 
 and indignation at the Regent's presumption, in loading 
 the Queen with calumnies, which, as they afl&rmed, she 
 had so little merited. But, instead of attempting to 
 vindicate her honour, by a reply to the charge, they 
 had recourse to an article in their instructions, which 
 they had formerly neglected to mention in its proper 
 place. They demanded an audience of Elizabeth ; 
 and having renewed their mistress's request, of a 
 personal interview, they protested, if that were denied 
 her, against all the future proceedings of the commis- 
 sioners. A protestation of this nature, offered just at 
 
112 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 the critical time, when such a bold accusation had 
 been preferred against Mary, and when the proofs in 
 support of it were ready to be examined, gave reason 
 to suspect that she dreaded the event of that exami- 
 nation. This suspicion received the strongest confir- 
 mation from another circumstance ; Ross and Herreis, 
 before they were introduced to Elizabeth, in order to 
 make this protestation, privately acquainted Leicester 
 and Cecil, that as their mistress had, from the begin- 
 ning, discovered an inclination towards bringing the 
 differences between herself and her subjects to an 
 amicable accommodation, so she was still desirous, 
 notwithstanding the Regent's audacious accusation, 
 that they should be terminated in that manner. 
 
 Such moderation is scarce compatible with the strong 
 resentment, which calumniated innocence naturally 
 feels ; or with that eagerness to vindicate itself, which 
 it always discovers. In Mary's situation, an offer so 
 ill-timed must be considered as a confession of the 
 weakness of her cause. The known character of her 
 commissioners exempts them from the imputation of 
 folly, or the suspicion of treachery. Some secret con- 
 viction, that the conduct of their mistress could not 
 bear so strict a scrutiny, seems to be the most probable 
 motive of this imprudent proposal, by which they en- 
 deavoured to avoid it. 
 
 It appeared in this light to Elizabeth, and aflforded 
 her a pretence for rejecting it. She told Mary's com- 
 missioners, that, in the present juncture, nothing 
 could be so dishonourable to their mistress, as an 
 accommodation; and that the matter would seem to 
 be huddled up in this manner, merely to suppress dis- 
 coveries, and to hide her shame ; nor was it possible 
 that she could be admitted, with any decency, into 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 113 
 
 her presence, while she lay under the infamy of such a 
 public accusation. 
 
 Upon this repulse, Mary's commissioners withdrew ; 
 and as they had declined answering, there seemed now 
 to be no further reason for the Regent's producing the 
 proofs in support of his charge. But without getting 
 these into her hands, Elizabeth's schemes were incom- 
 plete ; and her artifice for this purpose was as mean, 
 but as successful, as any she had hitherto employed. 
 She commanded her commissioners to testify her indig- 
 nation and displeasure at the Regent's presumption, 
 in forgetting so far the duty of a subject, as to accuse 
 his sovereign of such atrocious crimes. He, in order 
 to regain the good opinion of such a powerful pro- 
 tectress, offered to show that his accusations were not 
 malicious, nor ill-grounded. Then were produced, and 
 delivered to the English commissioners, the acts of 
 the Scottish parliament, in confirmation of the Regent's 
 authority, and of the Queen's resignation; the con- 
 fessions of the persons executed for the King's murder; 
 and the fatal casket which contained the letters, son- 
 nets, and contracts, that have been already mentioned. 
 
 Elizabeth having got these into her possession, began 
 to lay aside the expressions of friendship and respect 
 which she had hitherto used in all her letters to the 
 Scottish Queen. She now wrote to her in such terms, 
 as if the presumptions of her guilt had amounted 
 almost to certainty ; she blamed her for refusing to vin- 
 dicate hersell from an accusation which could not be 
 left unanswered, without a manifest injury to her cha- 
 racter; and plainly intimated, that unless that were 
 done, no change would be made in her present situa- 
 tion. She hoped that such a discovery of her senti- 
 ments would intimidate Mary, who was scarce recQ- 
 
 I 
 
114 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 vered from the shock of the Regent's attack on her 
 reputation, and force her to confirm her resignation of 
 the crown, to ratify Murray's authority as Regent, and 
 to consent that both herself and her son should reside 
 in England, under her protection. This scheme Eliza- 
 beth had much at heart ; she proposed it both to Mary 
 and to her commissioners, and neglected no argument, 
 nor artifice, that could possibly recommend it. Mary 
 saw how fatal this would prove to her reputation, to 
 her pretensions, and even to her personal safety. She 
 rejected it without hesitation. " Death (said she) is 
 less dreadful than such an ignominious step. Rather 
 than give away, with my own hands, the crown which 
 descended to me from my ancestors, I will part with 
 life ; but the last words I utter, shall be those of a 
 Queen of Scotland." 
 
 At the same time she seems to have been sensible 
 how open her reputation lay to censure, while she suf- 
 fered such a public accusation to remain unanswered ; 
 and though the conference was now dissolved, she em- 
 powered her commissioners to present a reply to the 
 allegations of her enemies, in which she denied, in the 
 strongest terms, the crimes imputed to her ; and recri- 
 minated upon the Regent and his party, by accusing 
 them of having devised and executed the murther of 
 the King. The Regent and his associates asserted 
 their innocence with great warmth. Mary continued 
 to insist on a personal interview, a condition which 
 she knew would never be granted. Elizabeth urged 
 her to vindicate her own honour. But it is evident 
 from the delays, the evasions, and subterfuges, to 
 which both Queens had recourse by turns, that Mary 
 avoided, and Elizabeth did not desire to make any 
 further progress in the inquiry. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 115 
 
 The Regent was now impatient to return into Scot- 
 land; where his adversaries were endeavouring, in his 
 absence, to raise some commotions. Before he set 
 out, he was called into the privy council, to receive a 
 final declaration of Elizabeth's sentiments. Cecil ac- 
 quainted him, in her name, that on one hand nothing 
 had been objected to his conduct, which she could 
 reckon detrimental to his honour, or inconsistent with 
 his duty ; nor had he, on the other hand, produced any 
 thing against his sovereign, on which she could found 
 an unfavourable opinion of her actions ; and for this 
 reason, she resolved to leave all the aflfairs of Scotland, 
 precisely in the same situation in which she had found 
 them at the beginning of the conference. The Queen's 
 commissioners were dismissed much in the same 
 manner. 
 
 After the attention of both nations had been fixed 
 so earnestly on this conference, upwards of four 
 months, such a conclusion of the whole appears, at 
 first sight, trifling and ridiculous. Nothing, however, 
 could be more conformable to Elizabeth's original 
 views, or more subservient to her future schemes. 
 Notwithstanding her seeming impartiality, she had no 
 thoughts of continuing neuter ; nor was she at any loss 
 on whom to bestow her protection. Before the Regent 
 left London, she supplied him with a considerable sum 
 of money, and engaged to support the King's autho- 
 rity, to the utmost of her power. Mary, by her own 
 conduct, fortified this resolution. Enraged at the 
 repeated instances of Elizabeth's artifice and deceit, 
 which she had discovered during the progress of the 
 conference, and despairing of ever obtaining any suc- 
 cour from her, she endeavoured to rouse her own ad- 
 herents in Scotland to arms, by imputing such designs 
 
 I 2 
 
116 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 to Elizabeth and Murray, as could not fail to inspire 
 every Scotchman with indignation. Murray, she pre- 
 tended, had agreed to convey the Prince her son into 
 England; to surrender to Elizabeth the places of 
 greatest strength in the kingdom ; and to acknowledge 
 the dependance of the Scottish upon the English nation. 
 In return for this, he was to be declared the lawful 
 heir of the crown of Scotland ; and, at the same time, 
 the question with regard to the English succession was 
 to be decided in favour of the Earl of Hartford, who 
 had promised to marry one of Cecil's daughters. An 
 account of these wild and chimerical projects was 
 spread industriously among the Scots. Elizabeth, 
 perceiving it was calculated of purpose to bring her 
 government into disreputation, laboured to destroy its 
 effects, by a counter-proclamation, and became more 
 disgusted than ever with the Scottish Queen. — Robert- 
 son. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 117 
 
 CHAP. XI. 
 
 Gf the Earl of Murray — Buchanans Writings — Of Murray, 
 and his Intrigues with the Court of France, and with 
 Elizabeth — Attempts to usurp the Crown after the Queen's 
 Marriage — His Conduct while Mary's Prime Minister — 
 His more open attempts to seize the Crown — Elizabeth 
 still intriguing — Conduct of the Conspirators after their 
 Disappointment at the Kirk of Beith — Murray again 
 appears in Scotland — His Murder — And his Character 
 by another Hand — Elizabeth's Grief on the occasion — And 
 cruel trifling with Mary's Feelings. 
 
 As to George Buchanan and John Knox, whatever 
 they have written deserves no consideration to be had 
 of it, as they were men of abominable practices, and 
 correspondent characters. But what can be said for 
 Monsieur de Thou, Archbishop Spottiswood, and 
 others like them, who have obtained a good character 
 in the world, and cannot be accused of any open or 
 notorious crimes, and were not, nor could have been, 
 actually concerned in the transactions then carried on ; 
 and therefore are to be supposed to have been quite 
 free from all malice and partiality ? Yet have they, es- 
 pecially the former, transcribed into their histories most 
 of George Buchanan's vile aspersions, which are so 
 far from being true, that they are neither probable nor 
 credible ; and these men, by adopting them, have misled 
 not a few well-meaning persons out of the plain paths 
 of truth. 
 
 But still it may be made a question, by whom was 
 the King's murder contrived, if not by the Queen ? 
 For that he was shamefolly murdered, is certain : and 
 
118 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 as certain it is, that there had been a misunderstanding 
 betwixt him and her for some time before. Now, 
 although it could not be made appear who were either 
 the contrivers or executors of that fact, it would be 
 highly unreasonable to throw the suspicion upon the 
 Queen. But after it has been made manifest that all 
 the proofs, presumptions, and allegations that were so 
 industriously trumped up, and sworn against her by 
 Murray and his party, were only so many gross com- 
 positions and inventions of their own, and that they 
 were not able to bring the least real evidence against 
 her innocency, the presumption turns against them- 
 selves : for men who could so openly and confidently 
 thrust the Queen in prison, and then swear so many of 
 their ov*'n rank forgeries upon her, in order to intrude 
 themselves into the supreme authority in her kingdom, 
 and to seize her riches, were surely very capable of 
 murdering the King too, because that was also a main 
 step to attain to their purpose. 
 
 And as to the misunderstanding that had been be- 
 twixt the Queen and her husband, it was also wholly 
 to be charged to the account of Murray and his party, 
 who had induced the unwary young man, to enter into 
 a private confederacy with them, against the Queen 
 herself, for very unlawful and wicked purposes, of 
 which afterwards. 
 
 James Earl|of Murray had, for many years, been 
 aiming at the crown. He had entered into a confede- 
 racy with the King of England against his native 
 country, before he was seventeen years of age, having 
 got himself introduced to some acquaintance and cor- 
 respondence with the Duke of Somerset, Lord Pro- 
 tector of England, and also with King Edward VI. by 
 means of Sir John Meivill of Raith. At that age. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 119 
 
 while as yet he was only Prior of St. Andrew's, he had 
 declared himself, forsooth, to be against the French, 
 an expression unknown among Scotsmen in former 
 times, but which had then lately come in use among 
 some persons, and chiefly among the men of Fife, who 
 were forming designs for selling or enslaving their 
 native country to the English. It is more than pro- 
 bable that the execution of Sir John Melvill, who 
 had soon after this been condemned for treason, by the 
 three estates in parliament, made the Prior a little 
 more circumspect for some time. This is certain, that 
 he was so far reconciled to the French, a few years 
 thereafter, that he accepted of the rich priory of 
 Mascon in commendam, which is conferred upon him 
 by a bull of Pope Paul TV. dated the tenth day of 
 January, 1555, with a dispensation to him for holding 
 three ample benefices, notwithstanding his bastardy, 
 &c. for which he took an oath of fealty to his Holiness: 
 oaths however are but words. 
 
 In February 1558, he went as one of the commis- 
 sioners sent from Scotland to solemnize the Queen's 
 marriage with the Dauphin of France. At which time, 
 if we might give credit to most of the common histo- 
 ries of these times, domestic or foreign, he was not 
 quite so civilly used. They tell us of "along con- 
 ference, betwixt the Chancellor of France and these 
 Scottish commissioners in the King's council, about 
 delivering up the crown and other regalia of Scotland, 
 that the Dauphin, the Queen's husband, might be 
 crowned King of Scotland, which the Scottish com- 
 missioners, according to them, thought highly unrea- 
 sonable, and therefore refused all assent or consent in 
 that matter, it being a point of treason, in which they 
 durst not meddle, even so far as to propose it at home. 
 
120 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 but at the peril of losing their heads : on account of 
 which refusal they had poison administered to theui, 
 before they left France, whereof about one half of 
 them died, with many of their retinue, at a time when 
 there was no pestilential disease in the country ; and 
 that all this was a contrivance of the Guises." George 
 Buchanan writes also, that the Prior of St. Andrew's 
 had tasted of the same potion ; and though, by the 
 vigour of youth, he escaped death, yet was he ever after- 
 wards afflicted with a continual and dangerous ailment 
 in his stomach. Indeed the Prior himself seems to 
 have been the propagator of these stories, for in a kind 
 of manifesto drawn up by him and his associates the 
 next year, when they set about their reforming work, 
 the poisoning these ambassadors is condescended on 
 as a special grievance. Buchanan however had not 
 the last part of the story concerning the Prior, from 
 himself, but out of Lindsay of Pitscottie's book, whose 
 account he curtailed. Had he given the whole of it, 
 every one could have perceived how much credit it 
 deserves : for Pitscottie writes, that the physicians 
 hung up the Prior by the heels, to let the poison drop 
 out of him." 
 
 The whole story, and every part of it, is either pure 
 fiction, or misrepresentation of plain matter of fact. 
 
 By the very contract of marriage, it was agreed that 
 the Dauphin should use the title and arms of King of 
 Scotland ; and the Scottish ambassadors, or commis- 
 sioners, obliged themselves to take an oath of fealty 
 to the Dauphin, in name of the estates of Scotland, 
 that they should serve, honour, and obey him, during 
 the marriage, as King of Scotland, in the same manner 
 as they and their predecessors had been in use to do 
 to the Queen's progenitors. This was actually done 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 121 
 
 by six of them, of whom the Prior of St. Andrew's was 
 one; and the deed, upon that occasion was signed, 
 sealed, and delivered by them, four days after the 
 marriage. The Earls of Rothes and Cassils, and the 
 Bishops of Orknay and Ross principal secretary, who 
 all died not long thereafter, had probably been sick at 
 that very juncture, and so are not among the sub- 
 scribers ; for could they have been present, who can 
 doubt but they would have joined with the rest? 
 
 Even this goes very far to discredit the story of poi- 
 soning, especially if it is considered that both these 
 earls and bishops stood firmly for the joint interest of 
 France and Scotland. Why should the French have 
 poisoned their friends? The truth of the matter is, 
 that something pestilential or noxious in the air that 
 year, was the real occasion of the death of so many 
 of them : nor were the effects of it confined to them 
 only, for numbers were cut off through the several 
 parts of Europe about that very time. In our neigh- 
 bouring nation, their Queen, and Cardinal Pole, Arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury, with the Bishops of Bath and 
 Wells, Bristol, Carlisle, Chichester, Durham, Litch- 
 field and Coventry, London, Rochester and St. David's, 
 Sodor, and Winchester, died all of them in about a 
 year's time. In short, when Queen Elizabeth began 
 to set up her Protestant bishops, there were no less 
 than fifteen episcopal sees, out of twenty-seven, that 
 were become vacant by death; which doubtless con- 
 tributed not a little to facilitate the deprivation of the 
 few that survived, and the setting up Protestancy in 
 that kingdom. 
 
 If near the half of the English bishops died in their 
 native country, in so short a space of time, and I 
 hope without poison, why ought we not to conclude 
 
122 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 that the half, or near the half of our ambassadors 
 died abroad at the same time, in the same way ? No 
 document has yet appeared, by which the particular 
 day or month of their several deaths can be ascer- 
 tained. Bishop Lesly, writes that three of them died in 
 September; but the act of parliament upon the penult 
 day of November, mentions only one of them to have 
 been then dead ; and expressly bears that the other 
 three then remained in the ports of France. Monsieur 
 de Thoa remarks, that the years 1557, 1558, and 1559, 
 especially the latter, proved fatal to a vast number of 
 great and learned men, several of whom he names 
 particularly; and though he thought the great and 
 learned only w^orthy to have particular notice taken of 
 them, we are not to imagine but that the meaner sort 
 and unlearned, died also in proportion to their numbers, 
 or not far below it. 
 
 By the bills of mortality of some foreign cities, it 
 is to be seen that the mortality began to increase 
 amongst them in the year 1558, and continued to in- 
 crease through the two following years. After this 
 manner is the death of the Scottish ambassadors to 
 be naturally accounted for, without raising so vile a 
 calumny upon persons who, for any thing that ap- 
 pears, were both too great and too good, to have been 
 guilty of an action so wicked and unmanly. As there 
 was therefore at that time a real pestilentious quality 
 in the air, through the different parts of Europe, what 
 apology can be made for the historians who have 
 defiled their writings with scandalous aspersions, so 
 founded, with relation to these commissioners? 
 
 The commissioners, or ambassadors, who returned 
 home in health, laid their whole transactions before 
 the parliament, which met for that purpose, and there- 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 123 
 
 upon were by act of parliament, honourably and fully 
 acquitted and discharged of the trust that had been 
 committed to them. After which they informed the 
 parliament, that the Queen their sovereign, " desired 
 that the three estates of her realm would find it good, 
 that her Majesty might honour her spouse, the King 
 Dauphin, with the crown matrimonial, by way of 
 gratification, during the marriage, without any man- 
 ner of prejudice to her Highnesses self, the succession 
 of her body, or lawful succession of her blood what- 
 soever : and this crown to be sent with two or three of 
 the lords of her realm, &c." All which was readily 
 agreed to and enacted, as also, that the Queen should 
 have the nomination of such persons as should please 
 her, to carry the same to France, whose commission 
 should pass in the name of the three estates, and be 
 sealed with the seals of six of the principals of each 
 estate, and subscribed with their hands. Bishop Keith 
 hath published these acts, by which the efforts of 
 Buchanan and his followers, to transmit to latest pos- 
 terity the account of these transactions in a false and 
 ridiculous light, are egregiously baffled. 
 
 Soon after the Queen's marriage with the Dauphin 
 of France, matters in Scotland went into great dis- 
 order. No less than two different persons set them- 
 selves up to deprive her of her kingdom, namely, the 
 Duke of Chastelherault, and the Prior of St. Andrew's. 
 For Queen Mary of England having departed this life 
 that year, the English had set upon the throne Eliza- 
 beth, the illegitimate daughter of Henry VIII. by 
 Anne Bolen, who inclining to the Protestants, more 
 out of policy than from any religious regard, quite 
 changed the ecclesiastical establishment in that king- 
 dom. The Duke of Chastelherault had, for some years 
 
1^4 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF S0OTS, 
 
 before, behaved himself neither so dutifully nor so 
 honourably as became a man of his rank and quality; 
 and the English embraced the opportunity of managing 
 his disaffection to the disturbance of his native coun- 
 try. Th'.g English Queen and her ministers insinuated 
 that she would marry his son the Earl of Arran, then 
 commander of the Scots guards in France, and having 
 buoyed up the young man with this vain expectation, 
 they induced him to steal away secretly from the Court 
 of France, and conveyed him privately first into Eng- 
 land, and then to Scotland, where his father was abet- 
 ting and fomenting a rebellion that had been lately 
 raised, upon the pretext of reformation of religion, 
 but in reality for seizing the crown and the church 
 lands, revenues, and riches, as they had seen done in 
 England. By this marriage, of which they thought 
 themselves quite secure, as it had first been proposed 
 to them, they expected soon to become masters both of 
 Scotland and England : on which consideration they 
 slighted the loss of their possessions and offices which 
 the King of France had conferred upon them, and 
 threw up all care and regard for their sovereign. 
 
 At the same time the Prior of St. Andrew's taking 
 courage, it would seem, by the example lately set in 
 England, imagined that his high profession of sanctity, 
 and fiery zeal for protestantism, might well compen- 
 sate for his illegitimacy, and induce the reformers to 
 promote him to the crown. He had joined himself 
 with these reformers as early at least as the beginning 
 of the year 1557, and concurred in their covenants and 
 confederacies made against all who should oppose 
 them, without exception. At last he became their 
 chief ringleader, and set himself to thwart the Duke 
 of Chastelherault in his designs. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 125 
 
 Some people at that time, and also in our days, do 
 warmly deny that he ever was aiming at the crown ; 
 but all his after actions and behaviour do loudly pro- 
 claim that he did so. The Queen Dowager of Scot- 
 land, and the King of France, who could not fail to 
 have good intelligence, believed no less of iiim. Sir 
 Nicholas Throckmorton, the English ambassador in 
 France, who carried on a close correspondence with 
 that party, writes to secretary Cecil upon the 26th of 
 July, 1559 — " That he was secretly informed, that 
 there was a party in Scotland for the placing of the 
 Prior of St. Andrew's in the state of Scotland ; and that 
 the Prior himself did, by all the secret means he 
 could, aspire thereto." The Duke of Norfolk was 
 positive enough that Murray was still pursuing the 
 same game, even in September 1569, only about four 
 months before he was shot at Linlithgow ; for thus he 
 writes to Cecil, upon the 15th day of that month— 
 You may see by the Earl of Murray's dealing with 
 Lethington, what mark he shoots at, and how little 
 he careth for any thing that is advised here. He that 
 hath been so bold with his own mistress, as to bereave 
 her of her kingdom and liberty, thinks it but a small 
 matter to refuse to be advised by the Queen's Majesty. 
 You shall find that he hath forgotten all former friend- 
 ship. He hath a new mark in his eye — no less than a 
 kingdom. God send him such luck as others have 
 had who have followed his course." 
 
 This was the general persuasion of all persons of 
 tolerable sagacity at that time, as might be made 
 appear by other good testimonies. Perhaps one from 
 Queen Elizabeth will be of use to convince some 
 people, that there was a design at that time to bereave 
 
126 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 our Queen of her kingdom ; these are her words, 
 which follow : 
 
 It is well known, that before the making of the 
 treaty of Edinburgh, there was an intent discovered 
 unto us, even by Lethington himself, whom afterwards 
 she specially favoured, to deprive her of her crown : 
 which motion we utterly rejected." I shall not posi- 
 tively affirm that this proposal was to set up my Lord 
 Prior, but surely it must have consisted with his 
 knowledge ; for he and Lethington were at that time 
 very gracious ; and it is not likely that his lordship 
 would have readily consented that any other person 
 should have occupied that room. But the Prior's own 
 conduct and actions afford the strongest evidence. 
 After they had made their league with England (to 
 which he subscribes in the first place), and by the 
 assistance of the English army had got the town of 
 Leith evacuated, they began in their way to settle 
 their reformation ; but neither of the two competitors 
 could find the means to seize the government into his 
 own hands : for the one always opposed the other, by 
 all the means that could be invented. The young 
 Earl of Arran, finding himself entirely frustrated of 
 his high expectations, turned frantic on the disap- 
 pointment, of which he never recovered. 
 
 The King of France happening to die in the year 
 1560, the Queen began to think of returning to her 
 kingdom of Scotland ; on which occasion there was 
 one deputation sent to attend her by the Roman 
 Catholics, and another by the Protestants, and this 
 last was no other than the Prior himself, who, in his 
 way, took advice with Queen Elizabeth and her 
 ministers, how he should behave himself. When he 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 127 
 
 ^vaited on the Queen, he proposed some things for the 
 satisfaction of his dear crony Queen Elizabeth ; and 
 for his own part he sought only the Earldom of Murray, 
 by way of gratification for his travel, and that the 
 Queen should constitute him governor of Scotland till 
 she herself should return, with some ecclesiastical 
 benefices to be bestowed among his most trusty 
 friends. But the Queen would dispose of none of 
 these things till she should arrive herself in Scotland, 
 and take the advice of her own nobility. The Prior, 
 thus disappointed, returns home through England ; 
 and having learned all that he could, about the time 
 and other particulars relating to his sovereign's return 
 to Scotland, he acquainted Queen Elizabeth, and 
 would needs have her to cause intercept Queen Mary 
 in her passage. Camden says expressly, " That James 
 the bastard having a little before returned through 
 England, gave advices under-hand to intercept her, 
 both for Elizabeth's security, and the interest of re- 
 ligion." He adds, That Lethington advised the same 
 thing, lest if she should return, she should raise won- 
 derful tragedies, cut otF their intercourse with the 
 English, depress the faction that favoured them," &c. 
 for which he cites Lethington's letters. 
 
 Camden's veracity hath indeed been called much in 
 question in late times, because he tells some ungracious 
 truths. But his vouchers are still extant, and in par- 
 ticular, this letter of Lethington has been published by 
 Bishop Keith; and it contains expressions rather 
 stronger than Camden's translation has them. Thus, 
 besides the things already cited from Camden—'' She 
 will not be served (says Lethington) with those that 
 bear any good-will to England : some quarrel shall be 
 picked with them; not directly for religion at the 
 
128 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 first; but where the accusation of heresy would be 
 odious, men must be charged with treason. The like 
 of this, I think, hath been seen in Queen Mary's days. 
 A few number thus disgraced, dispatched, or dis- 
 persed, the rest w ill be an easy prey ; and then may 
 the butchery of Bonner plainly begin," &c. 
 
 The English Queen did not fail to follow the Prior's 
 counsel. She absolutely refused either to allow Queen 
 Mary to pass through England into Scotland, or to 
 grant a safe conduct. And a fleet was actually fitted 
 out, and put to sea, for apprehending her in her 
 passage: but they missed their aim; for the Queen 
 arrived safely in Scotland upon the xix day of Au- 
 gust, MDLXi, notwithstanding all their anxiety to in- 
 tercept her. But when she came, she found that no 
 suitable preparations had been made for her recep- 
 tion; because the persons who at that time took the 
 management of afi'airs upon them, w ere in hopes that 
 she would never come, but fall into the hands of the 
 English, to be murdered by them at that time. 
 
 I know how Elizabeth, by her letters to Queen 
 Mary herself, denied that there were any ships sent to 
 intercept her, or that any such thing was ever de- 
 signed. — "Whereas it seems (says she), that report 
 hath been made to you, that we had sent our admiral 
 to the seas, with our navy, to impesch your passage ; 
 both your servants do well understand how false that 
 report was, considering for a truth, that we have not 
 any more than tw^o or three small barks upon the seas 
 to apprehend certain pirates, being thereto intreated, 
 and, in a manner, compelled thereto, by the earnest 
 request of the ambassador of our good brother the 
 King of Spain, made to us of certain of your subjects, 
 Scotsmen, haunting our seas as pirates, under pretence 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 129 
 
 of letters of marque." Thus far Elizabeth. But her 
 Lord Keeper Bacon, in a speech that he delivered in 
 the privy council of England, in the year 1562, against 
 an interview proposed betwixt Queen Mary and Queen 
 Elizabeth, expressed himself in a quite different strain. 
 " Again (says he), by the continual oflfence that the 
 Queen of Scots and the house of Guise's friends took 
 within their breasts daily, for that the Queen hath not 
 * * *, nor that she and they desire she should now 
 have. A matter of itself doubtless sufficient to con- 
 tinue any old displeasure, or to breed a nev/, what- 
 ever shew or countenance, by word or promise, be 
 made to the contrary. 
 
 ^'Besides, think you that the Scottish Queen's suit, 
 made in all friendly manner, to come through England, 
 at the time she left France to come into Scotland, and 
 the denial thereof, except the treaty were ratified, is 
 by them forgotten? or else your sending of your ships 
 to sea at the time of her passage ? Now, doubtless, 
 to speak as I think, these and the rest, which you 
 remember as well as I, w ere able to make her, though 
 before well disposed, to be clean otherwise given; 
 and then much more to continue, with some increase, 
 the old conceived affection towards this realm, espe- 
 cially seeing it is joined witli ambition to a kingdom : 
 and as our doings, on our side, have deserved no 
 change of their affection, but rather the maintenance 
 of the old displeasure, with increase, no more ought 
 we to hope for at their hands." Thus he, and truth 
 has a good face. After what hath been said, any 
 person who can doubt, but that the English sent out a 
 squadron to intercept Mary, and that too by tjia 
 counsel, consent, and approbation of the Prior of St. 
 
 K 
 
130 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 Andrew's, and his accomplices, must be a sceptic iii^ 
 deed in history. 
 
 The sudden death of King Henry II. of France, 
 and the death of King Francis II., Queen Mary's 
 husband, so soon thereafter, threw her affairs into 
 great disorder. Upon the death of Queen Mary of 
 England in November 1558, King Henry, her father- 
 in-law, and one of her curators, in conjunction with 
 the other two curators, her uncles, had thought fit 
 that she should take the title and arms of Queen of 
 England ; and had they done any thing less, they had 
 been blame-worthy, as very negligent of the trust re- 
 posed in them, for she unquestionably had the right 
 in her person, as far as such right can be conveyed by 
 legitimate descent, joined with proximity of blood, 
 and supported by the laws and general practice. 'Tis 
 well known that King Henry VIII. of England, and 
 his parliaments, had declared both his daughters bas- 
 tards. After he came to the crown, he had married 
 Katharine of Spain, his brother's widow, by a dis- 
 pensation from the Pope ; but after be had lived with 
 her about eighteen years, casting his eye upon Anne 
 Bolen, one of her maids, he began to plead great 
 scruples and qualms of conscience about the legali;;y 
 of his marriage ; and it is almost incredible what pains 
 and expences he bestowed, to have it believed 
 throughout all Europe, and declared by the most 
 famous universities at home and abroad, that he had 
 lived all that time in incest, not to mention how many 
 lives this matter cost. He much wanted that the 
 Pope would give the same declaration, but could not 
 obtain it; therefore he shook off his authority, took 
 the power in his own hands, and, by the assistance of 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 131 
 
 Dr. Thomas Cranmer, whom for that end he had mad6 
 Archbishop of Canterbury, he divorced his wife, and 
 then he and his parliament declared his daughter Mary 
 an incestuous bastard, and incapable to succeed to 
 the crown. But before all this could be accomplished. 
 King Henry's conscience began to discover itself; for 
 Anne Bolen had first become with child to him, so he 
 married her privily upon the xxv of January, got his 
 wife divorced 23d of May, and had his daughter Eliza- 
 beth born to him by Anne Bolen upon the 7th day of 
 September, 1533. 
 
 But the worst of it is, that, after all, Anne Bolen 
 was in the same degree of affinity with Henry VIII. 
 as his former wife. This appears very evidently from 
 a bull which he desired from the Pope. A bull, 
 " by which his marriage with Katharine was to be de- 
 clared null and invalid, because she was his brother's 
 widow; so that he might lawfully marry any other 
 w^oman ; and in consequence of such declaration of the 
 nullity of that marriage, he might be dispensed with 
 to marry any other woman lawfully, and with her to 
 live freely in that marriage, and beget lawful issue 
 therein ; even though she should be such a woman as 
 had already contracted marriage with another man, 
 provided she had not consummated that marriage by 
 carnal knowledge ; and although she should be related 
 to Henry himself, in the second or more remote degree 
 of consanguinity, or in the first degree of affinity, ex 
 quocunque, licito sen illicito, coitu, provided she was 
 not his said brother's widow." With other provisos of 
 less moment. 
 
 The Pope Clement VII. being at that time very 
 much oppressed by Charles V. the Emperor, was very 
 Joth to disoblige Henry, so he granted the bull in the 
 
 k2 
 
132 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 very terms as he desired it, upon the xvii day of De- 
 cember, 1527, not above a week after he had been 
 freed from prison in the castle of St. Angelo ; but he 
 inserted a small clause in it, by which he rendered it 
 quite void ; for he granted it only with this proviso, 
 ** That Henry's contract of marriage with the said 
 Katharine should be first declared to have been, and 
 still to be null and invalid;" the determination of 
 which point he reserved to himself, as reason required ; 
 and it is well known that he could never be prevailed 
 upon to allow that it was a null marriage : and in 
 truth, to have allowed or determined otherwise, had 
 been to break down all barriers, and quite to overturn 
 and invalidate the most solemn and sacred ties and 
 obligations upon earth. 
 
 It is a matter worthy of our observation, that at the 
 time of granting this bull, Henry VIII. and his coun- 
 cil acknowledged and took it for granted, with the 
 most of mankind, that the Pope had such a dispensing 
 power : but when they found that he would not go all 
 their lengths, they cried out loudly that he had it not ; 
 and it is more than probable, that if the Pope had 
 come into Henry's measures, to do this manifest piece 
 of injustice, his authority had still been as great in 
 England, or rather greater, than in any other nation in 
 the world, as it had formerly been. So inconsistent 
 are some men rendered by their irregular passions and 
 appetites. 
 
 But as to the view of desiring such an extraordinary 
 and extravagant bull. What could it be that troubled 
 Henry VTII., his conscience, that he pressed so earn- 
 estly to have his first marriage dissolved, as incestuous, 
 because his wife was related to him in the first degree 
 Of affinity ; and yet to desire that he should be autho- 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 133 
 
 rized to marry another, not only related to him in the 
 same degree, but also one who had contracted already 
 with another man? And by what means imaginable 
 had Henry got women related to him in that degree, 
 with whom he had designed to marry? Why truly h6 
 had kept for a mistress Mary Bolen, sister to Anne 
 Bolen, whom, upon fixing his fancy on Anne, he 
 discarded, and caused William Carey, whom he called 
 gentleman of his privy chamber, to marry her. This 
 Anne had contracted already with Henry Piercy, the 
 Earl of Northumberland's eldest son, who, being a 
 young unexperienced man, and having the opportunity 
 of being frequently at court in Cardinal Woolsey's 
 train, was easily kidnapped by such a designing young 
 woman, and had contracted to marry her; till his 
 father, perceiving conscientious Henry's inclinations, 
 with terrible threats, disswaded him from pursuing so 
 dangerous game ; and hence it is that Henry desires, 
 not only that he should have a dispensation to marry 
 a woman related to him in the first degree of affinity, 
 but also, " although that woman should have been con- 
 tracted with another man." 
 
 If this explanation of a deed, being in itself so grossly 
 scandalous and abominable, shall seem rash and un- 
 charitable, to be made at this distance of time, 'tis 
 hoped the testimony of Cardinal Pool, will be of some 
 weight to support it. The Cardinal, whose integrity 
 no man hitherto has attacked with success, addresses 
 Henry VIII. in these words : " Had ye left your wife, 
 because ye persuaded yourself that the law pronounced 
 that marriage wicked and abominable, would ye not 
 have taken the most particular care, that you should 
 not a second time pollute yourself with such another 
 marriage? Would ye not have abstained altogether 
 
134 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 from such persons as were in the same, or even a 
 worse condition, than your former wife? You could 
 not have done otherwise, had you acted from any mo- 
 tive proceeding from the law; but you must have de- 
 tested them who would have advised you to any such 
 mariage, or even who would make mention of it in 
 your presence. What is she with whom ye joined 
 yourself in your divorced wife's room, and what kind 
 of person? Is she not the sister of one, whom ye first 
 deflowered, and long thereafter kept with you as a 
 concubine? She is actually the person. By what 
 means then do youperswade us that ye avoid unlawful 
 marriages? Was ye in this case unacquainted with 
 the law, which in reality no less prohibits to marry a 
 woman with whose sister you had made yourself one 
 flesh, than her with whom your brother was one flesh? 
 Is the one to be detested? So is also the other. Yea 
 you of all men knew best. But how doth this come 
 to my knowledge ? Even because at that very time, 
 when ye was rejecting the Pope*s dispensation, ye 
 strove with great keenness with the same Pope, to have 
 a licence granted you for marrying the sister of her 
 who had been your concubine, and obtained it, upon 
 this condition, that it should first be made manifest 
 that the Pope had not the power of granting a dispen- 
 sation in the former case. Doth not then this very 
 woman, whom ye now have for a wife, most plainly 
 show what your purpose was? Doth not God, through 
 her person, let her be silent, make it evident to all men, 
 that you made mention of the law to serve your lust, 
 and not out of compliance with God's commandment ? 
 But there is another thing which lays your mind yet 
 further open: for this business about your brother's 
 wife, is of less moment by far. Why so ? Because 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 135 
 
 although his wife, whose nakedness the law forbiddeth 
 thee to uncover, was married in the face and view of 
 the church, she came to thee a virgin : but 1 suppose 
 thou wilt not say that thou didst leave a virgin, the 
 sister of that woman whom thou now hast, &c." On 
 account of this free language, Henry sought to have 
 the Cardinal assassinated, and afterwards put his 
 mother the Countess of Salisbury to death ; although 
 he had desired the Cardinal to tell him his mind freely 
 upon the subject. 
 
 King Henry caused his daughter Mary to acknow- 
 ledge herself to be an incestuous beistard, and in the 
 XXV year of his reign, an act of parliament was made, 
 settling the succession to the crown upon his younger 
 daughter Elizabeth, failing his male issue: to the 
 strict observation of which settlement, he got his 
 parliament the next year to take an oath. Yet 
 surely, if his first marriage was incestuous, so was the 
 second ; but if his eldest daughter was legitimate, the 
 second was begotten in adultery. Henry soon after 
 having set his affections on another woman, puts Anne 
 Bolen to death, and the very next day marries mistress 
 Jane Seymour: and then both his daughters are de- 
 clared illegitimate by another act of parliament, in 
 the xxviii year of his reign. But after that he got 
 an act of parliament declaring it lawful for both of 
 them to succeed after other, according to their seniority, 
 and authorizing him to limit the succession after 
 them by his patent, or by his latter will, as should 
 please him. And his good pleasure was to exclude 
 the posterity of his eldest sister, grandmother to Queen 
 Mary of Scotland. 
 
 Kings have frequently taken the assistance of their 
 parliaments, or councils, to oppress some of their 
 
136 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 subjects, and deprive them of their rights ; and sub- 
 jects are often obliged to sit down quietly under such 
 oppression : but independent sovereigns are on another 
 footing ; for one of them, though supported by all his 
 Subjects, is not to pretend to deprive his equal of his 
 just right aind title, unless he designs to entail a war 
 and other hardships upon his people : for princes will 
 not tamely allow themselves to be so cut out, for the 
 mere humour and caprice of an unreasonable tyrant, 
 or any unjust acts of inconsistent parliaments. And 
 had King Henry II. of France lived any time longer, 
 or even his son King Francis II. they could not have 
 failed to vindicate the right of the Queen of Scots to 
 the crown of England, against all such spurious issue 
 as Elizabeth the daughter of Henry VIII. But they 
 happening to die so soon after one another, France 
 became less interested in that matter, and perhaps 
 were not over fond of seeing the British kingdoms 
 fairly united under one lawful sovereign, lest they 
 might happen to create as great disturbance to France 
 as the English had formerly done, while their kings 
 held ample possessions in that kingdom, not so much 
 by their own force or valour, as by raising intestine 
 war and commotions, and by assisting one half of the 
 natives to destroy the other. 
 
 The troubled state of Scotland was another bar 
 against Queen Mary's obtaining or pursuing her right 
 to the throne of England. Our countrymen who had 
 declared for the Reformation, were all joined in a con- 
 federacy with her rival Queen Elizabeth ; which greatly 
 distracted her counsels when she returned out of 
 France. It is not to be doubted but that her inclina- 
 tion was to have had for her council and officers of 
 state, men chiefly of her own religion: but then the 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 137 
 
 reformers, conscious of their own demerits and danger, 
 would never have been quiet. And although these 
 who would have stood up for the Queen or the Roman 
 Catholic religion, might have been an overmatch for 
 the others, yet they could not have stood against the 
 Ens^lish too, who would have been very ready to join 
 in extirpating them all, and dethroning the Queen her- 
 self. She therefore proposed to gain the others by 
 kindness and favours ; allowed them the full exercise 
 of their religion, as she found it set up among them, 
 however illegally and turbulently ; gave them an ample 
 indemnity ; and admitted the chiefs of them into the 
 administration of her affairs, and upon her council : 
 and the Prior of St. Andrew's became her prime minis- 
 ter; and by that means had a great opportunity of 
 pursuing his jjroject of usurping the crown. He pre- 
 cluded her other subjects from all access to her Ma- 
 jesty, except through him only ; and he had not born 
 rule above a year, till he had laid plots for cutting off 
 the principal men in the kingdom, who, he thought, 
 might thwart him in his views ; some of whom he got 
 put to death, and others shut up in prison : he also 
 joined in alliance against the Queen's allies abroad, 
 and levied soldiers whom he sent to join with their 
 enemies against them, without the Queen's knowledge ; 
 a thing which none of our historians have taken notice 
 of except Lindsay of Pitscottie, who writes, that in 
 the year mdlxIi five hundred light horsemen went out 
 of Scotland to France, for support of the congregation, 
 the Queen not knowing thereof. That it was so, is 
 now made plain by the original papers published by 
 Dr. Forbes. The French Protestants had that year 
 put the English in possession of Dieppe, Havre de 
 Grace, and other adjacent villages and forts upon the 
 
138 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 coast of France : on which account the English were 
 to set up Protestantism in France. But matters did 
 not succeed according to their wishes or expectations ; 
 for the Duke of Guise, uncle to Queen Mary, called 
 the Mars of France, having chiefly by his own single 
 personal valour, recovered the battle of Dreux, after 
 the Constable of France had in a manner lost it, the 
 rebels had no kind of success after that, and the 
 English were either driven out, or obliged to quit all 
 these places, and the Scots were almost all cut off in 
 defending them. Some few of them had been appre- 
 hended and hanged by the Constable of France, with 
 papers on their heads, declaring that this was done, 
 because they had come against their sovereign's will, 
 to the service of the Huguenots. It was at first given 
 out that these were Englishmen, ab^ut which the 
 English raised a great deal of clamour: but after it 
 came to be known that they were Scotsmen, there was 
 no more ado about the matter. 
 
 All the advantage that the confederates reaped by 
 this war was, that, during it, they prevailed with one 
 Poltrot, one of the Duke of Guise's gentlemen, to 
 assassinate his master the Duke, whom the reformers 
 dreaded more than any other man in the w orld. The 
 felon's heart failed him, after he had engaged to execute 
 this horrid undertaking; but Theodore de Beze, who 
 acted as the second Protestant Pope, encouraged him 
 to proceed, using words in French to this purpose : 
 *'Go to. Sir; take courage; the angels will assist you." 
 
 Two of our contemporary historians, Buchanan and 
 Knox, behave very strangely with respect to this great 
 man and his murderer. 
 
 Buchanan even commends Poltrot for this very 
 action; and having long before written a poem, iu 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 139 
 
 which he most deservedly praised the Duke, for his 
 famous defence of Metz against the Emperor, he after- 
 wards struck out the Duke's name, and inserted another 
 man's, to whom that praise did not belong : yet is the 
 Duke highly extolled by him in another of his poems, 
 written upon his taking of Calais from the English, 
 and justly too ; for he was called the protector of his 
 country by the parliament of Paris. Knox tells the 
 story in these words, " God had stricken that bloody 
 tyrant the Duke of Guise, &c." of which expressions 
 and behaviour, 1 leave every man to judge for himself. 
 
 While the Earl of Murray was thus treasonably 
 assisting the French rebels, without his sovereign's 
 knowledge, he was also pursuing high matters at home, 
 even to cut oflf the Duke of Chastelherault's family and 
 the Earl of Huntly's, with the Earl of Bothwell. 
 This last Earl, though perhaps the most staunch Protes- 
 tant among them all, upon christian or moral princi- 
 ples, was extremely hated by the rest, because he not 
 only would not join in that rebellion by which they 
 first set up their reformation, but also opposed them ; 
 and being informed by the Queen Dowager, that money 
 was to be sent from England for supporting that rebel- 
 lion, he having good opportunity, by being lieutenant 
 of the marches of Scotland, seized it, and wounded 
 Cockburn of Ormiston, one of the conductors of it. 
 For which reason the congregationers rifled his houses, 
 carried off his charter-chest, and bore him deadly 
 hatred ever after. The Earl of Arran, who, as hath 
 been said already, had been seized with a frenzy, kept 
 a perpetual grudge at him on this account. The Queen 
 and council had endeavoured in vain to make up this 
 difference : but at last it was done in all appearance 
 by means of the Earl of Murray, then only Earl of 
 
140 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 Mar, and John Knox. The latter brought about the 
 reconciliation betwixt Arran and Eothwell, and then 
 Arran and Murray were made umpires in the quarrel 
 betwixt Bothwell and the Laird of Ormiston. Blessed 
 are the peace-makers ! But the Earl of Bothwell had 
 no great cause to be thankful on this occasion ; because 
 thereby his life and fortune were endangered; for 
 within four days after this reconciliation, they prevailed 
 with Arran to accuse him and Gavin Hamilton, Abbot 
 of Kilwinning, his own kinsman, as having conspired 
 to take the Queen and to put her in Arran's own hands, 
 in the castle of Dumbarton ; and to slay the Earl of 
 Murray and secretary Lethington, and others who then 
 were of the ministry : of all which he acquainted the 
 Queen herself by a letter, and brought in even his own 
 father the Duke, as accessory to these designs. The 
 Duke confined him to his chamber : whence he wrote 
 to the Earl of Murray in cyphers, a detail of his 
 grievances, and that he was in fear of his life, unless 
 he should be suddenly rescued ; which was a very 
 direct way to bring about the destruction of his father, 
 and his whole family. Soon thereafter he made his 
 escape from his confinement ; and the Earl of Murray, 
 glad of an opportunity that might be improved to cut 
 off the next heirs to the crown, convoyed him to the 
 Queen, then at Falkland, where he again repeated all 
 his stories ; upon which the Duke had the castle of 
 Dumbarton taken from him, and the Earl of Bothwell, 
 and Abbot of Kilwinning were committed to prison ; 
 and although there appeared about Arran at that time 
 plain evidences of a distempered brain (for he talked of 
 wonderous signs that he saw in the heavens ; imagined 
 that he was bewitched, and would needs get into the 
 Queen's bed, alledging that he was married to her) 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 141 
 
 yet neither could the Earl nor the Abbot get themselves 
 set at liberty, till the former made his escape privily. 
 Arran being further examined about these things, stood 
 to his accusation of the Earl of Bothwell, but began 
 to deny that his own relations knew any thing of the 
 matter, or intended any violence against him ; alledg- 
 ing that he had been inchanted to speak and write the 
 contrary formerly. 
 
 The Gordons were another potent tribe, whose ruin 
 was projected at this juncture : and this was the occa- 
 sion laid hold of for that purpose. Alexander Lord 
 Ogilvie had taken to wife, at his second marriage, one 
 of the Earl of Huntlie*s sisters, and for her dowry 
 had infeft her in a large portion of his lands in liferent. 
 After his death, it seems, she exchanged that liferent 
 with her brother the Earl, for some other consideration ; 
 and he seems to have given it to his son Sir John 
 Gordon, who had married his own cousin, the Lord of 
 Ogilvie's daughter, who seems to have been provided 
 in some share of her father's lands for her portion ; for 
 she is called Lady Findlater in public deeds. James 
 Lord Ogilvie, son of Alexander, wanted to succeed to 
 the whole, but the law allowed him not : therefore he 
 picks a quarrel with Sir John, and, together with his 
 own servants, attacks him and his servants on the 
 street of Edinburgh, upon the 27th of June, 1562. 
 Some of John Gordon's servants were hurt, but the 
 aggressor was dangerously wounded. Both were com- 
 mitted to prison ; but Sir John finding himself hardly 
 used already, and likely to be still worse treated, 
 made his escape out of the prison of Edinburgh. Being 
 afterwards cited to appear before the Queen and her 
 council, he came and submitted himself before her in 
 the tolbooth of Aberdeen, entring himself prisoner, to 
 
142 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 remain there, or to go to any other prison, as it should 
 please her Majesty. The Queen ordered him to go 
 and remain prisoner in the provost of Aberdeen's 
 lodgings, till she should declare her further pleasure in 
 that matter: which he did. They had prevailed upon 
 the Queen to raise some forces, and to go to the nor- 
 thern parts of the country in the end of August, having 
 first modelled and framed her council to their minds, 
 so as only four, with her secretary, and three or four 
 officers of state, should attend at once, for two months^ 
 and after them other four for the next two months, and 
 so on. The four who attended her to the north, were 
 the Earls of Argile, Marishal, Mar, afterwards Murray, 
 and Morton. When the Queen came to Aberdeen, 
 Huntly and his lady came, with a good train, to wait 
 upon her Majesty, and were graciously received. When 
 she came to Inverness, the governor of the castle for 
 the Earl of Huntly, was all of a sudden required to 
 surrender it, who having demurred some short time, 
 surrendered it indeed, and was forthwith hanged. His 
 name wa^ Gordon. John Knox tells us, that Sir John 
 Gordon had commanded this captain to hold out the 
 castle, and had promised him relief. But that could 
 not well be, for this was upon the third of September, 
 and Sir John had only been charged upon the first of 
 that month to quit his prison in the provost of Aber- 
 deen's house, and enter himself prisoner in the castle 
 of Stirling, within seven days, under the pain of 
 treason: which charge he did not obey. Therefore, 
 upon the 10th of that month, there is an act of these 
 counsellors, finding that he had incurred the pains of 
 treason ; and commanding him and bis wife and others, 
 to deliver his houses of Findlater and Auchindown to 
 the Queen's officers, who was to give the charge within 
 
AND ELIZABETH, 
 
 143 
 
 xxiv hours, under the pain of treason and forfeiture. 
 And some soldiers were sent to lie about his house of 
 Findlater, who staid in Cullen, and were by him sur- 
 prised, and their captain made prisoner, and the rest 
 disarmed or slain. 
 
 This was an outrage to which it would seem, he was 
 prompted by the worthy privy council, who that very 
 day enacted, that if the Earl of Huntly, his father, 
 and his friends, should not appear within a very short 
 space, (even next day, if we may trust the printed copy 
 of the act. I have not access to the original at present) 
 he and they should be denounced rebels, and that he 
 should be divested of all places of strength. We find 
 by the acts of their council, that a considerable num- 
 ber of gentlemen of his simame did make their appear- 
 ance before the Queen upon the xxvi day of that 
 month of October, and found surety under very high 
 penalties, to enter their persons in prison, wherever 
 they should be commanded, without any kind of reason 
 given or alledged against them. 
 
 It would seem that the Earl himself was upon his 
 way to do the like : but the godly Prior of St. Andrew's, 
 who had got himself sometime before made Earl of Mar, 
 and during this very expedition, had exchanged that 
 Earldom for the Earldom of Murray, to which Huntly 
 had a sort of claim, was loth to allow that Huntly 
 should ever be received into favour again. He and 
 his associates had, in the Queen's name, raised the 
 inhabitants of the shires of Stirling, Fife, Angus, 
 Meams, and Strathem, and the Queen had before 
 that time a good number of men of the more northern 
 counties about her. Over all these, Murray got himself 
 made the Queen's lieutenant, with a commission to 
 pursue Huntly and his children and friends with fire 
 
MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 and sword. Huntly was coming forward, as Murray*^ 
 admirers say (for this is a very dark piece of history), 
 with three hundred men. It is to be remarked, that, 
 according to the custom of that time, a man of his 
 station and power never went upon any considerable 
 errand without a grand retinue : but Murray lay in his 
 way at Corrichie, with more thousands than he had 
 hundreds. 'Tis said there ensued a battle or engage- 
 ment; but it doth not appear that any one of Huntly's 
 attendants ever drew a sword : their historians affirm, 
 that not one of his opponents was slain. He had his 
 choice of very brave men ; and to say that he came 
 with even three hundred of them, and did not so much 
 as kill or hurt any of his opponents, is plainly to say, 
 that he intended not to fight. But whether his sur- 
 render was voluntary or not, is all one, for he was im- 
 mediately smothered, and then it was given out that he 
 died suddenly in their custody. They kept his corpse 
 unburied all that winter, and then forfeited him and all 
 his posterity, in the month of May: and that they 
 might cut off all the tribe of his sirname, they forged 
 treasonable letters in the Earl of Sutherland's name, 
 pretending that they found them in the dead man's 
 pocket ; upon which they forfeited him, together with 
 Huntly, and all the gentlemen of note of that clan. 
 Sir J ohn Gordon was immediately beheaded, or rather 
 butchered by an unskilful executioner. Adam, one of 
 his younger brothers, although under age, was destined 
 to undergo the same fate ; but the Queen w^ould by no 
 means consent to the execution. George> Huntly s 
 eldest son, was with the Duke of Chastelherault, his 
 iather-in-law, and was obliged to enter himself pri- 
 soner in the castle of Edinburgh, and afterwards in 
 the castle of Dunbar. He also was forfeited, without 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 145 
 
 receiving so much as a citation, or copy of his indite- 
 ment ; nay, they refused to read his inditement in his 
 hearing*, before the choosing of the jury. In it he 
 was accused of treason committed against the Queen's 
 person and the whole nobility that were with her at 
 Inverness : yet did some of these very persons compose 
 a part of his jury, and the rest were of their relations. 
 After he was committed to prison in Dunbar castle 
 they either forged, or surreptitiously obtained a warrant 
 to be signed by the Queen, directed to the governor of 
 the castle, for putting the Lord Gordon to death. But 
 the governor suspecting some fraud, came in person to 
 see the Queen, and pretended that he had executed 
 her commands. The Queen denied that ever she had 
 given such orders : so he produced the warrant, which 
 gave her great uneasiness ; but he soon relieved her, 
 by acquainting her that he bad not yet obeyed the 
 cruel order; and the Queen discharged him from doing 
 . so upon any terms, whatever orders he might receive, 
 if it was not from her own mouth. 
 
 After Murray had thus got the Hamiltons, the Gor- 
 dons, and the Earl of Bothwell either cut off, im- 
 prisoned, banished, or brought under, he began to 
 discover his views more openly. He became exces- 
 sively fond of the name of Stewart ; he recounted the 
 laudable acts of that family, and how well the kingdom 
 had been governed uader them ; and it was great grief to 
 him that the crown was likely to devolve upon another 
 family; and for preventing that, he proposed to the 
 Queen to have the crown entailed upon some persons 
 of her own sirname, and that he himself should be 
 the first person in the entail. The Queen would not 
 
 * Act of reduction in the records of parliament, 1567. 
 L 
 
146 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 hearken to the proposal of defrauding the true heirs; 
 but took the opportunity, from this ambitious view of 
 Murray's, to call home the Earl of Lenox, with whose 
 son she had some thoughts of marrying, and that by 
 advice of her uncle the Cardinal of Lorraine, who con- 
 sidered that the English might perhaps set up that 
 young man, in opposition to her, in the right of succes- 
 sion to the throne of England. Murray also went the 
 more readily into the proposal of restoring Lenox, 
 because he knew that he would be a keen enemy to 
 the Hamiltons, whom they both hated mortally. 
 
 The English court had also their particular sinister 
 views with regard to the Earl of Lenox. In general 
 they hoped, that by this means some disturbance and 
 commotions would be raised in Scotland : and in par- 
 ticular, they expected to have got the Lady Margaret 
 Douglas, his wife, declared a bastard, that so they 
 might debar her and her posterity from any claim to 
 the crown of England. It seems that the Douglases 
 had given them hopes that they would bring that matter 
 about, in order to deprive her of the Earldom of Angus. 
 But Queen Mary prevented their designs; she restored 
 the Earl of Lenox to his own Earldom, and got his 
 Lady to yield her right to the Earldom of xingus to the 
 heir-male. 
 
 In the month of February 1565, Henry Lord Damly, 
 Lenox's son, came to Scotland, and was well received 
 by the Queen, which raised envy against him imme- 
 diately. This envy increased more and more, after it 
 became known that her Majesty had a mind to marry 
 him, in so much that there were designs soon formed 
 to cut him off, as may be seen in the letters of Thomas 
 Randolph, the English resident in Scotland at that 
 time, in one of which, bearing date the 2d day of 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 147 
 
 July, 1565, he says, ''What shall become of him 
 (Darnly) I know not ; but it is greatly to be feared 
 that he can have no long life among this people." In 
 another of the 2ist of that month, Randolph writes, 
 that upon an indiscreet answer which Darnly had given 
 him, he had told Darnly expressly, * that he hoped to 
 ' see the wreck and overthrow of as many as were of 
 'the same mind with him,' which was pretty plain 
 language. Randolph did cabal with the malecontents, 
 was made privy to their designs, and promoted and 
 encouraged them, being authorised so to do. 
 
 The Queen held a great convention of her estates at 
 Stirling, upon the xiv day of May, in which they gave 
 their consent to the marriage. George Buchanan writes 
 that the Earl of Murray, perceiving that there w^ould 
 be no freedom of voting at that meeting, chose rather 
 to be absent, than to give an opinion which perhaps 
 might prove fatal to himself, and unprofitable to the 
 publick. And that Andrew Stewart Lord Ochiltree 
 alone declared openly, that he would never give his 
 consent to the taking a king of the popish party. But 
 the privy council book shews that Murray was actually 
 present, and Ochiltree was not present that day. 
 
 The parliament was appointed to meet at Edinburgh, 
 upon the xx day of July, and a convention to be 
 holden at Perth upon the 10th day of June, for pre- 
 paring matters to be transacted in that parliament. 
 But the meeting of the parliament was prorogued to 
 the first of September; and it did not hold at all, 
 because matters did soon take a new turn. For the 
 Earls of Murray, Argyle, and others, entered into a 
 conspiracy in the town of Perth, to slay the Lord 
 Darnly, together with his father, and divers others who 
 were about the Queen at that time, and to have shut 
 
 l2 
 
148 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 herself up prisoner in Lochlevin all the days of her 
 life, and Murray to take the government upon himself. 
 
 These grand projects were to have been put in execu- 
 tion upon Sunday the first of July. The Queen being 
 at Perth, had promised to the Lord Livingston to stand 
 godmother to his child, who was to be baptized that 
 day at his house of Calendar : but the day before, she 
 was advertised that there were ambushes laid in the 
 way for intercepting her; for which purpose Murray 
 was stationed at Lochlevin, Argyle at Castle-Campbell, 
 and the Duke of Chastelherault at Kinneil. The 
 Queen therefore caused the Earl of Athol and the Lord 
 Ruthven, to assemble suddenly about three hundred 
 men, to accompany her, and taking her journey at 
 five o'clock in the morning, she rode full speed to the 
 Queensferry, and thus frustrated their designs at that 
 time, which nevertheless they continued to pursue in 
 another manner. 
 
 This conspiracy is no dubious matter; it is acknow- 
 ledged and attested by most of the nobility and clergy 
 of Scotland, and among them, by three, who were 
 either of the number of the primary conspirators, or 
 joined with them, to wit, the Earl of Argyle himself, 
 the Earl of Rothes, and Lord Boyd, as has been 
 said already; they add, that many who were in counsel 
 with Murray, and drawn in ignorantly, could then 
 testify it; but to pretend ignorance as an excuse for 
 themselves in an aiFair of this nature, is a very lame 
 apology ; yet was it impossible to alledge a better. 
 
 The English resident Randolph, who acted in con- 
 cert with the conspirators, writes upon the fourth day 
 of July, ' that the Duke, and the Earls of Argyle and 
 Murray had made a band to defend each other, and to 
 assist each other in lawful causes.' Such bands are 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 149 
 
 seldom made but for unlawful causes ; and that it was 
 not otherwise in this case, Randolph knew well, 
 although perhaps he did not, at that time, know the 
 whole articles of their band; for he had acquainted 
 Cecil, upon the second of July, of a conference that 
 he had with Murray some time before, by which it is 
 plain, that they had engaged to rise in open rebellion. 
 
 With my Lord of Murray, (says he), I have lately 
 spoken. He is grieved to see these extreme follies 
 in his sovereign ! He lamenteth the state of this country, 
 that tendeth to utter ruin! He feareth that the nobility 
 shall be forced to assemble themselves together, to do 
 her honour and reverence, as they are in duty bound, 
 butat the same time, to provide for the state, that it 
 do not utterly perish; the whole country being now 
 broken, and every man living in such discontentment, 
 as they do. The Duke, the Earl of Argyle and he 
 concur in this device: many others are like to join 
 them in the same. What will ensue, let wise men 
 judge : I can think Jjut little good, to those that are the 
 chief occasion of these great alterations tha,t lately 
 are come amongst us, &c." Towards the end of this 
 same letter, he tells that he was asked the question, 
 " Whether the English would receive Lenox and Darnly, 
 if they should be delivered to them at Berwick ? And 
 that his answer was, that they neither could nor would 
 refuse their own, in what sort soever they came to 
 them," Which was but coldly answered. It would 
 seem tkat Randolph's choice was to have them deli- 
 vered dead, rather than alive ; for he knew that their 
 death, at least the young man's, was projected a month 
 before this ; for upon the third of June he expresses 
 himself in these words: ('David now worketh all, 
 and is the only governor to the King. The hatred 
 
150 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 towards the King and his family is very great; his 
 pride in words intolerable. People have small joy in 
 this their new master, and find nothing but that God, 
 must find him a short end, or them a miserable life. 
 The dangers of these he now hateth are great: but 
 they find some support, that what he intendeth to 
 others, may light upon himself.') 
 
 In another of his letters he informed Cecil, Queen 
 Elizabeth's secretary, that these confederates had ap- 
 pointed divers of their number to set upon Darnly 
 after his marriage, who were either to kill him, or die 
 themselves; and that if Queen Elizabeth would assist 
 them, they made no doubt but that they should be able 
 to chase their own sovereign Queen into England. 
 Bishop Keith hath already published an abstract of 
 this letter, and there is another abstract of it in the 
 Cottonian library, in these words, as it was transmitted 
 to me : " September 3. The Lords were forced from 
 Edinburgh. From Hamilton, they are gone to Drum- 
 lanrig, whose Lord taketh part with them : from thence 
 either to Drumfries or Carlisle. The Queen suspects 
 Morton ; yet hath he not wit to leave her. She weareth 
 a pistol charged, when in the field; and of all her 
 troops, her husband only has gilt armour. Divers of 
 the other side are appointed to set upon the Queen's 
 husband, and either kill him, or die themselves : they 
 expect relief of more money from England: much 
 promised, but little received as yet. If her Majesty 
 will now help them, they doubt not but one country 
 will receive both the Queens." 
 
 Thus it is as clear as needs be, that the murder of 
 the King, the imprisoning the Queen inLochlevin, the 
 chasing her into England, and Murray's taking the 
 government upon him, were matters all devised, agreed 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 161 
 
 on, and communicated to the English Queen and her 
 ministers, about eighteen months or upwards, before 
 any of them took effect : and they failed not at last to 
 accomplish every article of them. 
 
 Richard Bannatyne, one who had been amanuensis 
 to John Knox, and was appointed by the general as- 
 sembly of the kirk, in March 1573, to draw up in 
 order the papers and scrolls that Knox had left behind 
 him, for the continuation of his history, narrates, in 
 that continuation, a story about Knox's having joined 
 in the band, or covenant, that was entered into for 
 murdering Darnly. Mr. Robert Hamilton, (says he), 
 minister of St. Andrew's, had spread abroad, and told 
 to sundries, that Mr. Knox was as great a murderer as 
 any Hamilton in Scotland, if all things were well tried ; 
 and therefore should not cry out so fast against mur- 
 derers : for, said Mr. Robert, he had subscribed to the 
 death or slaughter of the Queen's husband, the Lord 
 Darnly, with my Lord of Murray ; which should have 
 been done in St. Johnston. These words Mr. James 
 Hamilton declared to me, being Mr. Knox's servant ; 
 and also said, that the said Mr. Robert had divers 
 times spoken the same unto him, and to one called Mr. 
 .John Carnegie, another Regent at that time in the new 
 college of St. Andrew's. Which words, when I heard, 
 I said, I could not of any honour conceal the same, 
 but would avow him to be the speaker thereof to me ; 
 and willed him not to go back therewith. 
 
 " After that I had declared the words to my master, 
 he wrote to Mr. Robert in this manner, being evil at 
 ease for the time: 
 
 " There is nothing so secret but it shall be revealed." 
 
 Because the inability of my body is such, I may not do the thing which 
 other^vise I gladly would, I write unto you, not without pain, these few 
 
152 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 words, desiring to be resolved, whether that ye have afl&rmed to one or 
 more, that ye have seen my subscription and consent to the murder of Lord 
 Damly. Of your own conscience and knowledge ye yourself can best tes- 
 tify. I crave your answer afl&rmativ^ oj negative." 
 
 Subcsribed, Jhone Knox." 
 
 " Which I delivered the xv of November, in anno 
 1571, and required his answer. But his shifting words, 
 spoken to me, might have made any man sufficiently 
 believe, that he had spoken the same. But after long 
 talk, he willed me to give this answer. That he needed 
 not to have vrrittenunto him; for if he would have sent 
 the least boy to his house, he should have come to 
 him, to satisfy him : which words I reported again. 
 
 " Thereafter my master shewed the matter to the 
 rector Mr. John Douglas, now made bishop, and to 
 Mr. John Rutherford, desiring them to speak to Mr. 
 Robert, to satisfy this slander, or else to abide by it, 
 or if he would not, that he would complain to the kirk. 
 Thereafter came said Mr. Robert, and talked with my 
 master. What it was, I know not; but when I came 
 in upon them, my master willed me to shew him tha^ 
 I told him it; which I confessed, and shewed who 
 spake the same to me : which when I heard, I said I 
 could not, neither of honesty, nor honour, conceal the 
 same ; adding further, that if I knew my master to be 
 such a man, I would not serve him for all the gear in 
 St. Andrew's. 
 
 " Then the trial of the matter w^as referred to me 
 Richard Bannantyne, by command of my master; 
 whereof I thought Mr. Robert had little will, or none 
 at all. After finding opportunity, I confronted the 
 said Mr. James and Mr. Robert together*** which 
 he denied ; but the other affirmed in his face to be most 
 true, that he had so spoken, not only unto him, but 
 also unto Mr. John Carnegie, to bring Mr. Knox in 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 153 
 
 hatred and disdain. Mr. Robert said he should cause 
 the other repent his speaking, and that he should have 
 him before the kirk, to make the amends. Then T said, 
 if ye be innocent, and have not spoken it, ye will do 
 so ; but if that be not done, it may easily be known 
 that ye have spoken the same. But there was no more 
 of it, excepting that he said he should cause Mr. James 
 repent it ; which he and the rest of the Hamiltons did 
 what they could, till at length he was compelled to 
 leave the college. Others mocked him, calling him 
 Knox's bird, with such other taunts. God grant them 
 repenting hearts, to acknowledge their despite which 
 they have against that poor man, because he had a 
 favour to Mr. Knox." 
 
 From this simple narrative, it is to be observed, that 
 although in our days, this horrid conspiracy, which was 
 formed while the Queen was at Perth, is little known, it 
 has been pretty well known formerly. None of the par- 
 ties concerned in this recouater, do either deny, or call 
 in question, that there was such a conspiracy at that 
 time, into which the Earl of Murray and his associates 
 entered, and that by subscription too : on the contrary, 
 they all talk of it, as a known uncontroverted matter 
 of fact. And Knox's waving all prosecution, and hush- 
 ing up the business, by referring the care and enquiry 
 about it to this silly fellow his servant, is more than a 
 tacit acknowledgment that he was on that plot, and a 
 subscriber. It was not to be expected that Knox 
 would willingly incur the pains of high treason, by 
 acknowledging a thing of this nature. No! even 
 Hamilton durst not avow publickly that he saw the 
 deed, with the subscriptions, for to have seen it, and 
 concealed it, was treason too : but no man who is toler- 
 
164 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 ably acquainted with Knox's temper, writings and 
 actions, will believe that he would have dropt the 
 matter so, had he been innocent. 
 
 The Queen and Lord Darnly having escaped the 
 ambuscade which was laid for them at the kirk ofBaith, 
 upon the first day of July, and the plot taken air; the 
 conspirators, to put some face upon the matter, began 
 to turn the cannon, and to proclaim that Darnly, in 
 the back gallery of the Queen's lodging in Perth, had 
 devised to murder Murray : and this was confidently 
 affirmed by the Earl of Argyle, and by Murray himself. 
 Had it even been so, little would it have justified them, 
 who had entered into a combination against him and 
 the Queen too, near three months before he came to 
 Perth*. But as it w as most false, and very slanderous 
 upon Darnly, and even prejudicial to the Queen her- 
 self, Mr. John Hay, her Majesty's master of requests, 
 and Mr. Robert Crichton her advocate, were sent by 
 the privy council to these two earls, upon the xvii day 
 of July, " to command and charge them, in the Queen's 
 name, upon their allegiance, and as they would de- 
 clare themselves faithful subjects and noblemen, to 
 declare, plainly and uprightly, the words and bruit 
 made to them of said alledged conspiracy ; the form 
 and manner of it, and the name of the reporter : and 
 that they should put their declaration in writing, and 
 subscribe it with their hands, and send it by the 
 master of requests and advocate to her Majesty : certi- 
 fying them, that if they should delay, or in any way 
 conceal the simple truth of the matter, to the efi*ect 
 that it might be brought to a clear trial, that her 
 
 * Letter from Randolph, Elizabeth's ambassador. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 155 
 
 Majesty would think no otherways of them, but that 
 they themselves had feigned and invented that bruit 
 and tale, out of their own heads." 
 
 But this could not be done. Murray affirmed, that 
 he was content to come to her Majesty for declaration 
 of the truth of the report made to him, as to the al- 
 ledged conspiracy of his slaughter in St. Johnston, 
 provided he might be assured of his life than which 
 there could be no greater juggling or trifling. For, if 
 he had any suspicion that his life was in danger if he 
 should come to the Queen, why should he offer to 
 come ? He had only been required to send a true 
 account of the report of the device to murder him, the 
 form and manner of it, and the reporter's name ; in 
 which surely there could be no kind of danger. And 
 who can doubt but that he would have done this, if he 
 could, or if there had been the least grain of truth in 
 the story ? However, to cut off this pretence also, the 
 Queen and council, with a great convention of the 
 nobility, upon the xix day of July, sent him a very 
 ample " assurance for his life, and that he should be 
 free from all bodily harm : that neither he, nor any of 
 his company should be molested, or in any sort grieved, 
 or troubled, in bodies or goods, in their coming and 
 repairing towards her Majesty, remaining or departing, 
 and while he and they should be returned to the same 
 place from whence they came, in full liberty, at their 
 pleasure." Along with this assurance the Queen sent 
 a charge by an officer of arms, that he should make 
 his appearance before her within three days after he 
 should receive it. 
 
 But this condescension availed nothing: Murray 
 had nothing to say for himself: but he caused the Lord 
 Erskine and Sir John Maxwell to acquaint the Queen, 
 
156 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 ** how ardent his desire was to declare the due obe- 
 dience which he owed to her Majesty; and for dis- 
 charging of himself of such bruites as had been re- 
 ported by him, with regard to the alledged conspiracy 
 of his slaughter !" Upon this, a new assurance was 
 sent to him, upon the 28th day of July, the day before 
 her marriage with Darnly, which served to no manner 
 of purpose ; for Murray's plot was only to drive away 
 time, till he and his associates should be in readiness 
 to appear in arms against the Queen and her husband. 
 They had already made application to Queen Elizabeth 
 for money, to enable them to carry on their rebellion. 
 On the fourth day of July, immediately after disappoint- 
 ment in their plot for slaying Damly and seizing the 
 Queen, they had made Randolph write to Cecil, " tliat 
 lest they should seem to desire any such sum, as the 
 greatness thereof should seem a burden to her Majesty, 
 and that way discourage her altogether from doing any 
 thing at all ; they thought, that if her Majesty would be- 
 stow only three thousand pounds sterling, for that year 
 (except some force were brought in against them), that 
 they should be able very well to bring this realm in 
 rest and quietness; and the money to be bestowed, as 
 they would answer to God, as should be 'most appa- 
 rent to the well of both the countries, and furtherance 
 of these two principal causes [religion and amity with 
 England] in the defence of which they promise, and 
 have sworn, to adventure their bodies, and spend 
 their goods, to the uttermost of their powers." 
 
 Queen Elizabeth animated them by a letter the 10th 
 of that month — that so long as they intended nothing 
 but the maintenance of true religion, to the honour of 
 God, and consequently uphold their sovereign's estate, 
 and did also nourish the amity between the two realms. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 157 
 
 she should allow them, and so esteem of them, as in 
 all just and honourable causes they should find her to 
 regard their state and continuance. " Desiring Ran- 
 dolph to assure them, " that they doing their duty, if 
 by malice, or practice, they should be forced to any 
 inconveniency, they should not find lack in her, to re- 
 gard them in their truth!" 
 
 Encouraged by these hints and promises, and having 
 received money from England, the rebels, who had 
 hitherto lurked in small parties, in difi'erent places, 
 began to assemble themselves together, and then broke 
 out in open and avowed rebellion. The Queen raised 
 forces also; the Earl of Bothwell she called home, 
 and the Lord Gordon she relieved out of prison, upon 
 sureties given, in order to be restored to his father's 
 estate, and that she might have the assistance of these 
 two against her most ungrateful and truly unnatural 
 rebels and traitors. She marched out herself at the 
 head of her army, about the 26th day of August, to 
 pursue them. When she was come to St. Andrew's, 
 there came to her hands a very imperious letter from 
 these rebels, of which no better account is to be had 
 than from the proclamation made in the King and 
 Queen's name, upon their receiving it : viz. That as 
 in this uproar lately raised up against us, by certain 
 of our rebels and their assisters, the authors thereof, 
 to seel the eyes of the simple people, have given them 
 to understand, that the quarrel which they had in hand 
 was only religion, thinking with that cloke, to cover 
 their other ungodly designs ; and so, under pretence 
 of that plausible argument, to draw after them a large 
 tail of ignorant persons, easily to be seduced : now, 
 for preservation of our good subjects, whose case were 
 to be pitied, if they blindly should be sufi*ered to be 
 
158 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 entrapped in so dangerous a snare, it hath pleased the 
 goodness of God, by the utterance of their own mouths 
 and writings to us, to discover the poison that before lay 
 hid in their hearts ; albeit to all persons of clear judg- 
 ment, the same was evident enough before. For what 
 other thing might move the principal raisers of this 
 tumult, to put themselves in arms against us, so unna- 
 turally, upon whom we had bestowed so many benefits, 
 but that the great honour we did unto them, they be- 
 ing thereof most unworthy, made them to misknow 
 themselves ? And that their insatiable ambition could 
 not be satisfied with heaping riches upon riches, and 
 honour upon honour, unless they might receive in 
 their hands us, and our whole realm, to be led, used, 
 and disposed at their pleasure ? But this could not 
 the multitude have perceived, if God, for disclosing of 
 their hypocrisy, had not compelled them to utter their 
 unreasonable desire to govern. For now, by letters 
 sent from themselves to us, they make plain profession. 
 That the establishing religion will not content them ; 
 but we must perforce be governed by such council as 
 shall please them to appoint unto us : a thing so far 
 beyond all measure, that w e think the only mention of 
 so unreasonable a demand, is sufficient to make their 
 nearest kinsfolk their most mortal enemies, and all 
 men to run on them, without further scruple, that are 
 zealous to have their native country to remain still in 
 the state of a kingdom. 
 
 "For what else is this, but to dissolve the whole 
 policy, and, in a manner, to invert the very order of 
 nature? To make the prince obey, and the subjects to 
 command! The like was never demanded of any of our 
 most noble progenitors heretofore : yea, not of gover- 
 nors nor regents, but the princes, or such as occupied 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 159 
 
 their place, ever choose their council of such as they 
 thought most fit for the purpose. 
 
 When we ourselves were of less age, and at our first 
 arrival in our realm, we had free choice of our council, 
 at our pleasure : and now, when we are at our full 
 majority, shall we be brought back to the state of pupils 
 and minors ? or be put under tutelage ? 
 
 " So long as some of them bore the whole swing with 
 us themselves, this matter was never called in ques- 
 tion : but now, when they cannot be longer permitted 
 to do, and undo, all things at their appetite, they will 
 put a bridle in our mouths, and give us a council 
 chosen after their fantasy. 
 
 "This is the quarrel of religion, which they made you 
 believe they had in hand ! This is the quarrel for which 
 they would have you to hazard your lives, lands, and 
 goods, in company of certain rebels, against your 
 natural princes ! To speak it in good language, they 
 would be kings themselves ; or at the least, leaving to 
 us the bare name and title, take to themselves the 
 whole use and administration of the kingdom. 
 
 We have thought good to make publication hereof 
 unto you, to the end ye sulFer not yourselves to be 
 deceived, under pretence of religion, to follow them, 
 who, preferring their particular advancement to the 
 public tranquillity, and having no care of you, in 
 respect of themselves, would, if ye will hearken to 
 their voice, draw you after them, to your utter destruc- 
 tion, assuring you, that, as you have heretofore had 
 good experience of our clemency, and under our wings 
 enjoyed in peace the possession of your own goods, 
 and lived at liberty of your conscience ; so may ye be 
 in full assurance of the like hereafter, and have us 
 always your good and loving princes, so many as shall 
 
160 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 contain yourselves in due obedience^ and do the office 
 of faithful and natural subjects. Given under our 
 signet, and subscribed with our hands, at St. Andrew's 
 the third day of September, and of our reign the first 
 and XXIII years." 
 
 After this the Queen returned by Dundee, taking 
 sureties and bands from divers persons for keeping the 
 peace; and being informed that the rebels had come 
 to Edinburgh, she came thither also ; but they had 
 been forced from that city long before her coming, and 
 had gone to Lanerk and Hamilton, and after that to 
 Dumfries, to which place she pursued them, and 
 chased them into England, about the 8th day of 
 October. 
 
 The following letter will illustrate the intentions, 
 activity, and promptitude of Elizabeth, by her secret 
 support of the rebels in exile ; and at the same time, 
 her anxiety to avoid publicity of her conduct. This 
 plotting occurred in the same year of Mary's marriage 
 with Darnly. 
 
 THE QUEEN TO THE EARL OF BEDFORD*. 
 ** Upon the adrertizements lately received from you, with such other 
 things as came also from the Lord Scrope and Thomas Randolph, and upon 
 the whole matter well considered, we have thus determined. We will, with 
 all the speed that we can, send to you 3000/. to be thus used. If you shall 
 certainly understand that the Earl of Murray hath such want of money, as 
 the impresting to him of 1000/. might stand him instead for the help to 
 defend himself, you shall presently let him secretly to understand, that you 
 will, as of yourself, let him have so much, and so we will that you let him 
 have, in the most secret sort that you can, when the said sum shall come to 
 you, or if you can, by any good means, advance him some part there , 
 before hand. 
 
 " The other 2000/. you shall cause to be kept whole, unspent, if it be not 
 that you shall see necessary cause to imprest some part thereof to the now 
 numbers of the 600 footmen and 100 horsemen ; or to the casting out of 
 
 * 11th September, 1565, from the State Paper office. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 161 
 
 wages of sucli workmen, as by sickness, or otherwise ouglit to be discharged. 
 And where we perceive, by your sundry letters, the earnest request of the 
 said Earl of Murray and his associates, that they might have, at the least, 
 300 of our soldiers, to aid them. And that you also write, that though we 
 would not command you to give them aid, yet if we would but \Vinlc a,t your 
 doing herein, and seem to blame you for attempting such things, as you with 
 the help of others should bring about, you doubt not but things would do 
 well ; you shall understand for a truth, that we have no intention, for many 
 respects, to maintain any other princes subjects, to take arms against their 
 sovereign ; neither would we willingly do any thing to give occasion to make 
 wars betwixt us and that prince, which has caused us to forbear, hitherto, 
 to give you any power to let them be aided with any men. 
 
 "But now, considering we take it, that they are pursued, notwithstanding 
 their humble submission, and offer to be ordered and tried by law and justice, 
 which being refused to them, they are retired to Domfrese, a place near our 
 west marches, as it seemeth there to defend themselves, and adding thereunto 
 the good intention that presently the French King pretendeth, by sending 
 one of his to join with some one of ours, and jointly to treat with that 
 Queen, and to induce her to forbear this manner of violent and rigorous 
 proceeding against her subjects, for which purpose, the French ambassador 
 here ^vith us has lately written to that Queen, whereof answer is daily looked 
 for, to the intent in the mean time the said lords should not be oppressed 
 and ruined, for lack of some help to defend them, we are content and do 
 authorize, if you shall see it necessary for their defence, to let them, (as of 
 your own adventure^ and without notifying that you have any direction therein 
 from us) to have the number of 300 soldiers, to be taken either in whole 
 bands, or to be drawn out of all your bands, as you shall see cause. And to 
 cover the matter the better, you shall send these numbers to Carlisle, as to be 
 laid there in garrison, to defend that march, now in this time that such 
 powers are on the other part drawing to those frcmtiers, and so from thence 
 as you shall see cause to direct of, the same numbers or any of them may 
 most covertly repair to the said lords, when you shall expressly advertise, 
 that you send them that aid only for their defence, and not therewith to make 
 war against the Queen, or to do any thing that may offend her person, 
 wherein you shall so precisely deal %vith them, that they may perceive your 
 care to be such as if it should otherwise appear, your danger should be so 
 great, as all the friends you have could not be able to save you tOAvards us. 
 And SO we assure you our conscience mo veth us to charge you, so to proceed 
 with them, for otherwise than to preserve them from ruin, we do not yield 
 to give them aid of money or men : and yet we would not that either of these 
 were known to be our act, but rather to be covered with your oivn desire and 
 attempt." 
 
 M 
 
162 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 After Murray and his associates were driven out and 
 banished, perceiving that they had not sufficient 
 strength to cope with the Queen, they had recourse to 
 stratagem ; and they and their favourers unhappily fell 
 upon a method to disturb all her affairs, by means of 
 one of whom it was not to have been expected, even 
 by the weakness and rashness of her own husband. 
 
 The Queen had already done him all the honours 
 that lay in her power. She restored his father to his 
 Earldom, and had created himself Earl of Ross and 
 Duke of Albany : yea, by the consent of a convention 
 of the three estates, she had married him, and given 
 him the title of King, ordaining, ''That all letters tq 
 be directed after the marriage, and during the conti- 
 nuance thereof, should be in his name and her name, 
 as King and Queen of Scotland conjunctly. All 
 honour, says Randolph*, that may be attributed unto 
 any man by a wife, he hath it wholly and fully. All 
 praise that may be spoken of him, he laketh not from 
 herself. All dignities that she can endow him with, 
 are already given and granted. No man pleaseth her 
 that contenteth not him. And what may I say more ? She 
 hath given over unto him her whole will, to be ruled and 
 guided as himself best liketh. She can as much prevail 
 with him in any thing that is against his will, as your 
 lordship may with me, to persuade that I should hang 
 myself. This last dignity, out of hand, to have him 
 proclaimed King, she would have had deferred until 
 it were agreed by parliament, or till he himself had 
 been twenty one years of age, that things done in his 
 name might have the better authority. He would in 
 
 * Letter from Randolph to Leicester, 31st July, 1565. Cotton. Libr. Cal. 
 B. 9, fol. 218. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 1C3 
 
 no case have it deferred one day; and either now or 
 never.'' 
 
 This, by the bye, shews how uncautious the forgers 
 of the pretended letters to Bothwell have been, for in 
 them this King Henry is represented as the most 
 humble and complaisant husband to his Queen that 
 ever was in the world. It ought to have been so in- 
 deed : but the direct contrary is certain, not only from 
 this letter, but from many other documents, some of 
 which shall appear immediately. 
 
 The Earl of Murray, and all his accomplices in the 
 rebellion, being driven out of the kingdom, and most 
 justly declared fugitives, the young King thought there 
 could be no further danger ; and that there remained 
 nothing now to be done, but that he should aggrandize 
 himself as much as possibly could be done ; and there- 
 fore wanted to get the matrimonial crown, that is, to 
 be crowned as King during the marriage, without delay. 
 This was a thing that could not be done regularly, or 
 effectually without consent of parliament, and on or 
 before the first day of December, the parliament had 
 been appointed to meet upon the 4th day of Februaiy 
 next to come, mdlxvi, in which this matter was to 
 have been treated, and the rebels, his enemies, who 
 causelessly sought his life, w ere to have been forfeited ; 
 and this was a proper time. But that meeting of the 
 parliament was prorogued till the 7th day of April, as 
 is most usual in such cases ; for it is well known that 
 parliaments seldom assemble upon the day first ap- 
 pointed ; but sometimes after two or three consecutive 
 prorogations. This delay, however, raised the young 
 King's choler to a very high degree. There were at 
 court, and on the privy council, some traitors, who 
 were in the interest of the banished rebels, and at the 
 
 m2 
 
164 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 devotion of the Queen of England and her court ; 
 more particularly James Douglas Earl of Morton, and 
 Patrick Lord Ruthven. Of the same number were 
 Patrick Lord Lindsay, a forward inconsiderate man, 
 and divers others of less note. These men, especially 
 the two first named, perceiving the King to stomach 
 this disappointment, began to lament his bad usage. 
 What pity it was that such a graceful hoi3eful prince, 
 should be thus thwarted in his just designs ! And such 
 a husband to be in a kind of subjection and depen- 
 dency upon his wife, was against the order of nature ; 
 for she in all things ought to be subservient and obe- 
 dient to her husband's will and inclination. This 
 could be owing to nothing but the sinister advices of 
 her new evil counsellors ; such as the Earls of Huntly, 
 Bothwell and Athole, with the Lords Fleming and 
 Livingston, Sir James Balfour, and David Bizio, her 
 secretary for her affairs in France. Unless these people 
 be taken out of the way, there were small hopes that 
 he would soon attain to that which he so much desired 
 . and deserved. But had he been so fortunate as to 
 have had the Earls of Murray, Argile, and Rothes on 
 the council, a man of his desert had not been so slight- 
 ingly set by or put off. These were the men who had 
 the welfare of their native country at heart ! men truly 
 religious ! sincere lovers of justice and equity ! and 
 who paid always due regard to virtue and true merit ! 
 But the rest studied nothing, but their own preferment 
 and private interests. A very lamentable case ! But 
 what remedy ? 
 
 By these and the like false and treacherous assertions 
 and insinuations, the King being blinded with ambition, 
 was seduced. He began to listen to their proposals, 
 and even his father Lenox entered into their measures. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 165 
 
 Murray, in a state of perfect desperation, had used all 
 the interest that could be thought of with every person 
 that could be supposed to have the least influence to 
 prevent his forfeiture, from the English Queen, Eliza- 
 beth, down to David Rizio, Queen Mary's secretary 
 for her foreign afl'airs; but all in vain; till Darnly, 
 whom of all men he most hated, took up this frozen 
 viper to warm it in his bosom, who, in all human pro- 
 bability, must otherwise have perished, or pined away 
 in misery. By which means he procured himself to be 
 murdered, his father to be slain, his mother to be 
 poisoned, and his matchless Queen to be murdered : 
 only his son, then unborn, narrowly escaped destruc- 
 tion : but the influence of this single act extended 
 itself much further, even to the murder of his grandson, 
 and the dethroning and exiling his great grand-children 
 and posterity. — Goodall. 
 
 After the death of the Regent, the Earl of Lenox 
 was considered the person who had the best claim to 
 the government of the kingdom, and that honour was 
 conferred upon him in a convention of the whole iDarty, 
 held on the 12th of July, 1570.— Editor. 
 
 The Regent's first care was to prevent the meeting 
 of the parliament, w hich the Queen's party had sum- 
 moned to convene at Linlithgow. Having efl'ected 
 that, he marched against the Earl of Huntly, Mary's 
 Lieutenant in the north, and forced the garrison, which 
 he had placed in Brechin, to surrender at discretion. 
 Soon after, he made himself master of some other 
 castles. Emboldened by this successful beginning of 
 bis administration, as well as by the appearance of a 
 -considerable army, with which the Earl of Sussex 
 
166 MARY QLEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 hovered on the borders, he deprived Maitland of his 
 office of secretary, and proclaimed him, the Duke^ 
 Huntly, and other leaders of the Queen's party, traitors 
 and enemies of their country. 
 
 In this desperate situation of their affairs, the Queen's 
 adherents had recourse to the King of Spain, with whom 
 Mary had held a close correspondence ever since her 
 confinement in England. They prevailed on the Duke 
 of Alva, to send two of his officers to take a view of 
 the country, and to examine its coasts, and harbours ; 
 and obtained from him a small supply of money and 
 arms, which were sent to the Earl of Huntly. But this 
 aid, so disproportionate to their exigencies, would 
 have availed them little. They were indebted for their 
 safety to a treaty, which Elizabeth was carrying on, 
 under colour of restoring the captive Queen to her 
 throne. The first steps in this negotiation had been 
 taken in the month of May; but hitherto little progress 
 w^as made in it. The peace concluded between the 
 Roman Catholics and Hugouots in France, and her 
 apprehensions that Charles would interpose with vigour 
 in behalf of his sister-in-law, quickened Elizabeth's 
 motions. She affected to treat her prisoner with more 
 indulgence, she listened more graciously to the solici- 
 tations of Foreign ambassadors in her favour, and 
 seemed fully determined to replace her on the throne 
 of her ancestors. As a proof of her sincerity, she 
 laboured to procure a cessation of arms between the 
 two contending factions in Scotland. 
 
 Lennox, elated with the good fortune, which had 
 hitherto attended his administration, and flattering him- 
 self with an easy triumph over enemies, whose estates 
 were wasted, and their forces dispirited, refused, for 
 some time, to come into this measure. It was not safe 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 167 
 
 for him, however, to dispute the will of his protectress. 
 A cessation of hostilities during two months, to com- 
 mence on the third of September, was agreed upon; 
 • and being renewed from time to time, it continued till 
 the first of April next year. 
 
 Soon after, Elizabeth dispatched Cecil and Sir Walter 
 Mildmay to the Queen of Scots. The dignity of these 
 ambassadors, the former her prime minister, the latter 
 chancellor of the exchequer, and one of her ablest 
 counsellors, convinced all parties that the negotiation 
 was serious, and that the hour of Mary's liberty was 
 now approaching. The propositions, which they made 
 to her, were advantageous to Elizabeth, but such as a 
 prince, in Mary's situation, had reason to expect. The 
 ratification of the treaty of Edinburgh ; the renouncing 
 any pretensions to the English crown, during Elizabeth's 
 own life, or that of her posterity; the adhering to the 
 alliance between the two kingdoms ; the pardoning her 
 subjects, who had taken arras against her; and her 
 promising to hold no correspondence, and to counte- 
 nance no enterprise, that might disturb Elizabeth's 
 government; were among the chief articles. 
 
 By w^ay of security for the accomplishment of these, 
 they demanded that some persons of rank should be 
 given as hostages; that the prince her son should reside 
 in England, and that a few castles on the border should 
 be put into Elizabeth's hands. To some of these pro- 
 positions Mary consented ; some she endeavoured to 
 mitigate ; and others she attempted to evade. In the 
 meantime, she transmitted copies of them to the Pope, 
 to the Kings of France and Spain, and to the Duke of 
 Alva. She insinuated, that without some timely and 
 vigorous interposition in her behalf, she would be 
 obliged to accept of these hard conditions, and to 
 
168 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 purchase liberty at any price. But the Pope was a 
 distant and feeble ally, and by his efibrts against the 
 Turks, his treasury was entirely exhausted. Charles 
 had already begun to meditate that conspiracy against 
 the Hugonots, which marks his reign with such infamy ; 
 and it required much leisure, and perfect tranquillity, 
 to bring that execrable plan to maturity. Philip was 
 employed in fitting out that fleet, which acquired so 
 great renown to the christian arms, by the victory over 
 the infidels at Lepanto ; the Moors in Spain threatened 
 an insurrection ; and his subjects in the Netherlands, 
 provoked by much oppression, and many indignities, 
 were breaking out into open rebellion. All of them, 
 for these difi"erent reasons, a dvised Marv, without de- 
 pending on their aid, to conclude the treaty on the best 
 terms she could procure. 
 
 Mary, accordingly, consented to many of Elizabeth's 
 demands, and discovered a facility of disposition, 
 which promised still further concessions. But no con- 
 cession she could have made, would have satisfied 
 Elizabeth, who, in spite of her repeated professions of 
 sincerity to foreign ambassadors, and notwithstanding 
 the solemnity with which she carried on the treaty, had 
 no other object in it, than to amuse Mary's allies, and 
 to gain time. After having so long treated a Queen, 
 who fled to her for refuge, in so ungenerous a manner, 
 she could not now dismiss her with safety. Under all 
 the disadvantages of a rigorous confinement, Mary had 
 found means to excite commotions in England, which 
 were extremely formidable. What desperate efiects 
 of her just resentment might be expected, if she were 
 set at liberty, and recovered her former power ? What 
 engagements could bind her, not to revenge the wrongs 
 she had suff"ered, nor to take advantage of the favour- 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 169 
 
 able conjunctures that might present themselves ? Was 
 it possible for her to give such security for her beha- 
 viour, in times to come, as might remove all suspicions 
 and fears ? And was there not good cause to conclude, 
 that no future benefits could ever obliterate the memory 
 of past injuries* ? It was thus Elizabeth reasoned ; 
 though she continued to act as if her views had been 
 entirely different. She appointed seven of her privy 
 counsellors to be commissioners for settling the articles 
 of the treaty ; and as Mary had already named the 
 Bishops of Ross and Galloway, and Lord Livingston, 
 for her ambassadors, she required the Regent to em- 
 power proper persons to appear in behalf of the King. 
 The Earl of Morton, Pitcarn, Abbot of Dunfermling, 
 and Sir James Macgill were the persons chosen by the 
 Regent. They prepared for their journey, as slowly 
 as Elizabeth herself could have wished. At length 
 they arrived at London, and met the commissioners of 
 the two Queens. Mary's ambassadors discovered the 
 strongest inclination to comply with every thing, that 
 would remove the obstacles, which stood in the way of 
 their mistress's liberty. But when Morton and his 
 associates were called upon to vindicate their conduct, 
 and to explain the sentiments of their party, they 
 began, in justification of their treatment of the Queen, 
 to advance such maxims concerning the limited powers 
 of princes, and the natural right of subjects to resist 
 and to controul them, as were extremely shocking to 
 Elizabeth, whose notions of regal prerogative were 
 very exalted. With regard to the authority which the 
 King now possessed, they declared that they neither 
 had, nor could possibly receive instructions, to consent 
 
 * Only phantoms— beings of the brain. — Editor. 
 
MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 to any treaty, that tended to subvert, or even to im- 
 pair it, in the least degree. Nothing could be more 
 trifling and ridiculous, than such a reply from the com- 
 missioners of the King of Scots, to the Queen of 
 England. His party depended absolutely on her pro- 
 tection, her hand had seated him on the throne, and to 
 her power he owed the continuance of his reign. With 
 the utmost ease, she could have brought them to talk 
 in a very different manner; and whatever conditions 
 she might have thought fit to prescribe, they would 
 have had no other choice but to submit. This decla- 
 ration, however, she affected to consider as an insu- 
 perable difficulty. And finding that there was no reason 
 to dread any danger from the French King, who had 
 not discovered that eagerness in support of Mary, 
 which was expected ; the reply made by Morton fur- 
 nished her with a pretence for putting a stop to the 
 negotiation, till the Regent should send ambassadors 
 with more ample powers. Thus, after being amused 
 for ten months with the hopes of liberty, the unhappy 
 Queen of Scots remained under stricter custody than 
 ever, and without any prospect of escaping from it ; 
 while those subjects, who still adhered to her, were 
 exposed, without ally or protector, to the rage of 
 enemies, whom their success in this negotiation ren- 
 dered still more insolent. — Robertson. 
 
 Of all our historians, Buchanan alone avowedly ac- 
 cuses Mary of a criminal love for Rizio, 340, 344. 
 Knox slightly insinuates that such a suspicion was 
 entertained, 391. Melvil, in a conversation with the 
 Queen, intimates that he was afraid her familiarity 
 with Rizio might be liable to misconstruction, 110. 
 The King himself seems, both by Mclvil's account^, 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 171 
 
 and by his expostulation with the Queen, which Ruth- 
 \en mentions, to have given credit to these suspicions, 
 Melv. 127. Keith, Append. 123, 124. That the King's 
 suspicions were strong, is likewise evident. But, in 
 opposition to these suspicions, and they are nothing 
 more, we may observe that Raulet, the Queen's French 
 secretary, was dismissed from her service, and Rizio 
 advanced to that office in December 1564. Keith 268, 
 It was in consequence of this preferment, that he 
 acquired his great credit with the Queen, Melv. 107. 
 Darnly arrived in Scotland about two months after, 
 Keith, 269. The Queen immediately conceived for him 
 a passion, which had all the symptoms of genuine and 
 violent love. Rizio aided this passion, and promoted 
 the marriage with all his interest, Melv. 111. During 
 some months after the marriage, the Queen's fondness 
 for Darnly continued. She soon proved with child. 
 From this enumeration of circumstances, it appears 
 almost impossible that the Queen, unless we suppose 
 her to have been a woman utterly abandoned, could 
 carry on any criminal intrigue with Rizio. But the 
 silence of Randolph, the English resident, a man 
 abundantly ready to mention, and to aggravate Mary's 
 faults, and who does not once insinuate that her confi- 
 dence in Rizio concealed any thing criminal, is in itself 
 a sufficient vindication of her innocence. — Whitaker. 
 
 OF THE MURDER OF MURRAY. 
 
 Hamilton of Bothwellhaugh was the person who 
 committed the barbarous murder. He had been con- 
 dem.ned to death soon after the battle of Langside, as 
 we have already related, and owed his life to the Re- 
 gent's clemency. But part of his estate had been be- 
 stowed upon one of the Regent's favourites, who 
 
172 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 seized his house, and turned out his wife naked, in a 
 cold night, into the open fields, where, before next 
 morning, she became furiously mad. This injury made 
 a deeper impression on him, than the benefit he had 
 received, and from that moment he vowed to be re- 
 venged upon the Regent. Party rage strengthened and 
 inflamed his private resentment. His kinsmen the 
 Hamiltons applauded the enterprise. The maxims of 
 that age justified the most desperate course he could 
 take to obtain vengeance. He followed the Regent 
 for some time, and watched for an opportunity to 
 strike the blow. He resolved at last to wait till his 
 enemy should arrive at Linlithgow, through which he 
 was to pass, in his way from Stirling to Edinburgh. 
 He took his stand in a wooden g<d\ery, which had a 
 window towards the street ; spread a feather-bed on 
 the floor, to hinder the noise of his feet from being 
 heard: hung up a black cloth behind him, that his 
 shadow might not be observed from without; and after 
 all this preparation, calmly expected the Regent's 
 approach, who had lodged during the night in a house 
 not far distant. Some indistinct information of the 
 danger which threatened him, had been conveyed to 
 the Regent, and he paid so much regard to it, that he 
 resolved to return by the same gate through which he 
 had entered, and to fetch a compass round the town. 
 But as the croud about the gate was great, and he him- 
 self unacquainted with fear, he proceeded directly along 
 the street ; and the throng of the people obliging him to 
 move very slowly, gave the assassin time to take so 
 true an aim, that he shot him with a single bullet, 
 through the lower part of his belly, and killed the 
 horse of a gentleman who rode on his other side. His 
 followers instantly endeavoured to break into the house 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 173 
 
 whence the blow had come, but they found the door 
 strongly barricaded; and before it could be forced 
 open, Hamilton had mounted a fleet horse, which stood 
 ready for him at a back passage, and was got far be- 
 yond their reach. The Regent died the same night of 
 his wound. 
 
 There is no person, in that age, about whom histo- 
 rians have been more divided, or whose character has 
 been drawn with such opposite colours. Personal in- 
 trepidity, military skill, sagacity and vigour in the 
 administration of civil affairs, are virtues, which even 
 his enemies allow him to have possessed, in an eminent 
 degree. His moral qualities are more dubious, and 
 ought neither to be praised, nor censured, without 
 great reserve, and many distinctions. In a fierce age, 
 he was capable of using victory with humanity, and of 
 treating the vanquished with moderation. A patron 
 of learning, which, among martial nobles, was either 
 unknown, or despised. Zealous for religion, to a de- 
 gree, which distinguished him, even at a time when 
 professions of that kind were not uncommon. His con- 
 fidence in his friends was extreme, and inferior only 
 to his liberality towards them, which knew no bounds. 
 A disinterested passion for the liberty of his country, 
 prompted him to oppose the pernicious system, which 
 the Princes of Lorraine had obliged the Queen-mother 
 to pursue. On Mary's return into Scotland, he served 
 her with a zeal and affection, to which he sacrificed the 
 friendship of those who were most attached to his per- 
 son. But, on the other hand, his ambition was im- 
 moderate ; and events happened, that opened to him 
 vast projects, which allured his enterprising genius, 
 and led him to actions, inconsistent with the duty of 
 a subject. His treatment of the Queen, to whose 
 
174 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 bounty he was so much indebted, was unbrotherly and 
 ungrateful. The dependance on Elizabeth, under which 
 he brought Scotland, was disgraceful to the nation. 
 He deceived and betrayed Norfolk, with a baseness un- 
 worthy of a man of honour. His elevation to such unex- 
 pected dignity, inspired him with new passions, with 
 haughtiness and reserve ; and instead of his natural 
 manner, which was blunt and open, he affected the 
 arts of dissimulation and refinement. Fond, towards 
 the end of his life, of flattery, and impatient of advice, 
 his creatures, by soothing his vanity, led him astray, 
 while his ancient friends stood at a distance, and pre- 
 dicted his approaching fall. But, amidst the turbu- 
 lence and confusion of that factious period, he dis- 
 pensed justice with so much impartiality, he repressed 
 the licentious borderers wdth so much courage, and 
 established such uncommon order and tranquillity in 
 the country, that his administration was extremely 
 popular, and he was long and affectionately remem- 
 bered among the commons, by the name of the Good 
 Regent. — Robertson. 
 
 Elizabeth bewailed his death, as the most fatal act 
 that could have befallen her kingdom; and was incon- 
 solable, to a degree that but little suited her royal 
 dignity. — Whitaker. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 175 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 
 The Massacre of Paris, and its evil Consequences to Mary — 
 Plots against Elizabeth — A severe Statute, which proved 
 fatal to Mary in the end — She quarrels with her Son 
 James — Critical situation of Elisabeth — Her Prudence, 
 and vigorous Conduct — Resolves to punish Mary, and gain 
 the King, her Son — Proposes a League with Scotland, 
 which is adopted by that Country. 
 
 These severe proceedings of the English parlia- 
 ment were not more mortifying to Mary, than the cold- 
 ness and neglect of her allies the French. The Duke 
 of Montmorency, indeed, who came over to ratify the 
 league with Elizabeth, made a shew of interesting him- 
 self in favour of the Scottish Queen ; but instead of 
 soliciting for her liberty, or her restoration to her 
 throne, all that he demanded was a slight mitigation of 
 the rigour of her imprisonment. And even this small 
 request, he urged with so little warmth or importunity, 
 that no regard was paid to it. 
 
 The alliance with France afforded Elizabeth much 
 satisfaction, and she expected from it a great increase 
 of security. She now turned her whole attention 
 towards Scotland, where the animosities of the two 
 factions were still so high, and so many interfering 
 interests to be adjusted, that a general pacification 
 seemed to be at a great distance. But while she 
 laboured to bring them to some agreement, an event 
 happened which filled a great part of Europe with 
 astonishment, and with horror. This was the massacre 
 of Paris ; an attempt, to which there is no parallel in 
 the history of mankind, either for the dissimulation 
 
170 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 which led to it, or for the cruelty and barbarity, with 
 which it was put in execution. By the most solemn 
 promises of safety and of favour, the leaders of the 
 Protestants were drawn to court; and though doomed 
 to destruction, they were received with caresses, loaded 
 with honours, and treated, for seven months, with 
 every possible mark of familiarity, and of confidence. 
 In the midst of their security, the warrant for their de- 
 struction was issued by their Sovereign, on whose word 
 they had relied ; and, in obedience to it, their country- 
 men, their fellow citizens, and companions, imbrued 
 their hands in their blood. Ten thousand Protestants, 
 without distinction of age, or sex, or condition, were 
 murdered in Paris alone. The same barbarous orders 
 were sent to other parts of the kingdom, and a like 
 carnage ensued. This deed, which no Popish writer, 
 in the present age, mentions without detestation, was, 
 at that time, applauded in Spain; and at Rome, solemn 
 thanksgivings were offered to God, for its success. 
 
 But among the Protestants it excited incredible 
 horror; a striking picture of which is drawn by the 
 French ambassador at the Court of England, in his ac- 
 count of his first audience after the massacre. "A 
 gloomy sorrow (says he) sat on every face ; silence, as 
 in the dead of night, reigned through all the chambers 
 of the royal apartment ; the ladies and courtiers were 
 ranged on each side, all clad in deep mourning, and as I 
 passed through them, not one bestowed on me a civil 
 look, or made the least return to my salutes.'' 
 
 But horror was not the only passion, with which this 
 event inspired the Protestants ; it filled them with fear. 
 They considered it as the prelude to some greater blow, 
 and believed, not without much probability, that all 
 the Popish princes had conspired the destruction of 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 their sect. This opinion did no small disservice to 
 Mary's atfairs in Scotland. Many of her adherents 
 were Protestants ; and, though they wished her restora- 
 tion, were not willing, on that account, to sacrifice the 
 faith which they professed. They dreaded her attach- 
 ment to a religion, which allowed its votaries to violate 
 the most solemn engagements, and prompted them to 
 perpetrate the most barbarous crimes. A general con- 
 federacy of the Protestants seemed to them, the only 
 thing that could uphold the Reformation against the 
 league, which was formed to overturn it. Nor could 
 the present establishment of religion be long maintained 
 in Britain, but by a strict union with Elizabeth, and by 
 the concurrence of both nations, in espousing the de- 
 fence of it, as a common cause. 
 
 While Scotland was torn by intestine factions, 
 Elizabeth was alarmed with the rumour of a project in 
 agitation for setting Mary at liberty. Francis Throg- 
 morton, a Cheshire gentleman, was suspected of being 
 deeply concerned in the design, and on that suspicion 
 he was taken into custody. Among his papers were 
 found two lists, one of the principal harbours in the 
 kingdom, with an account of their situation, and of the 
 depth of water in each ; the other, of all the eminent 
 Roman Catholics in England. This circumstance con- 
 firmed the suspicion against him, and some dark and 
 desperate conspiracy was supposed just ready to break 
 out. At first he boldly avowed his innocence, and 
 declared that the two papers were forged by the Queen's 
 ministers,^ in order to intimidate or insnare him ; and he 
 even endured the rack with the utmost fortitude. But 
 being brought a second time to the place of torture, his 
 resolution failed him, and he not only acknowledged 
 that he had held a secret correspondence with the 
 
 N 
 
178 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 Queen of Scots, but discovered a design that was 
 formed to invade England. The Duke of Guise, he 
 said, undertook to furnish troops, and to conduct the 
 enterprise. The Pope and King of Spain were to sup- 
 ply the money necessary for carrying it on; all the 
 English exiles were eager to take arms ; many of the 
 Catholics at home would be ready to join them, at their 
 landing ; Mendoza, the Spanish ambassador, who was 
 the life of the conspiracy, spared no pains in fomenting 
 the spirit of disaffection among the English, or in 
 hastening the preparations on the Continent ; and by 
 his command, he had made the two lists, the copies 
 whereof had been found in his possession. This con- 
 fession he retracted at his trial ; returned to it again, 
 after sentence was passed upon him ; and retracted it 
 once more at the place of execution. 
 
 To us in the present age, who are assisted in forming 
 our opinion of this matter, by the light which time and 
 history have thrown upon the designs and characters 
 of the Princes of Guise, many circumstances inThrog- 
 morton's confession appear to be extremely remote 
 from truth, or even from probability. The Duke of 
 Guise was, at that juncture, far from being in a situa- 
 tion to undertake foreign conquests. Without either 
 power or office at court ; hated by the King ; and per- 
 secuted by the favourites, he had no leisure for any 
 thoughts of disturbing the quiet of neighbouring states, 
 and his vast and ambitious mind was wholly occupied 
 in laying the foundation of that famous league, which 
 shook the throne of France. But about the time Eliza- 
 beth detected this conspiracy, the close union between 
 the House of Guise and Philip IT. was remarkable to 
 all Europe, and as their great enterprise against 
 Henry III. was not yet disclosed, as they endeavoured 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 179 
 
 to conceal that under their threatenings to invade Eng- 
 land, Thrograorton's discovery appeared to be ex- 
 tremely probable ; and Elizabeth, who knew how 
 ardently all the parties mentioned by him wished her 
 downfal, thought that she could not guard her kingdom 
 with too much care. The indiscrete zeal of the English 
 exiles increased her fears. Not satisfied with incessant 
 outcries against her severity towards the Scottish Queen, 
 and her cruel persecution of her Catholic subjects, nor 
 thinking it enough that one Pope had threatened her 
 with the sentence of excommunication, and another 
 had actually pronounced it, they now began to disperse 
 books and writings, in which they endeavoured to per- 
 suade their disciples, that it would be a meritorious 
 action to take away her life ; they openly exhorted the 
 maids of honour to treat her as Judith did Holofernes, 
 and by such an illustrious deed, to render their own 
 names honourable and sacred in the church, throughout 
 all future ages. For all these reasons, Elizabeth not 
 only inflicted the punishment of a traitor on Throg- 
 morton, but commanded the Spanish ambassador in- 
 stantly to leave England ; and that she might be in no 
 danger of being attacked within the island, she deter- 
 mined to use her utmost efforts, in order to recover that 
 influence over the Scottish councils, which she had for 
 some time entirely lost. 
 
 About the same time of the pretended conspiracy, 
 Elizabeth's life was endangered by a real one. Parry, 
 a doctor of laws, and a member of the house of com- 
 mons, a man vain and fantastic, but of a resolute 
 spirit, had lately been reconciled to the church of 
 Rome ; and fraught with the zeal of a new convert, he 
 off'ered to demonstrate the sincerity of his attachment 
 to the religion which he had embraced, by killing 
 
 n2 
 
180 
 
 M/VRY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 Elizabeth. Cardinal Allen had published a book, to 
 prove the murder of an excommunicated prince to be 
 not only lawful, but a meritorious action. The Pope's 
 Nuncio at Venice, the Jesuits both there and at Paris, 
 the English exiles, all approved of the design. The 
 Pope himself exhorted him to persevere ; and granted 
 him, for his encouragement, a plenary indulgence, and 
 remission of his sins. Cardinal di Como wrote him a 
 letter to the same purpose. But though he often got 
 access to the Queen, fear, or some remaining sense of 
 duty, restrained him from perpetrating the crime. 
 Happily, his intention was at last discovered by Nevil, 
 the only person in England to whom he had commu- 
 nicated it; and he himself having voluntarily confessed 
 his guilt, he suftered the punishment which he de- 
 served*. 
 
 These repeated conspiracies against their sovereign, 
 awakened the indignation of the English parliament, 
 and produced a very extraordinary statute, which, in 
 the end, proved fatal to the Queen of Scots. By this 
 law, the association in defence of Elizabeth's life was 
 ratified, and it was further enacted, " that if any re- 
 bellion shall be excited in the kingdom, or any thing 
 attempted to the hurt of her Majesty's person, by or 
 for any person pretending a title to the crown, the 
 Queen shall empower twenty-four persons, by a com- 
 mission under the Great Seal, to examine into, and 
 pass sentence upon such offences ; and after judgment 
 given, a proclamation shall be issued, declaring the 
 persons whom they find guilty, excluded from any 
 right to the crown; and her Majesty's subjects may 
 lawfully pursue every one of them to the death, with 
 
 * state Trials, vol. i. 103. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 181 
 
 all their aiders and abettors: and if any design against 
 the life of the Queen take effect, the persons by or 
 for whom such a detestable act is executed, and their 
 issues, being any wise assenting or privy to the same, 
 shall be disabled for ever from pretending to the 
 crown, and be pursued to death in the like manner*." 
 This act was plainly levelled at the Queen of Scots ; 
 and whether we consider it as a voluntary expression 
 of the zeal and concern of the nation for Elizabeth's 
 safety, or whether we impute it to the influence which 
 that artful Princess preserved over her parliaments, 
 it is no easy matter to reconcile it with the general 
 principles of justice or humanity. Mary was thereby 
 rendered accountable not only for her own actions, 
 but for those of others ; in consequence of which, she 
 might forfeit her right of succession, and even her life 
 itself. 
 
 Mary justly considered this act as a warning to 
 prepare for the worst extremities. Elizabeth's minis- 
 ters, it is probable, had resolved, by this time, to 
 take away her life ; and suffered books to be published, 
 in order to persuade the nation, that this cruel and 
 unprecedented measure was not only necessary, but 
 just. Even that short period of her days which re- 
 mained, they rendered uncomfortable, by every hard- 
 ship and indignity which it was in their power to 
 inflict. Almost all her servants were dismissed ; she 
 was treated no longer with the respect due to a Queen ; 
 and though the rigour of seventeen years' imprison- 
 ment had broken her constitution, she was confined in 
 two ruinous chambers, scarce habitable, even in the 
 middle of summer, by reason of cold. Notwithstand- 
 
 * State Trials, vol. i, 123. 
 
18-2 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 ing the scantiness of her revenue, she had been accus- 
 tomed to distribute regularly some alms among the 
 poor in the village adjoining to the castle. Paulet 
 now refused her liberty to perform this pious and 
 humane office, which had afforded her great conso- 
 lation amidst her own sufferings. The castle in which 
 she resided, was converted into a common prison ; 
 and a young man, suspected of popery, was confined 
 there, and treated under her eye with such rigour, that 
 he died of the ill usage. She often complained to 
 Elizabeth of these multiplied injuries, and expostu- 
 lated as became a woman and a Queen ; but as no 
 political reason now^ obliged that Princess to amuse 
 her any longer wdth fallacious hopes, far from granting 
 her any redress, she did not even deign to give her 
 any answer. The King of France, closely allied to 
 Elizabeth, on whom he depended for assistance, was 
 afraid of espousing Mary's cause with any warmth ; 
 and all his solicitations in her behalf were feeble, 
 formal, and inefficacious. But Castelnau, the French 
 ambassador, whose compassion and zeal for the un- 
 happy Queen supplied the defects in his instructions, 
 remonstrated with such vigour against the indignities 
 to which she was exposed, that, by his importunity, 
 he prevailed at length to have her removed to Tuth- 
 bury; though she was confined the greater part of 
 another winter in her present wretched habitation. 
 
 Neither the insults of her enemies, nor the neglect 
 of her friends, made such an impression on Mar>% as 
 the ingratitude of her son. James had hitherto treated 
 his mother with filial respect, and had even entered 
 into negotiations with her, which gave umbrage to 
 Elizabeth. But as it was not her interest that this 
 good correspondence should continue. Gray, who, on 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 183 
 
 his return into Scotland, found his favour with the 
 King greatly increased by the success of his embassy, 
 persuaded him to write a harsh and undutiful letter to 
 his mother, in which he expressly refused to acknow- 
 ledge her to be Queen of Scotland, or to consider his 
 affairs as connected, in any wise, with hers. This 
 cruel requital of her maternal tenderness, overwhelmed 
 Mary with sorrow and despair. "Was it for this 
 (said she, in a letter to the French ambassador), that 
 I have indured so much, in order to preserve for him 
 the inheritance, to which I have a just right ? I am 
 far from envying his authority in Scotland. I desire 
 no power there ; nor wish to set my foot in that king- 
 dom, if it were not for the pleasure of once embracing a 
 son, whom I have hitherto loved with too tender affec- 
 tion. Whatever he either enjoys, or expects, he de- 
 rived it from me. From him, I never received assist- 
 ance, supply, or benefit of any kind. Let not my 
 allies treat him any longer as a King ; he holds that 
 dignity by my consent; and if a speedy repentance 
 does not appease my just resentment, I will load him 
 with a parent's curse, and surrender my crown, with 
 all my pretensions, to one who will receive them with 
 gratitude, and defend them with vigour.'* The love 
 which James bore to his mother, whom he had never 
 known, nay, whom he had been early taught to con- 
 sider as the most abandoned person of her sex, cannot 
 be supposed ever to have been ardent ; and he did not 
 now take any pains to regain her favour. But whether 
 her indignation at his undutiful behaviour, added to her 
 bigotted attachment to popery, prompted Mary at any 
 time to think seriously of disinheriting her son; or 
 whether these threatenings were uttered in a sudden 
 sally of disappointed affection, it is now no easy mat- 
 
184 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 ter to determine. Some papers which are still extant, 
 seem to render the former not improbable. 
 
 Cares of another kind, and no less disquieting^, 
 occupied Elizabeth's thoughts. The calm, which she 
 had long enjoyed, seemed to be now at an end ; and 
 such storms were gathering in every quarter, as 
 filled her with just alarm. All the neighbouring na- 
 tions had undergone revolutions, extremely to her 
 disadvantage. The great qualities which Henry III. 
 had displayed in his youth, and which raised the ex- 
 pectations of his subjects so high, vanished on his 
 ascending the throne ; and his acquiring supreme 
 power, seems not only to have corrupted his heart, but 
 to have impaired his understanding. He soon lost the 
 esteem and affection of the nation ; and a life divided 
 between the austerities of a superstitious devotion, 
 and the extravagancies of the most dissolute debauch- 
 ery, rendered him as contemptible, as he was odious 
 on account of his rapaciousness, his profusion, and 
 the fondness with which he doted on many unworthy 
 minions. On the death of his only brother, those sen- 
 timents of the people burst Out with violence. Henry 
 had no children, and though but thirty-two years of 
 age, the succession of the crown was already con- 
 sidered as open. The King of Navarre, a distant de- 
 scendant of the royal family, but the undoubted heir 
 to the crown, was a zealous Protestant. The prospect 
 of an event so fatal to their religion, as his ascending 
 the throne of France, alarmed all the Catholics in 
 Europe ; and the Duke of Guise, countenanced by the 
 Pope, and aided by the King of Spain, appeared as 
 the defender of the Romish faith, and the asserter of 
 the Cardinal of Bourbon's right to the crown. In 
 order to unite the party, a bond of confederacy was 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 185 
 
 formed, distinguished by the name of the Holy League. 
 All ranks of men joined in it with emulation. The 
 spirit spread with the irresistible rapidity which was 
 natural to religious passions in that age. The destruc- 
 tion of the Reformation not only in France, but all 
 over Europe, seemed to be the object and wish of the 
 whole party ; and the Duke of Guise, the head of this 
 mighty and zealous body, acquired authority in the 
 kingdom, far superior to that which the King himself 
 possessed. Philip II., by the conquest of Portugal, 
 had greatly increased the naval power of Spain, and 
 had at last reduced under his dominion all that por- 
 tion of the Continent which lies beyond the Pyrenean 
 mountains, and which nature seems to have destined 
 to form one great monarchy. William Prince of 
 Orange, who first encouraged the inhabitants of the 
 Netherlands to assert their liberties, and whose wis- 
 dom and valour formed and protected the rising com- 
 monwealth, had fallen by the hands of an assassin. 
 The superior genius of the Prince of Parma had given 
 an entire turn to the fate of the war in the Low Coun- 
 tries ; all his enterprises, concerted with consummate 
 skill, and executed with equal bravery, had been at- 
 tended with success ; and the Dutch, reduced to the 
 last extremity, were on the point of falling under the 
 dominion of their ancient master. 
 
 None of those circumstances to which Elizabeth 
 had hitherto owed her security, existed any longer. 
 She could derive no advantage from the jealousy 
 which had subsisted between France and Spain; 
 Philip, by means of his confederacy with the Duke of 
 Guise, had an equal sway in the councils of both 
 kingdoms. The Hugonots were unable to contend 
 with the power of the league ; and little could be ex- 
 
186 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 pected from any diversion they might create. Nor wa» 
 it probable that the Netherlands could long employ 
 the arms, or divide the strength of Spain. In this 
 situation of the affairs of Europe, it became necessary 
 for Elizabeth to form a new plan of conduct ; and her 
 wisdom in forming it, was not greater than the vigour 
 with which she carried it on. The measures most 
 suitable to her natural temper, and which she had 
 hitherto pursued, were cautious and safe ; those she 
 now adopted, were enterprising and hazardous. She 
 preferred peace, but was not afraid of war ; and was 
 capable, when compelled by necessity, not only of 
 defending herself with spirit, but of attacking her 
 enemies with a boldness which averted danger from 
 her own dominions. She immediately furnished 
 the Hugonots with a considerable supply in money. 
 She carried on a private negotiation with Henry III. 
 who, though compelled to join the league, hated the 
 leaders of it, and wished for their destruction. She 
 openly undertook the protection of the Dutch com- 
 monwealth, and sent a powerful army to its assistance. 
 She endeavoured to form a general confederacy of the 
 Protestant Princes in opposition to the Popish League. 
 She determined to proceed with the utmost rigour 
 against the Queen of Scots, whose sufferings and 
 rights aflforded her enemies a specious pretence for 
 invading her dominions. She resolved to redouble her 
 endeavours in order to effect a closer union with Scot- 
 land, and to extend and perpetuate her influence over 
 the councils of that nation. 
 
 She found it no diflicult matter to induce most of 
 the Scottish courtiers to promote all her designs. 
 Gray, Sir John Maitland, who had been advanced to 
 the affice of secretary, which his brother formerly held, 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 187 
 
 Sir Lewis Bellenden, the justice clerk, who had suc- 
 ceeded Gray as the King's resident at London, were 
 the persons in whom she chiefly confided. In order to 
 direct and quicken their motions, she dispatched Sir 
 Edward Wotton along with Bellenden into Scotland. 
 This man was gay, well bred, and entertaining ; he 
 excelled in all the exercises for which James had a 
 passion ; and amused the young King by relating the 
 adventures he had met with, and the observations he 
 bad made, during a long residence in foreign coun- 
 tries; but under the veil of these superficial qualities, 
 he concealed a dangerous and intriguing spirit. He 
 soon grew into high favour with James, and while he 
 was seemingly attentive only to pleasure and diver- 
 sions, he acquired influence over the public councils, 
 to a degree which was indecent for a stranger to 
 possess. 
 
 Nothing, however, could be more acceptable to the 
 nation, than the proposal he made, of a strict alliance 
 between the two kingdoms, in defence of the reformed 
 religion. The rapid and alarming progress of the 
 Poi)ish League, seemed to call on all Protestant 
 Princes, to unite for the preservation of their common 
 faith. James embraced the overture with warmth, 
 and a convention of estates empowered him to con- 
 clude such a treaty, and engaged to ratify it in par- 
 liament. The alacrity with which James concurred in 
 this measure, must not be wholly ascribed either to 
 his own zeal, or to Wotton's address ; it was owing in 
 part to Elizabeth's liberality. As a mark of her mo- 
 therly affection for the young King, she settled on him 
 an annual pension of 5000 pounds; the same sum 
 which her father had allotted her before she ascended 
 the throne. This circumstance, which she took care 
 
188 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 to mention, rendered a sum, which in that age was far 
 from being inconsiderable, a very acceptable present 
 to the King, whose revenues, during a long minority, 
 had been almost totally dissipated. — Robertson. 
 
 CHAP. XIII. 
 
 Of Sir Jame^ Melvill, his Life and Character. 
 
 The Queen Dowager of Scotland, out of mere 
 compassion, sent this man, after his father's forfeiture 
 and execution, to be a page of honour to the Queen 
 her daughter, then in France, when he was about four- 
 teen years of age. He was afterwards taken into the 
 service of Anne de Montmorency, Constable of France. 
 When the rebellion broke out in Scotland, upon pre- 
 tence of religion, the year after the Queen's marriage, 
 the King of France was informed that the Prior of St. 
 Andrew's, then known by the designation of the Bas- 
 tard of Scotland, afterwards Earl of Murray, was set- 
 ting up for the crown ; upon which he determined to 
 send some trusty person to Scotland, to enquire dili- 
 gently whether it was so, or what the rebels would be 
 at. The Constable recommended Melvill, who, as he 
 imagined, in consideration of the duty he owed to 
 himself, would be faithful and diligent, and as being 
 a Scotsman, might have the better opportunities to 
 accomplish his errand. 
 
 Melvill, thus employed, applies himself to Throck- 
 morton, the English ambassador in France, signifying 
 that he could now be of some service to Queen Eliza- 
 beth his mistress. Throckmorton accordingly rccom- 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 189 
 
 mends him to secretaiy Cecil for that purpose, by his 
 letter dated 18th May, 1559, with a hint that he had 
 done some services to him already. And upon the 
 4th of July thereafter, he recommended John Melvin, 
 brother to this James, for a pension from the English 
 court, to serve them against his country ; who pleaded 
 merit at their hands, because his father had lost his 
 head, and he and his had been proscribed for Eng- 
 land's sake. Upon the 27th of July he recommends 
 both, but especially James: "I have not found any 
 (says he), in my opinion, so meet to be used and en- 
 tertained, for the Queen's majestie's service, as James 
 Melvin, who is presently in Scotland, and is the Con- 
 stable his servant. He is a man of good capacity, 
 and hath sundry rare parts in him, not to be found in 
 many : wherefore, I suppose, you shall do well to use 
 the best means you can, if he come by you, to make 
 him her Majestie's ; for he shall be able to do her 
 good service." 
 
 Sir James says, he was discharged to let his com- 
 mission be known, either to the Queen Regent, or to 
 D'Oysel, the King of France his Lieutenant in Scotland. 
 Let them believe him who can ! Who then was to be 
 acquainted with it? Why, it seems he who knew best, 
 even the Prior himself. To him at least Melvill ap- 
 plied, being introduced by Henry Balnaves of Halhill, 
 one who had joined the murderers of Cardinal Beaton, 
 to assist in keeping out his castle of St. Andrew's, for 
 the behoof of Henry VIIL of England, and had been 
 banished on that account, but was now returned to 
 join in the rebellion, and was in great credit with the 
 Prior. There the commission was produced, and the 
 question put to his lordship. The reader may easily 
 conjecture what answer would be returned: I also 
 
190 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 leave it to him to judge whether this commission was 
 not duly and honourably executed. 
 
 Melvill complains, that upon his return to France, 
 King Henry II. being dead, and the Constable out of 
 court, he found his voyage, and the answer he had 
 got, all in vain. This he attributes to the House of 
 Guise, whom he most injuriously blames as the chief 
 instruments of all the troubles in Scotland. How 
 great pity was it, that these Guises did not reward the 
 gentleman according to his demerits ! Yet he was 
 rewarded, though from another quarter. He tells us 
 himself, p. 46, that upon this very occasion he ob- 
 tained a pension from Queen Elizabeth, at the instance 
 of Sir Nicholas Throckmorton, to help to entertain 
 him in his travels. Doubtless he had deserved it, 
 though his modesty hath not permitted him to tell how : 
 for wherever we find Scotsmen getting pensions from 
 the English court, we may pronounce them traitors to 
 their native country, without any danger of being mis- 
 taken. But in the present case we have proof, as well 
 as presumption. 
 
 Another singular instance of Melvill's fidelity and 
 veracity, we have in his account of Christopher Roxby, 
 one who had been employed by the Court of England 
 as a spy, to pretend to be a zealous stickler for Queen 
 Mary's title to that crown, to off'er his service for car- 
 rying on a correspondence with such as favoured her 
 in that kingdom, and to send an account of his disco- 
 veries to secretary Cecil, that means might be found 
 out to cut off all who favoured her just right. Melvill 
 informs us that Roxby addressed himself to the Queen 
 by means of the Bishop of Ross, who was a Catho- 
 lick; that by sundry intelligences sent to Cecil, he 
 did great prejudice. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 191 
 
 To gain Roxby the greater credit with the Queen of 
 Scots, Queen Elizabeth complained by her ambassa- 
 dor Killigrew, that he was entertained in Scotland, 
 and would needs have him delivered up. 
 
 This contrivance, Melvill says, was discovered by 
 the vigilance of his brother Sir Robert Melvill, Queen 
 Mary's ambassador in England, who in due time sent 
 information to the Queen, and to him also : so that 
 how soon Killigrew made his complaint. Queen Mary 
 caused Roxby to be apprehended, with all his writings 
 and cyphers, and amongst the rest, a letter from Cecil, 
 which disclosed the whole correspondence. 
 
 Upon the 19th day of June Sir James Melvill him- 
 -self was dispatched to England, to notify to Queen 
 Elizabeth the birth of the Prince, and also, among 
 other things, that Roxby was secured, and would be 
 delivered when she inclined to call for him. This he 
 says he did, and that Elizabeth seemed to be pleased 
 as to Roxby, but forgot to send for him. In about 
 two days Sir James took his leave, but did not return 
 till he was furnished with wholesome instructions from 
 his brother Sir Robert, for Queen Mary's behaviour 
 with respect to the English, which he sets down at 
 length, as from the original, and particularly for send- 
 ing Roxby to be kept in a secure place far North, and 
 for blasting the intelligence he had given: For 
 (says Sir James) the Bishop of Ross made the said 
 Roxby's address to the Queen: for neither he, nor 
 the Earl of Bothwell, desired her Majestie's affairs 
 to prosper under my brother's management, because 
 he was not of their faction: so that by their means 
 Roxby got that intelligence as put all her Majestie's 
 affairs once in a venture; until my brother's extra- 
 ordinary intelligence, from such as were most inti- 
 
192 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 mate with the Queen of England, made him cause ap- 
 prehend the said Roxby, with his whole le^tters and 
 memoirs, as said is. So are many good princes 
 handled, and commonly their truest servants de- 
 courted, by the envy and craft of their factious ene- 
 mies ! For wicked men, who have lost their credit by 
 trumpery and tricks, whereby they get no place to do 
 good service to princes, essay to creep into their favour 
 by wiles, flattery, and other unlawful means, whereby 
 they may decourt such as surmount them in virtue 
 and honest reputation." 
 
 The reader will, no doubt, be ready to allow that 
 the Popish Bishop of Ross, and unsanctified Earl of 
 Bothwell, well deserved this severe censure, for their 
 envy and blundering politicks, which would have 
 ruined all, had not these two Protestant brethren 
 stood in the gap, like true knights, and rescued all. 
 For who after this would imagine, or readily believe, 
 that Sir James Melvill himself was the very man who 
 introduced Roxby to the Queen? that the Popish 
 Bishop of Ross was one of those who managed Rox- 
 by's affairs, and, no doubt, discovered him ? or that 
 he was not seized upon till after Sir James's return to 
 Edinburgh? Yet that the matter was really thus, 
 appears from two of Roxby's letters to Cecil, the one 
 dated the second day of July, 15G6, in which he says 
 he had got a letter from Cecil, but had not as yet seen 
 Killigrew, and desires further instructions. In the 
 other, written after his release out of the castle of 
 Spynie, in Murray, he plainly tells the story, that James 
 Melvill introduced him to the Queen. 
 
 A man must have a large stock of reputation, who 
 can bear up against such flagrant instances of trea- 
 chery to his sovereign, and falshood in charging his 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 i93 
 
 own laults upon innocent persons of character and 
 worth. Many more examples might be brought oi" this 
 kind, and his brother Sir Robert might be proved to 
 have been as great a traitor as he himself, if it were 
 necessary ; and yet these two are almost the only he- 
 roes in his book. 
 
 I shall only take notice of one more of Melvill's 
 stories, which, altho' it is of a much worse kind than 
 a pure mistake, hath been laid hold of to the Queen's 
 prejudice. He tells us, p. 78, that Lord Herries came 
 to Edinburgh some time before the Queen went to 
 Stirling (which was upon the 22d day of April, 1567), 
 and acquainted her Majesty, " how it was currently 
 reported through the country, that the Earl of Both- 
 well murdered the King, and that she was to marry 
 him; earnestly requesting her Majesty, on his knees, 
 against that marriage ;" and insinuates that there arose 
 no small animosity betwixt the Earl and Lord Herries 
 upon that account. But nothing of this is true : Lord 
 Herries, upon the 19th day of that very month of 
 April, joined with the rest of the nobility and clergy 
 in subscribing the bond, by which they approved of 
 the Earl's acquittal by his peers, and engaged them- 
 selves to defend him against all who would accuse him 
 afterwards of the King's murder, and to promote his 
 marriage with the Queen, if it might please her to 
 humble herself so far as to prefer one of her own sub- 
 jects to foreign princes: and upon the xiv day of May, 
 being the day before the solemnization of that mar- 
 riage, he is one of the witnesses in the contract for it ; 
 and upon the xvii day we find the Lord Herries sitting 
 in council with the Earl, then made Duke of Orknay. 
 
 — GOODALL. 
 
194 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS. 
 
 CHAP. XIV. 
 
 Of the Love Letters — And the great Industry and Care of 
 Elizabeth and Cecil in their Publication — Cruelty, in re- 
 fusing Mary Copies, or sights of the Originals — Supposed 
 to have been Forged— And serious Charges against the 
 Queen of England, fm^ encouraging the supposed Forgers, 
 
 It was never till this day insinuated by any of the 
 partisans against Queen Mary, that the present French 
 letters were vitiated translations. Not even Mortoa 
 himself, nor Buchanan, who lived many years after 
 the publication of these identical French letters now 
 before us, ever objected to them, or said so ; which it 
 was incumbent on them to have done. The silence 
 therefore of these two persons, who had the originals 
 in their hands, is a clear testimony to the authenticity 
 of the present French copy, which now stands in place 
 of the original. That they are vitiated translations, 
 was never pretended by any body, until Mr. Goodall 
 proved them, to a demonstration, to be so. Every 
 body must be sensible, that the concession now made 
 by these gentlemen, would have come with a much 
 better grace, had it been prior to Mr. GoodalFs dis- 
 covery : it therefore becomes incumbent upon the two 
 historians now, since they give up their own copies, 
 to produce the originals themselves, otherwise the 
 pretended proofs of the Queen's guilt are blown in the 
 air. Mr, Hume will perhaps tell us again, That it is 
 in vain, at this day, to object to the letters, or to call 
 for the originals; they were regularly and judicially 
 given in, and ought to have been canvassed at the 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 195 
 
 time." I heartily agree with him. Had the Queen 
 remained silent at the time when Murray produced his 
 letters, I think his argument must have been conclu- 
 sive. But did she remain silent on that occasion? On 
 the contrary, she cried aloud, that her adversaries had 
 produced forged writings against her ; she prayed in 
 vain, by repeated supplications, that they might be 
 inspected by her or her friends; and she undertook to 
 prove the forgery. What was the result of all this? 
 The letters are huddled back in haste to Murray and 
 Morton, and they are sent a-packing to Scotland, with 
 their evidence ; so that the Queen to her dying hour 
 never once saw them. What they did with them after 
 that, there is nobody, at this day, can tell. We are 
 told they are lost, and that is the sum of the story. 
 The conclusion from this is left to every impartial 
 person to infer, as he thinks fit. 
 
 But now that it is said the original letters in writing 
 are lost, how is it possible to make good the accusa- 
 tion against the Queen? By the printed letters only, 
 which were acquiesced in by the Queen's accusers 
 while they lived. Let it be so. These letters have 
 now been examined, and are detected to be vitiated 
 and spurious. Any body would be persuaded to think, 
 that here the argument must naturally conclude in 
 favour of the Queen. It is not so, however. We are 
 told, that altliough the letters now extant, cannot be 
 said to be either the originals, or copies from the 
 originals, yet they are translations from translations at 
 the third hand. It is difficult to combat with so slip- 
 pery an antagonist, who shifts his ground every minute, 
 and when one thinks he has him fast, slips through 
 one's fingers. Let us try, if possible, to hold fast this 
 Proteus. 
 
 o2 
 
196 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 And, ill ihc first place, let us examine the arguments 
 brought by Dr. Robertson in support of this new, and 
 till now, unheard-of hypothesis. That the printed 
 French letters now before us, are neither the same, 
 nor true copies of the original letters that were pro- 
 duced by Murray and Morton before Queen Elizabeth. 
 And, secondly, we shall examine his proof, that other 
 original French letters, besides the present, ever did 
 exist. 
 
 The chief authority brought by Dr. Robertson in 
 support of the first branch of his proposition, is from 
 the preface to the French letters, in which the editor 
 says, That he translated these letters from the 
 Latin." 
 
 I shall give the whole in the editor's own words. 
 " These epistles, (says he), had been written by the 
 Queen, part in French and part in the Scotch language*, 
 and afterwards translated entirely into Lratin ; but as I 
 had no knowledge of the Scotch, I chose rather to 
 express the whole that I found in the Latin." 
 
 I have already said, that the title-page of this book 
 bears, that it was printed at Edinburgh, the 13th of 
 February, by Thomas Waltam. 
 
 I shall now prove by undoubted evidence, the whole 
 of this French preface to consist in a chain of lies, 
 and that it was contrived as a blind to conceal the true 
 place, London, where the letters were printed ; and for 
 what purpose this false story was contrived. 
 
 And in the first place, that they were not printed at 
 Edinburgh, is universally acknowledged, and that 
 there never existed a printer at Edinburgh of the above 
 name. This is owned by Dr. Robertson. Let us now 
 
 The Queen never wrote in any but the French language. — Editor. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 197 
 
 endeavour to strip this English impostor of the French 
 disguise he has chosen to cloak himself under; for 
 which purpose it is necessary to trace back the history 
 of those French letters. 
 
 We have already seen, that, in the year 1571, Bu- 
 chanan published his libel, called Detectio Marice, both 
 in the Latin and Scotch languages ; to which he sub- 
 joined, in the Latin language, a translation of the 
 three first French letters, and all the eight letters in 
 the Scotch language. 
 
 The very next year, 1572, about the time of the Duke 
 of Norfolk's condemnation, and w^hile a treaty was 
 carrying on between Elizabeth and the King of France, 
 it was thought proper to publish a translation into 
 French of the Detection, with all the letters ; which 
 being said to be originally written by the Queen in 
 French, were surely printed verbatim from the originals. 
 To suppose otherwise, that these letters, printed and 
 published along with the French translation of Bu- 
 chanan's Detection, were translations done into French 
 from the three letters published by Buchanan in Latin, 
 appears to be quite absurd and incredible. For the 
 original French letters, after being produced both in 
 Scotland and England, in the years 1567, 1568, 1569, 
 and 1571 ; the well-known care and industry shewn by 
 Elizabeth and secretary Cecil, in promulgating every 
 scandal against Queen Mary ; and the using for that 
 very purpose, every expedient to give credit to Bu- 
 chanan's books, as shall be shewn, must have made 
 copies of these identical French letters very common, 
 and in every body's hands. It is therefore contrary to 
 all human probability to suppose, that the translator ' 
 of the Detection into French, published in London, or 
 where you will, could not procure a copy of the French 
 
198 
 
 IMARY QT EEX OF SCOTS. 
 
 letters themselves, to annex to bis book : but was so 
 hard put to it, that he even translated the letters 
 himself into French from those in Latin published by 
 Buchanan. Yet, improbable as this is, let us suppose 
 it to be the case ; still it will not answer. This pub- 
 lisher of the French Detection has averred, ''That he 
 had no knowledge of the Scotch language, and there- 
 fore chose to express all that he found in the Latin." 
 But Buchanan translated only three of the letters into , 
 Latin ; nor was it ever heard, that any more than the 
 three first of the French letters were translated into 
 Latin : and yet this impostor has the assurance to say, 
 that he translated the whole seven French letters from 
 the Latin. But to go on : in support of this glaring 
 falsehood, he is necessarily obliged to tell another 
 equally gross, viz. That these letters had been wholly 
 translated into Latin. From all which it is evident, 
 that the affected disguise and lies of this editor, w ere 
 contrived solely to make us believe, that this book was 
 not printed in London. 
 
 In the year 1571, negotiations between the English 
 and French courts were on foot, touching the Duke of 
 Anjou's proposal for marrying Queen Elizabeth. Mary 
 had always a minister at the French court, soliciting 
 her release from the hands of Elizabeth : and at this 
 very period, her uncle the Duke of Guise, by obliging 
 Colligni to raise the famous siege of Poictiers, was in 
 the height of glory and power at that court. It there- 
 fore became necessary for Elizabeth to defeat those 
 solicitations of Marj^, by giving plausible reasons for 
 detaining in prison that Princess; and above all, to 
 expose her conduct to the Princes on the continent 
 in the blackest colours. With regard to the English 
 nation, Elizabeth had sufficiently accomplished the 
 
AND ELIZABETH. }99 
 
 above measure, by publishing several English editions 
 of Buchanan's Detection. 
 
 The Duke of Norfolk having renewed his proposals 
 of marriage to Queen Mary, and joined with her in 
 soliciting the King of Spain to restore her to her own 
 dominions, that whole affair was discovered. The 
 Duke was brought to trial, and condemned for high 
 treason, the 12th January, 1572. But as that nobleman 
 was extremely beloved by all ranks in the kingdom, 
 and had great connections abroad, it was thought 
 proper to respite his execution till May thereafter; 
 and, in the interim, to pave the way, by showing the 
 ,expediency of it, from his connections with Mary, 
 that dangerous rival ! And likewise to expose that 
 Queen, particularly to the Court of France, at a time 
 when the treaty between Elizabeth and Charles was in 
 agitation. 
 
 The instructions given by Elizabeth to her minister 
 at the Court of France, are in these words : It were 
 not amiss to have divers of Buchanan's little Latin 
 books to present, if need were, to the King, as from 
 yourself, and to some of the other noblemen of his 
 council ; for they will serve to good effect to disgrace 
 her." 
 
 For those purposes, the French translation of Bu- 
 chanan's Detection, with the letters subjoined, seems 
 to have been made. Had it been only calculated for 
 the meridian of France, and to expose Queen Mary, 
 no more was necessary to be printed than the French 
 Detection only, with the original letters. But what 
 plainly shows that this book was manifestly designed 
 to serve another turn, in London, is the book itself. 
 There is annexed to it a treatise, entitled, Sommaire 
 de Conspirations faites par la Royne d'Ecosse contre 
 
200 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 la personne et Tetat de la Royne d'Angleterre/' This 
 treatise is no other than a libel against the Duke of 
 Norfolk and Mary; and, by its date on the last leaf, 
 appears to have been finished the 13th February, 1572, 
 just a month after the Duke's condemnation. 
 
 It is true, however, that such part of the written 
 evidence as served to blacken and defame that Princess, 
 was taken care to be published at the time, and spread 
 abroad against her. Such were certain letters said to 
 have been written by her to the Earl of Bothvy'ell. 
 Upon the evidence of these, Mary has been generally 
 condemned, and her name consigned to infamy. And 
 indeed, if we admit these writings to be genuine, her 
 advocates will labour in vain to convince the world of 
 her innocence. 
 
 These writings were, however, not only denied by 
 the Queen to be hers, but positively asserted by her 
 and her friends to have been forged by the Earls of 
 Murray and Morton, her accusers, who produced them 
 against her. 
 
 A late author, the learned Mr. Goodall, keeper of 
 the Advocates' library at Edinburgh, was the first who 
 attempted to bring a direct proof of the forgery of the 
 letters. His examination of them, and the conclusion 
 he has drawn from thence, is one of the most acute 
 and ingenious pieces of criticism that is extant. 
 
 On the other hand. Dr. Robertson and Mr. Hume 
 have, in opposition to Mr. Goodall, endeavoured to 
 support the authenticity of these letters. 
 
 When Mr. Goodall first gave his work to the public, 
 the history and misfortunes of Queen Mary seemed to 
 be forgotten. Her ill-fated marriage with the Earl of 
 Bothwell, the person reputed to be the murderer of 
 hex former husband Lord Darnley, carried with it such 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 201 
 
 presumption of her guilt, as, without almost any other 
 proof, convinced her enemies. The letters said to 
 have been written and addressed by her to the Earl of 
 Bothweil, seemed to be convincing proof against her, 
 and put to silence the friends which remained to her. 
 It had indeed been always asserted by the Queen and 
 her friends, at the time that those letters were exhi- 
 bited, that they were forged ; but no direct proof of 
 this appeared : for this good reason indeed, that the 
 original letters produced by her rebel subjects before 
 Queen Elizabeth, which Mary, with the utmost solici- 
 tude, desired to see, and to answer, were as anxiously 
 kept up by Elizabeth from her, during her life. Thus 
 the letters remained as evidence against the oppressed 
 Queen down to the present time. 
 
 The interest and view of Queen Elizabeth, and like- 
 wise of the regent Murray, tended to the same point. 
 To fix at least the shew of guilt upon Queen Mary, 
 and to defame her to the world, would afford some 
 pretext to the first for detaining Mary her prisoner; 
 and to the last, for keeping possession of his usurped 
 regency of her kingdom, under the protection of Queen 
 Elizabeth, and as her dependent. It is not therefore 
 to be doubted, that, to answer the above purposes, 
 every piece of evidence that could be mustered up in 
 so recent a matter, w ould be exhibited by the Regent 
 and his associates, in support of their accusation, 
 before an arbiter so favourably disposed to listen 
 to them. The principal evidences produced by the 
 Regent, were seven letters alleged to have been 
 written by Queen Mary to the Earl of Bothweil, while 
 her husband the Lord Darnlcy lived. These letters are 
 now critically examined, and a proof of their being 
 forged is established from the letters themselves. One 
 
202 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 circumstance, which must add great weight in this 
 matter, appears from the journals of the above con- 
 gresses; to wit, a strong presumption that Queen 
 Elizabeth was conscious of the letters being spurious, 
 and was apprehensive of their being detected : for 
 although Queen Mary disclaimed them, and loudly 
 demanded inspection of these letters, declaring that 
 she would bring full proof and conviction that they 
 were false and forged ; yet, contrary to every principle 
 of justice and equity, this demand was refused by 
 Elizabeth; and to her death these letters were never 
 shewn to Queen Mary. Thus far it seemed necessary 
 to premise, by way of introduction. — Tytler. 
 
 We now come to proofs of sameness ia the letters. 
 Tliese are not in their general nature, or in their gene- 
 ral dates. These are in their particular dates, in the 
 very circumstances of their narrations, and in the very 
 terms of their language. I have previously noticed 
 this with another view, when I did not observe the 
 full extent of the notice. And 1 must beg leave to go 
 over it again, in order to enlarge and point it properly 
 for my present argument. "Jan. 27th (says the jour-^ 
 nal), the Queue (conforme to hir commission, as she 
 wryttis) broucht tlie King from Glascow." The pas- 
 sage alluded to, is still in one of the letters, and runs 
 thus : " According to my commissioun I bring the man 
 with me, &c." It was originally in one of the ten, as 
 the journal witnesses. It is now in one of the eight, as 
 the fact shows. And the eight and the ten appear, in 
 this instance at least, relating the same intentions in 
 » the same language. This would be sufficient of itself, 
 I believe, for the inference which I mean to draw • 
 from the whole. I shall add others, however. Jan. 23d, 
 
AND ELIZABETH, 
 
 203 
 
 (says the journal), '* the Quene came to Glascow, and 
 on the rode met hir Thomas Crawford from the Erie of 
 Lennux, and Sir James Hamilton, with the rest, men- 
 tionit in hir letter." All these circumstances were as 
 much in the first of the ten letters then, as they are in the 
 first of the eight at present. But the journal goes on. 
 " Jan. 24, (it adds) the Quene remaynit at Glascow, 
 lyck as she did the 25th and the 26th ; and hayd the con- 
 ference with the King, whereof she wryttis." In the 
 ten the Queen continued at Glasgow, just as long as 
 she does in tlve eight: she being there, by the journal 
 made for the ten, the 24th, 25th, and 26th of January : 
 and she being also there, by the second of the eight, 
 on Saturday, which was the 25th of January in that 
 year ; being there, by the first, upon the day before 
 and evening preceding, or Friday the 24th and Thurs- 
 day the 23d ; and, by the second again, intending to 
 leave it upon Monday the 27th. But, as the journal 
 proceeds, in this tyme," the 24th— 26th, she " wrayt 
 hir bylle and uther letteris to Bothwell." She there- 
 fore appears from the journal, to have written such of 
 her ten letters as were sent from Glasgow, on the 24th, 
 25th, and 26th of January. And she appears from the 
 eight themselves, to have written also such of them as 
 were equally sent from Glasgow, on Friday, Saturday, 
 and Sunday, the 24th — 26th of that month. All this 
 serves strongly, to prove the sameness of the letters. 
 But the journal adds to the force of all, by referring 
 to the same word, as her own appellation for the first 
 of the ten, which is equally her own appellation for 
 the first of the eight at present, bylle. And the Glas- 
 gow letters appear plainly to have been the same, in - 
 both these sets of epistles. Nor are the Stirling letters 
 different. If one half is the same, the other, we may 
 
204 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 be sure, is the same also. But the journal equally 
 sho^s it. " April 21st, viz. Mounday, (it says) the 
 Queue raid to Stirling, as it wes devysit ; and from 
 thence wreyt the letteris, concerning the purpose de- 
 vysit of hir ravishing ; quhair Huntly cam to hir, and 
 began to repent him." The Stirling part of the ten 
 spoke equally, as the Stirling part of the eight speaks 
 now, of the journey to Stirling being previously agreed 
 upon, betwixt Mary and Bothwell ; of the design fpr 
 seizing her, being settled betwixt them ; of Huntly's 
 coming to her there ; and of his beginning to repent of 
 the part, which he had undertaken for the enterprize. 
 And they are obviously, therefore, the same. 
 
 So fully do the eight and the ten, the letters of the 
 Scotch council and parliament, the letters of the rebel 
 journal, the letters of the 7th of December, at Yt^est- 
 minster, and the present letters, all assimilate together. 
 They are equally from Stirling and from Glasgow. 
 They are equally of the same general and particular 
 dates, from both. They are of the same nature and 
 substance. They relate the same facts, speak of the 
 same agreements, and even use the same words. Yet 
 there was a difference between them. I have marked 
 it before. I now proceed to account for it. It was 
 totally foreign to all these proofs of sameness. It no 
 ways affects them, and it consisted in two letters more, 
 which are not in the present set, but were in the former; 
 and in some corrections that were made in the letters 
 of both. 
 
 When Murray produced his false credentials at 
 York, they were speedily returned to him. Yet, be- 
 V ing privately exhibited to Elizabeth's commissioners, 
 and therefore in no danger of being shewn to Mary's, 
 they were left long enough in the hands of the former. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 205 
 
 to be described, abstracted, and even copied in parts 
 by them. But, when they were re-produced at West- 
 minster, a different form of procedure w as followed by 
 Murray. They were publickly produced then. They 
 were therefore returned immediately. We have a mi- 
 nute of the whole, in the journal of the commissioners; 
 and it carries all the marks of the shuffling trepidation 
 of a villain, fearful of being detected in his villainous 
 operations. The letters, says the journal, *^ being 
 copied, were read, and a due collation made thereof, 
 as neere as could be, by reading and inspection ; and 
 made to accord with the originals, which the said Earl 
 of Murray required to be re-delivered, and did there- 
 upon deliver the copies, being collationed." He ex- 
 hibited the originals. He exhibited also copies of 
 them. He had taken care to bring copies with him, 
 because he meant to leave copies only. He induced 
 the board of commissioners to comply with his wishes. 
 They proceeded instantly to collate his copies with 
 his originals. This done, Murray demanded back his 
 originals, received them, and then delivered up his 
 copies. And thus the originals were just shewn and 
 withdrawn. 
 
 This certainly has all the aspect of an hocus-pocus 
 trick of dishonesty. It was certainly one in itself. It 
 was indeed so much one, that we should be perfectly 
 astonished at the ready submission of the commis- 
 sioners to it, if we had not already seen them cower- 
 ing with such vicious humility before, under the heavy 
 hand of Elizabeth, and if we did recollect that this was 
 the very trick which Murray, about five months before, 
 expressly required Elizabeth to play by her commis- 
 sioners. " Sen our servant Mr. Jhone Wode hes the' 
 copies of the samin letteris (he says), we wald ernest- 
 
MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 lie desyre -that — the juges may resolve us this far^ 
 in cais the principal agrie with the copie, that then we 
 pruif the cans indeed." This accounts for the whole. 
 It shews the influence that drew them out of the course 
 which they should otherwise have pursued, and made 
 them move in such an irregular and eccentrick manner. 
 In common justice to the accused Queen, to their own 
 characters, and to their own feelings, they should 
 have required the evidences on which the accusation 
 was grounded, to be left in the possession of the 
 court. They should then have examined them with 
 the nicest care themselves. They should have col- 
 lated them again and again with authenticated origin 
 nals. Such a hasty collation of them as they made, 
 with Murray's pretended originals, even if these had 
 been real, could never have been satisfactory. A 
 comparison of papers, in order to ascertain the genuine- 
 ness or the spuriousness of a hand-writing, demands 
 a long and painful attention. It is the slow work of 
 hours and of days ; and if it is to be done in company, 
 like the business of a commission, it will necessarily 
 proceed with a still slower pace. The commissioners 
 of Mary should also have had free access to them, 
 have been allow^ed to collate them day after day with 
 their own originals, and been permitted to transcribe 
 them from end to end. But the forgeries would not 
 bear the inspection. They would soon have been 
 detected by it. They could only bear to be shewn, to 
 be collated with Murray's own standards, and then to 
 be instantly withdrawn. 
 
 They were, a few days afterwards, exhibited again 
 to the privy council. Who exhibited them, the journal 
 does not tell us, or who received them back again. 
 Murray was not present in the council ; but he was 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 207 
 
 attending, no doubt, in one of the rooms adjoining. 
 There, probably, he put them into the hand of Cecil, 
 and received them back from him. They had now 
 been collated with Elizabeth's own standards, which 
 were equally authentick with Murray's, as she was 
 equally with him in the conspiracy against Mary, and 
 then withdrawn instantly again. We are certain that 
 they were equally, as before, returned to Murray. And 
 we actually find him afterwards in Scotland, retaining 
 them in his own possession to the day of his death. 
 
 Mary was thus cut off from all possibility of inspect- 
 ing the originals, and of exposing the spuriousness, by 
 detecting the hand- writing of them. She was reduced 
 to the situation of a w^arriour in an Indian ambuscade. 
 She could be wounded at will by her foes. Yet she 
 could not return the wounds. She could not see her 
 enemy. And she might therefore, with the utmost 
 propriety of sentiment, and w ith more than the origi- 
 nal sublimity of courage, have said with Ajax in the 
 Iliad, 
 
 Give me but light, and Ajax asks no more. 
 
 But then this very situation is an ample vindication in 
 itself. Had she been guilty ; had she, in the slightest 
 degree, been accessary to the crime charged upon her; 
 and had there been even a fair probability of proving 
 her guilty of the charge, in spite of her innocence — 
 her enemies would have acted in a very diflferent man- 
 ner. No ambuscade would they have laid for her. 
 They would never have skulked behind the bushes, 
 and wounded her with invisible shafts. They would 
 have come forward into view, and engaged in open 
 fight with her. They would have produced the origi- 
 nals, with pretended regret and with real triumph. They 
 would have lodged them with the commissioners at 
 
208 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 York, and the commissioners at Westminster. They 
 would have compelled both, to collate them carefully 
 with private and with publick, with foreign and v/ith 
 domestick writings of Mary's. Her commissioners 
 would also have been called upon to inspect them, 
 urged to compare them, challenged to disprove them. 
 Mary herself would have been brought up from her 
 confinement in the country, as she frequently requested 
 to be; suffered to enjoy the freest access to them; 
 allowed to make every objection to them ; and heard 
 with all the patience of candour, for days and for 
 weeks, in her attempts to invalidate their authority. 
 Such must have been the demeanour of Murray the 
 producer, and of Elizabeth the receiver, of the letters, 
 if they had thought her guilty, if they had thought her 
 probably so, or if they had thought her so in appear- 
 ance only. And a conduct totally the reverse of all 
 this, proves what they never reflected it would prove, 
 the falsehood of their own pretences, and the profligacy 
 of their own conduct. Knaves little think, when they are 
 exerting their arts of imposition, and exhausting their 
 fund of deceit, for the prosecution and concealment 
 of their scandalous purposes, that they are telling the 
 world they are scandalous, by their very concealment. 
 
 Unapprehensive of such future obstructions to the 
 sight of the letters, Mary, in her original directions to 
 her commissioners, had ordered them thus : In cais 
 thay alledge they have ony writingis of mine, quhilk 
 may infer presumptioun against me in that cause, ze 
 sail desyre the principalis to be producit, and that I 
 myself may have inspection — thereof, and mak answer 
 thairto*.*' Ignorant equally of these precluding artifices 
 
 * It would appear that the wife of Lord Maitland, copied, and gare the 
 letters to the Queen of Scots. — Editor. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 •209 
 
 afterwards, the commissioners accordingly demanded 
 the sight of the originals now. These were exhibited 
 to the commissioners at Westminster on the 8th of 
 December, and to the privy council on the 14th ; and 
 on the 25th, Mary's commissioners appeared before 
 the latter, with a special command fra their maistres 
 delivered her message ; " producit the special writingis 
 and instructionis, sentbethair maistres to thame;" and 
 then " maist hurablie desyrit the Quene's Majestic to 
 cause tham have sic writingis as w er producit aganis 
 thair maistres be thair maistres's adversaris/' Those 
 instructions of Mary's are still in being. They are 
 dated the 19th of December, and run thus : 7a% sail 
 desire the inspection of all, thay haif producit aganis 
 us, and that we may s6 the alledgit principal writingis, 
 gif they haif ony, producit ; and, with God's grace, we 
 sail make sic answer thairto, that our innocence sail 
 be knawin to our guid sister, and to all utheris princes." 
 So little was Mary made acquainted, even with the 
 fact of the production of the letters on the 8th, and so 
 studiously was even this concealed from the commis- 
 sioners of Mary, that she was not yet certified of it on 
 the 19th ! She had only heard of it by report. But she 
 instantly required an inspection of the letters, if any 
 such had been produced, and expressed her full con- 
 viction of ascertaining her innocence completely, to 
 the satisfaction of Elizabeth and all the sovereigns on 
 the Continent. This was the natural challenge of in- 
 nocence in Mary. But her " guid sister" w anted not 
 to have her " innocence knawin." She rather chose 
 to consider her as guilty, and to have " all utheris 
 princes" do so too. Yet she could not object to the 
 request, though she never meant to grant it. This 
 desire (say Mary's commissioners) hir Majestic [of 
 
 P 
 
210 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 England] thocht verie ressonabill." She could not do 
 less. But did she grant it ? The reader shall see. 
 
 If Elizabeth had had one spark of honour yet un- 
 quenched in her breast, she would instantly have given 
 the requisite orders. But she did not give them. She 
 said she would consider of the petition. " To the 
 effect hir Majestic micht be the better advisit upon 
 thair desyris, and give answer thairto," she " desyrit 
 ane extract of the said writing," their instructions, " to 
 be gevin to hir Hienes : quhilk the said commissionaris 
 did on the morn deliver." She would consider, whether 
 she should give to Mary the only possibility of ex- 
 posing the spuriousness of a hand-writing, which was to 
 support a charge of murder against her, by permitting 
 her, or by permitting her commissioners, to inspect 
 the writing. She pretended she wanted time to consi- 
 der, because even she had not the audacity to deny. 
 She had the audacity, however, to withhold ; and it is 
 plain from her conduct, that the whole compounded 
 mass of flagitiousness, must instantly have been re- 
 solved into dust, if she had granted the requisition. 
 She therefore pretended still to consider. 
 
 But Mary was too keen and too interested, to be so 
 put off. On the 7th of January following, the commis- 
 sioners of Mary again entered the privy council, and 
 declared to Elizabeth, that "thayhadpresentlie ressavit 
 writingis, fra the Queue's Majestic of Scotland, thair 
 Soverane," who " desirit the writingis producit be hir 
 inobedient subjectis — to be delivered unto thame." 
 But Elizabeth was still obliged to withhold her consent, 
 and still compelled therefore to procrastinate. She 
 accordingly took shelter again, behind her old subter- 
 fuge of consideration. ''The Queue's Majestic of 
 England tuik to be advysit thairwith." 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 211 
 
 Mary, in her first requisition, desired not only to see 
 the originals, but to have copies of them. She de- 
 manded *'the inspection and doubillis," of all that her 
 rebels had produced against her. She wanted a sight 
 of them, to examine the nature of the hand-writing. 
 She wanted duplicates, to examine the matters con- 
 tained in them. But when she received an account of 
 Elizabeth's affected delay, to such an obvious act of 
 justice ; she saw through her whole design. She was 
 fully convinced in her mind, that the originals would 
 never be submitted to her view, or the view of her 
 commissioners. Yet she was eager to enter upon her 
 vindication. She resolved to engage her enemies im- 
 mediately. And she was determined to close with 
 them, even under every disadvantage of ground. Such 
 was the natural gallantry of innocence ! Her commis- 
 sioners, therefore, lowered their tone a little in their 
 second requisition. They still demanded a sight of 
 the originals. But they would be content, to be in- 
 dulged with copies only. They accordingly, in the 
 name of their mistress, " desirit the writingis producit 
 be her inobedient subjectis, or, at the leist, the copies 
 thairof, to be deliverit unto thame." And Mary's in- 
 structions to them for this requisition, were even in a 
 still lower key; being only to "require of our said guid 
 sister, that copies be given zou thairof." This was 
 certainly not judicious, because it committed her 
 honour to the hazard of a battle, in which she might 
 not have been victorious. Yet it was the genuine 
 heroism of an honest heart. And, as is frequently seen 
 in life, the injudiciousness constitutes the heroicalness 
 of it. 
 
 But this very gallantry of innocence, and this very 
 heroism of honesty, made Elizabeth to shrink the mor^ 
 
 p2 
 
212 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 from a conflict. She retired as Mary advanced. She 
 entrenched herself behind her delays. She dared not 
 to engage an enemy for her bravery, whom she might 
 have defeated perhaps from her rashness. She dreaded 
 the dignity of provoked worth, now it w as rising in its 
 own defence. She was afraid of the lion, that she had 
 basely wounded under the mask of friendship, even 
 caught as it was in her toils ; when it now began to 
 raise its voice of terrour, against her. 
 
 At the last requisition, however, Elizabeth promised 
 to give an answer "within two or three dayis." But 
 her prime-minister Cecil, that boasted statesman of our 
 isle, and that ever-ready tool of tyranny to his mistress, 
 had previously gone to work in digesting a proposal, 
 tvhich should divert Mary a while from her requisition. 
 He had planned it for Elizabeth, the very day the re- 
 quisition was made. And Elizabeth accordingly pro- 
 posed it to Mary's commissioners, as soon as they had 
 delivered their requisition. It was, that Mary should 
 resign the crown which had been taken from her ; that 
 her infant son, who had been made to usurp it, should 
 retain it still ; and that she should continue in England 
 with the title and appointments of a Queen. Had 
 Mary been guilty, she w ould have been glad to escape 
 from prison and from prosecution so easily. But then 
 Elizabeth would never have made the proposal. And 
 the majesty of conscious honour in Mary, scorned to 
 stoop to such a palliative, for a cure of her misfortunes. 
 By an act like this, she would have sanctioned all the 
 calumnies that had been thrown upon her in Scotland ; 
 and have established all the charges that had been 
 brought against her in England. Her commissioners, 
 therefore, spoke out instantly upon the overture from 
 Elizabeth ; that " scho wald never condiscend to dimit 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 213 
 
 her crown, and had given him, (the Bishop of Ross), 
 special command to declare the samin, in cais it were 
 proponit to him." Yet Elizabeth was too much bent 
 upon her purpose, to take this prompt reply. She 
 
 did earnestly press him,*' that he and the other com- 
 missioners of Mary should write to her on the subject. 
 But this thay all whollie and absolutely refusit." 
 Such was the powerful conviction of their Queen's 
 innocence and honour, that reigned in the bosoms of 
 these worthy representatives of hers ! Elizabeth, how- 
 ever, was too resolute upon the point, to be even so 
 beat off. She wanted chiefly to procrastinate, and 
 greatly wanted to do so. She ^vished to bury the old 
 requisition for a sight of the originals, under a new 
 proposal. She therefore "desirit thame to ressoun 
 and confer, with sum noblemen of hir Hienes's counsel, 
 whom her Majestic wald appoint, upon that and uther 
 thingis quhiik sould be proponit ; and to give thame 
 thair determinat answer thairto." 
 
 This was a proposal, to which they could not with 
 any propriety refuse to accede. Elizabeth therefore 
 obtained her desire, of delaying and diverting. The 
 commissioners met some of her privy counsellors, two 
 days afterwards. Then there appeared not to be any 
 " uther thingis, quhiik sould be proponit," and to which 
 they were to give " thair determinat answer." There 
 w^as nothing new proposed, on the part of Elizabeth. 
 There was therefore nothing but the old answer to be 
 given, on the part of Mary. Her commissioners had 
 only to repeat, as they did repeat in all the firm tone 
 of an innocence, which could neither be frightened nor 
 cajoled ; " That the Queue, thair maistres, wald never 
 consent to dimit hir crown, in ony way, nor upon ony 
 conditiounis, quhiik wer or could be proponit." And 
 
214 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 Mary herself, having been informed of some overtures 
 of the like nature before, had replied with a grandeur 
 of soul, that must for ever set her high in the opinion 
 of the discerning: "As to resigning my crown (she 
 says), I beg you to trouble me no more about it ; for I 
 am resolved and determined, rather to die than to do 
 it ; and the last word which I shall utter in my life, 
 shall be that of a Queen of Scotland." The force of 
 Mary's intellect, andthe vigour of Mary's honour, break 
 out here like a flash of lightning, to awe and confound 
 her adversaries. This answer w as never seen by Eliza- 
 beth. But it was felt, in the answer of her commis- 
 sioners at first, and in their reply at present ; both of 
 them animated with a beam of Mary's fire. The coun- 
 sellors of Elizabeth promised to repeat their reply. 
 And all thoughts of an inspection of the originals, were 
 laid aside for the time. 
 
 But they would be immediately revived. Murray 
 was still in London. The originals were there with 
 him. Mary's commissioners had twice called for a 
 sight of them. They had been hitherto put off, under 
 the poor pretence of considering, what nothing but 
 knavery could have wished to consider at all. Tbey 
 could not be put ofi" any longer. The insidious over- 
 ture, that was to divert them from the point, and make 
 her a volunteer in fixing her own infamy, had been in- 
 stantly thrown back in the face of the proposers, with 
 all the contempt it merited. And Elizabeth had pro- 
 mised an answer to Mary's second requisition, in two 
 or three days. To shew the originals, it is plain, would 
 have been death to all her hopes. They had been 
 fabricated, no doubt, with great art. The fabricators 
 had been long in the habit of copying the hand-writing 
 of Mary. They could even Imitate it so exactly, that^ 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 215 
 
 as one of Mary's commissioners tells us, in her name 
 they had sent many letters to Elizabeth formerly, which 
 it was difficult to distinguish from her own. They 
 ^' wald not be kend," he says, from them. They w ould 
 not by any common eye be distinguished. But they 
 could be, by those who were intimately acquainted 
 with her writing. It is impossible perhaps to counter- 
 feit any hand so precisely, as that it shall not be dis- 
 cerned by an attentive and painful collation. These 
 letters had certainly not been framed so artfully. 
 Mary could easily have pointed out a variety of strokes, 
 in the turn and mould of the characters, which discri- 
 minated this writing from her own. Even her commis- 
 sioners could have done it, likew^ise. And therefore, 
 neither of them were permitted to see the originals. 
 Yet Elizabeth was in great distress about them, at this 
 instant. She could not refuse an inspection any longer. 
 She could not, however, permit it. In this dilemma, 
 how shall she act? Her cunning failed her at this 
 pressing moment. She could find no further subterfuge 
 of delay. She was therefore obliged, to have recourse 
 to her effrontery and her power. She sent the originals 
 away. The very next day after the conference above, 
 she made Murray to appear before the privy council, 
 petitioning for leave to go back into Scotland. She 
 granted it. He set off. The originals went with him. 
 And now an inspection could neither be asked by Mary, 
 nor needed to be refused by Elizabeth. 
 
 This was such a bare-faced act of evasion, such an 
 open stretch of dishonesty, and such an impudent de- 
 fiance of justice, as must have struck every honest 
 man in the kingdom, who knew it, with amazement and 
 with horrour. On the 10th of .January, Murray received 
 permission to depart. But he had been hastily called 
 
216 
 
 MARV QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 upon by Elizabeth, to petition tor the permission. He 
 was not prepared for his journey. He therefore ap- 
 peared at court again on the 12th, in order to take a 
 formal leave of the Queen. Yet he still remained in 
 London. He remained there, for no less than twelve 
 days afterward. He had several things to transact. 
 He had particularly money to borrow from Elizabeth, 
 in order to discharge his debts in London, and to defray 
 his expences homeward. So suddenly had he been 
 called upon by her, to take his journey for Scotland; 
 and so unprepared was he for it, at her call ! Elizabeth 
 saw it requisite for him and for her, that he and his 
 criminating letters should disappear at once. He there- 
 fore did disappear. He was now supposed to be gone 
 for Scotland, with the originals packed up in his cloak- 
 bag. All access to them was barred up effectually, by 
 the supposition. All would be barred up in fact, by 
 his departure in a few days. An inspection of the 
 originals, therefore, was totally out of the question at 
 present. 
 
 But Mary's commissioners, in their second requisition, 
 had desired the originals, or at least the copies of them, 
 to be delivered. Mary also, in her instructions, had 
 condescended to ask for only copies of them. These 
 instructions had been even shewn to Elizabeth. And, 
 in these circumstances, what will Elizabeth do ? She 
 has boldly denied all access to the originals. But she 
 will certainly grant copies , Xo forgery of hand-writing 
 can be detected from them. The grand danger of ex- 
 posure, therefore, is removed. And she will readily 
 catch at the opportunity, of colouring over the high 
 enormity of her conduct with respect to the originals, 
 by a cheerful allowance of copies. — But the policy of 
 Elizabeth was too cautious, even for this indulgence. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 217 
 
 Her policy was as deep as her villainy. She would 
 not furnish Mary, and she would not furnish her com- 
 missioners, even with copies. She begged to consider 
 of this requisition also. 
 
 This may seem to my reader an unaccountable 
 hardship, at first view, an injury without a provoca- 
 tion, a refusal without a reason, and a mere act of 
 wanton cruelty. Cruelty it certainly was. But it was 
 not wantonness. Let us vindicate Elizabeth, where we 
 can. Even to grant copies, was dangerous. To with- 
 hold them, was necessary. And the whole system of 
 Elizabethan politicks, might have been thrown wildly 
 out of its orbit by the concession. 
 
 Mary's first wish, as I have formerly observed, w as 
 very properly to inspect the originals, that she might 
 expose the spuriousness of the hand-writing. Her 
 next was to have copies, that she might mark the 
 dates, observe the circumstances, and prove the for- 
 gery of the letters from both. By this mode of exami- 
 nation, Elizabeth w^as afraid that Mary would have 
 proved her point. She probably would. Her natural 
 readiness of apprehension, would have been improved 
 by her interest in the cause. Her natural clearness of 
 conception, would have been heightened by her con- 
 viction of the villainy. Her memory, and her papers, 
 would have supplied her abundantly with circumstances 
 and dates. And the whole of that visionary fabrick, 
 must in all probability have sunk away before her, as 
 she advanced. So ill-contrived were these boasted 
 evidences of guilt, that they could not bear to be 
 examined, even through the medium of a copy ! At 
 least Elizabeth, who knew them well, thought them 
 so. She therefore resolved to refuse Mary even a copy 
 of them. Yet she could not refuse it in terms. She 
 
218 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 had already herself pronounced the demand for " in- 
 spection and doubles," to be "very reasonable." But 
 she had evaded the one before, and she equally evaded 
 the other now. 
 
 On the 33th of January, when Murray and the 
 originals were still in London, but the very day after 
 he and they had formally taken their leave, she pre- 
 pared to give the answer, which she had so long with- 
 held. She had now been twenty days, since the first 
 requisition. She had now been six since the second, 
 though she then promised an answer in two or three. 
 She had taken ample time, for advising herself upon 
 the important business. The first requisition was for 
 a sight of the originals. The second was for that, or, 
 at the least, the copies of them. But the originals had 
 hastily withdrawn themselves from court the day be- 
 fore. They were now to be supposed on their way to 
 Scotland. Elizabeth therefore resolved to give no 
 answer concerning them. Yet she noticed the requi- 
 sition for them. But she answered only to the requi- 
 sition for copies: and these were still to be withheld. 
 
 Yet even "the lion-port and awe-commanding face," 
 which Mr. Gray has given to Elizabeth ; or, to speak 
 in a truer and soberer style, the sternness of majestick 
 confidence in her ; could not stand the brunt of refus- 
 ing such a request, under any pretence. She delegated 
 the daring work to her unblushing Cecil. And he spoke 
 to Mary's commissioners, in the name of his mistress 
 then absent, and as the voice of her privy council then 
 present, in this remarkable manner. He first reca- 
 pitulated their request. This was, he said, " to have 
 the copies of all articlis, presumptiounis, with the 
 principal writingis producit." He then replied, as 
 immediately from Elizabeth, " that scho will not refuis 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 219 
 
 unto the Qucne, hir guid sister, to give the dowbillis 
 of all that was producit." She slides off very artfully, 
 we see, from the primary part of the requisition, as 
 stated by Cecil himself, and rests only on the secon- 
 dary. For this also she had fresh delays. She would 
 grant it; but she must previously have a promise. She 
 will have a promise under Mary's hand, and with 
 Mary's signature to it too, in order to authenticate it 
 more thoroughly. Yet what is this promise to be ? It 
 is to be no less, than that Mary should do — what ? — 
 that she should do what she was most earnest and 
 importunate to do; what she was at this very moment 
 pressing Elizabeth to enable her to do, by a sight of 
 the papers ; that she would answer to the charges in 
 them. Scho will have a special writing sent be the 
 Queue of Scottis, her guid sister, signet with her awin 
 hand; promising that scho will answer to the samin 
 writings and things laid to her charge, but [without] 
 ony exception." 
 
 The commissioners of Mary, astonished at such a 
 delay at the close of all the others, remonstrated with 
 her representative upon the poorness and pettiness of 
 it ; as she had already received such a promise in such 
 a form, no less than twice. *'The samin appears not 
 to be necessarie (they replied) in respect of twa several 
 writingis schawin and read in presence of hir Majestic 
 and hir counsal, subscrivit with hir [Mary's] awin hand 
 and under hir signet ; quhairof the extract was deliverit 
 to the Quene's Majestic of England, in the quhilk scho 
 offerit to mak answer upon certane conditiounis 
 thairin expremit, swa being scho may have the writ- 
 ingis, or at leist the copies of thame." Elizabeth, or 
 her Cecil, did not pretend to assert the insufficiency 
 of thpse promises in themselves. Why then should 
 
2*20 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 they be repeated ? Elizabeth had already seen them, 
 not only subscribed by Mary's own hand, but also cer- 
 tified by Mary's own seal. Why then should she ask 
 for another, that was to be only subscribed ? For this 
 reason. 
 
 She pretended to believe at present, that the original 
 commission from Mary to these her commissioners, 
 was terminasred by an act of theirs some time before. 
 ''The Queue's Majestie (says Cecil) desyris to have 
 sic a writing of the Quene's Majesty zour maistres, 
 because scho understandis that zour commissioun 
 quhilk ze had is expyrit, sen ze did discharge the con- 
 ference at Westminster." This was done by them on 
 the 6th of December before. But this was two days 
 previous to the production of the letters ; and Eliza- 
 beth had been acting with them under that very com- 
 mission, repeatedly since. This we have sufficiently 
 seen before, in their two demands for a sight of the 
 originals, or for copies of them ; in their shewing their 
 special instructions to her; in their delivering her an 
 extract from them; and in her promise of an answer to 
 both. So paltry, even from Elizabeth's own principles 
 and practices, does this evasion of Elizabeth's appear. 
 
 But she had also another. Let us attend to it. 
 Perhaps it may be a more dignified reason. It may at 
 least carry more the semblarce of a reason. 
 
 She equally pretended to think, that, by their last 
 instructions from Mary, they were only authorized to 
 call for the papers, but not to answer them. She de- 
 sired to have such a writing, says Cecil, "because 
 scho understandis that be zour last writingis ze ressavit, 
 [ze] have powar to require the copies of the writingis, 
 hot not to mak answer." But what were the last in- 
 structions sent them by Mary? They were these: 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 221 
 
 ^' TaQ sail require our said guid sister, that copies be 
 gevin zou thairof, to the effect, that thay may be 
 answerit particularlie." These very instructions, and 
 in these very terms too, were delivered by the com- 
 missioners to Elizabeth on the 8th of January, only 
 five days before. And on the 7th of January they de- 
 clared to her, "That they had presentlie ressavit 
 writingis fra the Queue's Majestic of Scotland, thair 
 Soverane ; be the quhilkis they were of new commandit 
 to signifie unto hir Majestic, that scho would answer 
 to the calumnious accusation of hir subjectis, — and 
 thairfoir desirit the writingis producit, — or, at the leist, 
 the copies thairof, to be deliverit unto thame, that 
 thair maistres might fully ansv^er thairto." Yet Eliza- 
 beth now pretends to believe, and presumes by the 
 mouth of Cecil to say, that, " by their last writings 
 received," they " had jDOwer to require the copies of 
 the writings, but not to make answer.'' She therefore 
 wanted to have a promise of answering from Mary. 
 But they were instructed by Mary to call for the papers, 
 under an express promise of replying to them. They 
 were instructed by her to call for them, that she might 
 reply to them. And she and they in the solemnest 
 manner promised, that she would make, and they 
 would present, a full and particular reply. So much 
 more paltry, if possible, is this reason than the other! 
 
 Elizabeth, indeed, must have been now reduced to 
 the greatest difficulties. She would otherwise not have 
 rested delays, so necessary to her purposes, upon props 
 so rotten as these. They serve therefore to point out 
 to us, in the strongest manner, that extremity of dis- 
 tress in which she was labouring and struggling at this 
 moment. They serve to give an uniformity of mean- 
 ness, and a consistency of falsehood, to all her actions. 
 
22-2 
 
 ^ARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 And at the close of them let me hope, for the credit 
 of that best part of Elizabeth, her head, that these 
 were the paltriest elusions which this elusive princess 
 ever made use of, in all the doublings of her crooked 
 policy. 
 
 But to complete the parts of this enormous whole, 
 for even these can receive an addition in order to their 
 completeness ; I must add one thing more. It is this. 
 Not content to mangle the fine person of Mary with 
 the murderous axe, Elizabeth even proceeded to a still 
 greater excess of guilt. She exerted all the arts of 
 hell, to mangle her reputation also. 
 
 She had totally prevented Mary from making any 
 reply to the letters produced against her ; by refusing 
 her all sight of them at one time, and by closing 
 abruptly the whole inquisition at another. Yet she 
 herself had been compelled, at a particular moment, 
 to pronounce the eulogium of her innocence. She 
 acquitted her from every shade of dishonour, that had 
 been so violently attempted to be thrown over the 
 lustre of her character by the letters. And, in less 
 than three years afterwards, she published those very 
 letters, in order to eclipse her character for ever. She 
 published them, as proofs of adultery, and as proofs 
 of murder against her. She published them, as proofs 
 substantiated at the time. And, with the malignant 
 industry of the arch-fiend himself, she circulated them 
 over the island and over the continent. 
 
 This is such a crowning addition to all the flagitious- 
 ness of Elizabeth before, and gives her such a horrible 
 pre-eminence in guilt ; that justice ought not to believe 
 it even of her, without a large share of evidence for 
 it. This therefore shall be given. And it shall be fully 
 given. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 223 
 
 The original letters were now gone back, to their 
 native north. But copies of them were still in London. 
 They were only with Elizabeth, however. They had 
 indeed been delivered to her commissioners. Yet in 
 such a government as Elizabeth's, where the genius of 
 the Queen, and the habits of the people, threw a con- 
 troling awe over all the departments of the state ; they 
 were properly still in the custody of Elizabeth. And 
 in a few days after that delivery, as I have already 
 shown, the very existence of the commissioners ceased, 
 and all their papers would be then removed into CeciFs 
 office. The letters were even delivered at first into, 
 and ever afterwards continued in the hands of Cecil 
 himself, as at once a commissioner and the secretary. 
 ''The copies of all quhilk letteris," says Murray ia 
 some instructions written about nine months after- 
 wards, being " conferrit, red, and considerit, wer deli- 
 veritto Mr. Secretary, in quhais handis thay remane." 
 So completely were they, from their first production 
 before the commissioners, in the possession of Eliza- 
 beth, and under the care of Cecil. But, from that 
 possession and that care, they eloped to the press. 
 She therefore ordered, and he executed, the publica- 
 tion of them. 
 
 Accordingly, Cecil himself appears particularly 
 active in dispersing them, and in dispersing them even 
 among the French, immediately after their publication 
 here. In a letter of his to Walsingham, our embas- 
 sadour in France, which is dated the 1st of November, 
 1571, he says thus to him : " Having this present occa- 
 sion to send two of my Lord of Oxford's men to Paris, 
 at his lordship's request ; I thought good also therewith 
 to send to you, this little treatise newly printed in 
 Latin," Buchanan's Detection, in which were inserted 
 
224 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 some of the principal letters, in commending or dis- 
 commending the Queen of Scots actions to further her 
 marriage with Bothwell. I hear it is to be translated 
 into English, with addition of many other supplements 
 of like condition." For what purpose a copy of this 
 new publication was sent by Cecil, is obvious enough 
 of itself. But this is opened at large in another paper, 
 which w^as equally sent in the same year to Elizabeth's 
 representative at Paris, and which contains some 
 special instructions to him from Elizabeth, with regard 
 to Mary. To many arguments which he was to use to 
 the King of France, in order to dissuade him from 
 taking part with the imprisoned Mary; it is added 
 thus: *^and here were it not amiss 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 noblemen of his council ; for they will serve 
 to good effect to disgrace her ; vv^hich must be done, 
 before other purposes can be attained." This letter, 
 which, like a record of the last day, discloses the 
 whole heart and soul of Elizabeth in the business, 
 appears plainly from the tenour of it, to have been 
 written after the other. The other speaks of the pub- 
 lication as recent. This passes over the circumstance 
 as not recent and well known. They evidently stand 
 in a very near relation to each other. And this reflects 
 a strong light back upon that. This also receives a 
 light reflected back from a letter immediately subse- 
 quent, and so appears to have been written, likcsthat, 
 in the month of November, and while there was only 
 a Latin edition of Buchanan's book yet published. 
 
 But says Cecil in his former letter, for he was, no 
 doubt, the author of both, though he does not appear 
 to be so : I hear it is to be translated into English, 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 225 
 
 with addition of many other supplements of like con- 
 dition." It was accordingly published in English, 
 within three or four weeks afterwards. And some of 
 the " supplements of like condition/' were the rest of 
 the letters. These therefore must have been, equally 
 with the other letters, all published by Elizabeth and 
 Cecil. He, we see, knew of the intention and plan, 
 before it was executed. It was executed immediately, 
 and in that very month of November. We have a 
 letter written at Leith in Scotland, on the 14th of De- 
 cember in that year; which speaks of the work, as 
 having been then published in England. " Thay have 
 set out in Tngland (says the author), and newlie set 
 out (he adds in another place), our Queue's lyfe and 
 process, baith in Latin and Inglish ; quhair-in is con- 
 tenit the discourse of hir tragical doingis, the process 
 of the Erie of BothweU's clenging," cleansing or ac- 
 quittal; **hir sonnettis and letteris to him; the deposi- 
 tiounis of the persounis execute, and cartellis efter 
 the King's murther. In appearance, thay leive nathing 
 unset out, tending to hir infamie, and to mak the Duke 
 of Northfolk odious, quha has a grait benevolence of 
 the people." To the Latin edition of the Detection, 
 were subjoined only the three first letters. To the 
 English, were annexed these three letters; before 
 them, the second contract of marriage, the trial and 
 acquittal of Bothwell for the murder, and tfcie sonnets 
 in French and Scotch ; and after them the five other 
 letters, the tickets stuck up on Bothwell's acquittal, 
 the confessions of Hepburn, Hay, Dalgleishe, and 
 Powry, and some concluding exclamations against 
 Mary. But that stroke concerning the Duke of Nor- 
 folk, shows us still more plainly, whence the English 
 publication was derived. He had been convinced of 
 
 Q 
 
2-2« MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 the scandalous measures into which he had been tre- 
 panned against Mary. He wished to make her some 
 reparation. He wished to deliver her from the cursed 
 bonds, and still more cursed machinations, of that 
 Machiavell in a ruff and farthingale, Elizabeth. But 
 he was over-reached by men, who, to his honour be it 
 spoken, were more versed than himself in the wiles of 
 policy. And he lay at this moment under sentence of 
 death, for his conduct. To turn away the affection of 
 the people from this popular noble, by loading the 
 name of Mary with various enormities, and by in- 
 volving him in all the imputed infamy of Mary ; appears 
 to have been the design of the publication. 
 
 For that reason, Cecil prefixed to it an inflamma- 
 tory address against her, and added to it an inflamma- 
 tory comparison betwixt her and Elizabeth. The for- 
 mer says, that in this " booke are both parties to be 
 heard ; the one [Mary] in the former part, both in the 
 declaration and oration of evidences these names 
 being here, from their double nature, applied to the 
 two parts of Buchanan's Detection, when in reality 
 they belong only to the second part of it, which is 
 entitled, Ane Oratioun with Declaratioun of Evi- 
 dences *' the other in the latter part, in the parties 
 own contractes, songes, letteres," &c. " The booke 
 itself (it adds), with the oration of evidence, is written 
 in Latin by a learned man of Scotland, Mr. George 
 Buchanan. It was also overseen, and allowed, and 
 exhibited by them," the Lords of the privie council of 
 Scotland, as mater that thay have off'ered, and do 
 continue in offeryng, to stand to and justifie, before 
 our Soveraigne Ladie, or hir Highnesses commission- 
 ers in that behalfe appointed. And what profe thay 
 have made of it already, when thay were here for that 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 227 
 
 purpose, and the sayd authour of the sayd booke one 
 among them; when both parties, or their sufficient 
 procurators, were here present indifferentlie to be 
 heard, and so were heard indeede : all good subjects 
 may e^asely gather, be our said Soveraigne Ladye's 
 procedyug sins the said hearyng of the cause, who no 
 dout w^ould never have so stayed her," Mary's " re- 
 quest, but rather would have added enforcement, by 
 ministring of ayde to the Lady Mary of Scotland, for 
 her restitution." So shamelessly confident were Eli- 
 zabeth and Cecil, in asserting both parties to have 
 been heard in the inquisition, and both to have been 
 heard impartially, and in resting finally the proof of 
 convicted guilt in Mary, on the very perfidiousness of 
 Elizabeth to her. 
 
 But both the address and the comparison went on, 
 in a higher unison of malignity, to do that " which 
 was to be done, before other purposes could be at- 
 tained." The address therefore says, that " of late 
 hathe bene published — a treatise, detecting the foule 
 doyinges of some," Mary, " that have bene daungerous 
 to our noble Queue ; by which detection is induced a 
 very excellent comparison, for all Englishmen to judge 
 whether it be good to chaunge Queues or no ; and 
 therewith a necessary enforcement to every honest 
 man to pray heartely for the long continuance of our 
 good mother to rule over us, that our posteritie may 
 not see her place left empty for a perilous stepdame." 
 But the comparison spoke out in much stronger terms 
 than these. It spoke thus : " Now judge. Englishmen, 
 gif it be gude to change Queues, O uniting, confound- 
 ing! When rude Scotland has vomited a poysoune, 
 must fyne England Uck it up for a restorative ? O vyle 
 indignitie ! Whiles your Quene's enemy liveth, hir 
 
 q2 
 
228 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 danger continewetb. Desperat necessitie will dar the 
 uttermost. O anibitione ! fed with prosperitie, nou- 
 rished with indulgence, irritate with adversitie, not to 
 be neglected, trusted, nor pardonit/' So outrageously 
 abusive were Elizabeth and Cecil. But Elizabeth was 
 busy in completing her own infamy, while she was 
 labouring for Mary's. She had plotted to ruin Mary's 
 character : she had tried a thousand frauds for that 
 purpose. Yet she had been compelled, in her own 
 despite, to acknowledge the innocence which she had 
 endeavoured to disprove. And then she returned with 
 a double portion of malignity to her original purpose ; 
 published the papers as genuine, which she had plainly 
 owned to be spurious before ; and arraigned, tried, and 
 condemned that Queen in print, whom she had found 
 herself forced to acquit with honour upon the real 
 trial. She thus became the polluted mother of a long 
 brood of evils. She prepared the way with too fatal 
 a success for her other purposes.*' She became her 
 own seducer and leader into murder. She became the 
 wretched cause of worse. With an equally fatal suc- 
 cess, she buried the reputation and honour of Mary 
 under the rubbish of her own accusations. And she 
 now stands forward in the eye of reason and religion, 
 as the grand author of all the calumnies upon calum- 
 nies, that have been heaped, by a continual succession 
 of slanderers, on the head of Mary for two centuries 
 past. 
 
 She did not indeed foresee the amazing extent of 
 her crimes at the time ; nor do any criminals foresee 
 the extent of theirs. Like Elizabeth, they look not 
 beyond the present moment; they reflect not, that 
 there is a venom in iniquity, which runs farther than 
 the line of human life; which corrodes and festers. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 229 
 
 when the lieart that dictated, and the hand that exe- 
 cuted it, are both crumbled into dust, and which con- 
 tinues to bum on to other ages and to other worlds. 
 And let me in the proper sentiments of Christianity 
 add, that the soul of Elizabeth at this instant, whether 
 it is confined in the mansions of misery, or lodged 
 among the spirits of the blessed, is looking back, I 
 doubt not, to all her long transactions with Mary, and 
 their longer consequences — either with a solemn sigh 
 of penitence over them, or with the pangs and groans 
 of an overwhelming remorse for them. — Whitaker. 
 
 CHAP. XV. 
 
 Of the Duke of Norfolk, a new Lover of Mary — Conceals his 
 Love from Elizabeth — Gains the Consent of the English 
 Nobles sub rosa — Discovered and defeated by Elizabeth 
 — More Plots against the English Queen, who resolves 
 to give up Mary to her Enemies in Scotland — Another 
 Plot — Marriage proposed to Elizabeth by Catherine de 
 Medicis, in favour of her Son the Duke of Anjou — Eli- 
 sabeth declares open Hostility to Mary's Party-^League 
 between England and France, 
 
 Soon after. Lord Boyd returned into Scotland, 
 and brought letters to the Regent, both from the Eng- 
 lish and Scottish Queens. A convention was held at 
 Perth, in order to consider them. Elizabeth's letter 
 contained three diflPerent proposals with regard to 
 Mary ; that she should either be restored to the full 
 possession of her former authority ; or be admitted to 
 reign jointly with the King her son ; or at least be 
 
230 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 allowed to reside in Scotland, in some decent retire- 
 ment, without any share in the administration of go- 
 vernment. These overtures were extorted by the im- 
 portunity of Fenelon, the French ambassador, and 
 have some appearance of being favourable to the cap- 
 tive Queen. They were, however, perfectly suitable 
 to Elizabeth's general system, with regard to Scottish 
 affairs. Among propositions so unequal and dispro- 
 portionate, she easily saw where the choice would fall. 
 The two former were rejected ; and long delays must 
 necessarily have intervened, and many difficulties have 
 arisen, before every circumstance relative to the last 
 could be finally adjusted. 
 
 Mary, in her letter, demanded, that her marriage 
 with Bothwell should be reviewed by the proper 
 judges, and, if found invalid, should be dissolved by 
 a legal sentence of divorce. This fatal marriage was 
 the principal source of all the calamities she had en- 
 dured for two years ; a divorce was the only thing 
 which could repair the injuries her reputation had 
 suffered by that step. It was her interest to ha,ve 
 proposed it early ; and it is not easy to account for 
 her long silence with respect to this point. Her parti- 
 cular motive for proposing it at this time, began to be 
 so well known, that the demand was rejected by the 
 convention of estates. They imputed it not so much 
 to any abhorrence of Bothwell, as to her eagerness to 
 conclude a marriage with the Duke of Norfolk. 
 
 This marriage was the object of that secret negotia- 
 tion in England, which we have already mentioned ; 
 but, like all those concerted for the relief of the Queen 
 of Scots, it ended tragically. The fertile and project- 
 ing genius of Maitland first conceived this scheme. 
 During the conference at York, he communicated it to 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 231 
 
 the Duke himself, and to the Bishop of Ross. The 
 former readily closed with a scheme, so flattering to 
 his ambition. The latter considered it as a probable 
 device for restoring his mistress to liberty, and re- 
 placing her on her throne. Nor was Mary, with whom 
 Norfolk held a correspondence, by means of his sister 
 Lady Scroop, averse to a measure, which would have 
 restored her to her kingdom, with so much splen- 
 dor. The sudden removal of the conference from 
 York to Westminster suspended, but did not break off 
 this intrigue. Maitland and Ross were still the Duke's 
 prompters, and his agents; and many letters and love 
 tokens were exchanged between him and the Queen of 
 Scots. 
 
 But as he could not hope, that under an administra- 
 tion so vigilant as Elizabeth's, such an intrigue could 
 be kept long concealed, he attempted to deceive her 
 by the appearance of openness and candor, an artifice 
 which seldom fails of success. He mentioned to her 
 the rumour, which was spread of his marriage with the 
 Scottish Queen ; he complained of it as a groundless- 
 calumny; and disclaimed all thoughts of that kind, 
 with many expressions full of contempt, both for 
 Mary's character and dominions. Jealous as Elizabeth 
 was of every thing relative to the Queen of Scots, she 
 seems to have credited these professions. But, instead 
 of discontinuing the negotiation, he renewed it with 
 greater vigour, and admitted into it new associates. 
 Among these was the Regent of Scotland. He had 
 given great offence to Norfolk, by his public accusa- 
 tion of the Queen, in breach of the concert into which 
 he had entered at York. He was then ready to return 
 into Scotland. The influence of the Duke, in the north 
 of England, was great. The Earls of Northumberland 
 
232 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 and Westmorland, the most powerful noblemen in that 
 part of the kingdom, threatened to revenge upon the 
 Regent, the injuries which he had done his sovereign. 
 In order to secure his safe retreat, he addressed him- 
 self to Norfolk, and, after some apology for his past 
 conduct, he insinuated that the Duke's scheme of 
 marrying the Queen his sister, was no less acceptable 
 to him, than beneficial to both kingdoms ; and that he 
 would concur, with the utmost ardour, in promoting so 
 desirable an event. Norfolk heard him with the cre- 
 dulity, natural to those, who are passionately bent 
 upon any design. He wrote to the two Earls to desist 
 from any hostile attempt against Murray, and to that 
 he owed his passage through the northern counties, 
 without disturbance. 
 
 Encouraged by his success in gaining the Regent, 
 he next attempted to draw the English nobles to ap- 
 prove his design. The nation began to despair of 
 Elizabeth's marrying. Her jealousy kept the question 
 with regard to the right of succession undecided. The 
 memory of the civil wars, which had desolated Eng- 
 land for more than a century, on account of the dis- 
 puted titles of the Houses of York and Lancaster, was 
 still recent. Almost the whole ancient nobility had 
 perished, and the nation itself had been brought to the 
 brink of destruction, in that unhappy contest. The 
 Scottish Queen, though her right of succession was 
 generally held to be undoubted, might meet w ith formid- 
 able competitors. She might marry a foreign and a 
 popish prince, and bring both liberty and religion into 
 danger. But, by marrying her to an Englishman, a 
 zealous Protestant, the most powerful and most univer- 
 sally beloved of all the nobles, an effectual remedy 
 3£emed to be provided against all these evils. The 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 233 
 
 greater part of the peers, either directly, or tacitly, 
 approved of it, as a salutary project. The Earls of 
 Arundel, Pembroke, Leicester, and Lord Lumley, sub- 
 scribed a letter to the Scottish Queen, written with 
 Leicester's hand, in which they warmly recommended 
 the match; but insisted, by way of preliminary, on 
 Mary's promise, that she should attempt nothing, in 
 consequence of her pretensions to the English Crown, 
 prejudicial to Elizabeth, or to her posterity ; that she 
 should consent to a league offensive and defensive be- 
 tween the two kingdoms ; that she should confirm the 
 present establishment of religion in Scotland ; and re- 
 ceive into favour such of her subjects as had appeared 
 in arms against her. Upon her agreeing to the marriage, 
 and ratifying these articles, they engaged that the 
 English nobles would not only concur in restoring her, 
 immediately, to her own throne, but in securing to her 
 that of England, in reversion. Mary readily consented 
 to all these proposals, except the second, with regard 
 to which, she demanded some time for consulting her 
 ancient ally, the French King. 
 
 The whole of this negotiation was industriously con- 
 cealed from Elizabeth. Her jealousy of the Scottish 
 Queen was well known, nor could it be expected, that 
 she would willingly come into a measure, which tended 
 so visibly to save the reputation, and to increase the 
 power of her rival. But, in a matter of so much con- 
 sequence to the nation, the taking a few steps without 
 her knowledge, could scarce be reckoned criminal ; and 
 while every person concerned, even Mary and Norfolk 
 themselves, declared that nothing should be concluded 
 without obtaining her consent, the duty and allegiance 
 of subjects seemed to be fully preserved. The greater 
 part of the nobles regarded the matter in this light. 
 
234 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 Those who conducted the intrigue, had farther and 
 more dangerous views. They saw the advantages which 
 Mary procured by this treaty, to be present and cer- 
 tain; and the execution of the promises which she 
 came under, to be distant and uncertain. They had 
 early communicated their scheme to the Kings of 
 France and Spain, and obtained their approbation. 
 A treaty, concerning which they consulted foreign 
 princes, while they concealed it from their own sove- 
 reign, could not be deemed innocent. They hoped, 
 however, that the union of so many nobles would 
 render it necessary for Elizabeth to comply; they 
 flattered themselves, that a combination so strong 
 would be altogether irresistible ; and such was their 
 confidence of success, that when a plan was concerted, 
 in the north of England, for rescuing Mary out of the 
 hands of her keepers, Norfolk, who was afraid that if 
 she recovered liberty, her sentiments in his favour 
 might change, used all his interest to dissuade the 
 conspirators from attempting it. 
 
 In this situation did the affair remain, when Lord 
 Boyd arrived from England ; and, besides the letters 
 w^hichhe produced publickly, brought others in cyphers, 
 from Norfolk and Throgmorton, to the Regent, and to 
 Maitland. These were full of the most sanguine hopes. 
 The whole nobles of England concurred, said they, in 
 favouring the design. Every preliminary was adjusted; 
 nor was it possible that a scheme so deep laid, con- 
 ducted with so much art, and supported both by power 
 and by numbers, could miscarry, or be defeated in the 
 execution. Nothing now was wanting, but the con- 
 cluding ceremony. It depended on the Regent to 
 hasten that, by procuring a sentence of divorce, which 
 would remove the only obstacle that stood in the way. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 235 
 
 This was expected of him, in consequence of his pro- 
 mise to Norfolk ; and if he regarded either his interest 
 or his fame, or even his safety, he would not fail to 
 fulfil these engagements. 
 
 But the Regent was now in very different circum- 
 stances, from those which had formerly induced him to 
 afi*ect an approbation of Norfolk's schemes. He saw 
 that the downfal of his own power must be the first 
 consequence of the Duke*s success. And if the Queen, 
 who considered him as the chief author of all her mis- 
 fortunes, should recover her ancient authority, he 
 could never expect favour, nor scarce hope for impu- 
 nity. No wonder he declined a step so fatal to him- 
 self, and which would have established the grandeur 
 of another on the ruins of his own. This refusal 
 occasioned a delay. But, as every other circumstance 
 was settled, the Bishop of Ross, in name of his mis- 
 tress, and the Duke, in person, declared, in presence 
 of the French ambassador, their mutual consent to the 
 marriage ; and a contract to this purpose was signed, 
 and entrusted to the keeping of the ambassador. 
 
 The intrigue was now in so many hands, that it could 
 not long remain a secret. It began to be whispered at 
 court; and Elizabeth calling the Duke into her presence, 
 expressed the utmost indignation at his conduct, and 
 charged him to lay aside all thoughts of prosecuting 
 such a dangerous design. Soon after, Leicester, who 
 perhaps had countenanced the project with no other 
 intention, revealed the whole circumstances of it to 
 the Queen. Penibroke, Arundel, Lumley, and Throg- 
 morton, were confined and examined. Mary was 
 watched more narrowly than ever ; and Hastings Earl 
 of Huntington, who pretended to dispute with the 
 Scottish Queen her right to the succession, being 
 
236 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 joined in commission with Shrewsbury, rendered her 
 imprisonment more intolerable, by the excess of his 
 vigilance and rigour. The Scottish Regent, threatened 
 with Elizabeth's displeasure, meanly betrayed the 
 Duke ; put his letters in her hands ; and furnished all the 
 intelligence in his power. The Duke himself retired 
 first to Howard-house, and then, in contempt of a 
 summons to appear before the privy council, fled to 
 his seat in Norfolk. Intimidated by the imprisonment 
 of his associates; coldly received by his friends in 
 that county; unprepared for a rebellion; and unwilling 
 perhaps to rebel; he hesitated for some days, and at 
 last obeyed a second call, and repaired to Windsor. 
 He was first kept as a prisoner in a private house, and 
 then sent to the Tower. After being confined there 
 upwards of nine months, he was released upon his 
 humble submission to Elizabeth, giving her a promise, 
 on his allegiance, to hold no farther correspondence 
 with the Scottish Queen. During the progress of 
 Norfolk's negotiations, the Queen's partizans in Scot- 
 land, who made no doubt of their issuing in her re- 
 storation to the throne, with an increase of authority, 
 were wonderfully elevated. Maitland was the soul of 
 that party, and the person whose activity and abilities 
 the Regent chiefly dreaded. He had laid the plan of 
 that intrigue which had kindled such combustion in 
 England. He continued to foment the spirit of dis- 
 aff'ection in Scotland, and had seduced from the Re- 
 gent, Lord Home, Kirkaldy, and several of his former 
 associates. While he enjoyed liberty, the Regent 
 could not reckon his own power secure. For this 
 reason, he employed Captain Crawfurd, one of his 
 creatures, to accuse him of being accessory to the 
 murder of the King; and under that pretence, carried 
 
AND ELIZABETH. • 
 
 237 
 
 him a prisoner to Edinburgh. He would soon have 
 been brought to trial, but was saved by the friendship 
 ofKirkaldy, governor of the castle, who, by pretend- 
 ing a warrant for that purpose from the Regent, got 
 him out of the hands of the person to whose care he 
 was committed, and conducted him into the castle, 
 which, from that time, was entirely under Maitland's 
 command. The loss of a place of so much importance, 
 and the defection of a man so eminent for military 
 skill as Kirkaldy, brought the Regent into some dis- 
 reputation, for which, however, the success of his 
 ally Elizabeth abundantly compensated. 
 
 The intrigue carried on for restoring the Scottish 
 Queen to liberty, having been discovered, and disap- 
 pointed, an attempt was made, to the same purpose, 
 by force of arms; but with no better success. The 
 Earls of Northumberland and Westmorland, though 
 little distinguished by their personal merit, were two 
 of the most ancient and powerful of the English peers. 
 Their estates in the northern countries were great, and 
 they possessed that influence over the inhabitants, 
 which was hereditary in the popular and martial fa- 
 milies of Percy and of Nevil. They were both attached 
 to the Popish religion, and discontented with the 
 court, where new men, and a new system prevailed. 
 Ever since Mary's arrival in England, they had warmly 
 espoused her interest; and zeal for popery, opposition 
 to the court, and commiseration of her suflferings, had 
 engaged them in different plots for her relief. Not- 
 withstanding the vigilance of her keepers, they held a 
 close correspondence with her, and communicated to 
 her all their designs. They were privy to Norfolk's 
 schemes; but the caution with which he proceeded, 
 did not suit their ardour and impetuosity. The liberty 
 
238 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 of the Scottish Queen was not their sole object. They 
 aimed at bringing about a change in the religion, and 
 a revolution in the government of the kingdom. For 
 this reason, they solicited the aid of the King of 
 Spain, the avowed and zealous patron of Popery in 
 that age. Nothing could be more delightful to the 
 restless spirit of Philip, or more necessary towards 
 facilitating his schemes in the Netherlands, than the 
 involving England in the confusion and miseries of a 
 civil war. The Duke of Alva, by his direction, en- 
 couraged the two Earls, and promised, so soon as 
 they either took the field with their forces, or surprised 
 any place of strength, or rescued the Queen of Scots, 
 that he would supply them both with money, and a 
 strong body of troops. La Mothe, the governor of 
 Dunkirk, in the disguise of a sailor, sounded the ports 
 where it would be most proper to land. And Chiapini 
 Vitelli, one of Alva's ablest officers, was dispatched 
 into England, on pretence of settling some commercial 
 differences between the two nations; but in reality, 
 that the rebels might be sure of a leader of experience, 
 so soon as they ventured to take arms. 
 
 The conduct of this negotiation occasioned many 
 meetings and messages between the two Earls. Eliza- 
 beth was informed of these ; and though she suspected 
 nothing of their real design, she concluded that they 
 were among the number of Norfolk's confidents. They 
 were summoned, for this reason, to repair to court. 
 Conscious of guilt, and afraid of discovery, they de- 
 layed giving obedience. A second, and more peremp- 
 tory order was issued. This they could not decline, 
 without shaking off their allegiance. And as no time 
 was left for deliberation, they instantly erected their 
 standard against their sovereign. The re-establishing 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 239 
 
 the Catholic religion; the settling the order of suc- 
 cession to the Crown ; the defence of the ancient no- 
 bility ; were the motives they alledged to justify their 
 rebellion. Many of the lower people flocked to them, 
 with such arms as they could procure; and had the 
 capacity of the leaders been, in any degree, equal to 
 the enterprise, it must have soon grown to be extremely 
 formidable. Elizabeth acted with prudence and vigour ; 
 and was served by her subjects with fidelity and ardour. 
 On the first rumour of an insurrection, Mary was re- 
 moved to Coventry, a place of strength, which could 
 not be taken without a regular siege ; a detachment of 
 the rebels, which was sent to rescue her, returned with- 
 out success. Troops were assembled in difi'erent parts 
 of the kingdom ; as they advanced, the malecontents 
 retired. In their retreat their numbers dwindled away, 
 and their spirits sunk. Despair and uncertainty whither 
 to direct their flight, kept together for some time,, a 
 small body of them, among the mountains of Northum- 
 berland. But they were at length obliged to disperse, 
 and the chiefs took refuge among the Scottish bor- 
 derers. The two Earls, together with the Countess of 
 Northumberland, wandering for some days in the 
 wastes of Liddisdale, were plundered by the banditti, 
 exposed to the rigours of the season, and left desti- 
 tute of the necessaries of life. "Westmorland was con- 
 cealed by Scot of Buccleugh, and Ker of Femiherst, 
 and afterwards conveyed into the Netherlands. Nor- 
 thumberland was seized by the Regent, who had 
 marched with some troops towards the borders, to 
 prevent any impression the rebels might make on those 
 mutinous provinces. 
 
 Elizabeth began now to be weary of keeping such a 
 dangerous prisoner as the Scottish Queen. During the 
 
240 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 former year, the tranquillity of her government had 
 been disturbed, first by a secret combination of some 
 of her nobles, then by the rebellion of others ; and she 
 often declared, not without reason, that Mary was the 
 hidden cause of both. Many of her own subjects 
 favoured, or pitied the captive Queen; the Roman 
 Catholic Princes on the Continent were warmly inte- 
 rested in her cause. The detaining her any longer in 
 England, she foresaw, would be made the pretext or 
 occasion of perpetual cabals and insurrections among 
 the former, and might expose her to the hostile at- 
 tempts of the latter. She resolved, therefore, to give 
 up Mary into the hands of the Regent, whose security, 
 no less than her own, depended on preventing her from 
 reascending the throne. The negotiation for this 
 purpose was carried some length, when it was disco- 
 vered by the vigilance of the Bishop of Ross, who, 
 together with the French and Spanish ambassadors, 
 remonstrated against the infamy of such an action, 
 and represented the surrendering the Queen to her 
 rebellious subjects, to be the same thing as if Eliza- 
 beth should, by her own authority, condemn her to 
 instant death. This procured a delay, and the murder 
 of the Regent prevented the revival of that design. 
 
 At this time a treaty of marriage betw^een Elizabeth 
 and the Duke of Anjou, the French King's brother, 
 was well advanced. Both courts seemed to desire it 
 with equal ardour, and gave out with the utmost con- 
 fidence, that it could not fail of taking place. Neither 
 of them, however, wished it success ; and they encou- 
 raged it for no other end, but because it served to 
 cover or to promote their particular designs. The 
 whole policy of Catherine of Medicis was bent towards 
 the accomplishment of her detestable project for ih^ 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 241 
 
 destruction of the Hugonot chiefs; and by carrying 
 on a negotiation for the marriage of her son with a 
 princess who was justly esteemed the protectress of 
 that party ; by yielding some things in point of reli- 
 gion, and by discovering an indiflPerence with regard 
 to others, she hoped to amuse all the Protestants in 
 Europe, and to lull asleep the jealousy even of the 
 Hugonots themselves. Elizabeth flattered herself with 
 reaping advantages of another kind. During the de- 
 pendence of the negotiation, the French could not with 
 decency give any open assistance to the Scottish Queen ; 
 if they conceived any hopes of success in the treaty of 
 marriage, they would, of course, interest themselves 
 but coldly in her concerns ; Mary herself must be 
 dejected at losing an ally, whom she had hitherto rec- 
 koned her most powerful protector ; and by interrupt- 
 ing her correspondence with France, one source, at 
 least, of the cabals and intrigues which disturbed the 
 kingdom would be stopt. Both Queens succeeded in 
 their schemes. Catherine's artifices imposed on Eli- 
 zabeth, and blinded the Hugonots. The French dis- 
 covered the utmost indifference about the interest of 
 the Scottish Queen ; and Mary, considering that court 
 as already united with her rival, turned herself, for 
 protection, towards the King of Spain. Philip, whose 
 dark and thoughtful mind delighted in the mystery of 
 intrigue, had held a secret correspondence with Mary 
 for some time, by means of the Bishop of Ross, and 
 had supplied both herself and her adherents in Scot- 
 land with small sums of money. Ridolphi, a Floren- 
 tine gentleman, who resided at London under the cha- 
 racter of a banker, and who acted privately as an 
 agent for the Pope, was the person whom the Bishop 
 intrusted with this negotiation. Mary thought it ne- 
 
 R 
 
242 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 cessary, likewise, to communicate the secret to the 
 Duke of Norfolk, whom Elizabeth had lately restored 
 to liberty, upon his solemn promise to have no further 
 intercourse with the Queen of Scots ; which, however, 
 he regarded so little, that she took no step in any 
 matter of moment without his advice. She com- 
 plained, in a long letter which she wrote to him in 
 cyphers, of the baseness with which the French court 
 had abandoned her interest; she declared her inten- 
 tion of imploring the assistance of the Spanish mo- 
 narch, w^hich was now her only resource ; and recom- 
 mended Ridolphi to his confidence, as a person ca- 
 pable both of explaining and advancing the scheme. 
 The Duke commanded Hickford, his secretary, to 
 decypher, and then to burn this letter ; but whether 
 he had been already gained by the court, or resolved 
 at that time to betray his master, he disobeyed the 
 latter part of the order, and hid the letter, together 
 with other treasonable papers, under the Duke's own 
 bed. 
 
 Ridolphi, in a conference with Norfolk, omitted 
 none of those arguments, and spared none of those 
 promises, which are the usual incentives to rebellion. 
 The Pope, he told him, had a great sum in readiness 
 to bestow in so good a cause. The Duke of Alva had 
 undertaken to land ten thousand men, not far from 
 London. The Catholics to a man would rise in arms. 
 Many of the nobles were ripe for a revolt, and wanted 
 only a leader. Half the nation had turned their eyes 
 towards him, and called on him to revenge the unme- 
 rited injuries, which he himself had sufi'ered ; and to 
 rescue an unfortunate Queen, who offered him her 
 person, and her crown, as the reward of his success. 
 Norfolk approved of the design, and though he refused 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 243 
 
 to give Ridolphi aoy letter of credit, allowed him to 
 use his name, in negotiating with the Pope, and Alva. 
 The Bishop of Ross, who, from the violence of his 
 temper, and impatience to procure relief for his mis- 
 tress, was apt to run into rash and desperate designs, 
 advised the Duke to assemble secretly a few^ of his 
 followers, and at once to seize Elizabeth*s person. 
 But this the Duke rejected, as a scheme equally wild 
 and hazardous. Mean while, the English court had 
 received some imperfect information of the plot, by 
 intercepting one of Ridolphi's agents ; and an accident 
 happened, which brought to light all the circumstances 
 of it. The Duke had employed Hickford to transmit 
 to Lord Herreis some money, which was to be distri- 
 buted among Mary's friends in Scotland. A person 
 not in the secret w as intrusted with conveying it to the 
 borders ; and he, suspecting it from the weight to be 
 gold, whereas he had been told that it was silver, 
 carried it directly to the privy council. The Duke, his 
 domestics, and all who were privy, or could be sus- 
 pected of being privy to the design, w ere taken into 
 custody. Never did the accomplices in a conspiracy 
 discover less firmness ; or servants betray an indulgent 
 master with greater baseness. Every one confessed 
 the whole of what he knew. Hickford gave directions 
 how to find the papers, which he had hidden. The 
 Duke himself, relying at first on the fidelity of his 
 associates, and believing all dangerous papers to have 
 been destroyed, confidently asserted his own inno- 
 cence; but when their depositions, and the papers 
 themselves, were produced, astonished at their trea- 
 chery, he acknowledged his guilt, and implored the 
 Queen's mercy. His oftence was too heinous, and too 
 often repeated^ to obtain pardon ; and Elizabeth thought 
 
244 
 
 M4RY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 it necessary to deter her subjects, by his punishment, 
 from holding correspondence with the Queen of Scots, 
 or her emissaries. Being tried by his peers, he was 
 found guilty of high treason, and, after several delays, 
 suffered death for the crime. 
 
 The discovery of this conspiracy produced many 
 effects, extremely detrimental to Mary's interest. The 
 Bishop of Ross, who appeared by the confession of all 
 concerned, to be the prime mover in every cabal 
 against Elizabeth, was taken into custody, his papers 
 searched, himself committed to the Tower, treated with 
 the utmost rigour, threatened with capital punishment, 
 and after along confinement set at liberty, on condition 
 that he should leave the kingdom. Mary was not only 
 deprived of a servant, equally eminent for his zeal, 
 and his abilities, but was denied from that time, the 
 privilege of having an ambassador at the English court. 
 The Spanish ambassador, whom the power and dignity 
 of the Prince he represented, exempted from such 
 insults as Ross had suffered, was commanded to leave 
 England. Maiy herself was kept under a stricter 
 guard than formerly, the number of her domestics 
 abridged, and no person permitted to see her, but in 
 presence of her keepers. 
 
 At the same time, Elizabeth, foreseeing the storm 
 which was gathering on the continent, against her 
 kingdom, began to wish that tranquillity were restored 
 in Scotland; and irritated by Mary's late attempt 
 against her government, she determined to act, without 
 disguise or ambiguity, in favour of the King's party. 
 This resolution she intimated to the leaders of both 
 factions. Mary, she told them, had held such a 
 criminal coirespondonce wimher avosved enemies, and 
 had excited such dangerous conspiracies both against 
 
i 
 
 AND ELIZABETH. 245 
 
 her crown and life, that she would henceforth consider 
 her as unworthy of protection, and would never con- 
 sent to restore her to liberty, far less to replace her on 
 her throne. She exhorted them, therefore, to unite in 
 acknowledging the King's authority. She promised to 
 procure, by her mediation, equitable terms for those 
 who had hitherto opposed it. But if they still con- 
 tinued refractory, she threatened to employ her utmost 
 power to compel them to submit. Though this decla- 
 ration did not produce an immediate eflfect; though 
 hostilities continued in the neighbourhood of Edin- 
 burgh ; though Huntly's brother, Sir Adam Gordon, by 
 his bravery, and good conduct, had routed the King's 
 adherents in the north, in many encounters ; yet such 
 an explicit discovery of Elizabeth's sentiments, con- 
 tributed not a little to animate one party, and to depress 
 the spirit and hopes of the other. 
 
 As Morton, who commanded the Regent's forces, 
 lay at Leith, and Kirkaldy still held out the town and 
 castle of Edinburgh, scarce a day passed without a 
 skirmish. And while both avoided any decisive action, 
 they harassed each other by attacking small parties, 
 beating up quarters, and intercepting convoys. These 
 operations, though little memorable in themselves, 
 kept the passions of both factions in perpetual exer- 
 cise and agitation, and wrought them up, at last, to a 
 degree of fury, which rendered themselves regardless 
 not only of the laws of war, but of the principles of 
 humanity. Nor was it in the field alone, and during 
 the heat of combat, that this implacable rage appeared ; 
 both parties hanged the prisoners they took, of what- 
 ever rank or quality, without mercy, and without trial. 
 Great numbers suffered in this shocking manner; the 
 unhappy victims were led, by fifties at a time, to execu- 
 
246 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 tion ; and it was not till both sides bad smarted severely^ 
 that they discontinued this barbarous practice, so re- 
 proachful to the character of the nation. Meanwhile, 
 those in the town and castle, though they had received 
 a supply of money from the Duke of Ah a, began to 
 suffer for want of provisions. As Morton had destroyed 
 all the mills in the neighbourhood of the city, and had 
 planted small garrisons in all the houses of strength 
 around it, scarcity daily increased. At last all the 
 miseries of famine were felt, and they must have been 
 soon reduced to such extremities, as would have forced 
 them to capitulate, if the English and French ambas- 
 sadors had not procured a suspension of hostilities 
 between the two parties. 
 
 Though the negotiation for a marriage, between 
 Elizabeth and the Duke of Anjou, had been fruitless, 
 both Charles and she were desirous of concluding a 
 defensive alliance between the two crowns. He con- 
 sidered such a treaty, not only as the best device for 
 blinding the Protestants, against w^hom the conspiracy 
 was now almost ripe for execution ; but as a good pre- 
 caution, likewise, against the dangerous consequences, 
 to which that atrocious measure might expose him. 
 Elizabeth, who had hitherto reigned without a single 
 ally, now saw her kingdom so threatened with intes- 
 tine commotions, or exposed to invasions from abroad, 
 that she was extremely solicitous to secure the assist- 
 ance of so powerful a neighbour. The difficulties 
 arising from the situation of the Scottish Queen, were 
 the chief occasions of any delay. Charles demanded 
 some terms of advantage for Mary, and her party. 
 Elizabeth refused to listen to any proposition of that 
 kind. Her obstinacy overcame the faint efforts of the 
 French monarch. Mary's name was not so much as 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 247 
 
 mentioned in the treaty ; and with regard to Scottish 
 affairs, a short article was inserted, in general and am- 
 biguous terms, to this purpose, "That the parties con- 
 tracting shall make no innovations in Scotland, nor 
 suffer any stranger to enter, and to foment the factions 
 there ; but it shall be lawful for the Queen of England 
 to chastise, by force of arms, those Scots who shall 
 continue to harbour the English rebels now in Scot- 
 land. — Robertson. 
 
 A LETTER FROM MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, TO HER AMBASSADOR 
 IN FRANCE, THE ARCHBISHOP OF GLASGOW, MAY 2, 1578. 
 
 (a translation.) 
 
 The Countess of Lenox, my mother-in-law, died about a month ago ; 
 and the Queen of England has taken into her care the Countess's grand- 
 daughter*. I hare written to those who are about my son, to enter a claim 
 in his name for this succession ; not for any desire that I have that he 
 should actually succeed unto it, but rather to testify, that neither he nor I 
 ought to be reputed nor treated as foreigners in England, who are bom 
 within the same isle. This good lady was, thanks to God, in very good 
 correspondence with me these five or six years bygone, and has confessed to 
 me, by sundry letters under her hand, which I carefully preser\'e, the injury 
 she did me by the unjust ptirsuits which she allowed to go out against me in 
 her name, through bad information ; but principally, she said, through the 
 express orders of the Quee7i of England, and the persuasion of her couficil: who 
 also took much solicitude, that she and J might never come to good understand- 
 ing together. But how soon she came to know of my innocence, she de- 
 sisted from any further pursuit against me ; nay, went so far as to refuse 
 lier consent to any thing they should act against me in her name. 
 
 * This is the Lady Arabella Stewart, only child to Charles Earl of Lenox, 
 -who died anno 1576. 
 
248 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 CHAP. XVI. 
 
 Of Buchanan's Forgeries — Death ; and Regret for his Ca- 
 lumnies heaped on Mary. * 
 
 Buchanan published a train of confessions con- 
 cerning the murder, at the end of his Detection, son- 
 nets, letters, and contracts. But they are all spu- 
 rious, the creation of a genius that seems to have de- 
 lighted itself in the boldness of its own falshoods, 
 and to have rioted in the luxury of its own forgeries. 
 They thus form a very proper conclusion to the let- 
 ters, the sonnets, the contracts, and the Detection. 
 And the whole work goes on from the beginning to the 
 end, in one uniform and unvaried tone of fabricated 
 calumny. 
 
 Servatur ad imum 
 
 Qualis ab incepto processerit, et sibi constat. 
 
 That this is the case with his confessions, may be 
 easily shown. They are designed to be the same with 
 those which were really or pretendedly made by some 
 of Bothwell's followers, and were really or pretend- 
 edly existing upon record at the time. They are ac- 
 cordingly said expressly, to have been made in the 
 Tolbooth of Edinborough, the building in which the 
 parliament was held, the privy council assembled, 
 and the lords of session convened for the trial of civil 
 or criminal causes. In this structure. Both well was 
 tried for the murder of the King. In this, his followers 
 were equally tried. In this, also, the rebel lords 
 assembled for business. And in this, therefore, would 
 their previous examination of Bothwell's followers be 
 made. Yet the moment we compare Buchanan's with 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 249 
 
 the originals, we detect the imposition which he designs 
 to practise upon us. 
 
 He expressly refers to the originals twice. At one 
 time he cites them, for a circumstance concerning 
 Mary in the ^confession of George Dalgleishe ; " quhilk 
 his confessioun (he says) zit remanis of record." At 
 another, he appeals to them for all the circumstances 
 in the execution of the murder. " The haill ordour of 
 the doing thairof (he says), may be esilie understand 
 [understood] by thair confessiounis, quhilk wer put to 
 death for it." And yet this order, and that circum- 
 stance, are not to be found in his depositions. I insist 
 not upon this, however, in order to show a diflference 
 between his and the others. I am willing to excuse 
 where I can. I will therefore suppose, that his were 
 calculated only to give the sum and substance of the 
 others. But the pen which loved to sport with facts, 
 could not content itself with fidelity, even in reciting 
 confessions. He has made many additions, which are 
 merely of a harmless nature. He has made some, 
 however, that are very different. His spirit could not 
 long confine itself within the bounds of harmlessness. 
 The serpent may appear for a time, playing in wanton 
 curls upon the ground. It will soon, however, rise 
 upon its spires, and show its envenomed fang. And 
 Buchanan returned to his natural exercise of fictitious 
 slander. 
 
 Archilochum proprio rabies armavit iambo. 
 
 He accordingly inserts in one of the confessions, an 
 intimation against Sir James Balfour, as if he had a 
 share in the murder, and was even the principall 
 counsellar and devyser" of it. Yet there is not the 
 most distant hint of a charge like this in the originals. 
 But this Leviathan of slander was not satisfied with 
 
MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 taking such gentle pastime in forgery. He must raise 
 a tempest for his recreation. He must charge the 
 Queen herself with a participation in the murder. He 
 must even assert the existence of some papers, as seen 
 by one of the culprits, and " acknawledgeing the Quenis 
 mynd yairto." And yet, all the while, the originals 
 themselves, even as given us by the rebels themselves, 
 presumed not to breathe the slightest whisper of mur- 
 der against her. 
 
 Nor let us wonder at this astonishing audacity in 
 Buchanan. An audacity, even still more astonishing, 
 in form at least, if not in substance, which he shows 
 in the Detection itself, may make us to stare with less 
 amazement at this. He there informs us, that the 
 Queen and one of her bed-chamber women, let down 
 an old and heavy lady by a string, from the top of a 
 high wall by night ; that the string broke, the old lady 
 fell, but recovered herself, rose, and executed her 
 commission ; that she forced into Bothwell's house, 
 forced into his bed-chamber, tore him from the arms 
 of his wife, and dragged him out of his bed ; and that 
 then she carried this young w arriour, half asleep, half 
 naked, over the high wall, into the Queen's bed-room. 
 Such tales, so pregnant with absurdity, did this man 
 of great abilities suffer himself to relate ! Yet " this 
 maner and circumstances of the deid, (he says), not 
 onlie the maist parte of thame that than were with the 
 Queue, have confessit; bot also George Daglische, 
 Bothwellis chalmerlane, a ly till befoir he was executit, 
 planely declairit the same ; quhilk his confessioun zit 
 remanis of record." Such was the assurance of the 
 wretch, as to refer in form to a record for a slander, 
 when the record itself docs not contain a single sylla- 
 ble concerning it. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 251 
 
 But it was happy for the reputation of Mary, that he 
 had such assurance and such absurdity. His malignity 
 acted with all the force of a pestilential blast upon his 
 discretion. The daring calumniator sunk into an im- 
 passioned idiot, before it. And he stands on the pillar 
 of infamy at present, for his Detection, his sonnets, 
 and his depositions, the second of all human forgers, 
 and the first of all human beings, who would have 
 so outrageously turned round upon the hand that ge- 
 nerously fed them. 
 
 Sir Robert Cotton noted a great portion of Bu- 
 chanan's confessions in his Memoirs, but they are not 
 now extant. However, Thuanus, in a letter to Camden 
 himself two years afterward, acknowledges to have 
 received Sir Robert's Memoirs," which had been 
 sent him by the King's order in two successive 
 packets, and carried down the history to 1582. These 
 Memoirs, whatever is become of them now, Camden 
 perused, no doubt, among those other papers in Sir 
 Robert's library; to which, and to the personal informa- 
 tions of the owner, he pays so strong a compliment as 
 to say, that, if the reader finds either profit or delight 
 in his Annals, he must ascribe it to these communica- 
 tions. From these Memoirs, or rather from these 
 reported conversations of the King to Sir Robert and 
 others, he certainly derived his intelligence, concern- 
 ing Buchanan's expressed contrition to the King him- 
 self. And the asserted fact stands firm, upon the 
 credit of Camden the reporter, and upon the authority 
 of King James the relater. 
 
 But the other part of the narrative, the account of 
 Buchanan's dying penitence, stands even more firm. 
 It is given by Camden, without any reference to in- 
 formation at all. It appears, therefore, without the 
 
252 
 
 MARY QUEEN, OF SCOTS, 
 
 slightest shade of doubt about it. Buchanan, he says, 
 upon his death-bed" [at his death, moriens] "wished 
 he might live so long, till, by recalling the truth, he 
 might, even with his bloud, wipe away those asper- 
 sions, which he had by his bad tongue unjustly cast 
 upon Mary." And he accordingly repeats in another 
 place, the substance of what he has here said, and 
 equally without any restrictions of reference. Bu- 
 chanan, he tells us under 1582, " now with sorrow re- 
 pented'* [the words of the original are much stronger, 
 dolenter ingemuit, when the word before was only 
 ingemiscens, the deep sorrow of the dying moments 
 being expressively raised above the lighter sorrow of 
 the hour of health], " that he had formerly maintained 
 the cause of factious people against their princes ; and 
 soon after died," pauld post obiit. 
 
 All these passages unite to form an account, too 
 clear to be darkened by the doubts that have been 
 raised against it, and too pointed^ to be blunted by the 
 opposition which has been made to it. Whatever the 
 friends and the enemies of Buchanan, have strangely 
 conspired to insinuate against it; whatever Thuanus 
 or his anonymous enlarger, particularly, have asserted 
 directly to the contrary of it ; the early and the final 
 repentance of Buchanan, is too powerfully attested to 
 be questioned. The authority of Thuanus himself is 
 no ways equal to Camden's, for an incident in our 
 island history. The authority of an anonymous writer, 
 cannot carry the weight of a straw against him. The 
 account also given by Thuanus, or his anonymous 
 continuer, obviously confutes itself; by making Bu- 
 chanan allude to what happened after his death, and 
 anticipate the proscription of his works by parliament. 
 " Ubi exspiraverit (says the forged speech of this 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 253 
 
 great forger), in Regis potestate futurum, ut de scriptis 
 illius pro arhitrio statueret ; tantum, quid de ed re 
 acturus esset, proprudentid sua ante mature consuleret/* 
 &c. This is so pointed a reference, to what happened 
 above nineteen months after he was dead, as betrays 
 the forgery of the whole at once. 
 
 The Annals of Camden, therefore, stand unopposed. 
 They were, before, decisive vouchers of the truth. 
 But they are doubly decisive now. And Buchanan 
 appears, as every good man would wish him to appear, 
 at last stunned effectually into sobriety by the stroke 
 of death; at last roused effectually into remorse by the 
 terrours of judgment, and, with his dying tongue, pro- 
 claiming loudly the falshood and forgery of his calum- 
 nies against Mary. 
 
 Concerning the anonymous enlarger of Thuanus, 
 Bayle gives us this account, in that multifarious col- 
 lection of facts and opinions, which is called his Dic- 
 tionary. Varillas, he tells us, says thus in the preface 
 to his five volumes de THistoire de I'Heresie. " There 
 are in the [French] King's library, the five volumes of 
 the President de Thuanus's history, in the margins 
 whereof the youngest of Messieurs du Puy had written 
 with his own hand the most curious facts, that he and 
 his brother had judged fit to be retrenched from it, 
 when it was printed. I have read in the additions to 
 the 4th volume, that Buchanan being ready to expire,'* 
 &c. But this very same Varillas, as Bayle observes, 
 touches the same subject again in the body of his work, 
 and reports the fact very differently. " In the original 
 of M. de Thuanus's history (he then says), in the place 
 where the death of Buchanan is spoken of, there is 
 written vrith that illustrious president's own hand. That 
 James the Sixth," &c. "These variations and these 
 
254 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 shufflings (adds Bayle himself), maintain the preference 
 that Camden deserves." But they do more. They 
 prove, that Varillas forged the whole story. Had he 
 ever seen a copy with such additions, he could not 
 have asserted the additions at one time, to be the hand- 
 writing of Mons. du Puy the younger, and to be 
 reasons for such retrenchments, as the two Messieurs 
 du Puy thought proper to be made in the book; and 
 have affirmed them at another, to be not in the hand- 
 writing of Mons. du Puy at all, but in that of Thuanus 
 himself. And the non-appearance of such a copy in 
 the French King's, or any other library, from the days 
 of Varillas to the present time, is a confirmation of 
 the inference deduced from this gross contradiction ; 
 and concurs with it, and with the forged speech above, 
 to prove the whole a forgery of Varillas's. 
 
 Nor is this all the forgery that I wish to expose here. 
 When formerly a poet died, his brother-bards used to 
 write verses upon him, hang them on his hearse, and 
 lay them in the grave with him. Just so the forgers 
 appear to have acted with Buchanan : the hearse and 
 grave of the grand forger are infamously decorated w ith 
 those of his brothers in iniquity. — Whitaker. 
 
 A LETTER FROM MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS TO ELIZABETH 
 QUEEN OF ENGLAND, FROM THE HOUSE OF LORD SHREWS- 
 BURY, AT SHEFFIELD, WHERE SHE HAD LONG BEEN A 
 PRISONER. 
 
 According to wliat I have promised you, and you have desired, I declare 
 to you now, that with regret that such things have been brought into ques- 
 tion, but very sincerely and without any passion, for which I appeal to my 
 God as witness, that the Countess t)f Shrewsbury told me what follows con- 
 cerning you, pretty nearly in these terms : to the most part of which I pro- 
 test to have replied, reprehending the said lady for believing or talking so 
 freely of you ; as matter, that I did not believe, and do not believe at pre- 
 sent, knowing the nature of the Countess, and with what spirit she was 
 then egged on against you. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 255 
 
 First, that one, to whom she said you had made a promise of marriage 
 before a lady of your bed-chamber, had lain down infinite times with you, 
 with all the freedom and familiarity that can be used betwixt a husband and 
 wife ; but that undoubtedly you was not as all other women are, and for this 
 reason it was folly in all those who favoured your marriage with Monsieur the 
 the Duke of Anjou, because it could never be consummated ; and that you 
 would not ever give up the liberty of bespeaking love, and of having your 
 pleasure continually with new lovers ; regretting this, said she, that you 
 would not be content with Master Haton, and one other of this realm ; but 
 that, for the honour of the country, she was most grieved, that you not only 
 had pawned your honour with a stranger of the name of Simier, going to 
 find him by night in the chamber of a lady, whom the said Countess blamed 
 greatly for this business, where you kissed him, and used divers dishonest 
 familiarities with him, but also revealed the secrets of the realm to him, 
 betraying to him your own counsellors. 
 
 That you behaved with the same dissoluteness towards the Duke his 
 master, who had been to find you one night at the door of your bed- 
 chamber, where you met him with only your shift and bed-gown on ; and 
 that afterwards you suffered him to enter, and that he stayed with you nearly 
 three hours. 
 
 As to the said Haton, that you ran him down by violence, making the love 
 which you bore him appear so public, that he himself wa8 constrained to 
 retire from you ; and that you gave Kiligreu a box on the ear, because he 
 had not brought back the said Haton, whom you had sent him to recall, and 
 who had departed from you in wrath, for some reproaches which you had 
 uttered to him, on account of certain buttons of gold which he had upon his 
 clothes. 
 
 That she had laboured to make a match between the said Haton and the 
 late Countess of Lenox her daughter ; but, for fear of you, durst not enter- 
 prise it ; that even the Earl of Oxford durst not re-accord with his wife, for 
 fear of losing the favour which he hoped to receive by making love to you. 
 
 That you was profuse to all such persons, and those who meddled with 
 such practices ; as to one Gorge, of your bed-chamber, to whom you had 
 given three hundred pounds in rents, because he had brought you the news 
 of Haton's return ; that to all others you was very ungrateful and niggardly ; 
 and that there were but three or four persons in the realm to whom you had 
 ever been bountiful. 
 
 Counselling me, while she laughed extremely, to enter my son in the lists 
 for making love to you ; as a matter that would greatly serve me, and would 
 dislodge Monsieur the Duke from his quarters, who would prove very pre- 
 judicial to me if he continued there : and on ray replying that this would be 
 taken for an absolute mockery, she answered me, that you was as vain, and 
 
256 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 had as good an opinion of your beauty, as if you were some goddess of the 
 sky ; that she would take it upon her life, she could easily make you believe 
 it, and you would receive my son in this light. 
 
 That you took so great a pleasure in flatteries beyond all reason, that it 
 had been said to you expressly, that there was no venturing at times to look 
 full upon you, because your face shone like the sun ; that she, and other 
 ladies of the court, were constrained to use this language ; and that, in her 
 last journey to you, she and the late Countess of Lenox, while she was 
 speaking to you, durst not look the one towards the other, for fear of bursting 
 out into a laugh, at the flams which she was putting upon you ; praying me 
 at her return to rebuke her daughter, whom she could not ever persuade to 
 do the same ; and, as to her daughter Talbot, she was sure she could not 
 ever refrain from laughing in your face. 
 
 The said lady, Talbot, when she went to perform the reverence, and to 
 take the oath to you, as one of your servants, immediately on her return 
 relating the act to me [Mary] , as an act done in mockery, begged me to 
 accept the like, but more felt and full towards me, which I refused a long 
 time J but at last, constrained by her tears, I suffered her to do it ; she 
 saying, that she would not, for any thing in the world, be in your service, 
 near your person, because she should be in fear, that when you was in 
 wrath, you would do to her as you did to her cousin Skedmur, one of 
 whose fingers you broke, and made those of the court believe that it was 
 broken by a chandelier falling down from above ; and that you gave another 
 lady, as she was waiting upon you at table, a great blow with a knife upon 
 the hand. 
 
 And, in a word, because of these last points, and common petty reports, 
 you may believe that you was acted and represented by my women, as in a 
 comedy among themselves ; and, finding it out, I swear to you, that I forbad 
 my women from meddling in such work any more. 
 
 Further, the said Countess at another time apprized me, that you would 
 fain have appointed Rolson to make love to me, and try to dishonour me, 
 either in fact, or by evil report ; for which he had instructions from your 
 ovra mouth : that Ruxby came here about eight years ago, to make an 
 attempt upon my life ; having talked with you yourself, who had told him 
 that it was the business to which Walsingham would recommend and direct 
 him. 
 
 When the said Countess prosecuted the marriage of her son Charles with 
 one of the nieces of my Lord Paget, and when you, on the other hand, 
 wanted to have her, by pure and absolute authority, for one of the Knoles, 
 because he was your relation, she exclaimed against you, and said that it 
 was an actual tyranny, in wanting to carry oflF at your fancy, all the heiresses 
 in the land ; and that you had used the said Paget with indignity, by abusive 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 257 
 
 words ; but that at last the nobles of this realm would not suffer this from 
 you, if you addressed yourself to some other ladies, whom she knew well. 
 
 About four or five years ago, when you was sick, and I also at the same 
 time, she says to me, that your sickness proceeded from the closing up of 
 an ulcer, which you had in one leg ; and that without doubt, as you was 
 
 coming to lose your m s, you would die soon ; pleasing herself upon it, 
 
 u a vain imagination which she has had a long time, from the prophecies of 
 one called John Lenton, and of an old book, that foretold your death by 
 violence, and the succeeding of another Queen, whom she interpreted to be 
 me, regretting only, that by the said book it was foretold, that the Queen who 
 must succeed you should reign only three years, and should die like you by 
 violence, which was represented even in painting, upon the said book, of 
 which there was a concluding leaf, containing something wliich she never 
 chose to tell me. She knows herself, that I [Mary] always took this for pure 
 folly ; but she did lay her account well, to be the principal lady with me, 
 and also that my son should marry my niece Arbela. 
 
 At the close, I swear again all at once upon ray faith and honour, that 
 what is above is very true ; and that such of it as concerns your honour, has 
 never fallen from me with a design to give you pain by revealing it ; and 
 that it shall never be known from me, who consider it as very false. If I 
 can have that happiness to speak with you, I will tell you more particularly 
 the names, times, places, and other circumstances to make you understand 
 the truth, both of these things, and of others, which I reserve till I shall 
 be wholly assured of your friendship, which as I desire more than ever so, 
 if I can obtain it this time, you shall not have a relation, friend, or even 
 subject, more faithful and affectionate than I shall be to you. 
 
 For God's sake rest assured of her, who is willing and able to obey you. 
 From my bed, forcing my arms and pains to serve you, 
 
 MARY REGINA. 
 
 Sheffield, April, 1584. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Keralio. 
 
 8 
 
268 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 CHAP. XVII. 
 
 Of Queen Elizabeth — Anecdotes from Sir Robert Naunfon — 
 Elizabeth's Vanity, and Maiden Resolves — Of her Gal- 
 lants — Of the celebrated Letter from Mary to Elizabeth, 
 regarding the Countess of Shrewsbury's Gossip — Of 
 Walsingham's Treachery — Of Lady Shrewsbury — Part 
 of a Letter from Elizabeth to Mary — Melville flatters 
 Elizabeth — His Detail of her Manners — Her loose Con- 
 duct — Her Favourites — Of Raleigh's Venus and Diana 
 in her Sixty-first Year — Her Love to Simier, and the 
 Duke of Anjou, his Master — Anecdotes, 
 
 I HAVE now gone over the letters. It has been a 
 tiresome employ, to read, to transcribe, and to com- 
 ment upon, such a mass of impertinence and dulness. 
 But it has answered an useful purpose, I trust. The 
 letters have never been examined, with so much strict- 
 ness before. A regular survey of them was much 
 wanted*. Great mistakes had been made, concerning 
 their meaning and their language. These it was requi- 
 site to tear away, as the showy pilasters of the old 
 fabrick of forgery; after I had thrown down all the 
 supporting pillars of it. And, having done this, I 
 -wish to do one thing more. These letters were first 
 brought into England through Elizabeth, and first given 
 to the publick in England by Elizabeth. She published 
 them, in order primarily to blast the character of Mary 
 for unchastity, to exhibit her as a wanton woman to 
 all the island, and to hang her up as a shameful spec- 
 tacle of whoredom to the eyes of the whole continent. 
 
 * "SAliitaker alludes to the letters ascribed to Mary, and addressed to 
 Bothwell. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 259 
 
 And it is therefore become a necessary act of retribu- 
 torj^ justice, to close my preceding vindication of Mary 
 from this slander, with some exposure of Elizabeth, 
 for the very offence so falsely ascribed by her to Mary. 
 
 Elizabeth's mode of swearing was very different. 
 She was so much in the habit of audacious profane- 
 ness, that she had what was considered as her "wonted 
 oath." And she was very frequently swearing, by 
 God's death.— (Naunt on s Fragmenta Regalia), 
 
 Sir Robert Naunton says accordingly of Elizabeth, 
 that " she w as of a personage tall, of hair and com- 
 plexion fair, and therewith well-favoured." — ( Phenix, 
 i. 183). 
 
 Leicester, says Sir Robert Naunton, " was a very 
 goodly person, and singular well-featured, and all his 
 youth well-favoured, and of a sweet aspect;" for she, 
 the Queen, with some exceptions, " always took per- 
 sonage in the way of her election." 
 
 " Hatton came into court. Sir John Perrot was w ont 
 to say, by the galliard ; for he came thither as a private 
 gentleman of the inns of court, in a mask ; and for his 
 activity and person, which w^as tall and proportionable, 
 taken into her favour." — f Naunton, 205). 
 
 Sir Robert also, who in general knows only as much 
 of the interiour characters of the Queen and her cour- 
 tiers, as a gentleman-usher or a page of the back-stairs 
 usually does ; confiims the hint here given, of Eliza- 
 beth's niggardliness to ail but her gallants, &c. "We 
 have not," says he, " many precedents of her libera- 
 lity, or of any large donatives to particular men ; my 
 Lord of Essex book of parkes only excepted, which 
 was a princely gift, and some few more of a lesser 
 size to my Lord of Leicester, Hatton, and others." 
 
 " Sir W. Rawleigh had, in the outward man, a good 
 
 s2 
 
*260 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 presence, in a handsome and well-compacted person." 
 —(Naunton, 209). 
 
 As to Blount, we have a very particular account of 
 him and of Elizabeth, from the hands of Sir Robert 
 Naunton. In his pleasing gallery of historical pictures, 
 he has hung up the Queen with her paramours on each 
 side of her, without any seeming intention of marking 
 them as her paramours, and yet really doing so. " Blount 
 (he says) had a pretty strange kind of admission into 
 court ; which I have heard from a discreet man of his 
 own, and much more of the secrets of those times. 
 He was then much about twenty years of age a par- 
 ticular, that coincides exactly with Morgan's intima- 
 tion before, concerning his extreme youthfulness, when 
 Elizabeth fixed her kind regards upon him. He was 
 
 of a brown hair, a svveet face, a most neat compo- 
 sure, and tall in his person. The Queen was then at 
 Whitehall, and at dinner ; whither he came to see the 
 fashion of the court. The Queen had soon found him 
 out; and, with a kind of affected frown, asked the 
 Lady Carver what he was. She answered, she knew 
 him not. Insomuch as an inquiry was made from one 
 to another, who he might be ; till at length it was told 
 the Queen, he was brother to the Lord William 
 Mountjoy. This inquisition, with the eye of Majesty 
 fixed upon him (as she was wont to do, and to daunt 
 men she knew not), stirred the blood of this young 
 gentleman ; insomuch as his colour came and went : 
 which the Queen observing, called him unto her, and 
 gave him her hand to kiss ; incouraging him with gra- 
 cious words and new looks. And, so, diverting her 
 speech to the Lords and Ladies, she said, that she no 
 sooner observed him, but that she knew there was in 
 him some noble blood ; with some other expressions 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 261 
 
 of pity towards his house. And then, again demanding 
 his name, she said, fail you not to come to the court, 
 and I will bethink myself how to do you good." This 
 presents us with a significant picture of Elizabeth's 
 mind. The bold eye of the discontented Old Maid, 
 was continually wandering through her court, in quest 
 of new lovers. Her taste however was good. She 
 always pitched upon the handsome. And her eye 
 generally rested upon the blooming cheek of youth. 
 She was thus struck immediately, with the " brown 
 hair," the "sweet face," the "most neat composure," 
 and the " tall person," of this young man of twenty. 
 She singled him out from the croud of casual specta- 
 tors. Her old blood began to tingle at the sight of 
 him. She put on " an affected frown," to disguise her 
 sudden love. Yet her spirits were in such a strong 
 alarm of curiosity, that those could not subside till 
 this was gratified. An enquiry was hastily circulated 
 round the room, after the name and family of the 
 stranger at the door, who had made such an impression 
 upon the too yielding heart of the Queen. Her licen- 
 tious eye, still " feeding on his damask cheek," all the 
 while pointed out the object. She knew by the instinc- 
 tive flutters of her heart, that there was noble blood 
 in his veins. He was therefore not unworthy to be 
 admitted to her favours. She called the blushing and 
 astonished youth up to her. He came, all unconscious 
 of his powers, and wrapped up perhaps in his virgin 
 innocence. She changed her " afi'ected frown" into a 
 heart-sent smile. She gave him her hand to kiss. She 
 expressed a compassion for the distressed condition of 
 his house. She again enquired after his name. She 
 bad him not to fail in future attendance at court. And 
 she promised to prefer him. 
 
262 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 '^This/' says Sir Robert, ''was his inlet, and the 
 beginnings of his grace." In such a manner was this 
 innocent fly drawn into the snares of that ever-watchful 
 spider. But he soon ceased to be innocent. She 
 knighted him. And he did her knij^ht's service. '* My 
 Lord Mountjoy," as Sir Robert incidentally informs 
 us under a different character, who was another child 
 of her favour, being newly come to court, and then but 
 Sir Charles Blunt, had the good fortune one day to run 
 very well a tilt; and the Queen therewith was so well 
 pleased, that she sent him, in token of her favour, a 
 Queen at chesse, of gold richly enameled : which his 
 servants had the next day fastened on his arm, with a 
 crimson ribband; which my Lord of Essex, as he 
 passed through the privy chamber, espying, with his 
 cloke cast under his arm, the better to command it to- 
 the view ; inquired what it was, and for what cause 
 there fixed. Sir Fulk Greville told him, that it was 
 the Queen's favour, which the day before, and after 
 the tilting, she had sent him. Whereat my Lord of 
 Essex," as being another favourite of heis in the same 
 way, and at the same time, '* in a kind of emulation, 
 and as though he would have limited her favour, said, 
 Now I perceive every fool must have a favour." Thus 
 was the knighted youth parading about, and glorying 
 in the disgraceful favours of his lewd mistress ; a de- 
 voted victim, shaking his garlands, and dressed out for 
 the altar. He heard however of the scofi"; and had 
 the presumption in his new interest with Elizabeth, to 
 challenge her prior gallant. They met near Maribone 
 Park." Essex was wounded and disarmed. Hearing 
 of the fact, the Queen " swore by God's death, it was 
 fit some one or other should take him down, and teach 
 him better manners ; otherwise there would be no rule 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 263 
 
 with him." And this was " the inition of my Lord's 
 friendship" with Blunt, " which the Queen herself did 
 then conjure." 
 
 His brother dyed," Sir Robert goes on to tell us, 
 '^shortly after his admission to the court. There was 
 in him an inclination to arms, with a humour of travel- 
 ling and gadding abroad ; which, had not some wise men 
 about him laboured to remove, and the Queen herself 
 laid in her commands, he would (out of his natural 
 propension) have marred his own market. For he had 
 a company in the Low Countries, from whence he 
 came over with a noble acceptance of the Queen, but 
 somewhat restless ; and in honourable thought he ex- 
 posed himself again and again, and would press the 
 Queen with the pretences of visiting his company, so 
 often, that at length he had a flat denial. Yet he stole 
 over with Sir John Norris into the action of Britany ; 
 till at last the Queen began to take his decessions for 
 contempts, and confined his residence to the court and 
 her own presence*." 
 
 Elizabeth very early made proud and solemn pre- 
 tensions, to a life of virgin purity. In 1559, when she 
 was only in the twenty-sixth year of her age, and the 
 commons solicited her to marry; she returned them 
 this high-toned answer: " Concerning marriage (said 
 she), which ye so earnestly move me to, I have been 
 long since perswaded, that I was sent into this world 
 by God, to think and doe those things chiefly, which 
 may tend to his glory. Hereupon have I chosen that 
 
 * Phenix, i. 215, 211, 212, and 216. Camden also says of a Sir Chris- 
 topher Slunt, a person totally distinct from Sir Charles Lord Montjoy ; that 
 one "Waite had been formerly sent into Holland by Leicester, who was 
 jealous of Bkmt, to kill him." (Trans. (jlO, Grig. ii. 225). 
 
864 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 kind of life, which is most free from the troublesome 
 cares of this world, that I might attend the service of 
 God alone. From which, if either the tendred mar- 
 riages of most potent princes, or the danger of death 
 intended against me, could have removed me, I had 
 long ago enjoyed the honour of an husband. And 
 these things have I thought upon, w hen I was a pri- 
 vate person. But that, now that the publick care of 
 governing the kingdom is laid upon me ; to draw upon 
 me also the cares of marriage, may seem a point of 
 inconsiderate folly. Yet, to satisfie you, I have al- 
 ready joyned myself in marriage to an husband, 
 namely, the kingdom of England. And behold (said 
 she), which I marvell ye have forgotten, the pledge of 
 this my wedlock and marriage with my kingdom.*' 
 And therewith she drew the ring from her finger, and 
 shewed it ; wherewith, at her coronation, she had, in 
 a set form of words, solemnly given herself in marriage 
 to her kingdom. Here having made a pause — "And 
 do not (saith she) upbraid me," &c. " To me it shall 
 be a full satisfaction, both for the memoriall of my 
 name, and for my glory also ; if, when I shall let [out] 
 my last breath, it be ingraven upon my marble tomb. 
 Here lieth Elizabeth, which reigned a virgin and died 
 a virgin*." A nun, when she has just now taken the 
 veil, and when those peculiar coronets of glory, which 
 are supposed to be reserved in Heaven for the Holy 
 Virgins of earthy are now shining bright before her 
 imagination, could hardly have acted in a livelier 
 manner, and hardly have spoken in a stronger lan- 
 guage, than this. 
 
 Nor w^as this self-devotion of the royal nun, merely 
 
 * Camden, Orig. i. 35, Trans. 27. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 265 
 
 the momentary resolution of a young woman, uttered 
 in a fervour of intemperate zeal, and repented of in 
 the prevalence of passion afterwards. It was steadily 
 persisted in, to the last. This a memorable passage 
 in Shakespeare very plainly shows us. Plays have 
 always been the sure and faithful mirrours of the age, 
 in which they were exhibited. They have constantly 
 shown " the very age and body of the time, his form 
 and pressure." Shakespeare's, from his quick atten- 
 tion to the moving characters and floating passions 
 before him, do peculiarly so. And he has marked 
 with the spirit of a critical discerner, and complimented 
 with the pliancy of a theatrical writer, this favourite 
 principle of virginity in his royal mistress. 
 
 That very time I saw, but thou couldst not. 
 Flying between the cold moon and the earth, 
 Cupid all-arm'd : a certain aim he took 
 At a fair vestal throned by the west, 
 And loos'd his love-shaft smartly from his bow. 
 As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts : 
 But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft, 
 Quench'd in the chaste beams of the watery moon ; 
 And the imperial votress passed on 
 In maiden meditation, fancy-free. 
 
 And she appears accordingly to have worne "the 
 bridal ring" of England, from her first assumption of 
 it in 1559, at the marriage of this female Doge with 
 the Adriatick, to her final illness in January 1602-3. 
 "The courtiers — report (as Camden tells us), that she 
 then commanded that ring, wherewith she had been 
 (as it were) joined in marriage to her kingdom at her 
 inauguration, and had never since taken ofi*, to be 
 filed off from her finger; because it was so grown into 
 the flesh, that it could not be drawn off*." 
 
 * Camden, Orig. ii. 283, Trans. 659. 
 
266 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 Yet all this was merely hypocrisy. It was an hy- 
 pocrisy, begun very early, continued very late, and 
 persisted in throughout the whole extent of her reign. 
 This her conduct to the Earl of Leicester, decisively 
 shows. 'She answered' to me, says the embassadour 
 of Mary in 1564, it appeared that I made but small 
 account of my Lord Robert [Leicester, then only Lord 
 Robert Dudley], seeing that I named the Earl of Bed- 
 ford before him ;" but said, " that ere long she would 
 make him a far greater Earl, and that I should see it 
 done before my returning home. For she esteemed 
 him as her brother and best friend, whom she would 
 have herself married, had she ever minded to have 
 taken a husband. But, being determined to end her 
 life in virginity, she w ished that the Queen her sister 
 might marry him, as meetest of all other, wdth whom 
 she could lind in her heart to declare her second per- 
 son," that is, to declare her heir and successor. 'And 
 that {he Queen my mistress might have the higher 
 esteem of him, I was required to stay till I should 
 see him made Earl of Leicester and Baron of Den- 
 bigh ; which was done at Westminster with great so- 
 lemnity, the Queen herself helping to put on his cere- 
 monial,' his mantle of state, which our Sovereigns 
 always helped in putting on, at the formal creation of 
 an Earl, ' he sitting upon his knees before her with 
 great gravity. But she could not refrain from putting 
 her hand in his neck, tickling him; the French am- 
 bassadour and I standing by. Then she turned, asking 
 me, how I liked him. I answered. That, as he was a 
 worthy servant, so he was happy, who had a Princess 
 who could discern and reward good services. — She 
 told me. She was not so much oflfended with the 
 Queen's angry letter,' though she had before declared 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 267 
 
 it ' to be written to her with such despiteful language, 
 that she thence conjectured all friendship and fami- 
 liarity to be given up * as that she seemed so far to 
 disdain the marriage of my Lord of Leicester, which 
 she had caused Mr. Randolph to propose to her.' 
 Afterwards 'she took me to her bed-chamber, and 
 opened a little cabinet, wherein were divers little pic- 
 tures wrapped within paper, and their names written 
 with her own hand upon the papers. Upon the first 
 that she took up, was written my Lord's picture. I 
 held the candle, and pressed to see that picture so 
 named. She appeared loath to let me see it. Yet my 
 importunity prevailed for a sight thereof, and found it 
 to be the Earl of Leicester's picture. I desired, that 
 I might have it to carry home to my Queen ; which 
 she refused, alledging that she had but that picture of 
 his.' And the embassadour adds at the close, on 
 Mary's asking him, if he thought Elizabeth as friendly 
 in heart as she was in words, 'I answered freelyj that 
 in my judgment, there was neither plain dealing nor 
 upright meaning, but great dissimulation, emulation, 
 and fear, lest her princely qualities should over soon 
 chace her from the kingdom, as having already hin- 
 dered her marriage with the Arch-duke Charles of 
 Austria. It appeared likewise to me, by her offering 
 unto her with great appearing earnestness my Lord of 
 Leicester, whom I knew at that time she could not 
 want,' that is, could not do without*. Yet this was 
 the woman, who was determined to end her life in 
 virginity." Hypocrisy of speech is always betrayed 
 by its own contrariety of action. That indeed is fre- 
 quently not hypocritical in promise, which is contra- 
 
 * Melvill, 47—48, 46, and 53. 
 
268 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 dieted eventually in the performance. But tbat is 
 certainly hypocritical, which continues the speech at 
 the very moment it contradicts it in action. And 
 Elizabeth's was evidently an hypocrisy of the grossest 
 kind. 
 
 Yet Leicester was not the only gallant, with whom 
 this determined virgin indulged herself. She had 
 others. A letter of the time shows the fact, in all its 
 sweeping comprehensiveness of profligacy. This letter 
 is written by Mary herself. But it contains merely the 
 intelligence that was communicated to her by the 
 wife of her keeper, the Countess of Shrewsbury. And 
 Mary relates it all to Elizabeth, not with any view of 
 reproaching her, but with the aim only of showing the 
 disposition of the Countess towards her*. 
 
 Mr. Carte indeed, who had merely heard of it, says 
 thus concerning it. Nothing else, but EliZfibeth's 
 " insulting her prisoner," and " upbraiding her in letters 
 with those infamous calumnies," he tells us, " could 
 have provoked Mary to have wrote her answers, charging 
 her, and the w^oman of her bed-chamber, with a course 
 of wanton amours ; and naming the very persons, that 
 ministered to their pleasures. The lord treasurer 
 Burleigh took care, to keep these letters from coming 
 to Elizabeth's hands ; but preserved them : and they 
 were afterwards buried two feet under ground, in his 
 son the Earl of Salisbury's house, at Hatfield in Hert- 
 fordshire. They were there found a few years ago, in 
 a stone chest, rolled up in woollen ; and were shown 
 by the publisher of Burghley's papers," Haynes, who 
 published in 1740, " to the late master of the rolls, at 
 his seat at Belbar in that neighbourhood, and to another 
 
 * Page 255, ante. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 2m 
 
 venerable gentleman still living." This account shows 
 us very clearly, the customary confusedness of all tra- 
 ditional notices. Mr. Carte and his informant reported 
 each, what each believed to be true. But they framed 
 one wild mass of mistakes, in their report. They 
 totally mis-understood the exhibitor of the letters. 
 They actually fancied the letters two, when they were 
 only one. They actually imagined " the woman of the 
 bed-chamber" to Elizabeth, to be equally with Elizabeth 
 herself, " charged — with a course of wanton amours 
 when no " woman of her bed-chamber" is here noted 
 for such a course," and when neither she nor Eliza- 
 beth are charged" with any at all. And the whole 
 narrative of wrapping the letters " in woollen," of re- 
 positing them " in a stone chest," and of burying all 
 " two feet under ground in — the Earl of Salisbury's 
 house at Hatfield;" is all some relation of another 
 event, indistinctly heard by the relator, and untruly 
 applied to the present letter. That such a letter should 
 be so buried, exceeds all power of belief. That one 
 or two letters should be buried in such an ample repo- 
 sitory as a stone chest, surpasses all stretch of ima- 
 gination. And that either it, or any other, should be 
 ^'preserved" above ground by Cecil for some time; 
 " afterwards" buried in the earth by him ; buried too, 
 not even in his own house, but in that of his second 
 son ; and all, — in order to keep it from Elizabeth's in- 
 spection, as if Elizabeth would ransack the cabinet of 
 the father for it, the cabinet of the son, the libraries of 
 both, and even the very floors of the ground-rooms at 
 the father's; when she could know nothing of the letter, 
 all the time : still more surpasses all stretch of ima- 
 gination, and still further exceeds all power of belief. 
 But indeed the pretended fact is disproved by ex- 
 
270 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 ternal testimony. " The concealment and discovery,'" 
 says Mr. Murdin, who published the letter from the 
 Hatfield collection of papers, " as there represented" 
 by Mr. Carte, " is entirely un-supported from any 
 evidence, that is come to my knowledge. The letter 
 itself, in the original, I found open amongst the other 
 papers of the Earl of Salisbury's library, without any 
 appearance of design to have it secreted." It might 
 well be *^ open" then, and then " without any appear- 
 ance of design to have it secreted when it had been 
 already carried by Mr. Haynes from Hatfield-house to 
 Belbar, and shown there by him to the master of the 
 rolls and another gentleman. But we next come to a 
 more material point. " And the manner in which it 
 was discovered, as Mr. Carte affirms , is a circum- 
 stance absolutely unknown to any one person in my 
 Lord Salisbury's family ; as far as I can leam from the 
 strictest inquiry I have made concerning it*." Such 
 a discovery as this, is an incident so very singular in 
 itself, and so powerfully calculated to strike upon the 
 wonder-loving fancies, and to rest upon the wonder- 
 keeping memories, of all the subordinates particularly, 
 in the family at Hatfield ; as would naturally be trans- 
 mitted from month to month, through two or three 
 generations at least ; and could not possibly have been 
 lost in the " few years" only, that preceded Mr. Carte's 
 writing, who published in 1752, and the seven years 
 only, that afterwards preceded Mr. Murdin's enquiry, 
 who published in 1759. And a negative evidence, so 
 circumstanced, mounts up into positive, and becomes 
 irrefragable. 
 
 This letter then was not concealed from Elizabeth. 
 
 * Murdin, 560. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 271 
 
 There was no need to conceal it. It was not written 
 by Mary, in any spirit of recrimination upon her, as 
 Mr. Hume additionally suggests it was ; and suggests, 
 not, like Mr. Carte, from a verbally communicated 
 mis-repesentation of it, but even after he had actually 
 perused it himself in print*. Yet the whole tenour of 
 the letter shows it was not. The intelligence in it, 
 appears to have been previously offered by Mary, and 
 previously desired by Elizabeth. This is now delivered 
 by Mary, with regret that such things have been said 
 to her, and with a protestation that she chid Lady 
 Shrewsbury at the time, for most of them ; because she 
 did not believe them then, and does not believe them 
 now, to be true. She attributed all to the natural dis- 
 position of the Countess, and to the spirit of dislike 
 which she then had for Elizabeth. She also declares, 
 that they have not come from her at present, with any 
 design of giving pain to Elizabeth by revealing them ; 
 and that they shall never be farther known from her, 
 because she considers them as very false. She ac- 
 cordingly calls God to witness at the beginning, that 
 she has delivered them very sincerely, and without any 
 bias of passion upon her. She again vows " upon her 
 faith and honour," at the end, that the whole is repre- 
 sented as it was delivered. She adds, that if she can 
 have the happiness of a personal conference with 
 Elizabeth, she will then lay open particularly the 
 names, times, places, and other circumstances, of what 
 she has related in this letter ; and also of some other 
 stories, which she reserves for the period, when she 
 shall be fully assured of Elizabeth's friendship. This 
 she desires, she says, more than ever. Nor, if she can 
 
 * Hist. v. 28/. 
 
272 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 obtain it, shall any relation, friend, or even subject, be 
 more faithful and affectionate to Elizabeth, than she 
 shall be. And she concludes the whole in this very 
 affecting manner : " For God's sake be assured of her, 
 who is willing and able to serve you : from my bed, 
 forcing my arm and my pains, to satisfy and obey 
 you/' 
 
 Mary, then, wrote this letter from no principle of 
 provocation against Elizabeth. She composed it from 
 a very opposite principle. She hoped to win upon 
 her generosity by her explicitness ; to procure a per- 
 sonal interview with her, by a promise of still greater 
 explicitness ; and to secure her friendship at last by 
 both. With this hope, she revealed^ the conversation 
 of a woman to whom she owed no friendship; the 
 Countess having insinuated to Elizabeth against her, 
 that she and the Earl were too intimate together. 
 " That — the fidelity of the Earl of Shrewsbury (says 
 Camden in 1584) — might not seem to be suspected, 
 (for it was not thought good, openly to blemish so 
 great a man's reputation, which, notwithstanding, they 
 had stained secretly by calumnies, grounded upon the 
 false accusations of his ill-conditioned wife), suspi- 
 cions were laid hold of," &c.* These calumnies are 
 oddly particularized on his tomb-stone. It is there 
 said, " that his integrity" in keeping Mary, was not 
 to be suspected in the least, although evil-disposed 
 persons gave out, that he used too much familiarity 
 with his royal prisonerf." And it was traditionally 
 reported of his wife near the time, that she " coming 
 to court, and Elizabeth demanding how the Queen of 
 
 * Camden, Orig. i. 363, Trans. 303. 
 
 t Collins's Peerage, ii. 419, and i. 297, edit. 4th. 
 
AND ELIZA.BETH. 
 
 273 
 
 Scots did, she said. Madam, she cannot do ill [in 
 spirits], while she is with my husband ; and I begin to 
 grow jealous, they are so great together*." 
 
 But Mary herself notices these slanders, in a couple 
 of letters to Mons. Mauvissiere, the French embassa- 
 dour at London. " I have written to you amply two 
 times (she says), concerning these abominable reports 
 circulated, of my conversati'on with the Earl of Shrews- 
 bury, issuing only from his good wife ; of whom in the 
 end I shall be constrained to take hold with all open- 
 ness, if the Queen of England will not clear me from 
 this calumny : two considerations only have kept me 
 to the present hour, from seizing the advantage which 
 I have against her, by discovering before the said 
 Queen of England and her council, her private beha- 
 vious towards myself, and in my cause with the Earl 
 of Leicester and some other lords of the realm. The 
 first point with me, is to preserve my reputation for 
 integrity and steadiness, among those who are well 
 affected towards me. — The other consideration is this. 
 That though I can particularly charge this unhappy- 
 woman with various speeches, boasts, and practices, 
 as well against her Queen, as against me and some 
 lords of this land, yet I fear to do wrong to her hus- 
 band, because it will be found strange by what means 
 I could have the knowledge of so many of the things. 
 But there is nothing in the end that I do not hazard, to 
 succeed as far as I can in the preservation of my ho- 
 nour, which is dearer to me than a thousand lives. I 
 therefore require you, with all the affection that I can, 
 to continue livelily the course which you have begun, 
 for my reparation under this detestable calumny. All 
 
 * Collins, i. 298. 
 T 
 
274 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 these troubles proceed entirely from the Earl of Lei- 
 cester and from Walsingham, who, I am certainly in- 
 formed, have sent to the said Countess a copy of the 
 last letters which I have written to you*." In another 
 letter a little while afterwards, to the same person — " I 
 pray you (she says), that in order to make the Queen 
 of England see more clearly the falsity of mine ho- 
 nourable hostess, you find means to tell her betwixt 
 you and her privately, and drawing (if possible) a 
 promise from her not to reveal it, or call it ever in ques- 
 tion. That nothing has ever alienated her so much 
 from me to the saying the above of me, as the vain 
 hope conceived by her to make her [Elizabeth's] crown 
 fall on the head of Arabella, her grand-daughter. And 
 that it was not possible, without such an imagination, 
 of making one of her race Queen, for the said Countess 
 to have been ever diverted from me, being so strongly 
 attached to me without reserve of any duty and any 
 respect." — She then mentions a couple of anecdotes, 
 concerning the Countess's " behaviour to" her. " I 
 do not desire at present (she adds), to produce any 
 but these two little patterns ; by which the Queen of 
 England may judge, what the whole and entire piece 
 can be, woven and finished all the years that have 
 passed between the Countess and me. It will suffice 
 for you to say to the Queen of England, that you have 
 
 * Histoire d'Elisabeth Reine d'Angleterre, &c. par Mademoiselle De 
 Keralio, &c. h Paris, v. 361-363, the letter at fuU length, taken from Bibl. 
 Harl. No. 1582, fol. 311. Papiers de M. de Breguigny.— All the letters of 
 Mary's to lMau\'issiere that are in this register, says the author, " sont de 
 la main de Secretaire de Mauvissiere Castelnau," who appears from the 
 fact above to have copied Ms master's letters, and then to have sent them to 
 Walsingham. Such a deep scene of private villainy, was carried on by this 
 minister of Elizabeth's I 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 275 
 
 understood these particulars above, concerning the 
 said lady, and that you think assuredly, if it shall 
 please her, by some good way to require friendlily from 
 me the actions of the said Countess, I shall be able to 
 discover to her some things of much greater import- 
 ance. But principally gain this point, if possible, 
 that she keep it secret, without ever naming you; 
 you, who have been induced to reveal such a thing to 
 her, from the aflfection which you bear, to the welfare 
 of her government, and in order that she may know of 
 a truth, what trust she ought to have in the said 
 Countess, of whom you think that, with a present of 
 two thousand crowns, I could gain her as much as I 
 pleased*/' 
 
 For such a woman, so " detestable a calumniator," 
 and so much in league with Walsingham and Leicester, 
 Mary had no reason to keep any reserves to Elizabeth. 
 She had also pressing reasons of her own, to open her 
 heart to Elizabeth. She found herself ready to be re- 
 moved, through the calumnies of the Countess, out of 
 the care of the Earl. She v/as to be put into the hands 
 of the Earl of Huntingdon. " The partisans of my 
 good neighbour the Earl of Huntingdon," she says in 
 her second letter above, I much fear, will not ever 
 permit any species of friendship betweeu us, because 
 that then they will have the means of strength and 
 power to ruin us; which, as 1 believe, is their true 
 designf." To prevent this, if possible, and so to pre- 
 vent what she foresaw, the murder of herself ; she 
 endeavoured to destroy the credit of the woman, by 
 whose insinuations she considered the removal to be 
 
 * Keralio, v. 375-377, the letter at full length, from the Harlexan Li- 
 brary too, No. 1582, fol. 313. 
 t Keralio, v. 375. 
 
 T 2 
 
276 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 meditated, at this moment. She therefore insinuated 
 to Elizabeth by Mauvissiere, as we see above, that 
 the Countess had views upon the crown for her grand- 
 daughter. She also insinuated in a part of the said 
 letter, of which I have given no extract above, that the 
 Countess had voluntarily ofi'ered to her, always and 
 whenever Mary's life should be in danger, or she 
 should wish to remove from thence, she (the Countess) 
 would furnish her with the means of escaping, and, 
 being a woman, she should easily avoid all danger and 
 punishment; and that she assured her, her son Charles 
 resided in London expressly for her service, and to 
 apprize her of all that passed at court, even keeping 
 two strong good horses continually and purposedly, 
 to advertise her with all speed of the death of Elizabeth, 
 who was then ill*. Mauvissiere executed his commis- 
 sion. Elizabeth requested to have the communication 
 from herself, and upon paper. Mary therefore stepped 
 forward to grant her request ; to tell her all the con- 
 versation of the Countess, concerning the private life 
 of Elizabeth, with a free explicitness ; so to soften 
 the marble heart of the Queen at last, by her open- 
 ness ; to make way for a personal conference with her, 
 concerning some points of greater consequence, that 
 she promised and yet reserved ; to terminate her long 
 imprisonment, and avert her intended murder. And 
 indeed every generous reader must be sensibly touched, 
 with the view of Mary here ; in an afflicted state of 
 body and health," as she mournfully told Elizabeth in 
 a letter of 1582t ; or, more circumstantially in itself, 
 
 * Keralio, v. 375-376. 
 
 t Camden, Orig. i. 336 ; Trans. 279. In May, 1581, she writes as 
 mournfully, and more particularly, in another letter to Mamnssiere. She 
 desires him to require from Elizabeth, permission to have wi Coche ou 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 277 
 
 and more appositely to her present case, lying in her 
 bed," as her keeper Paulet wrote in September 158G, 
 " troubled after her old manner with a defluxion, which 
 was fallen down into the side of her neck, and had 
 bereft her of the use of one of her hands* now writing 
 to Elizabeth " from her bed,'" now " forcing her" rheu- 
 matick arm to write," and equally " forcing" her 
 mind into an in-attention to all " her pains;" in order 
 
 to satisfy" Elizabeth's wishes for the intelligence, to 
 " obey" Elizabeth's requisitions concerning it, and to 
 play the last and final stake probably, for her own de- 
 liverance from the fangs of this female crocodile, who 
 stood over her at the instant with expanded jaws, 
 ready to devour her immediately, and yet pretended 
 to be wailing in tears over her, all the time. 
 
 The contents of this letter, therefore, rest not ui)on 
 the authority of Mary. She was only the conveyancer 
 of them. She conveyed them, as she expressly tells 
 us, " pretty nearly in the very terms," in which they 
 were delivered to her. All centers upon the credit of 
 the deliverer herself, Lady Shrewsbury. Nor can 
 Mary's pronounced disbelief of them, and Mary's inti- 
 mated ill-humour in the Countess, and ill-will to 
 Elizabeth particularly, destroy the authority of them. 
 
 Mary's amiable credulity of spirit, made her a very 
 incompetent judge in such a case as this. She origi- 
 nally believed, that Elizabeth would receive her 
 
 U7ie Littiere" for taking the air ; because she is become so feeble and weak, 
 principally in her legs, that she is not able, though she is better than she 
 has been for six months before, to walk a hundred steps, " de faire cent 
 pas a pied." And she additionally informs him, that ever since Easter, she 
 has been constrained, to be carried out by her servants in a chair. — [Jebb^ 
 ii. 519). 
 
 * Robertson, ii. 472-473. 
 
i278 MARY QUEEN OF SCOT^, 
 
 friendlily, and assist her heartily, on her flying into 
 England. She next believed, that Elizabeth would 
 restore her to her crown, even after the treatment 
 which Elizabeth had already shown her, when the con- 
 ference was opened at York. And her disbelief of 
 Lady Shrewsbury's anecdotes concerning Elizabeth, 
 only serves to show us again in her, a heart still in- 
 capable of such outrages of conduct, and a spirit still 
 actuated with a weak generosity of faith. 
 
 Nor can any ill-humour in Lady Shrewsbury, or any 
 ill-will that she had conceived against Elizabeth, de- 
 stroy the credit of the original relator. She might be 
 ill-tempered. She might be prejudiced also. But 
 this cannot supersede her testimony. She must have 
 prejudices, if she believed only half of '.what she said, 
 to be true. These might unite with her natural tem- 
 per, to make her tell such secrets. But they cannot 
 prove them false. Indeed the particular ill-will is the 
 natural consequence of their very truth. And, as to 
 the general ill-humour, in what court is the temper of 
 a witness allowed to be pleaded, in order to set aside 
 his evidence ? She was, in fact, a woman sagacious and 
 judicious ; eminently qualified to see, to remember, 
 and to make her own use of, the striking qualities of 
 the persons about her*. She was also a lady of high 
 
 * " In this third widow-hood (says Kennet of her), she had not survived 
 iier charms of wit and beauty ; by which she captivated the then greatest 
 subject of the realm, George Earl of Shrewsbury ; whom she brought to 
 terms of the greatest honour and advantage to herself and children. On 
 Nov. 18, 1590, she was a fourth time left, and to death continued, a widow. 
 A change of conditions, that perhaps never fell to aily one woman, to be 
 four times a creditable and happy wife ; to rise by every husband into 
 greater wealth and higher honours ; to have an unanimous issue by one 
 husband only ; to have all those children live, and all, by her advice, be 
 honourably and creditably disposed of in her life-time ; and, after all, to live 
 seventeen years a widow, in absolute power and plenty." — Collins^ i. 296-297. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 279 
 
 rank and quality, in the court of Elizabeth. She there 
 saw the procedure of the Queen herself. She there 
 heard of it from others too. She reported to Mary, 
 what she heard and saw. She reported both, with the 
 authenticating additions of some names, and of many 
 circumstances, at length. And therefore to reject her 
 testimony, would be going too far.—WniTAKER. 
 
 PART OF A LETTER FROM ELIZABETH TO MARY, FEB. 20, 1569. 
 
 A COPY INTERLINED BY CECIL. 
 
 [It contains an answer to a complaining letter of Marj^'s, upon the impri- 
 soning of the Bishop of Ross.] 
 
 After this [i. e. Mary's landing in Scotland] how patiently did I bear 
 
 with many vain delays in not ratif^dng the treaty accorded by your own 
 commissioners, whereby I received no small unkindness, besides the mani- 
 fold cause of suspicion that I might not hereafter trust to any wti tings. 
 Then followed a hard manner of dealing with me, to entice my subject and 
 near kinsman, the Lord Damly, under colour of private suits for land, to 
 come into the realm, to proceed in treaty of marriage with him without my 
 knowledge, yea to conclude the same without my assent or liking. And 
 how many unkind parts accompany 'd that fact, by receiving of my subjects 
 that were base runnegates and offenders at home, and enhansing them to 
 places of credit against my will, with many such like, I will leave, for that 
 the remembrance of the same cannot but be noysome to you. And yet all 
 these did I as it were suppress and overcome with my natural inclination of 
 love towards you ; and did afterwards gladly, as you know, christen your 
 son, the child of ray said kinsman, that had before so unloyally oflfended 
 me, both in marriage of you, and in other undutiful usages towards me his 
 sovereign. How friendly also dealt I by messages to reconcile him, being 
 your husband, to you, when others nourished discord betwixt you, who as 
 it seemed had more power to work their purposes, being evil to you both, 
 than I had to do you good, in respect of the evil I had received. Well, I will 
 overpass your hard accidents that followed for lack of following my council. 
 And then in your most extremity, when you was a prisoner indeed, and in 
 danger of your life from your notorious evil willers, how far from my mind 
 was the remembrance of any former unkindness you had shewed me. Nay, 
 how void was I of respect to the designs which the world had seen attempted 
 by you to my crown, and the security that might have ensued to my state 
 by your death, when I finding your calamity to be great, that you were at 
 
280 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 the pit's brink to have miserably lost your life, did not only intrcat for yonr 
 life, but so threatened some as were irritated against you, that I only may- 
 say it, even I was the principal cause to save your life. — Robertson. 
 
 The letter of Mary to Queen Elizabeth*, is replete 
 with intelligence of the most curious kind, for laying 
 open the private life of Elizabeth. It shows us all the 
 hidden and secret parts of her character, as in a ma- 
 gical glass. We have been too long employed in 
 admiring her, for the strength and vigour of her spirit. 
 We now come to have a full view of her. The glare 
 of light indeed, which the more masculine qualities of 
 her soul have so long spread around her, has been 
 much moderated of late. The shade too, which that 
 glare had thrown over the other parts of her character, 
 has been equally brightened up. And we are come to 
 see her at present, in the light of truth and reality ; 
 with all her weaknesses opposed to her powers, and 
 with all her wickednesses overtopping her glories. 
 
 Her vanity, particularly, has been delineated in 
 lively colours by the pencil of Melvill. His account 
 is not so familiarly known, as to render the appearance 
 of it improper here. And it is necessary to the intro- 
 duction of another. "The Queen my mistress (he 
 says of Mary), had instructed me to leave matters of 
 gravity sometimes, and cast in merry purposes ; lest 
 
 * " The Queen of Scots easily perceived, that her destruction was aimed 
 at by the association," She was now "weary of her long miserj'," and 
 yet "fearing harder measures." She therefore proposed, if her liberty 
 should be granted her, to enter into the association herself. She would also 
 form a defensive league between Scotland and England ; would stay in Eng- 
 land awhile, as an hostage for the obsen'ance of the league ; and, on being 
 permitted to depart, would put in other hostages. (Camden, Trans. 300 ; 
 Orig. i. 360). — And then, no doubt, was this letter oflfered, requested, and 
 written. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 281 
 
 otherwise ghe should be wearied : she being well in- 
 formed of that Queen's natural temper." This gives 
 us an opening into the physical disposition of Eliza- 
 beth, w hich is not given us by any other writing ; and 
 shows her not to have been so much a woman of busi- 
 ness, as she is universally represented to be. " There- 
 fore, in declaring my observations of the customs of 
 Dutchland, Poland, and Italy, the buskins of the 
 women was not forgot, and what countrey weed I 
 thought best becoming gentlewomen. The Queen (who 
 was now thirty-one) said she had clothes of every 
 sort; which every day thereafter, so long as I was 
 there, she changed. One day she had the English 
 weed, another the French, and another the Italian, 
 and so forth. She asked me, which of them became 
 her best? I answered, in my judgment, the Italian 
 dress; which answer, I found, pleased her well, for 
 she delighted [afterwards] to show her golden-coloured 
 hair, wearing a caul and bonnet, as they do in Italy. 
 Her hair [indeed] was more reddish than yellow, curled 
 in appearance naturally. She desired to know of me, 
 what colour of hair was reputed best, and whether my 
 Queen's hair or hers was best, and which of them two 
 was fairest." Elizabeth thus overshot two of her ob- 
 jects, by her eagerness in aiming at three in the same 
 moment. Not waiting for an answer to her enquiry 
 concerning hair in general, she added instantly another 
 about Mary's hair in particular ; and she subjoined a 
 third to both, before either was answered, concerning 
 the beauty of Mary. So much was her vanity on the 
 wing, in quest of its food ; and so livelily fluttering 
 was it, from one expected scene of compliment to 
 another! And she lost all reply from Melvill, to her 
 two questions concerning hair, by his naturally reply- 
 
282 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 ing only to the concluding question about beauty. 
 
 I answered, the fairness of them both was not their 
 worst faults. But she was earnest w^ith me to declare, 
 which of them I judged fairest. I said, she was the 
 fairest Queen in England, and mine the fairest Queen 
 in Scotland. Yet she appeared earnest. I answered, 
 they were both the fairest ladies in their countries; 
 that her Majesty was whiter, but my Queen was very 
 lovely." And the latter part of this answer indicates, 
 that Elizabeth had a much clearer complexion, than 
 she is generally supposed to have had. 
 
 " She inquired, which of them was of highest sta- 
 ture? I said, my Queen. Then, saith she, she is too 
 high, for I myself am neither too high or too low. 
 Then she asked, what kind of exercises she used ? I 
 answered, that when I received my dispatch, the Queen 
 was lately come from a Highland hunting* ; that when 
 her more serious affairs permitted, she was taken up 
 with reading of histories; that sometimes she recreated 
 
 * Mary's activity of body and spirit, -vras mucli delighted with hunting. 
 This appears so early as 1559, when she riding on hunting" in France, 
 *' and following the hart of force, was in her course cast of her gelding by 
 a boughe of a tree, and with the suddeines of the fall was not hable to call 
 for helpe. And albeit there dyd followe her diverse gentlemen and ladyes 
 of her chamber ; yet three or four of them passed over her, before she was 
 espied, and somme of their horses rode so nere her, as her hood was troden 
 of. Assone as she was reised from the grounde, she spake, and said that 
 she felt no hurt ; and herself beganne to set her heare, and dresse up her 
 head, and so returned to the court." (Forbes, i. 290) . — This equally ap- 
 pears also, so late as July 1586, in a letter of hers to Morgan. God, 
 (she says) , — ^hath not yett set me so lowe, but that I am able to handle ray 
 cros-bowe for killing of a deare, and to gallop after the hoimdes on horse- 
 back ; as this aftemoone I entend to do within the limittes of this park, and 
 cold otherwhere, if it were permitted." (Murdin, 534). — Elizabeth herself 
 was fond of more gentle riding, and loved to amble on a sprightly horse. 
 (Forbes, ii. 13). 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 283 
 
 herself upon the lute and virginals [a trunk-like kind 
 of harpsichord]. She asked, if she played well? I 
 said. Reasonably for a Queen. That same day, after 
 dinner, my Lord of Hunsdean drew me up to a quiet 
 gallery, that I might hear some musick ; [and] but he 
 said he durst not avow it, where I might hear the 
 Queen play upon the virginals. After I had hearkened 
 awhile, I took by the tapistry that hung before the 
 door of the chamber ; and seeing her back was towards 
 the door, I entered within the chamber, and stood a 
 pretty space, hearing her play excellently well. But 
 she left off immediately, as soon as she turned her 
 about and saw me. She appeared to be surprized to 
 see me, and came fomard, seeming to strike me with 
 her hand ; alledging she used not to play before men, 
 but when she was solitary, to shun melancholy. She 
 asked, how I came there ? I answered, as I was walk- 
 ing with my Lord of Hunsdean, as we past by the 
 chamber-door, I heard such melody as ravished me ; 
 whereby I was drawn in ere I knew how : excusing my 
 fault of homeliness [familiarity], as being brought up 
 in the Court of France, where such freedom was 
 allowed," the French easiness of manners being then 
 as eminent as it has since been ; " declaring myself 
 willing to endure, what kind of punishment her Majesty 
 should be pleased to inflict upon me, for so great an 
 offence. Then she sate down low upon a cushion, and 
 T upon my knees by her ; but with her own hand she 
 gave me a cushion to lay under my knee, which at first 
 I refused, but she compelled me to take it. She then 
 called for my Lady Stratford out of the next chamber, for 
 the Queen was alone. She inquired, w hether my Queen 
 or she played best? In that, I found myself obliged 
 to give her the praise." And such a confession as 
 
284 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 this, at once shows us the superiority of Elizabeth to 
 Mary in musical performances, and confirms, by its 
 impartiality, all the notices concerning Elizabeth be- 
 fore. 
 
 — Here 1 took occasion to press earnestly my dis- 
 patch : she said, I was weary sooner of her company, 
 then she was of mine. I told her Majesty, that though 
 I had no reason of being weary, I knew my mistress 
 her affairs called me home. Yet I was stayed two 
 days longer, till I might see her dance ; as 1 was after- 
 ward informed. Which being done, she inquired of 
 me, whether she or my Queen danced best? I an- 
 swered, the Queen danced not so high and disposedly, 
 as she did." And this, being another compliment 
 paid Elizabeth in preference to Mary, again serves to 
 confirm the general justness of this embassadour's ani- 
 madversions upon Elizabeth*. 
 
 But the affectation and the hypocrisy of vanity in 
 Elizabeth, here come forward in a prominent manner 
 to the laughing eye of criticism. Just in the same 
 spirit, and nearly with the same colouring, has Lady 
 Shrewsbury sketched her out in the letter above. 
 There we recognize the Elizabeth of Melvill imme- 
 diately. There we find, that she, who so wildlj^ ima- 
 gined herself more handsome and more graceful than 
 even Mary herself, " was as vain, and has as good an 
 opinion of her beauty, as if she were some goddess of 
 the sky." She also, who so grossly extorted flatteries 
 from Melvill at one time, and so freely arrogated them 
 to herself at another, toak so great pleasure in flat- 
 teries beyond all reason ; that it had been said to her 
 expressly, that there was no venturing at times to 
 
 * Melvill, 49-51. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 285 
 
 look full upon her, because her face shone like the 
 sun and that all the " ladies of the court, were con- 
 strained to use this language" towards her. And, as 
 Melvill was obviously stifling a violent laugh, all the 
 time he was obliged to flatter her ; so Lady Shrews- 
 bury and Lady Lenox, while the former was speaking 
 to her, " durst not look the one at the other, for fear 
 of bursting out into a laugh, at the flams which she 
 was putting upon the Queen*/' 
 
 * Thus, in 1562, the rebel and Protestant Prince of Cond^, in France, to 
 put her in good-humour after he had attempted to make a peace without 
 her, requested she would sende him a skarfe of her coullers, which he 
 taketh to be black and white, to weare in this Gode's quarrell and hers, — 
 and to impute him as her souhliour, which he will never fayle to be during 
 his lief." This he did " very importunately." (Forbesy ii. 234). — " Even 
 when Elizabeth was an old woman," says Mr. Hume (v. 287) , " she allowed 
 her courtiers to flatter her, with regard to her excellent beauties." (Birch ^ 
 Tol. ii. p. 442, 443). — And we have a very lively instance of this, in another 
 st-ate paper of the time. Sir Henry Unton, the Queen's embassadour in 
 France, writes home, in a letter of February 1595-6, thus : On the French 
 King's shewing the picture of his mistress, he answered, he says — " If 
 without offence I might speake it, that I had the picture of a far more ex- 
 cellent mistress ; and yet did her picture come far short of her perfection of 
 beauty. He beheald it with passion and admiration, saying that I had 
 reason; — protesting that he had never seene the like," &c. &c. (Murdin^ 
 718). — ^This ridiculous account was sent, in order to flatter Elizabeth. She 
 was then in her sixty-third year. Even five years afterward, the famous 
 Edward Coke, acting as her attorney-general at the trial of Essex, in 1601, 
 eaid, that he and his partisans " went rather into the city than to the court, 
 in regard the lustre of the Divine Majesty glistered so brightly in the Royal 
 Majesty, and did so dazzle their eyes, that they durst approach no nearer." 
 (Camden, Trans. 614 ; Orig. ii. 230). — Yet Elizabeth felt not the palpable 
 imposition put upon her, by her own rage for flattery, and by the obsequi- 
 ousness of those whom she compelled to gratify it. She swallowed all the 
 praise that was offered by them, however ample it might be, as due to her 
 charms, and as demanded by her sovereignty. Dr. Stuart therefore cries 
 out against her, with an energy of style which is very striking — that, "even 
 when palsied with age, she was vain of her haggard and cadaverous form," 
 jind " sought to allure to her many loverts" (ii. 211). And " the affront," 
 
2SG MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 But let us pass from what was merely ridiculous 
 ill Elizabeth, to what was harsh and violent in her 
 private conduct. She was the petty tyrant of her 
 palace. She was peculiarly prompt, with a more than 
 masculine daringness, to lift her hand in injuries, and 
 to beat and box her courtiers. We have already be- 
 held her advancing up to Melvill, as " seeming to 
 strike him w^ith her hand." This threatening posture 
 of offence, indeed, was merely jocular in that instance. 
 But it serves to show the mechanical readiness of her 
 hand, to rise at a sense of impropriety, and to resent 
 it by a blow upon the transgressor. Thus, even so 
 late as 1598, and when she was now sixty-five, she 
 presumed to box her favourite Essex. Quite for- 
 getting himself (says Camden), and neglecting his 
 duty, he uncivily turned his back upon her, as it wxre 
 in contempt ; and gave her a scomfull look. She, not 
 enduring such behaviour, gave him a box in the ear, 
 and bade him get him gone and be hanged. He pre-^ 
 sently laid his hand on his sword ; and the Lord Ad- 
 mirall stepping between, he sware a great oath, that he 
 neither could nor would put up so grea.t an affront and 
 indignity; neither would he have taken it at King 
 Henry the Eighth his hands ; and, in a great passion, 
 withdrew himself presently from the court*." This 
 experienced practiser in the school of boxing, therefore, 
 who ventured to exercise the powers of her hand upon 
 
 says Camden concerning Essex, in 1601, " he did her, in undervaluing her 
 personal shape, inflamed her most of all : for he had given out (to mention 
 nothing else), that, being now an old woman, she was no less crooked 
 and distorted in mind than she was in body." (Trans. 605 ; Orig. ii. 219). 
 This also shews Elizabeth to have become " crooked and distorted" in 
 body, at the latter end of her life. 
 
 * Camden, Trans. 556 ; Orig. ii. 161. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 287 
 
 so cholerick a soldier, may well be expected to be 
 found beating the gentlemen and ladies of her house- 
 hold. She accordingly appears in the letter above, 
 many years before, to have given Henry Killigrew, a 
 gentleman sent on occasional embassies by her*, " a 
 box on the ear, because he had not brought back" a 
 person, whom she had sent him to recall." But she 
 appears treating Miss Scudamore with a larger share 
 of this brutishness ; one of whose fingers" she ac- 
 tually broke," and then, with a meanness equal to 
 hermischievousness, '^made those of the court believe, 
 that it was broken by a chandelier falling down from 
 above." She even mounted, at another time, beyond 
 all this sublimity of domestick savageness. She found 
 a weapon, that would be more powerful than her naked 
 hand. "She gave another lady, as she was waiting 
 upon her at table, a great blow with a knife upon her 
 hand." And, as such a conduct was sure to make a 
 peculiar impression upon the ladies in Mary's service, 
 since they were equally retained in attendance upon a 
 Queen, and were treated so very differently by theirs ; 
 so "because of these points, and common reports" 
 of other incidents similar to them, Elizabeth was even 
 "acted and represented by the women" of Mary's 
 household, " as in a comedy" of the Ferocious Mis- 
 tress, sportively exhibited " among themselvesf." 
 
 But we must now come, to what is the great object 
 of this chapter. We must proceed to the immodesty 
 of Elizabeth. And the vain, the violent Queen must 
 
 * Camden, Trans. 82 and 195 ; and Orig. i. 103 and 238. 
 
 f Elizabeth's *' passionate temper," says Mr. Hume, v. 288, " may also 
 be proved from many lively instances ; and it was not imnsual with her, to 
 beat her maids of honour."— See the Sydney Pa^eis, vol. ii. p. 38. 
 
288 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 appear in all the loose garb of a wanton woman. Her 
 vanity and her violence appear still conspicuous, even 
 in her very wantonness. 
 
 Elizabeth*, says Lady Shrewsbury, " undoubtedly 
 was not as other women are ; and for this reason, it was 
 folly in all those who favoured her marriage with 
 Monsieur the Duke of Anjou, because it could never 
 be consummated." The people, says Camden, under 
 1566, when they were earnest for Elizabeth's marriage, 
 
 cursed Huic, the Queen's physician, as a disswader 
 of her marriage, for I know not what womanish impo- 
 
 * It has been insinuated by both Mr. Hume (v. 287) , and Dr. Stuart 
 (ii. 211), that HajTies (99), affords but too good reasons for suspecting the 
 chastity of Elizabeth, some years before she ascended the throne, and when 
 she was only 17 or 18 years of age. However, I must here vindicate her. 
 The main stress of the evidence appealed to against her, lies in this. " She," 
 Lady Elizabeth's woman, **saith; at Chelsy, incontinent after he," Lord 
 Admiral Seymour, " was marled to the Queene," relict of Henry the VHIth, 
 
 he wold come many mornyngs into the said Lady Elizabeth's chamber," 
 which was in his own house at Chelsea (p. 61), *' before she were redy, and 
 sometyme before she did rise. And, if she were up, he wold bid hir good 
 morrow, and ax how she did, and strike her upon the bak or on the buttocks 
 famylearly, and so go forth through [to] his lodgings ; and sometj-me go 
 through to the maydens, and play with them, and so go forth : and, if she 
 were in hir bed, he wold put open the curteyns, and bid hir good morrow, 
 and make as though he wold come at hir ; and she wold go further in the 
 bed, so that he could not come at hir. And one mornyng he strove to have 
 kissed hir in hir bed : and this examinate was there, and bad him go away 
 for shame." This surely can justify no suspicion of Elizabeth. Her woman 
 was plainly with her all these times, or she could not have deposed to all 
 these facts. At one other time, when Elizabeth heard the Admiral coming 
 towards her bed-room, she ran out of bed, hurried into the inner room where 
 her attendants slept, and stayed there till he was gone. And we know too 
 much of the free conversation of gentlemen to ladies then, as exhibited by 
 time's best copyist, Shakespeare ; and see too much of their fi'ee manners 
 in that age, as transmitted down to the present, at a distance from London, 
 and in the middle orders of life ; to suppose the women unchaste, merely 
 because the men were romping. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 289 
 
 tency*." "The perils" also, as he adds under 1581, 
 "by conception and child-bearing, objected" to Eliza- 
 beth "by the physicians and her gentlewomen, for 
 some private reasons, did many times run in her mind, 
 and very much deter her from thoughts of marryingf 
 And Elizabeth had some obstructions from nature, 
 which disabled her for the offices of a wife, precluded 
 her from the pleasures of a prostitute, and, contending 
 with her strong desires, raised such a ferment and fire 
 within her, as she was ever endeavouring, and never 
 able, to extinguish. 
 
 Thus she had " one" man, " to whom" (Lady Shrews- 
 bury says) " Elizabeth had made a promise of marriage, 
 before a lady of her bed- chamber and who " had lain 
 down infinite times with her, with all the freedom and 
 familiarity that can be used betwixt a husband and 
 wife." This person is afterwards called " one of this 
 realm." It is Leicester, no doubt ; whose name was 
 studiously suppressed by the Countess, because Lei- 
 cester had been intriguing to draw her ofi* from her 
 warm attachment to Mary, for some infamous purposes 
 undoubtedly; by holding up to the eye of her ambition 
 an object more alluring, than any which Mary could 
 present ; and making her hope for iioyalty itself, in her 
 grand-daughter Arabella Stuart. " Him," says Melvill 
 before, " I knew at that time Elizabeth could not want," 
 or do without. His whole court-life indeed was spent. 
 
 * Camden, Trans. 83; Orig. i. 104, " ob nescio quam muliebrem, im- 
 potentiam." 
 
 f Camden, Trans. 269 ; Orig. i. 324, ^'pericula ex conceptione et puer- 
 perio, a medicis et mulierculis ex abditis causis objecta, quae saepe animo 
 obversabantur, admodum deterruerunt." This shews the bodily infirmity of 
 Elizabeth, to be very different from what it is represented by foreign writers. 
 Our own have almost unanimously neglected to notice it. 
 
 U 
 
290 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 in claiming and challenging (as it were) the marriage 
 of Elizabeth ; for which he is asserted by the present 
 tradition at Cumnor near Oxford, to have dreadfully 
 qualified himself at first, by throwing his wife down a 
 pair of stairs there, and breaking her neck with the 
 fall*. We see him expecting the marriage in 1564. 
 We see him still expecting it in 1579. Yet, under the 
 influence of some temporary despair undoubtedly, we 
 find him marrying the widowed Countess of Essex in 
 the interval. But he had still so much hope remaining 
 in his despair, that he carefully kept his marriage a 
 secret to Elizabeth ; and his hope so overpowered his 
 despair soon, that he still prosecuted his matrimonial 
 views upon her. He meant probably to make way for 
 them again, at the critical moment, by another murder 
 of his wife. Nor did he lose the peculiar favour of the 
 Queen, even to his death. In 1564, as Camden informs 
 us. Queen Mary, to whom Elizabeth had recommended 
 a marriage with him, " suspected that she was deceit- 
 fully dealt withall, and that Queen Elizabeth pro- 
 pounded this marriage to no other purpose, but to 
 chuse for herself the best of all the suitors" to Mary ; 
 " or else to marry with Leicester the more excusably, 
 if she, being an absolute Queen, did first consent to the 
 marriage of Leicester — : and Leicester himself, in 
 hopes of enjoying Queen Elizabeth, secretly warned 
 Bedford by private letters, that he should not be eager 
 in the matter f." In 1579, when a foreign application 
 for marriage was received very favourably by Elizabeth, 
 
 * See also Carte, iii. 416, who also speaks of this tradition, and with 
 some more particularity ; as during one part of his life, I think, he resided 
 in the immediate neighbourhood of Cumnor. And see Aubrey's Berkshire^ 
 i. 149, still more particularly. 
 
 t Trans. 75 ; Orig. i. 94. 
 
. AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 Leicester chafed," says Camden, though he had been 
 actually married ^ome tiriaeito the Countess of Essex, 
 ''being how quite frustrate' af'Jiis long hoped-for mar- 
 riage" with Elizabeth*. Ahd at his death in 1588, 
 which " the Queen took much to heart," as Camden 
 adds; "by reason of a certain conjunction and affinity 
 of their minds, and that haply through a hidden con- 
 spiracy and consent of their stars, which the Greek 
 astrologers term synastria, he was most dear" to herf. 
 Indeed " he was" then " master of the horse, chosen 
 into the orders of St. George and St. Michael, of the 
 Queen's privy council, lord steward of her houshold, 
 chancellour of the university of Oxford, justicer of the 
 forests on this side the river of Trent, lieutenant and 
 captain-general of the English forces in the Low-Coun- 
 tries, governour and captain-general of the United Pro- 
 vinces in the Netherlands, and this year general of the 
 English army against the Spaniards. And now, in the 
 very period of his life [he] began to entertain new hope 
 of honour and power, by being put into the high au- 
 thority of lieutenancy under the Queen in tire govern- 
 ment of England and Ireland ; which indeed he had 
 obtained, the letters patents being drawn, had not," &c. % 
 
 But Leicester was not the sole possessor of Eliza- 
 beth. He was obliged to share her favours with other?. 
 At the very time of the letter above, he had " Haton" 
 
 * Trans. 227 ; Orig. i. 276. For this marriage to Lady Essex, see Trans. 
 217-218, and 232; Orig. i. 264-265, and 282. 
 
 t This, from no design in the virtuous author, but from the popular 
 credulity in astrological impertinences, is reducible to that loose strain of 
 dramatick morality, which says that, 
 
 When weak women go astray. 
 
 Their stars are more in fault than they. 
 J Trans. 419 ; Orig. i. 496. 
 
 u2 
 
292 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 for his colleague. This was Sir Christopher Hattofl^ 
 of whom Camden speaks thus : " Being young (he 
 says), and of a comely talness of body, and amiable 
 countenance, he got into such favour with the Queen, 
 that she took him into her band of 50 gentlemen pen- 
 sioners, and afterwards, for his modest sweetness of 
 conditions, into the number of the gentlemen of her 
 privy chamber ; made him captain of her guard, vice- 
 chamberlain, and one of her privy council ; and lastly, 
 made him lord chancellour." He, as Camden equally 
 remarks in another place, and under 1587, " a man in 
 great favour with the Queen, of a courtier was made 
 lord chancellour ; which the great lawyers of England 
 took very great distaste at — while, in reality, 
 " Hattoii was advanced to the dignity, by the cunning 
 court-arts of some," Leicester probably ; that by his 
 absence from court, and the troublesome discharge of 
 so great a place, which they thought him not to be able 
 to undergo, his favour with the Queen might flag and 
 grow less*." But Lady Shrewsbury shows us plainly 
 the secret reason, that impelled Elizabeth in all his 
 promotions ; that fixed him " in such great favour with 
 the Queen," and raised such an envy in some very 
 powerful courtier against him, as oddly conspired with 
 the favour, "of a courtier" to make him a "chancellour." 
 " His comely talness of body," and his " amiable 
 countenance," won so much upon the lewd heart of his 
 mistress ; that she " took him into the band of her — 
 gentlemen pensioners," for particular services, and kept 
 him always as one " of the gentlemen of her privy 
 chamber." Indeed he seems for a time at least, to 
 have out-rivalled Leicester himself, and to have been 
 
 * Orig. ii. 43, and i. 475 ; Traos. 458, and 401. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 29a 
 
 the captain ofhejp band, and the first of her gentlemen. 
 Elizabeth was even'so fond of him, that she " ran him 
 down by violence V' at one time "making the love 
 which she^bore^im appear so publick, that he" himself, 
 from ^ij^«iodest sweetness of conditions" undoubtedly, 
 was constrained to retire from her." Yet at another 
 time he was so proud of her favour, and so happy in 
 her generosity, that he ornamented his fine person with 
 a set of buttons upon his clothes, all of solid gold. 
 With these he appeared at court. Elizabeth saw her 
 own profusion probably, in his extravagance. She was 
 angry with him. She showed her anger, in her usual 
 efi*usions of reproachful language. He departed in 
 wrath> Elizabeth instantly repented of what she had 
 done. Her aiiger melted away in her fandness. And 
 she betrayed her weakness very strikingly, in her con- 
 desceiision at first, and in her violence afterwards. 
 She sent Killigrew after him, to fetch him back. But 
 he knew his consequence too well, to return. Killigrew 
 came back without him. And she was so unhinged by 
 the shock of this incident, that she actually gave Killi- 
 grew a box on the ear, for the involuntary offence. 
 Such a violently doting old maid of forty-five, wa& 
 Elizabeth then ! Yet she was still more so, soon after- 
 wards. Hatton appears to have withdrawn himself 
 from court, for a period. But at last he thought proper 
 to return. And Elizabeth evidenced the sharpness of 
 her grief for his absence, by the greatness of her 
 liberality on his return. She was so overjoyed at the 
 news, that she gave Sir Thomas Gorge, who brought it 
 to her, three hundred pounds a year in penny-rents. 
 So readily could she break through all her habits of 
 frugality, when an amour was on foot ! So profuse and 
 prodigal could she then be ! Indeed, says Lady Shrews- 
 
^94 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 bury, " she was profuse to all such persons" as were 
 her gallants ; " and" even to " those who meddled in 
 such practises," by carrying messages, and bringing 
 news concerning them. But " to all others she was 
 ungrateful and niggardly." And there were but three 
 or four persons in her realm," of a different character ; 
 " to whom she had ever been bountiful," so late as the 
 year 1584*. 
 
 But Elizabeth "would not be content with Master 
 Haton, and one other of this realm." Two gallants 
 were not sufficient for such a lady. She had a third. 
 This was Sir Walter Raleigh. Lady Shrewsbury, in- 
 deed, omits him. Yet she hints at more than she spe- 
 cifies ; in declaring, that Elizabeth would not ever 
 give up the liberty of bespeaking love, and of having 
 her pleasure continually with new lovers;" and in 
 noticing her profuseness " to all such persons." But 
 Sir Walter plainly confesses himself a i)araQiOur to 
 her, in this high-flown letter of love concerning her. 
 '*My heart was never broken," he says, " till this day, 
 that I hear the Queen goes away so far off ; whom I 
 have followed so many years, with so great love and 
 desire, in so many journeys, and am now left behind 
 her in a dark prison all alone." This letter is not 
 dated in itself, yet is dated by the publisher in "July 
 1592." But he is clearly mistaken. The circumstance 
 of the prison, shows him to be so. It should be dated 
 
 * ** The Queen first took notice of him," Hatton, " for the comeliness of 
 his person, and his graceful dancing at a mask at court. — So exact was 
 Queen Elizabeth, that she called upon him for an old debt, though it broke 
 his heart ; so loving, that she carried him a cordial-broath with her own 
 hand, though it could not revive him" (English BaronettagCy ii. 183 and 
 185, edit. 1741). This conduct in Elizabeth then, is very much like he^ 
 behaviour before, in consequence of the gold buttons. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 295 
 
 in 1594. Then, as Camden assures us, Sir Walter 
 Raleigh, captain of the Queen's guard, having defloured 
 one of the Queen's maids of honour (whom he after 
 took to wife), and being therefore thrown out of favour, 
 and kept several months in prison, but now at length 
 set at liberty, though banished the court; undertook a 
 voyage to Guiana, and set sail on the 6th of February,'* 
 1594-5*. From this prison then, and in, that year, on 
 some removal of the court from London, Raleigh adds 
 in all that extravagance of adulation, which. Lady 
 Shrewsbury tells us, was obliged to be used to Eliza- 
 beth, and which is even heightened in him, by his late 
 relation as a paramour to her. " While she was nire 
 [nigher] at hand," he says, that I might hear of her 
 once in two or three dayes, my sorrows were the less : 
 but, even now, my heart is cast into the depth of all 
 misery. I, that was wont to behold her riding like 
 Alexander, hunting like Diana, walking like Venus, 
 the gentle wind blowing her fair hair about her pure 
 cheeks, like a nymph ; sometime sitting in the shade 
 like a goddess, sometime singing like an angell, some- 
 time playing like Orpheus when this nymph, this 
 angel, this goddess, this Venus, and this Diana, was 
 now about — sixty-one years of age. Behold the 
 sorrow of this world ! Once amiss, hath bereaved me of 
 all. — All those times past, the loves, the sythes [sighs], 
 the sorrows, the desires, can they not way [weigh] down 
 one frail misfortune? Cannot one dropp of gall be 
 hidden in so groat heaps of sweetness ? — She is gone, 
 in whom I trusted ; and of me hath not one thought of 
 mercy, nor any respect of that that wasf." So very 
 
 * Orig. ii. 93-94 j Trans. 499-450. 
 
 t Murdin, 657. 
 
296 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 obdurate was Elizabeth to Raleigh, for ''deflouring 
 one of her maids of honour !" So sternly severe was 
 this Diana of Britain, against the infirmities of the 
 flesh, — in her own gallants towards others ! That he 
 should ever stray from his royal goddess, and take up 
 with one of the " Decb minorum gentium" about her 
 footstool ; might well provoke the humours of this Juno 
 and Venus in one, this imperious goddess of old age 
 and wrinkles. And Raleigh is expressly mentioned in 
 another letter of the times, no less than eight years 
 antecedent to this, and in the life-time of Leicester 
 and Hatton, as a well-known gallant of Elizabeth's. 
 
 Ey ther Rawley," says Morgan, that active and knowing 
 agent of Mary's, on March 31st, 1586, "the mignon 
 [minion] of her of England, is wearye of her, or else 
 she is wearye of him." Raleigh, therefore, had been 
 minion to her many years, at this period ; and had been 
 long " tasting her sweet body," in a friendly partnership 
 with Hatton and Leicester. " For I here she hath now 
 entertayned one Biont, brother of the Lord Montjoye ; 
 being a yonge gentleman, whose grandmother she may 
 be for her age and his*." 
 
 But Morgan knew not Elizabeth sufficiently; when 
 he supposed shjemust have discarded Raleigh, because 
 he heard she had taken in Blount. She had not even 
 that virtue of viciousness itself, to be confined to one 
 person in her licentious regards. She took in a new 
 paramour. Yet she did not cast off the old. She con- 
 tinued both in her service. She thus kept a kind of 
 male seraglio, that was continually receiving additions, 
 and seldom suffered any diminutions. And she became 
 
 * Murdin, 501. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 297 
 
 as great a latitudinarian in her practises of lewdness, 
 as she was in her principles of dishonour*. 
 
 In 1578, according to Camden, " came Simier" to 
 Elizabeth "from the Duke of Anjou," to make a mar- 
 riage between them ; " a choice courtier, a man tho- 
 roughly versed in love fancies, pleasant conceits, and 
 court-dalliances ; accompanied with many of the no- 
 bility of France : whom the Queen entertained at Rich- 
 mond so kindly, that Leicester chafed, being now quite 
 frustrate of his long hoped-for marriage f." But, as 
 Camden adds under the next year, " Simier on the 
 other side left no means un-assayed, to remove Lei- 
 cester out of his place and favour with the Queen ; 
 revealing to her his marriage with Essex his widow ; 
 whereat the Queen grew into such a chafe, that she 
 commanded Leicester not to stir out of the castle of 
 Greenwich, and intended to have committed him to the 
 Tower of London." This is very similar to her conduct 
 towards Raleigh before. And the Earl of Oxford, as 
 we see in Mary's letter, " durst not re-accord with his 
 wife, for fear of losing the favour which he hoped to 
 receive, by making love to Elizabeth." Simier, as 
 Camden also tells us, " ceased not amorously to wpoe 
 Queen Elizabeth, in Anjou's behalf; and although she 
 stiffly excused herself a long time, yet he brought her 
 to that pass, that Leicester (who from his heart was 
 against the marriage) and others," probably Hatton, 
 
 * The Blounts particularly seem to have had a large share in the Queen's 
 favours. We have here a brother to Lord Montjoy mentioned. Mr. Hume, 
 V. 287, mentions Lord Montjoy himself. And Camden says of Sir Christo- 
 pher Blunt, that one " Waite — had been formerly sent into Holland by 
 Leicester, who was jealous of Blunt, to kill him,"— TVaw*. 610 j Orig. ii. 
 225 i Ch-ig, i. 276 ; Tra7is, 227. 
 
 t Orig. i. 
 
298 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 Raleigh, Oxford, &c. " spread rumours abroad, that by 
 love-potions and unlavvfull arts, he had insinuated into 
 the Queen's affection, and induced her to the love of 
 Anjou*." Elizabeth, therefore, was so openly fond of 
 him, that "Leicester and others" were impelled to 
 think. 
 
 That with some mixtures powerful o'er the blood. 
 Or with some dram conjur'd to this eflFect, 
 He wrought upon her. 
 
 But Lady Shrewsbury enables us to declare, in con- 
 currence with the hint of amorousness from Camden 
 before, 
 
 What drugs, what charms, 
 
 What conjuration, and what mighty magick, 
 He won her with. 
 
 " For the honour of the country (she says), she was 
 most grieved, that Elizabeth not only had pawned her 
 honour with a stranger of the name of Simier, going to 
 find him by night in the chamber of a lady; where 
 Elizabeth kissed him, and used divers dishonest fami- 
 liarities with him ; but also revealed the secrets of the 
 realm, betraying to him her own counsellers." 
 
 This only is the witchcraft he had us'd. 
 
 And this witchcraft was very powerful, in its influence 
 upon Elizabeth. She not merely " pawned her ho- 
 nour," which indeed she had pawned so often to these 
 brokers in impurity before, that it was hardly worth 
 the redeeming now ; but she " revealed the secrets of 
 the realm to him," and the cold-blooded politician 
 dissolved away in the warm fires of the licentious 
 lover. 
 
 Simier was thus anticipating his master the Duke, in 
 the possession of Elizabeth's person. In 1581, how- 
 
 * Orig. i. 282 ; Trans. 232-233. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 29§ 
 
 ever, the Duke came to London himself, to supersede 
 Simier's too amorous" solicitations for him, and to 
 urge his addresses in his own person. Yet he urged 
 them — exactly in Simier's manner. It was the only 
 manner probably, for winning Elizabeth. Whea he 
 came to her, says Camden, he was received with as 
 great respect, as he could hope for; and no demon- 
 stration could there be giren of honour and affection, 
 which she did not shew him to the full. Insomuch as 
 in the month of November, as soon as she had with 
 great pomp celebrated her coronation-day, the force 
 of modest love, in the midst of amorous discourse, 
 carried her so far, that she drew off a ring from her 
 finger, and put it upon the Duke of Anjou's he be- 
 ing then twenty-six, and she forty^^lxt; The 
 standers-by took it, that the marriage was now con- 
 tracted by promise : amongst whom Aldegond, gover- 
 nour of the city of Antwerp, dispatched letters pre- 
 sently away into the Netherlands" the Duke" being 
 " now designed governour of the Netherlands by the 
 Estates"], to signific as much; and Antwerp testified 
 her publick joy thereat, by bonefires and peals of ord- 
 nance. At home, the courtiers' minds were diversly 
 affected ; some leaped for joy, some were seized with 
 admiration, and others were dejected with sorrow. 
 Leicester," her prime gallant, " who had lately plotted 
 and contrived to cross the marriage; Hatton, vice- 
 chamberlain," another gallant of hers ; " and Wal- 
 singham," a man, as we have seen before, who traf- 
 ficked in murder, " stormed at it, as if the Queen, the 
 realm, and religion were now quite undone. The 
 Queen's gentlewomen, with whom she used to be fami- 
 liar, lamented and bewailed, and did so terrific and 
 vex her mind, that she spent the night in doubts 
 
300 
 
 MA.RY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 aud cares without sleep, amongst those weeping and 
 wailing females. The next day she sent for the Duke 
 of Anjou; and they two, all by-standers being re- 
 moved, had a long discourse together. He at length 
 withdrew himself to his chamber; and throwing the 
 ring from him, a while after took it again ; taxing the 
 lightness of women, and the inconstancy of islanders, 
 with two or three biting and smart scolfs*." This 
 very day of the espousal, and while the spirits of 
 Anjou and Elizabeth were yet elated by it; then was 
 it, no doubt, as Lady Shrewsbury tells us in g*eat 
 coincidence with Camden here, that Anjou went to 
 find Elizabeth by night at the door of her bed-chamber, 
 where Elizabeth met him with only her shift and bed- 
 gown on ; and that afterwards she suffered him to 
 enter; and that he stayed with her nearly three hours." 
 He then retired ; her lamenting gentlewomen came 
 about her, and the Queen passed the rest of the night 
 " in doubts and cares without sleep, amidst those 
 weeping and wailing females.'' But most probably 
 she had a more secret cause of grief than they, and 
 indeed 
 
 Had that withm which passed show. 
 
 She was grieving probably at her disappointment, in 
 her young and lusty lover, whom she had just dismissed 
 from her bed-room. The French paramour was no 
 more available, than the English had been before ; or 
 the Duke than Simier. The virgin zone was not un- 
 loosed still. The womanish impotency" was still 
 un-removed. And, for this reason probably, did she 
 
 * Orig. i. 323 ; Trans. 267-268. See also Orig. i. 229 ; Trans. 188, foi- 
 Anjou's age. He left England in the beginning of 1582, and died in 1584, 
 after Mary had been taken from Lord Shrewsbury, (Orig, i, 329 and 365 ; 
 Trans. 373 and 304), -i.".- j 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 301 
 
 remain sleepless all the night ; did she send for 
 Anjou in the morning, and did she then break off the 
 contracted marriage with him; In cases of a com- 
 plicated nafaie; there is generally some secret prin- 
 ciple, that actuates and directs the whole; while an 
 ostensible principle is held up, to conceal and cover 
 the other. This therefore is known to all, while that 
 is perceived only by few. This wildly forms the his- 
 torical faith of the multitude, who are unable to look 
 into characters, to combine circumstances together, 
 and to judge from the result of all ; while that collects 
 the scattered rays of truth by a kind of critical catop- 
 trick, sees them successively combining into one 
 regular mass of light, and feels them finally co-operat- 
 ing to produce one full blaze Of conviction. . And Lady 
 Shrewsbury accordingly declares in express terms, that 
 it was folly in all those who favoured Elizabeth's 
 marriage with Monsieur the Duke of Anjou, because 
 it could never be consummated 
 
 Such an immodest, licentious, and dissolute woman 
 was Elizabeth ! Such was the Queen, that wished to 
 have it engraven upon her tomb, " Here lieth Eliza- 
 
 * Mr. Hume observes concerning this part of Elizabeth's character, that 
 " her extreme fondness for Leicester, Hatton, and Essex, not to mention 
 Mountjoy and others, render her chastity very suspicious" (v. 287). At my 
 Lord's [Essex's] coming to court" from his French expedition, for his 
 conduct in which Elizabeth had censured and recalled him, whereas he 
 expected nothing but her Majestie's heavy displeasure ; he found it cleane 
 contrary : for she used him with that grace and favour, that he stayed a 
 week with her, passing the time in jollity and feasting ; and then with tears 
 in her eyes she shewed her affection to him, and, for the repaire of his 
 honour, gave him leave to retume to his charge againe." (Memoirs of 
 Cary Earl of Monmouthy 39-40). — And Dr. Stuart tells us more generally 
 and more justly, that, " even when palsied with age, she was burning with 
 unquenchable desires" (ii, 211), 
 
302 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 beth, which reigned a virgin, and died a virgin Such 
 also was the Queen, who some years afterwards de- 
 clared, that she was " determined to end her life in 
 virginity whom the publick voice hailed at the time, 
 as " the fair vestal throned by the West,^' and " the 
 imperial votress'* of chastity; whom the consenting 
 testimonies of two ages, have pronounced the Maiden 
 Queen of Protestantism ; and who had the hypocritical 
 audacity, to censure a Mary for being — what she was 
 herself, what Mary was not, and w hat she herself was 
 in all the foulest extremes of the character. And, at 
 the close, I cannot but observe with equal indignation 
 and sorrow. That Elizabeth seems to have been in all 
 her capacities of wickedness, a woman exceedingly 
 wicked ; to have united equally the sensual and the 
 malignant corruptions of mankind, in her own person; 
 to have had them both, in a very violent degree ; to 
 have superadded the highest degree of hypocrisy, to 
 both; and so to have been a very prodigy of flagitious- 
 ness, from all. 
 
 What is most singular in the conduct and character 
 of Elizabeth is, that though she determined never to 
 have any heir of her own body, she was not only very 
 averse to fix any successor to the crown, but seems 
 also to have resolved, as far as it lay in her power, 
 that no one who had pretensions to the succession, 
 should ever have any heirs or successors. If the 
 exclusion given by the will of Henry VIII. to the pos- 
 terity of Margaret Queen of Scotland, was allowed to 
 be valid, the right to the crown devolved on the House 
 of Suffolk ; and the Lady Catherine Gray, younger 
 sister to the Lady Jane, was now the heiress of that 
 family. This lady had been married to Lord Herbert, 
 son of the Earl of Pembroke; but having been di- 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 303 
 
 vorced from that nobleman, she made a private mar- 
 riage with the Earl of Hertford, son of the Protector; 
 and her husband, soon after consummation, travelled 
 into France. In a little time she appeared to be preg- 
 nant, which so enraged Elizabeth, that she threw her 
 into the Tower, and summoned Hertford to appear, in 
 order to answer for his misdemeanour. He made no 
 scruple of acknowledging the marriage, which, though 
 concluded without the Queen's consent, was entirely 
 suitable to both parties ; and for this offence he w as 
 also committed to the Tower. Elizabeth's severity 
 stopped not here ; she issued a commission to enquire 
 into the matter; and as Hertford could not, within the 
 time limited, prove the nuptials by witnesses, the com- 
 merce between him and his consort was declared un- 
 lawful, and their posterity illegitimate. They were 
 still detained in custody; but, by bribing their keepers, 
 they found means to have farther intercourse; and 
 another child appeared to be the fruit of their com- 
 merce. This was a fresh source of vexation to the 
 Queen; who made a fine of 15,000/. to be set on Hert- 
 ford by the star-chamber, and ordered his confinement 
 to be thenceforth more rigid and severe. He lay in 
 this condition for nine years, till the death of his wife, 
 by freeing Elizabeth from all fears, procured him his 
 liberty. This extreme severity must be accounted for, 
 either by the unrelenting jealousy of the Queen, who 
 was afraid lest a pretender to the succession should 
 acquire credit by having issue ; or by her malignity, 
 which, with all her qualities, made one ingredient in 
 her character, and which led her to envy, in others, 
 those natural pleasures of love and posterity, of which 
 her own ambition and desire of dominion, made her 
 renounce all prospect for herself. 
 
304 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 Elizabeth entered anew into negotiations for espous- 
 ing the Arch-duke Charles ; and she seems, at this 
 time, to have had no great motive of policy, which 
 might induce her to make this fallacious offer : but as 
 she was very rigorous in the terms insisted on, and 
 would not agree that the Archduke, if he espoused 
 her, should enjoj any power or title in England, and 
 even refused ^^'^ the exercise of his religion, the treaty 
 came to n^ 'hii.^ ; and that Prince, despairing of suc- 
 cess in hxS addresses, married the daughter of Albert 
 Duke of Bavaria. 
 
 When Xowel, one of her chaplains, had spoken less 
 reverently in a sermon, preached before her, of the 
 sign of the cross, she called aloud to him from her 
 closet window, commanding him to retire from that 
 ungodly digression, and to return unto his text. And 
 on the other side, when one of her divines had preached 
 a sermon in defence of the real presence, she openly 
 gave him thanks for his pains and piety. — Heylin, 
 p. 124. She absolutely would have forbidden the mar- 
 riage of the clergy, if Cecil had not interposed. — 
 Strype's Life of Parker, p. 107-109. She was an 
 enemy to sermons, and usually said, that she thought 
 two or three preachers were sufficient for a whole 
 county. It was probably for these reasons, that one 
 Doring told her to her face from the pulpit, that she 
 was like an untamed heifer, that would not be ruled 
 by God's people, but obstructed his discipline. — See 
 Life of Hooker, prefixed to his Works. 
 
 By Murdin's State Papers it appears, that an agree- 
 ment had been made between Elizabeth and the Re- 
 gent, for the delivering up of Mary to him. The Queen 
 afterward sent down Killigrew to the Earl of Marre, 
 when Regent, oft'ering to put Mary into his hands. 
 
MARY AND ELIZABETH. 305 
 
 Killigrew was instructed to take good security from 
 the Regent, that that Queen should be tried for her 
 crimes, and that the sentence should be executed upon 
 her. It appears that Marre rejected the offer, because 
 we hear no more of it. 
 
 CHAP. XVIII. 
 
 Most Affecting Letter from Mary to Elizabeth^ intended for 
 Posterity — Mary Appeals to God, and reviews Elisa- 
 beth's Breach of Faith, and Cruelty. 
 
 " MADAM, 
 
 *' Upon that which has come to my knowledge^ 
 of the last conspiracies executed in Scotland against 
 my poor child, having reason to fear the consequence 
 of it, from the example of myself; I must employ the 
 very small remainder of my life and strength, before 
 my death, to discharge my heart to you fully of my 
 just and melancholy complaints; of which 1 desire 
 that this letter may serve you, as long as you live after 
 me, for a perpetual testimony and engraving upon youi* 
 conscience ; as much for my discharge to posterity, as 
 to the shame and confusion of all those, who, under 
 your approbation, have so cruelly and unworthily 
 treated me to this time, and reduced me to the ex- 
 tremity in which I am*. But as their designs, prac- 
 
 * This strongly marks the propriety of publishing the present letter. It 
 appears here to have been intended by Mary, for an appeal to the judgment 
 of posterity, as well as to the conscience of Elizabeth. To this it called in 
 vain. But with that, I doubt not, it has had, and will have, a very power- 
 ful influence. — Camden has the first clause thus, cum cerib acceperitn,'* 
 and another thus, *^ easdem in tua (si fieri posset) conscientia insculpere 
 and omits all concerning her expected death. 
 
 X 
 
306 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 tices, actions, and proceedings, though as detestable 
 as they could have been, have always prevailed with 
 you against my very just remonstrances and sincere 
 deportment; and as the power, which you have in your 
 hands, has always been a reason for you among man- 
 kind, I will have recourse to the living God, our only 
 judge, who has established us [equally and immedi- 
 ately under him, for the government of his people. 
 
 I will invoke him to the end of this my very press- 
 ing affliction, that he will return to you and to me 
 (as he will do in his last judgment) the share of our 
 merits and demerits one towards the other. And re- 
 member. Madam, that to him we shall not be able to 
 disguise any thing, by the paint and policy of the 
 world; though mine enemies, under you, have been 
 able, for a time, to cover their subtle inventions to 
 men, perhaps to you. 
 
 " In his name, and as before him sitting between you 
 and me, I will remind you, that by the agents, spies, 
 and secret messengers, sent in your name into Scot- 
 land, while I was there, ray subjects were corrupted, 
 and encouraged to rebel against me, to make attempts 
 upon my person, and, in one word, to speak, do enter- 
 prize, and execute that, which has come to the said 
 country during my troubles. Of which I will not at 
 present specify other proof, than that which I have 
 gained of it by the confession of one, who was after- 
 wards amongst those that were most advanced for this 
 good service, and of the witnesses confronted with 
 him. To whom if I had since done justice, he had 
 not afterwards, by his antient intelligences, renewed 
 the same practices against my son ; and had not pro- 
 cured for all my traitourous and rebellious subjects, 
 who took refuge with you, that aid and support which 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 307 
 
 they have had, even since my detention on this side ; 
 without which support, I think, the said traitours could 
 not since have prevailed, nor afterwards have stood 
 out so long-, as they have done. 
 
 During my imprisonment at Lochlevin, the late 
 Trogmarton [Throgmorton] counselled me on your 
 behalf, to sign that demission which he advertised me 
 would be presented to me ; assuring me, that it could 
 not be valid. And there was not afterwards a place 
 in Christendom, where it was held for valid, or main- 
 tained, except on this side ; [where it was maintained] 
 even to having assisted with open force the authors of 
 it. In your conscience, Madam, would you acknow- 
 ledge an equal liberty and power in your subjects? 
 Notwithstanding this, my authority has been by my 
 subjects transferred to my son, when he was not 
 capable of exercising it. And since I was willing to 
 assure it lawfully to him, he being of age to be assisted 
 to his own advantage, it is suddenly ravished from him, 
 and assigned over to two or three traitours ; who having 
 taken from him the effectiveness of it, will take from him, 
 as they have from me, both the name and the title of it, if 
 he contradicts them in the manner he may, and perhaps 
 his life, if God does not provide for his preservation. 
 
 " When I was escaped from Lochlevin, ready to 
 give battle to my rebels, I remitted to you by a gen- 
 tleman express a diamond jewel, which I had for- 
 merly received as a token from you, and with assu- 
 rance to be succoured by you against my rebels ; and 
 even that, on my retiring towards ypu, you would 
 come to the very frontiers in order to assist me ; which 
 had been confirmed to me by divers messengers*. 
 
 * Elizabeth appears from this, to have early formed the design of draw- 
 ing Mary into England, under pretence of assisting her, and in order to 
 
 x2 
 
308 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 " This promise coming, and repeatedly, from your 
 mouth (though I had found myself often abused by 
 your ministers), made me place such affiance on the 
 effectiveness of it ; that, when my army was routed, I 
 came directly to throw myself into your arms, if I had 
 been able to approach them. But while I was plan- 
 ning to set out and find you, there was I arrested on 
 my way, surrounded with guards, secured in strong 
 places, and at last reduced, all shame set aside, to 
 the captivity in which I remain to this day, after a 
 thousand deaths which I have already suffered from it. 
 
 " I know, that you will alledge to me what passed 
 between the late Duke of Norfolk and me. I main- 
 tain, that there was nothing in this to your prejudice, 
 or against the publick good of this realm ; and that 
 the treaty was sanctioned with the advice and signa- 
 tures of the first persons who were then of your coun- 
 cil, under the assurance of making it appear good to 
 you. 
 
 "How could such personages have undertaken the 
 enterprize, of making you consent to a point, which 
 should deprive you of life, of honour, and your crown ; 
 
 seize, insult, and imprison her. This scheme she carried on, being all the 
 while in league with Murray, and intending to serve his and her purposes 
 by it ; in a train of such hypocritical professions of friendship, as must 
 shock even a profligate child of the world to think of. She sent Mary a 
 diamond jewel, as a solemn token of her avowed friendship, and as an ex- 
 press testimony of her promised assistance. She even assured Mary, that 
 on hearing she was obliged to retire before her rebels towards England, she 
 would come to the^very frontiers of Eugland, to meet and receive her. 
 This she repeatedly confirmed afterwards, by messengers to her. And, 
 after all, how did she behave ? This familiar toad at the ear of the inno- 
 cent and unsuspecting Eve, injecting its poison into her brain, and tempting 
 her to her ruin, then started up at once in its own natural shape, and ap- 
 peared a very devil by her side. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 309 
 
 as you have shown yourself persuaded it would have 
 done, to all the embassadours and others who speak 
 to you concerning me ? 
 
 " In the mean time my rebels perceiving, that their 
 headlong course was carrying them much farther than 
 they had thought before, and the truth being evidenced 
 concerning the calumnies, that had been propagated 
 of me at the conference, to which I submitted in full 
 assembly of your deputies and mine, with others of the 
 contrary party in that country, in order to clear myself 
 publickly of them ; there were the principals, for hav- 
 ing come to repentance, besieged by your forces in the 
 castle of Edimbourg, and one of the first among them 
 poisoned, and the other most cruelly hanged ; after I 
 had two times made them lay down their arms, at your 
 request, in hopes of an agreement, which God knows 
 whether my enemies aimed at. 
 
 " I have been for a long time trying, whether pa- 
 tience could soften the rigour and ill-treatment, which 
 they have begun for these ten years peculiarly to make 
 me suffer. And accommodating myself exactly to the 
 order prescribed me, for my captivity in this house ; as 
 well in regard to the number and quality of the attend- 
 ants which 1 retain, dismissing the others ; as for my 
 diet, and ordinary exercise for my health ; I am living 
 even at present as quietly and peaceably, as one much 
 inferiour to myself, and more obliged than with such 
 treatment I was to you, had been able to do ; even to 
 deprive myself, in order to take away all shadow of 
 suspicion and diffidence from you, of requiring to 
 have some intelligence with my son and my country, 
 which is what by no right or reason could be denied 
 me, and principally with my child; whom, instead 
 
310 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 of this, they endeavoured by every way to persuade 
 against me, in order to weaken us by our division. 
 
 It was permitted me, you will say, to send one to 
 visit him there about three years ago. His captivity 
 then at Sterling under the tyranny of Morton, was the 
 cause of it ; as his liberty was afterwards, of a refusal 
 to make the like visit. All this year past, I have seve- 
 ral times entered into divers overtures, for the esta- 
 blishment of a good amity between us, and a sure un- 
 derstanding between these two realms in future. To 
 Chatsworth, about ten years ago, commissioners were 
 sent me for that purpose. A treaty has been held upon 
 it with yourself, by my embassadours and those of 
 France, I even myself made concerning it, the last 
 winter, all the advantageous overtures to Beale, that 
 it was possible to make. What return have I had 
 thence? My good intention has been despised, the 
 sincerity of my actions has been neglected and calum- 
 niated ; the state of my affairs has been traversed by 
 delays, postponings, and other such like artifices. 
 And, in conclusion, a worse and more unworthy treat- 
 ment from day to day, any thing which I am compel- 
 led to do in order to deserve the contrary, my very 
 long, useless, and prejudicial patience, have reduced 
 me so low ; that mine enemies, in their habits of using 
 me ill, think this day they have the right of prescrip- 
 tion for treating me, not as a prisoner, which in reason 
 I could not be, but as some slave, whose life and 
 whose death depend only upon their tyranny*. 
 
 " I cannot. Madam, suffer it any longer; and 1 
 
 • WTiat heart is there, but must feel very lirelily here for the injur€4 
 Queen I — Camden : " Ante annos undecim." 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 311 
 
 must in dying discover the authors of my death, or 
 living, attempt under your protection to find an end to 
 the cruelties, calumnies, and traitourous designs of my 
 said enemies, in order to establish me in some little 
 more repose for the remainder of my life. To take 
 away the occasions pretended for all differences be- 
 tween us, clear yourself, if you please, of all which 
 has been reported to you concerning my actions ; re- 
 view the depositions of the strangers taken in Ireland ; 
 let those of the Jesuits last executed be represented 
 to you ; give liberty to those who would undertake to 
 charge me publickly, and permit me to enter upon my 
 defence : if any evil be found in me, let me suffer it, it 
 shall be patiently when I shall know the occasion of 
 it : if any good, suffer me not to be worse treated for 
 it, with your very great commission before God and 
 man*. 
 
 " The vilest criminals that are in your prisons, 
 born under your obedience, are admitted to their justi- 
 fication; and their accusers, and their accusations, 
 are always declared to them. Why then shall not the 
 same order have place, towards me a Sovereign Queen, 
 your nearest relation and lawful heir ? I think, that 
 this last circumstance has hitherto been, on the side 
 of my enemies, the principal cause of it, and of all 
 their calumnies, to make their unjust pretensions slide 
 between the two, by keeping us in division. But, alas! 
 they have now little reason and less need, to torment 
 me more upon this account. For I protest to you upon 
 njine honour, that I look this day for no kingdom, but 
 that of my God ; whom I see preparing me, for the 
 
 * With what a bold air, does innocence here invite and challenge an 
 inquiry into its own actions ! — Camden : " Proferantur Hispanorum, qui in 
 Hibernia nuper capti, in me testimonia." 
 
312 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 better conclusion of all my afflictions and adversities 
 past*. 
 
 " This will be to you [a monition] to discharge your 
 conscience towards my child, as to what belongs to 
 him on this point after my death ; and in the mean time 
 not to let prevail to his prejudice, the continual prac- 
 tices and secret conspiracies,, which our enemies in 
 this realm are making daily for the advancement of 
 their said pretensions ; labouring on the other side 
 with our traitourous subjects in Scotland, by all the 
 means which they can, to hasten his ruin ; of which I 
 do not demand other better verilication, than the 
 charges given to your last deputies sent into Scot- 
 land, and what the said deputies have seditiously 
 practised there, as I believe, without your knowledge, 
 but with good and sufficient solicitation of the Earl my 
 good neighbour at Yorkf. 
 
 " And on this point, Madam, by what right can it 
 be maintained, that I, the mother of my child, am 
 totally prohibited, not only from assisting him in the 
 necessity so urgent in which he is, but also from hav- 
 ing any intelligence of his state ? Who can bring him 
 more carefulness, duty, and sincerity, than I? To 
 whom can he be more near ? At the least, if sending to 
 him to provide for his preservation, as the Earl of 
 Shrewsbury made me lately understand that you did, 
 you had pleased to take my advice in the matter ; you 
 would have interposed with a better face, as I think, 
 and with more obligingness to me. But consider what 
 you leave me to think, when forgetting so suddenly 
 the offences which you pretended to have taken against 
 
 * Camden: " Jam diu cogitasse." 
 t She means the Earl of Huntingdon. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 313 
 
 my son, at the time I was requesting you that we 
 should send together to him ; you have dispatched one 
 to the place where he was a prisoner, not only without 
 giving me advice of it, but debarring me at the very 
 time from all liberty, that by no way whatever I might 
 have any news of him. 
 
 And if the intention of those, who have procured 
 on your part this so prompt a visit of my son, had been 
 for his preservation, and the repose of the country; 
 they needed not to have been so careful in concealing 
 it from me, as a matter in which I should not have 
 been willing to concur with you. By this means they 
 have lost you the good-will, which I should have had 
 for you. And, to talk to you more plainly upon the 
 point, I pray you not to employ there any more such 
 means or such persons. For, although I hold the Lord 
 de Kerri [Gary Lord Hunsdon] too sensible of the rank 
 from which he is sprung, to engage his honour in a vil- 
 lanous act ; he has had for an assistant a sworn partisan 
 of the Earl of Huntingdon's, by whose bad offices an 
 action as bad has nearly succeeded to a similar effect. 
 I shall be contented then, only at your not "permitting 
 my son to receive any injury from this country (which 
 is all, that I have ever required of you before, even when 
 an army was sent to the borders, to prevent justice from 
 being done to that detestable Morton) ; and that none 
 of your subjects directly or indirectly intermeddle any 
 more in the affairs of Scotland, unless it is with my 
 knowledge; to whom all cognisance of these things 
 belongs, or with the assistance of some one on the part 
 of the most Christian King, my good brother; whom, 
 as our principal ally, I desire to make privy to the whole 
 of this cause, because of the little credit that he can have 
 with the traitours, who detain my son at present. 
 
314 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 " In the mean time I declare with all openness to 
 you, that I hold this last conspiracy and innovation, 
 for pure treason against the life of my son, the good of 
 his affairs, and that of the country ; and that while he 
 shall be in the state in which I understand he is, T shall 
 esteem no word, writing, or other act, that comes from 
 him, or is passed under his name, as proceeding from his 
 free and voluntary disposition, but only from the said 
 conspiratours, who, at the price of his life, are making 
 him to serv^e as a masque to them. 
 
 " But, Madam, with all this freedom of speech, which 
 I can foresee will in some sort displease you, though it 
 be the truth itself; you w^ll find it more strange, I as- 
 sure myself, that I come now to importune you again 
 with a request of much greater importance, and yet 
 very easy for you to grant and realise to me. This is, 
 that having not been able hitherto, by accommodating 
 myself patiently so long a time to the rigourous treat- 
 ment of this captivity, and carrying myself sincerely in 
 all things, yea even to the least that could concern you 
 a very little, to gain myself some assurance of your 
 good grace, or to give you by it some assurance of my 
 entire afi'ection towards you ; all my hope being taken 
 away by it, of being better treated for the very short 
 time which remains to me of life : I supplicate you by 
 the honour of the sorrowful passion of our Saviour and 
 Redeemer Jesus Christ, again I supplicate you, at once 
 to permit me to withdraw myself out of your realm, 
 into some place of repose ; to search out some comfort 
 for my poor body, so wearied as it is with continual 
 sorrows ; and with liberty of my conscience to prepare 
 my soul for God, who is calling for it daily *. 
 
 * Camden : Ut aequis legibus post tot annos libertati restituta, — post 
 diuturnam carceiis squalorem." 
 
 / 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 315 
 
 Believe, Madam, and the physicians, whom you 
 sent me this last summer, are able sufficiently to judge 
 the same ; that T am not for a long continuance, so as 
 to give you any foundation of jealousy or distrust of 
 me. And, notwithstanding this, take of me such assu- 
 rances and conditions, just and reasonable, as you 
 shall choose. The greatest power rests always on 
 your side, to make me keep them ; though for nothing 
 whatever would I wish to break them. You have had 
 sufficient experience, of my observance of my simple 
 promises, and sometimes to my prejudice ; as I shewed 
 you upon this very point, about two years ago. Re- 
 collect, if you please, what I then wrote you; and you 
 will not know how to bind my heart to you so much, 
 as by kindness, though you keep for ever my poor body 
 languishing between four walls ; those of my rank and 
 nature not leaving themselves to be gained or forced, 
 by any rigour. 
 
 Your prison, without any right and just foundation, 
 has already destroyed my body; of which you will 
 shortly have the end, if it continues there a little longer ; 
 and my enemies will not have much time, for glutting 
 their cruelties on me ; nothing remains me but the soul, 
 which all your power cannot make captive. Give it 
 then room for aspiring a little more freely after its sal- 
 vation; which alone it seeks for at this day, more than 
 any grandeur of this world. It seems to me, that it 
 cannot be to you any great satisfaction, honour, and 
 advantage, for mine enemies to trample my life under 
 foot, till they have stifled meinyourpresence. Whereas, 
 if in this extremity, however late it be, you release me 
 out of their hands, you will bind me greatly to you, 
 and bind all those who belong to me, particularly my 
 
316 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 poor child ; whom you will perhaps make sure to your- - 
 self by it. 
 
 '* I will not cease to importune you with this request, 
 until it be granted me. And, on this account, I pray 
 you to let me understand your intention; having, in 
 order to comply with you, waited even to the present 
 day for two years, to renew my urgency for it, for 
 which the miserable state of my health presses me 
 more than you can think. In the mean time provide, 
 if you please, for the bettering of my treatment on this 
 side, that I may not suffer any longer ; and remit me 
 not to the discretion of any other whatever, but your 
 own self, from whom alone (as I wrote to you lately) 
 I wish for the future to hold all the good and the evil, 
 which I shall receive in your country. Do me this 
 favour, to let me have your intention in writing, or the 
 embassadour of France for me. For to tie me up to 
 what the Earl of Shrewsbury, or others, shall speak or 
 write about it on your behalf; I have too much expe- 
 rience, to be able to put any assurance in it; the least 
 point which they shall capriciously fancy, being suffi- 
 cient to innovate the whole from one day to another. 
 
 Besides this, the last time that I wrote to those of 
 your council, you made me understand, that I .ought 
 not to address myself to them, but to you alone (and 
 so to extend their credit and authority only to do me 
 hurt, could not be reasonable ; as has happened in this 
 last limitation, in which, against your intention, I have 
 been treated with much indignity). This gives me 
 every occasion for doubting, that some of my enemies 
 in your said council may have procured it with a design, 
 of keeping others of the said council from being made 
 privy to my just complaints ; lest the others should see 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 317 
 
 perhaps their companions adhere to their wicked at- 
 tempts upon ray life*, of which, if they should have any 
 knowledge, they would oppose them for the sake of 
 your honour, and of their duty towards you. 
 
 " Two things I have principally to require at the 
 close : the one, that, near as I am to going out of this 
 world, I may have with me, for my consolation, some 
 honourable churchman; to remind me daily of the 
 course which I have to finish, and teach me how to 
 compleat it according to my religion, in which I am 
 firmly resolved to live and to die. 
 
 "This is a last duty, which cannot be denied to the 
 most mean and miserable person that lives. It is a 
 liberty, which you grant to all the foreign embassa- 
 dours ; as also all other Catholick Kings give to your 
 embassadours, the exercise of their religion. And 
 even I myself have not hitherto forced my own subjects, 
 to any thing contrary to their religion ; though I had all 
 power and authority over them. And that I in this 
 extremity should be deprived of such freedom, you 
 cannot with justice require. What advantage will re- 
 dound to you, when you shall deny it to me ? I hope 
 that God will excuse me, if, oppressed by you in this 
 manner, I do not render to him any duty, but what I 
 shall be permitted to do in my heart. But you wdll set 
 a very bad example to the other Princes of Christendom, 
 to act towards their subjects with the same rigour that 
 you shall show to me, a Sovereign Queen and your 
 nearest relation ; which I am and will be as long as I 
 live, in despite of mine enemies. 
 
 I would not now importune you, concerning the 
 
 * This shows attempts to have been made already upon the life of Mary ^ 
 and (as she thought) by some of Elizabeth's privy counsellors, 
 
318 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 augmentation of my houshold ; of which, for the time 
 that I see remaining me to live in this world, I will not 
 have so much care. I require then from you, only two 
 women of the chamber, to assist me during my sickness ; 
 attesting to you before God, that they are very neces- 
 sary to me, now I shall be a poor creature among this 
 simple people. Grant these to me, for the honour of 
 God ; and show in this instance, that mine enemies 
 have not so much credit with you against me, as to 
 exercise their vengeance and cruelty in a point of so 
 little consequence, and depending upon a simple office 
 of humanity. 
 
 ^' I will come now to that, with which the Earl of 
 Shrewsbury has charged me, if such a one as he can 
 charge me ; which is this : that contrary to my promise 
 made to Beale, and without your knowledge, I have 
 been negotiating with my son, to yield to him my title 
 to the crown of Scotland ; when I had obliged myself 
 not to proceed in it but with your advice, by one of my 
 servants, who should be directed by one of yours in 
 their common journey thither. These are, I think, the 
 very words of the said Count. 
 
 I will tell you, upon this. Madam, that Beale has 
 not ever had a simple and absolute promise of me ; but 
 indeed overtures conditional, to which I cannot remain 
 bound in the fashion in which the business is, unless 
 the conditions which I annexed to it, might be pre- 
 viously executed ; about which so far is he from being 
 satisfied, that on the contrary, I have never had any 
 answer from him, or heard mention of it since on his 
 side. And on this account I remember very well, that 
 the Earl of Shrewsbury, about last Easter, wanting to 
 draw from me a new confirmation of what I had spoken 
 to the said Beale ; I replied to him very fully. That it 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 319 
 
 was only in case the said conditions might be granted, 
 and consequently effectuated, to me. The one and the 
 other are yet living to testify this to you, if they will 
 tell the truth about it. Then seeing that no answer 
 was made me ; but, on the contrary, that by delays and 
 neglects, mine enemies continued more licentiously than 
 ever their practices, formed since the residence of the 
 said Beale with me, in order to traverse my just inten- 
 tions in Scotland, so as the efi'ects have been well wit- 
 nessed there ; and that, by this means, the door re- 
 mained open to the ruin of my son and of myself ; I 
 took your silence for a refusal, and discharged myself 
 by express letters, as well to you as to your council, 
 from all that 1 had treated upon with the saidBeaie*." 
 
 " I made you fully privy to what Monsieur the King, 
 and Madame the Queen, had written to me with their 
 own hands upon this business; and I asked your 
 advice upon it, which is yet to come, with which it 
 was in truth my intention to proceed, if you had given 
 it me in time, and you had permitted me to send to my 
 son ; assisting me in the overtures which I had proposed 
 to you, in order to establish between the two realms a 
 good amity and perfect intelligence for the future. But 
 to bind myself nakedly to follow your advice, before I 
 knew what it would be, and, for the journey of our 
 servants, to put mine under the direction of yours, 
 even in my own country ; I was never yet so simple, 
 as to think of it. 
 
 " Now 1 refer to your consideration, if you knew of 
 the false game, which mine enemies on this side have 
 
 * This serves to show, how treacherously Elizabeth acted with Mary, 
 turning conditional agreements into positive, for her own advantage ; and how 
 openly and honourably Mary acted in return, revoking even conditional 
 agreements by express letters. 
 
320 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 played me in Scotland, to reduce things to the point at 
 which they stand ; which of us has proceeded with the 
 greatest sincerity ? God judge between them and me, 
 and avert from this isle the just punishment of their 
 demerits. 
 
 Send back again at once the intelligence, which my 
 traitourous subjects of Scotland can have given you. 
 You will find, and I will maintain it before all the 
 Christian Princes, that no one thing whatever has there 
 passed on my side, to your prejudice, or against the 
 good and repose of this realm ; which I aflfect not less 
 than any counsellor or subject that you have, having 
 more interest in it than any of them. 
 
 There was a negotiation, for gratifying my son with 
 the title and name of King ; and for making sure, as 
 well the said title to him, as all impunity to the rebels 
 for their ofi*ences past ; and for re-placing every thing 
 in repose and tranquillity for the future, without any 
 innovation of any thing whatever. Was this to take 
 away the crown from my son ? Mine enemies, as I 
 believe, wished not at all that the crown should be 
 made sure to him : and on that account are very con- 
 tent, that he should keep it by the unlawful violence 
 of some traitours, enemies from all antiquity to all 
 our family. Was this then to seek for justice upon 
 the past oflfences of the said traitours, which my cle- 
 mency has always surpassed ? 
 
 " But an evil conscience cannot ever be assured, 
 carrying continually its fear in its very great trouble 
 within itself. Was it to wish a change in the repose of 
 the country ; to procure it by a mild pardon of every 
 thing past, and a general reconciliation between all our 
 subjects? This is the point which our enemies on this 
 side fear, as much show as they make of desiring it. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 321 
 
 What prejudice would be done to you by this ? Mark 
 then, and verify, if you please, by what other point : I 
 will answer to it upon mine honour. 
 
 " Ah ! Will you. Madam, let yourself be so blind to 
 the artifices of mine enemies, as to establish after you, 
 and perhaps against yourself, their unjust pretensions 
 to this crown ? Will you sufibr them in your life-time, 
 and look at them, while they are ruining and so cruelly 
 destroying those, who concern you so near both in 
 heart and in blood ? What advantage and honour can 
 you hope for, in suffering them to keep us, my son and 
 me, so long separated, and him and me from 3^ou ? 
 
 " Resume the antient pledges of your good-nature ; 
 bind your relations to yourself; give me the satisfaction 
 before I die, that seeing all matters happily settled 
 again between us, my soul, when delivered from this 
 body, may not be constrained to display its lamentations 
 before God, for the wrong which you will have suffered 
 to be done me here below; but rather, that being hap- 
 pily united to you, it may quit this captivity, to set 
 forward towards him, whom I pray to inspire you 
 happily upon my very just and more than reasonable 
 complaints and grievances. 
 
 "At Sheffield this 28. of November, one thousand 
 five hundred eighty-two. 
 
 " Your very disconsolate nearest relation, 
 "And affectionate cousin, 
 
 " Marie R."* 
 
 * Jebb, ii. 266-275. Camden : te" for tuos **tibi obliga; princepsque 
 cum sis, animum ad deponendam omnem ofFensionem erga me, principem 
 conjunctissimam et tui amantissimam, placabilitate emollias and " assi- 
 duas preccB," and *' tandem aliquando inveniant," and " die viii Novemb.,'* 
 and ** aflFectionee seure." 
 
 Y 
 
322 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 CHAP. XIX. 
 
 Of the Babington Conspiracy —Is discovered by Walsing- 
 ham — Conspirators seized and punished — Mary impli- 
 cated—All England indignant against Mary in conse- 
 quence — Elizabeth determined to proceed to the utmost 
 Extremities against her — Her Domestics and Papers 
 seised — Elisabeth determines to try Mary publicly — The 
 Trial at Fotheringay-^ Mary at first ref uses, then con- 
 sents to plead — The Accusation against her — Her De- 
 fence — The Sentence—Is confirmed by Parliament, which 
 demands Execution-— Elizabeth dissembles — France and 
 James interpose to save his Mother's Life — Warrant for 
 Mary's Execution signed — Mary's Behaviour at her 
 Death — Her Character — Her Death lamented by Eliza- 
 beth. 
 
 Not long after, the inconsiderate affection of the 
 
 English Catholics towards Mary, and their implacable 
 
 resentment against Elizabeth, gave rise to a conspi- 
 
 - 
 
 This forcible and pathetic letter is rendered obscure in places, by that 
 which is incident to all letters, the quick glancing of the mind to and from 
 circimistances, familiar to the vrriter and the receiver, and therefore noticed 
 in a cursory manner only. But it has been considered as so pathetic and so 
 forcible, that Blackwood inserted it entire in his MS. history of Mary's suf- 
 ferings, as appears from a note above, even while the Earl of Shrewsbury 
 was yet the keeper of Mary, and before 1585 ; and actually published it in 
 his history, so early as 1587. Camden also formed an abrid^ent of it, and 
 placed it in his annals {Orig. i. 332-337, and Trans. 276-280). Dr. Stuart, 
 too, has equally interrupted the course of his narrative with it ; after he had 
 spoken of it in these terms : ** When the intelligence of the captivity of her 
 son," he says, and of the bold proceedings of the conspirators, reached 
 Mary ; her care, agitation, and anguish were driven to the most affecting ex- 
 tremity. And, giving vent to her sensibility, she addressed a letter to Eliza- 
 beth^ in which she maintains her dignity, while she yields to her resentments ; 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 323 
 
 racy, which proved fatal to the one Queen, left an 
 indelible stain on the reputation of the other, and pre- 
 sented a spectacle to Europe, of which there had 
 hitherto been no example in the history of mankind. 
 
 Doctor Gifford, Gilbert Gifford, and Hodgson, 
 priests educated in the seminary at Rheims, had 
 adopted an extravagant and enthusiastic notion, that 
 the Bull of Pius V. against Elizabeth, was dictated 
 immediately by the Holy Ghost. This wild opinion 
 
 and in which she has intermingled, in an admirable manner, the most fervent 
 protestations of innocence, and the boldest language of expostulation and re- 
 proach. Its ability and \'igour are uncommon, and give it a title to survive 
 in the history of the Scottish nation" (ii. 164). And Mademoiselle De Ke- 
 ralio has published it a fourth time, in her Appendix, v. 349-356. But Cam- 
 den's abridgment, which I admired much before I discovered the original, 
 has lost many of the beauties in the latter, and has ventiu*ed to make some 
 additions of its own. These I have noticed above. Dr. Stuart also has 
 formed his copy of the letter, by abridging the abridgment of Camden, by 
 copying his additions as parts of the original, and by licentiously paraphrasing 
 all. And Mademoiselle De Keralio, not attending to this conduct, and not 
 knowing of the French original, has turned Dr. Stuart's letter into French, 
 and given it to her readers for the true original. In this manner is history 
 unintentionally falsified ; and thus has the French letter been translated back 
 into French again ! I therefore thought it requisite, to act in a very differ- 
 ent manner. I thus take leave of my reader, even in my Appendix, with a 
 genuine letter of Mary's ; which recapitulates the conduct of Elizabeth to 
 her, in all its principal outlines ; which shows Elizabeth to us, as we have 
 seen her before, but with an addition of evidence, mean, tyrannical, insidious, 
 and savage ; and also shows the soul of Mary to us, at the seeming approaches 
 of death, recollected in its sentiments, earnest in its feelings, maintaining her 
 innocence with awful solemnity, and appealing to that God, before whom she 
 thought she was going to appear, for the vindication of her honour and the 
 avenging of her wrongs. From the interesting nature of distress, the ele- 
 vating force of innocence, and the ennobling dignity of religion ; the sick and 
 dying Mary here appears with a majesty, before which the low-souled Eliza- 
 beth shrinks abashed and confounded. Every honest and generous feeling of 
 our hearts, comes forward to the aid of the oppressed Queen. And we think 
 of her oppressor, with disgust, with disdain, and with detestation I — Black- 
 wood. 
 
324 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 they instilkd into Savage, an officer in the Spanish 
 army, noted for his furious zeal, and daring courage ; 
 and persuaded him that no service could be so accept- 
 able to Heaven, as to take away the life of an excom- 
 municated heretic. Savage, eager to obtain the crown 
 of martyrdom, bound himself, by a solemn vow, to kill 
 Elizabeth. Ballard, a trafficking priest, had at that 
 time come over to Paris, and solicited Mendoza, the 
 Spanish ambassador there, to procure an invasion of 
 England, while the affairs of the league were so pros- 
 perous, and the kingdom left naked by sending so 
 many of the Queen's best troops into the Netherlands. 
 Paget and the English exiles demonstrated the fruit- 
 lessness of such an attempt, unless Elizabeth were 
 first cut off, or the invaders secured of a powerful 
 concurrence on their landing. If it could be hoped 
 that either of these events would happen, effectual aid 
 was promised ; and in the mean time Ballard was sent 
 back to renew his intrigues. 
 
 He communicated his designs to Anthony Babing- 
 ton, a young gentleman in Derbyshire, of a plentiful 
 fortune, and many amiable qualities, who having con- 
 tracted, during his residence in France, a familiarity 
 with the Archbishop of Glasgow, had been recom- 
 mended by him to the Queen of Scots. He concurred 
 with Paget, in considering the death of Elizabeth as a 
 necessary preliminary to any invasion. Ballard gave 
 him hopes that an end would soon be put to her days, 
 and imparted to him Savage's vow, who was now in 
 London waiting for an opportunity to strike the blow. 
 But Babington thought the attempt of too much im- 
 portance, to rely on a single hand for the execution of 
 it, and proposed that five resolute gentlemen should 
 be joined with Savage, in an enterprize, the success 
 
AND ELlZAI^ETH. 
 
 325 
 
 of which was the foundation of all their hopes. He 
 offered to find out persons willing to undertake the 
 service, whose honour, secrecy, and courage^ they 
 might safely trust. He accordingly opened the matter 
 to Edward Windsor, Thomas Salisbury, Charles Til- 
 ney, Chidioc Tichboume, Robert Gage, John Travers, 
 Robert Barnwell, John Charnock, Henry Dun, John 
 Jones, and Robert Polly, all of them, except Polly, 
 whose bustling forward zeal introduced him into their 
 society, gentlemen of good families, united together 
 in the bonds of private friendship, strengthened by 
 the more powerful tie of religious zeal. Many consul- 
 tations were held ; their plan of operations was at last 
 settled; and their difi'erent parts assigned. Babington 
 himself was appointed to rescue the Queen of Scots ; 
 Salisbury, with some others, undertook to excite 
 several counties to take arms; the murder of the 
 Queen, the most dangerous and important service of 
 all, fell to Tichbourne and Savage, with four associ- 
 ates. And so totally had their bigotted prejudices 
 extinguished the principles of honour, and the senti- 
 ments of humanity suitable to their rank, that without 
 scruple or compunction, they undertook an action, 
 which is viewed with horror, even when committed by 
 the meanest and most profligate of mankind. This 
 attempt, on the contrary, appeared to them no less 
 honourable than it was desperate; and in order to 
 perpetuate the memory of it, they had a picture drawn, 
 containing the portraits of the six assassins, with that 
 of Babington in the middle, and a motto, intimating that 
 they were jointly embarked in some hazardous design. 
 
 The conspirators, as appears by this wanton and 
 imprudent instance of vanity, seem to have thought 
 a discovery scarce possible, and neither distrusted the 
 
326 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 fidelity of their companions, nor doubted the success 
 of their undertaking. But while they believed that 
 their machinations were carried on with the most pro- 
 found and impenetrable secrecy, every step they took 
 was fully known to Walsingham. Polly was one of 
 his spies, and had entered into the conspiracy w ith no 
 other design than to betray his associates. Gilbert 
 Gifford, too, having been sent over to England to 
 quicken the motions of the conspirators, had been 
 gained by Walsinghara, and gave him sure intelligence 
 of all their projects. That vigilant minister immediately 
 imparted the discoveries which he had made to Eliza- 
 beth ; and without communicating the matter to any 
 other of the counsellors, they agreed, in order to un- 
 derstand the plot more perfectly, to wait till it was 
 ripened into some form, and brought near the point of 
 execution. 
 
 A t last, Elizabeth thought it dangerous and criminal 
 to expose her own life, and to tempt Providence any 
 farther. Ballard, the prims mover in the whole con- 
 spiracy, was arrested. His associates, disconcerted 
 and struck with astonishment, endeavoured to save 
 themselves by flight. But, within a few days, all of 
 them, except Windsor, were seized in different places 
 of the kingdom, and committed to the Tower. Though 
 they had undertaken the part, they wanted the firm 
 and determined spirit of assassins ; and, influenced by 
 fear or by hope, discovered all they knew. The indig- 
 nation of the people, and their impatience to revenge 
 such an execrable combination against the life of their 
 sovereign, hastened their trial, and all of them suffered 
 the death of traitors*. 
 
 * Camd. 515. State Trials, vol. i. 110. 
 
,AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 327 
 
 Thus far Elizabxjth's conduct may be pronounced 
 both prudent and laudable, nor can she be accused of* 
 violating any law of humanity, or of taking any pre- 
 cautions beyond what were necessary for her own 
 safety. But a tragical scene followed, with regard to 
 w^hich, posterity vnll pass a very different judgment. 
 
 The frantic zeal of a few rash young men, accounts 
 sufficiently for all the wild and wicked designs which 
 they had formed. But this was not the light in which 
 Elizabeth and her ministers chose to place the conspi- 
 racy. They represented Eabington and his associates 
 to be instruments employed by the Queen of Scots, 
 the real though secret author of so many attempts 
 against the life of Elizabeth, and the peace of her 
 kingdoms. They produced letters, which they ascribed 
 to her, in support of this charge. These, as they gave 
 out, had come into their hands by the following sin- 
 gular, and mysterious method of conveyance. Gifford, 
 on his return into England, had been intrusted by 
 some of the exiles with letters to Mary ; but in order 
 to make a trial of his fidelity or address, they were 
 only blank papers made up in that form. These being 
 safely delivered by him, he was afterwards employed 
 without farther scruple. Walsingham having found 
 means to gain this man, he, by his permission, and 
 the connivance of Paulet, bribed a tradesman in the 
 neighbourhood of Chartley, whither Mary had been 
 conveyed, who deposited the letters in a hole in the 
 wall of the castle, covered with a loose stone. Thence 
 they were taken by the Queen, and in the same man- 
 ner, her answers returned. All these were carried to 
 Walsingham, opened by him, decyphered, sealed again 
 so dexterously that the fraud could not be perceived. 
 
328 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 and then transmitted to the persons to whom they were 
 directed. Two letters to Babington, with several to 
 Mendoza, Paget, Englefield, and the English fugitives, 
 were procured by this artifice. It was given out, that 
 in these letters Mary approved of the conspiracy, and 
 even of the assassination ; that she directed them to 
 proceed with the utmost circumspection, and not to 
 take arms till foreign auxiliaries were ready to join 
 them ; that she recommended the Earl of Arundel, his 
 brothers, and the young Earl of Northumberland, as 
 proper persons to conduct and to add reputation to 
 their enterprize ; that she advised them, if possible, to 
 excite at the same time some commotion in Ireland ; 
 and above all, besought them to concert with care the 
 means of her escape, suggesting to them several expe- 
 dients for that purpose. 
 
 All these circumstances were opened at the trial of 
 the conspirators. And while the nation was under the 
 influence of those terrors which the association had 
 raised, and the late danger had augmented, they were 
 believed without hesitation or inquiry, and spread a 
 general alarm. Mary's zeal for her religion was well 
 known ; and in that age, examples of the violent and 
 sanguinary spirit which it inspired, were numerous. 
 All the cabals against the peace of the kingdom for 
 many years had been carried on in her name ; and it 
 now appears evidently, said the English, that the 
 safety of the one Queen is incompatible with that of 
 the other. Why then, added they, should the tran- 
 quillity of England be sacrificed for the sake of a 
 stranger ? Why is a life so dear to the nation, exposed 
 to the repeated assaults of an exasperated rival ? The 
 case supposed in the association, has now happened — 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 329 
 
 the sacred person of our sovereign has been threat- 
 ened, and wh)^ should not an injured people execute 
 that just revenge which they had vowed ? 
 
 No sentiments could be more agreeable than these 
 to Elizabeth and her ministers. They themselves had 
 at first propagated them among the people, and they 
 now served both as an apology, and a motive, for 
 their proceeding to such extremities against the Scot- 
 tish Queen as they had long meditated. The more 
 injuries Elizabeth heaped on Mary, the more she 
 feared and hated that unhappy Queen, and came at 
 last to be persuaded that there could be no other secu- 
 rity for her own life but the death of her rival. Bur- 
 leigh and Walsingham had promoted so zealously all 
 her measures with regard to Scottish afiairs, and had 
 acted with so little reserve in opposition to Mary, 
 that they had reason to dread the most violent effects 
 of her resentment, if ever she should mount the throne 
 of England ; and therefore they endeavoured to hinder 
 an event so fatal to themselves, by confirming their 
 mistress's fear and hatred of the Scottish Queen. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mary was guarded with unusual vigi- 
 lance, and great care was taken to keep her ignorant 
 of the discovery of the conspiracy. Sir Thomas 
 Gorges was at last sent from court, to acquaint her 
 both of it, and of the imputation with which she was 
 loaded as accessory to that crime ; and he surprized her 
 with the account, just as she had got on horseback to 
 ride out along with her keepers. She was struck with 
 astonishment, and would have returned to her apart- 
 ment, but she was not permitted ; and in her absence, 
 her private closet was broke open, her cabinet and 
 papers were seized, sealed, and sent up to court. Her 
 principal domestics, too, were arrested, and committed 
 
330 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 to different keepers. Nau^ and Curie, ber two secre- 
 taries, the one a native of France, the other of Scot- 
 land, were carried prisoners to London. All the money 
 in her custody, amounting to little more than 2000L was 
 secured. And after leading her about for some days, 
 from one gentleman's house to another, she was con- 
 veyed to Fotheringay, a strong castle in Northamp- 
 tonshire*. 
 
 No farther evidence could now be expected against 
 Mary, and nothing remained but to decide what should 
 be her fate. With regard to this, Elizabeth, and those 
 ministers in whom she chiefly confided, seem to have 
 taken their resolution; but there was still great 
 variety of sentiments among her other counsellors. 
 Some thought it sufficient to dismiss all Mary's attend- 
 ants, and to keep her under such close restraint, as 
 would cut off all possibility of corresponding with the 
 enemies of the kingdom ; and as her constitution, 
 broken by long confinement, and her spirit dejected 
 with so many cares, could not long support such an 
 additional load, the Queen and nation would soon 
 be delivered from all their fears. But though it might 
 be easy to secure Mary's own person, it was impossible 
 to diminish the reverence which the Roman Catholics 
 had for her name, or to extinguish the compassion 
 with which they viewed her sufferings: while these 
 continued, insurrections and invasions would never be 
 wanting for her relief, and the only effect of any new 
 rigour would be, to render them more frequent and 
 dangerous. For this reason the expedient was rejected. 
 
 A public and legal trial, though the most unexam- 
 pled, was judged the most unexceptionable method of 
 
 * Camd. 517. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 3^1 
 
 proceeding; and it had, at the same time, a semblance 
 of justice, accompanied with an air of dignity. It was 
 in vain to search the ancient records, for any statute 
 or precedent, to justify such an uncommon step, as the 
 trial of a foreign prince, who had not entered the king- 
 dom in arms, but had fled thither for refuge. The pro- 
 ceedings against her were founded on the act of last 
 parliament, and by applying it in this manner, the in- 
 tention of those who had framed that severe statute, 
 became more apparent*. 
 
 Elizabeth resolved that no circumstance of pomp 
 or solemnity should be wanting, which could render 
 this transaction such as became the dignity of the 
 person to be tried. She appointed, by a commission 
 under the great seal, forty persons, the most illustri- 
 ous in the kingdom, by their birth or offices, together 
 with five of the judges, to hear and decide this great 
 cause. Many difficulties were started by the lawyers, 
 about the name and title by which Mary should be 
 arraigned ; and while the essentials of justice were so 
 grossly violated, the empty forms of it were the objects 
 of their care. They at length agreed that she should 
 be styled, " Mary, daughter and heir of James V. late 
 King of Scots, commonly called Queen of Scots, and 
 Dowager of Francef," 
 
 After the many indignities which she had lately suf- 
 fered, Mary could no longer doubt but that her de- 
 stniction was determined. She expected, every mo- 
 ment, to end her days by poison, or by some of 
 those secret means, usually employed against captive 
 princes. And lest the malice of her enemies, at the 
 same time that it deprived her of life, should endea- 
 
 * Camd. 519. Johnst. Hist. 113. 
 
 t Strype, iii. 362. 
 
332 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 vour likewise to blast her reputation, she wrote to the 
 Duke of Guise, and vindicated herself, in the strongest 
 terms, from the imputation of encouraging, or of being 
 accessory to, the conspiracy for assassinating Eliza- 
 beth*. In the solitude of her prison, the strange reso- 
 lution of bringing her to a public trial had not reached 
 her ears, nor did the idea of any thing so unprece- 
 dented, and so repugnant to regal majesty, once enter 
 into her thoughts. 
 
 On the 11th of October, the commissioners appointed 
 by Elizabeth arrived at Fotheringay. Next morning 
 they delivered a letter from her to Mary, in which, 
 after the bitterest reproaches and accusations, she in- 
 formed her, that regard to her own safety had, at last, 
 rendered it necessary to make a public enquiry into 
 her conduct, and therefore required her, as she had 
 lived so long under the protection of the laws of Eng- 
 land, to submit now to the trial, which they ordained 
 to be taken of her crimes. Mary, though surprized at 
 this message, was neither appalled at the danger, nor 
 unmindful of her own dignity. She protested, in the 
 most solemn manner, that she was innocent of the 
 crime laid to her charge, and had never countenanced 
 any attempt against the life of the Queen of England ; 
 but, at the same time, refused to acknowledge the 
 jurisdiction of her commissioners. " I came into the 
 kingdom (said she) an independent sovereign, to im- 
 plore the Queen's assistance, not to subject myself to 
 her authority. Nor is my spirit so broken by its past 
 misfortunes, or so intimidated by present dangers, as 
 to stoop to any thing unbecoming the majesty of a 
 crowned head, or that will disgrace the ancestors from 
 
 * Jebb, ii. 283. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 333 
 
 whom I am descended, and the son to whom I shall 
 leave my throne. If I must be tried, princes alone 
 can be my peers. The Queen of England's subjects, 
 however noble their birth may be, are of a rank infe- 
 rior to mine. Ever since my arrival in this kingdom, 
 I have been confined as a prisoner. Its laws never 
 afforded me any protection. Let them not now be 
 perverted, in order to take away my life.'* 
 
 The commissioners employed arguments and entrea- 
 ties to overcome Mary's resolution. They even threat- 
 ened to proceed according to the forms of law, and to 
 pass sentence against her on account of her contumacy 
 in refusing to plead ; she persisted, however, for two 
 days to decline their jurisdiction. An argument urged 
 by Hatton, the vice-chamberlain, at last prevailed. 
 He told her, that by avoiding a trial, she injured her 
 own reputation, and deprived herself of the only op- 
 portunity of setting her innocence in a clear light; and 
 that nothing would be more agreeable to them, or 
 more acceptable to the Queen their mistress, than to 
 be convinced, by undoubted evidence, that she had 
 been unjustly loaded with foul aspersions. 
 
 No wonder pretexts so plausible should impose on 
 the unwary Queen, or that she, unassisted, at that 
 time, by any friend or counsellor, should not be able 
 to detect and elude all the artifices of Elizabeth's ablest 
 ministers. In a situation equally melancholy, and 
 under circumstances nearly similar, her grandson, 
 Charles I. refused, with the utmost firmness, to 
 acknowledge the usurped jurisdiction of the high 
 court of jjustice; and posterity has approved his con- 
 duct, as suitable to the dignity of a King. If Mary 
 was less constant in her resolution, it must be imputed 
 
334 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 solely to her anxious desire of vindicating her own 
 honour. 
 
 At her appearance before the Judges, who were 
 seated in the great hall of the castle, where they re- 
 ceived her with much ceremony, she took care to pro- 
 test, that by condescending to hear, and to give an 
 I answer to, the accusations which should be offered 
 against her, she neither^cknowledged the jurisdiction 
 of the court, nor admitted of the validity and justice of 
 ' those acts, by which they pretended to try her. 
 
 The chancellor, by a counter-protestation, endea- 
 voured to vindicate the authority of the court. 
 
 Then the Queen's attorney and solicitor opened the 
 charge against her, with all the circumstances of the 
 late conspiracy. Copies of her letters to Mendoza, 
 Babington, Englefield and Paget, were produced. 
 Babington's confession, those of Ballard, Savage, and 
 the other conspirators, together with the declarations 
 of Nau^ and Curie, her secretaries, were read, and the 
 whole ranged in the most specious order, which the 
 art of the lawyers could devise, and heightened by every 
 colour their eloquence could add. 
 
 Mary listened to their harangues attentively, and 
 without emotion. But at the mention of the Earl of 
 Arundel's name, who was then confined in the Tower, 
 on suspicion of being accessory to the conspiracy, she 
 broke out into this tender and generous exclamation : 
 
 Alas! how much has the noble house of Howard 
 suffered for my sake !" 
 
 When the Queen's council had finished, Mary stood 
 up, and with great magnanimity, and equal presence 
 of mind, began her defence. She bewailed the unhap- 
 piness of her own situation, that, after a captivity of 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 335 
 
 nineteen years, during which she had suffered treat- 
 ment no less cruel than unmerited, she was at last 
 loaded with an accusation, which tended not only to 
 rob her of her right of succession, and to deprive her 
 of life itself, but to transmit her name with infamy to 
 future ages : that, without regarding the sacred rights 
 of sovereignty, she was now subjected to laws framed 
 against private persons: though an anointed Queen, 
 commanded to appear before the tribunal of subjects ; 
 and, like a common criminal, her honour exposed to 
 the petulant tongues of lawyers, capable of wresting 
 her words, and of misrepresenting her actions : that, 
 even in this dishonourable situation, she was denied 
 the privileges usually granted to criminals, and obliged 
 to undertake her own defence, without the presence of 
 any friend with whom to advise, without the aid of 
 council, and without the use of her own papers. 
 
 She then proceeded to the particular articles in the 
 accusation. She absolutely denied any correspon- 
 dence with Babington : the name of Ballard was not 
 so much as known to her : copies only of her pre- 
 tended letters to them were produced ; though nothing 
 less than her hand- writing or subscription, was suffi- 
 cient to convict her of such an odious crime : no proof 
 could be brought that the letters were delivered into 
 her hands, or that any answer was returned by her 
 direction : the confessions of wretches condemned and 
 executed for such a detestable action, were of little 
 weight: fear or hope might extort from them many 
 things inconsistent with truth, nor ought the honour 
 of a Queen to be stained by such vile testimony. The 
 declaration of her secretaries was not more conclusive: 
 promises and threats might easily overcome the reso- 
 lution of two strangers ; in order to screen themselves. 
 
336 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 they might throw the blame on her ; but they could 
 discover nothing to her prejudice, without violating 
 in the first place, their oath of fidelity; and their 
 perjury, in one instance, rendered them unworthy of 
 credit in another : the letters to the Spanish ambassa- 
 dor were either nothing more than copies, or contained 
 only what was perfectly innocent : " I have often, 
 (continued she), made such efforts for the recovery of 
 my liberty, as are natural to a human creature. And 
 convinced, by the sad experience of so many years, 
 that it was vain to expect it from the justice or gene- 
 rosity of the Queen of England, I have frequently 
 solicited foreign princes, and called on all my friends 
 to employ their whole interest for my relief. I have, 
 likewise, endeavoured to procure for the English 
 Catholics, some mitigation of the rigour with which 
 they are now treated; and if I could hope, by my 
 death, to deliver them from oppression, I am willing 
 to die for their sake. I wish, however, to imitate the 
 example of Esther, not of Judith, and would rather 
 make intercession for my people, than shed the blood 
 of the meanest creature, in order to save them. I 
 have often checked the intemperate zeal of my adhe- 
 rents, when either the severity of their own persecu- 
 tions, or indignation at the unheard-of injuries which 
 I have endured, were apt to precipitate them into 
 violent councils. I have even warned the Queen, of 
 dangers to which these harsh proceedings exposed 
 herself. And worn out, as I now am, with cares and 
 sufierings, the prospect of a crown is not so inviting, 
 that I should ruin my soul in order to obtain it. I 
 am no stranger to the feelings of humanity, nor unac- 
 quainted with the duties of religion, and abhor the 
 detestable crime of assassination, as equally repug- 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 337 
 
 nant to both. And, if ever 1 have given consent by 
 my words, or even by my thoughts, to any attempt 
 against the life of the Queen of England, far from 
 declining the judgment of men, I shall not even pray 
 for the mercy of God*." 
 
 Two different days did Mary appear before the 
 judges, and in every part of her behaviour maintained 
 the magnanimity of a Queen, tempered with the gen- 
 tleness and modesty of a woman. 
 
 The commissioners, by Elizabeth's express com- 
 mand, adjourned, without pronouncing any sentence, 
 to the star-chamber in Westminster. When assem- 
 bled in that place, Nau6 and Curie were brought into 
 court, and confirmed their former declaration upon 
 oath. And after reviewing their whole proceedings, 
 the commissioners unanimously declared Mary "To 
 be accessory to Babington*s conspiracy, and to have 
 imagined diverse matters, tending to the hurt, death, 
 and destruction of Elizabeth, contrary to the express 
 words of the statute, made for the security of the 
 Queen's lifef." 
 
 It is no easy matter to determine, whether the injus- 
 tice in appointing this trial, or the irregularity in con- 
 ducting it, were greatest and most flagrant. By what 
 right did Elizabeth claim authority over an independent 
 Queen ? Was Mary bound to comply with the laws of 
 a foreign kingdom ? How could the subjects of another 
 prince become her judges ? or if such an insult on 
 royalty were allowed, ought not the common forms of 
 justice to have been observed? If the testimony of 
 Babington and his associates was so explicit, why did 
 not Elizabeth spare them for a few weeks, and by con- 
 
 * Camden, 520, &c. 
 
 z 
 
 t Camden, 525, 
 
338 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 fronting them with Mary, overwhelm her with the full 
 conviction of her crimes. Naue and Curie were both 
 alive, wherefore did not they appear at Fotheringay, 
 and for what reason were they produced in the star- 
 chamber, where Mary was not present to hear what 
 they deposed? Was this suspicious evidence enough 
 to condemn a Queen ? Ought the meanest criminal to 
 have been found guilty, upon such feeble and incon- 
 clusive proofs ? 
 
 It was not, however, on the evidence produced at 
 her trial, that the sentence against Mary was founded. 
 That served as a pretence to justify, but was not the 
 cause of the violent steps taken by Elizabeth and her 
 Ministers towards her destruction ; and was employed 
 to give some appearance of justice, to what was the 
 offspring of jealousy and fear. And the nation, blinded 
 with resentment against Mary, and solicitous to secure 
 the life of its own sovereign from every danger, observed 
 no irregularities in the proceedings, and attended to no 
 defects in the proof, but grasped at suspicions and pro- 
 babilities, as if they had been irrefragable demonstra- 
 tions. 
 
 The parliament met a few days after sentence was 
 pronounced against Mary. In that illustrious assem- 
 bly, more temper and discernment than are to be found 
 among the people, might have been expected. Both 
 lords and commons, however, were equally under the 
 dominion of popular prejudices and passions, and the 
 same excesses of zeal or of fear, which prevailed in the 
 nation, are apparent in all their proceedings. They 
 entered with impatience upon an enquiry into the con- 
 spiracy, and the dangers which threatened the Queen's 
 life, and the peace of the kingdom. All the papers 
 which had been produced at Fotheringay, were laid 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 339 
 
 before them. And after many violent invectives against 
 the Queen of Scots, both houses, unanimously, ratified 
 the proceedings of the commissioners by whom she had 
 been tried, and declared the sentence against her to be 
 just and well-founded. Not satisfied with this, they 
 presented a joint address to the Queen, beseeching her^ 
 as she regarded her own safety, the preservation of the 
 Protestant religion, the welfare and wishes of her peo- 
 ple, to publish the sentence ; and without farther delay 
 to inflict on a rival, no less irreclaimable than danger- 
 ous, the punishment which she had merited by so many 
 crimes. This request, dictated by fears unworthy of 
 that great assembly, was enforced by reasons still more 
 unworthy. They were drawn not from justice, but from 
 conveniency. The most rigorous confinement, it was 
 pretended, could not curb Mary's intriguing spirit ; her 
 address was found, by long experience, to be an over- 
 match for the vigilance and jealousy of all her keepers : 
 the several penal laws could not restrain her adherents, 
 who, while they believed her person to be sacred, would 
 despise any danger to which themselves alone were 
 exposed : several foreign princes were ready to second 
 their attempts, and waited only a proper opportunity 
 for invading the kingdom, and asserting the Scottish 
 Queen's title to the crown. Her life, for these reasons, 
 was incompatible with Elizabeth's safety ; and if she 
 were spared out of a false clemency, the Queen's person, 
 the religion, and liberties of the kingdom, could not be 
 one moment secure. Necessity required that she should 
 be sacrificed in order to preserve these ; and to prove 
 this sacrifice to be no less just than necessary, several 
 examples in history were produced, and many texts of 
 scripture quoted, but both the one and the other were 
 misapplied, and distorted from their true meaning. 
 
 z2 
 
340 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 Nothing, however, could be more acceptable to Eli- 
 zabeth than an address in this strain. It extricated 
 her out of a situation, extremely embarrassing; and 
 without depriving her of the power of sparing, it enabled 
 her to punish her rival with less appearance of blame. 
 If she chose the former, the whole honour would 
 redound to her own clemency. If she determined on 
 the latter, whatever was rigorous might now seem to be 
 extorted by the solicitations of her people, rather than 
 to flow from her own inclination. Her answer, how- 
 ever, was in a style, which she often used, ambiguous 
 and evasive under the appearance of openness and 
 candor; full of such professions of regard for her 
 people, as served to heighten their loyalty; of such 
 complaints of Mary's ingratitude, as were calculated 
 to excite their indignation; and of such insinuations 
 that her own life was in danger, as could not fail to 
 keep alive their fears. In the end, she besought them 
 to save her the infamy and the pain of delivering up a 
 Queen, her nearest kinswoman, to punishment; and 
 to consider, whether it might not still be possible to 
 provide for the public security, without forcing her to 
 imbrue her hands in royal blood. 
 
 The true meaning of this reply was easily under- 
 stood. The lords and commons renewed their former 
 request, with additional importunity, which was far 
 from being either unexpected, or offensive. Elizabeth 
 did not return any answer more explicit ; and having ob- 
 tained such a public sanction of her proceedings, there 
 was no longer any reason for protracting this scene of 
 dissimulation ; there was even some danger, that her 
 feigned difficulties might at last be treated as real ones ; 
 she therefore adjourned the parliament, and reserved in 
 her own hands the sole disposal of her rival's fate. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 341 
 
 All the princes in Europe observed the proceedings 
 against Mary with astonishment and horror ; and even 
 Henry III. notwithstanding his known aversion to the 
 house of Guise, was obliged to interpose in her behalf, 
 and to appear in defence of the common rights of 
 royalty. Aubespine, his resident ambassador, and Bel- 
 lievere, who was sent with an extraordinary commission 
 to the same purpose, interceded for Mary with great 
 appearance of warmth. They employed all the argu- 
 ments which the cause naturally suggested ; they 
 pleaded from justice, from generosity, and humanity ; 
 they intermingled reproaches and threats. But to all 
 these Elizabeth continued deaf and inexorable; and 
 having received some intimation of Henry's real un- 
 concern about the fate of the Scottish Queen, and 
 knowing his antipathy to all the race of Guise, she 
 trusted, that these loud remonstrances would be fol- 
 lowed by no violent resentment *. 
 
 She paid no greater regard to the solicitations of the 
 Scottish King, which, as they were urged with more 
 sincerity, merited more attention. Though her com- 
 missioners had been extremely careful to soothe James, 
 by publishing a declaration that their sentence against 
 Mary did, in no degree, derogate from his honour, or 
 invalidate any title which he formerly possessed ; he 
 beheld the indignities to which his mother had been 
 exposed, with filial concern, and with the sentiments 
 which became a King. The pride of the Scottish nation 
 was roused, by the insult offered to the blood of their 
 monarchs, and called upon him to employ the most 
 vigorous efforts, in order to prevent or to revenge the 
 Queen's death. 
 
 * Camden, 531. 
 
342 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF S(X)TS, 
 
 At first, he could scarce believe that Elizabeth 
 would venture upon an action so unprecedented, which 
 tended so visibly to render the persons of princes less 
 sacred in the eyes of the people, and which degraded 
 the regal dignity, of which, at other times, she was so 
 remarkably jealous. But as soon as the extraordinary 
 steps which she took, discovered her intention, he dis- 
 patched Sir William Keith to London; who, together 
 with Douglas, his ambassador in ordinary, remon- 
 strated, in the strongest terms, against the injury done 
 to an independent Queen, in subjecting her to be 
 tried like a private person, and by laws to which she 
 owed no obedience; and besought Elizabeth not to add 
 to this injury, by suffering a sentence, unjust in itself, 
 as well as dishonourable to the King of Scots, to be 
 put in execution. 
 
 Elizabeth returning no answer to these remonstrances 
 of his ambassador, James wrote to her with his own 
 hand, complaining, in the bitterest terms, of her con- 
 duct, not without threats that both his duty and his 
 honour would oblige him to renounce her friendship, 
 and to act as became a son when called to revenge his 
 mother's wrongs. At the same time he assembled the 
 nobles, who promised to stand by him in so good a 
 cause. He appointed ambassadors to France, Spain, 
 and Denmark, in order to implore the aid of these 
 courts; and took other steps towards executing his 
 threats with vigour. The high strain of his letter 
 enraged Elizabeth to such a degree, that she was 
 ready to dismiss his ambassadors without any reply. 
 But his preparations alarmed and embarrassed her 
 ministers, and at their entreaty she returned a soft and 
 evasive answer, promising to listen to any overture 
 from the King, that tended to his mother's safety ; and 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 343 
 
 to suspend the execution of the sentence, till the arrival 
 of new ambassadors from Scotland. 
 
 Meanwhile, she commanded the sentence against 
 Mary to be published, and forgot not to inform the 
 people, that this was extorted from her by the re- 
 peated entreaties of both houses of parliament. A 
 the same time, she dispatched Lord Buckhurst and 
 Beale to acquaint Mary with the sentence, £ind how 
 importunately the nation demanded the execution of 
 it; and, though she had not hitherto yielded to these 
 solicitations, she advised her to prepare for an event, 
 which might become necessary for securing the Pro- 
 testant religion, as well as quieting the minds of the 
 people. Mary received the message not only without 
 symptoms of fear, but with expressions of triumph. 
 " No wonder (said she), the English should now thirst 
 for the blood of a foreign prince; they have often 
 olFered violence to their own monarchs. But after so 
 many sufferings, death comes to me as a welcome 
 deliverer. I am proud to think that my life is esteemed 
 of importance to the Catholic religion, and as a martyr 
 for it I am now willing to die." 
 
 After -the publication of the sentence, Mary was 
 stripped of every remaining mark of royalty. The 
 canopy of state in her apartment was pulled down; 
 Paulet entered her chamber, and approached her per- 
 son without any ceremony ; and even appeared covered 
 in her presence. Shocked with these indignities, and 
 oflfended at this gross familiarity, to which she had 
 never been accustomed, Mary once more complained 
 to Elizabeth; and at the same time, as her last request, 
 intreated that she would permit her servants to carry 
 her dead body into France, to be laid among her 
 ancestors, in hallowed ground ; that some of her do- 
 
344 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 mestics might be present at her death, to bear witness 
 of her innocence, and firm adherence to the Catholic 
 faith ; that all her servants might be suffered to leave 
 the kingdom, and to enjoy those small legacies, which 
 she should bestow on them, as testimonies of her 
 affection ; and that, in the mean time, her almoner, or 
 some other Catholic priest, might be allowed to attend 
 her, and to assist her in preparing for an eternal world. 
 She besought her in the name of Jesus, by the soul 
 and memory of Henry VTI. their common progenitor, 
 by their near consanguinity, and the royal dignity 
 with which they were both invested, to gratify her in 
 these particulars, and to indulge her so far as to signify 
 her compliance by a letter under her own hand. 
 Whether Mary's letter w as ever delivered to Elizabeth, 
 is uncertain. No answer was returned, and no regard 
 paid to her requests. She was offered a Protestant 
 bishop or dean to attend her. Them she rejected, and 
 without any clergyman to direct her devotions, she 
 prepared, in great tranquillity, for the approach of 
 death, which she now believed to be at no great dis- 
 tance *. 
 
 * DERNIERE LETTRE DE LA REYNE ftlARIE A ELISABETHf. 
 
 MADAME, 
 
 Je rends graces a Dieu de tout mon ccEur, de ce qu'il luy plait de mettre 
 fin, par vos arrests, au pelerinage ennuyeux de ma vie. Je ne demande point 
 qu'elle me soit prolongde, n'ayant eu que trop de temps, pour experimenter 
 mes amertumes. Je supplie seulement votre Majestie que puis je ne dois 
 attendre aucune faveur de quelques ministres zelez, qui tiennent les premiers 
 rangs dans I'estat d'Angleterre ; je puisse tenir de vous seiil, et non d'autre, 
 le bien fait qui s'ensuyent. 
 
 Premierement je vous demand, que comme il ne m'est pas possible, 
 d'esperer un sepulture en Angleterre selon le solemnites Catholiques, 
 
 t Jebb, vol. ii. p. 91. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 345 
 
 James, without losing a moment, sent new ambas- 
 sadors to London. These were the master of Gray, 
 and Sir Robert Melvil. In order to remove Elizabeth's 
 fears, they offered that their master would become 
 bound that no conspiracy should be undertaken against 
 her person, or the peace of the kingdom, with Mary's 
 consent; and for the faithful performance of this, 
 would deliver some of the most considerable of the 
 Scottish nobles, as hostages. If this were not thought 
 sufficient, they proposed that Mary should resign all 
 her rights and pretensions to her son, from whom 
 nothing injurious to the Protestant religion, or incon- 
 sistent with Elizabeth's safety, could be feared. The 
 former proposal, Elizabeth rejected as insecure; the 
 
 practiqu^s par les anciens Roys, vos ancestres et le miens, et que dans 
 I'Ecosse on a forc^ et violent^ le cendres de mes ayeuls, quand mes adversaires 
 seront saoulez de mong sang innocent, mon corps soit port^ par mes do- 
 mestiques, en quelque terre saincte pour y estre enterr^, et sur tout en 
 France, ou les os de la Reyne ma tres honor^e mere reposent ; afin que ce 
 pauvre corps, qui n'a jamais eu de repos tant quil a este joint a mon amc, le 
 puisse finalement rencontrer lors qu'il en sera separ^. 
 
 Secondement, je prie v. M. pour laprehension que j'ay de la tyrannic de 
 ceux, an pouvoir du quel vous m'avez abandonnee, que je ne sois point 
 supplici^e en quelque lieu cach^, mais a la veue de mes domestiques, et autres 
 personnes, qui puissent rendre tesmoignage de ma foy, et de mon obeyssance 
 envers la vraye Eglise. Et defendre le restes de ma vie, et mes demiers 
 soupirs, contre le faux bruits, que mes adversaires pourroient faire courir. 
 
 En troisieme lieu. Je requiers, que mes domestiques qui m'ont servir 
 parmy tant d'ennuys, et avec tant de fidelite, se puissent retirer librement ou 
 ils voudront, et jouir de petites commoditez que ma pauvrete leur a legueez 
 dans mon testament. 
 
 Je vous conjure, Madame, par le sang de Jesus Christ, par notre parent^, 
 par la memoire de Roy Henry septienne, notre pere commun, et par le titre 
 de Reyne que je porte encore jusque a la mort, de ne me point refuser de 
 demandes si raisonables, et me I'assurer par un mot de votre main. Et la 
 dessus je mouray, comme jay vescu, 
 
 Votre aflfectionne soeur et prisonniere, 
 
 MARIE Reyne. 
 
346 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 latter, as dangerous. The ambassadors were then in- 
 structed to talk in a higher tone ; and Melvil executed 
 the commission with fidelity and with zeal. But Gray, 
 with his usual perfidy, deceived his master, who 
 trusted him with a negotiation of so much importance, 
 and betrayed the Queen whom he was employed to 
 save. He encouraged and urged Elizabeth, to execute 
 the sentence against her rival. He often repeated the 
 old proverbial sentence, *'The dead cannot bite." And 
 whatever should happen, he undertook to pacify the 
 King's rage, or at least to prevent any violent efibcts 
 of his resentment. 
 
 Elizabeth, meanwhile, discovered all the symptoms 
 of the most violent agitation and disquietude of mind. 
 She shunned society, she was often found in a melan- 
 choly and musing posture, and repeating, with much 
 emphasis, these sentences, which she borrowed from 
 some of the devices then in vogue: Aut fer aut feri; 
 ne feriare, feri. Much, no doubt, of this apparent 
 uneasiness, must be imputed to dissimulation ; it was 
 impossible, however, that a princess, naturally so cau- 
 tious as Elizabeth, should venture on an action, which 
 might expose her memory to infamy, and her life and 
 kingdom to danger, without reflecting deeply, and 
 hesitating long. The people waited her determination 
 in suspense and anxiety ; and lest their fear or their 
 zeal should subside, rumours of danger were artfully 
 invented, and propagated with the utmost industry; 
 Aubespine, the French ambassador, was accused of 
 having suborned an assassin to murder the Queen. 
 The Spanish fleet was said by some to be already 
 arrived at Milford-Haven. Others affirmed, that the 
 Duke of Guise had landed with a strong army in 
 Sussex. Now, it was reported that the northern coun- 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 347 
 
 ties were up in arms ; next day, that the Scots had 
 entered England with all their forces ; and a conspi- 
 racy, it was whispered, was on foot for seizing the 
 Queen, and burning the city. The panic grew every 
 day more violent; and the people, astonished and 
 enraged, called for the execution of the sentence 
 against Mary, as the only thing which could restore 
 tranquillity to the kingdom. 
 
 While these sentiments prevailed among her sub- 
 jects, Elizabeth thought she might safely venture to 
 strike the blow, which she had so long meditated. 
 She commanded Davison, one of the secretaries of 
 state, to bring to her the fatal warrant ; and her beha- 
 viour on that occasion, plainly shewed that it is not 
 to humanity, that we must ascribe her forbearance 
 hitherto. At the very moment she was subscribing the 
 writ which gave up a woman, a Queen, and her own 
 nearest relation, into the hands of the executioner, 
 she was capable of jesting. Go (says she to Davi- 
 son), and tell Walsingham what I have now done, 
 though I am afraid he will die for grief when he hears 
 it." Her chief anxiety was how to secure the advan- 
 tages which would arise from Mary's death, without 
 appearing to have given her consent to a deed so in- 
 famous. She often hinted to Paulet and Drury, as 
 well as to some other courtiers, that now was the time 
 to discover the sincerity of their concern for her safety, 
 and that she expected their zeal would extricate her 
 out of her present perplexity. But they were wise 
 enough to seem not to understand her meaning. Even 
 after the warrant was signed, she commanded a letter 
 to be written to Paulet, in less ambiguous terms : com- 
 plaining of his remissness, in sparing so long the life of 
 
348 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 her capital enemy, and begging him to remember at 
 last, what was incumbent on him as an affectionate 
 subject, and to deliver his sovereign from continual 
 fear and danger, by shortening the days of his prisoner. 
 Paulet, though rigorous and harsh, and often brutal in 
 the discharge of what he thought his duty, as Mary's 
 keeper, was nevertheless a man of honour and integrity. 
 He rejected the proposal with disdain ; and lamenting 
 that he should ever have been deemed capable of 
 acting the part of an assassin, he declared that the 
 Queen might dispose of his life at her pleasure, but he 
 would never stain his own honour, nor leave an ever- 
 lasting mark of infamy on his posterity, by lending his 
 hand to perpetrate so foul a crime. On the receipt of 
 this answer, Elizabeth became extremely peevish ; and 
 calling him a dainty and precise fellow, who would 
 promise much, but perform nothing, she proposed to 
 employ one Wingfield, who had both courage and 
 inclination to strike the blow. But Davison remon- 
 strating against this method, as no less dangerous than 
 dishonourable, she again delared her intention that 
 the sentence pronounced by the commissioners should 
 be executed according to law ; and as she had already 
 signed the warrant, she begged that no farther appli- 
 cation might be made to her on that head. By this, 
 the privy counsellors thought themselves sufficiently 
 authorized to proceed ; and prompted, as they pre- 
 tended, by zeal for the Queen's safety, or instigated, 
 as is more probable, by the apprehension of the danger 
 to which they would themselves be exposed, if the life 
 of the Queen of Scots were spared, they assembled in 
 the council chamber, and by a letter under all their 
 hands, empowered the Earls of Shrewsbury and Kent, 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 349 
 
 together with the high sheriff of the county, to see 
 the sentence put in execution. 
 
 On Tuesday the 7th of February, the two Earls ar- 
 rived at Fotheringay, and demanding access to the 
 Queen, read in her presence the warrant for execution, 
 and required her to prepare to die next morning. 
 Mary heard them to the end without emotion, and 
 crossing herself in the name of the Father, and of the 
 Son, and of the Holy Ghost, " That soul (said she) 
 is not worthy of the joys of Heaven, which repines 
 because the body must endure the stroke of the execu- 
 tioner; and though I did not expect that the Queen of 
 England would set the first example of violating the 
 sacred person of a sovereign prince, I willingly submit 
 to that which Providence has decreed to be my lot." 
 And laying her hand on a Bible, which happened to be 
 near her, she solemnly protested that she was innocent 
 of that conspiracy which Babington had carried on 
 against Elizabeth's life. She then mentioned the re- 
 quests contained in her letter to Elizabeth, but ob- 
 tained no satisfactory answer. She entreated with 
 particular earnestness, that now> in her last moments, 
 her almoner might be suffered to attend her, and that 
 she might enjoy the consolation of those pious institu- 
 tions prescribed by her religion. Even this favour, 
 which is usually granted to the vilest criminal, was 
 absolutely denied. 
 
 Her attendants, during this conversation, were bathed 
 in tears, and though overawed by the presence of the 
 two Earls, with difficulty suppressed their anguish ; but 
 no sooner did Kent and Shrewsbury withdraw, than 
 they ran to their mistress, and burst out into the most 
 passionate expressions of tenderness and sorrow* 
 Mary, however, not only retained perfect composure 
 
850 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 of mind, but endeavoured to moderate their excessive 
 grief. And falling on her knees, with all her domestics 
 round her, she thanked Heaven that her sufferings were 
 now so near an end, and prayed that she might be 
 enabled to endure what still remained with decency, 
 and with fortitude. The greater part of the evening 
 she employed in settling her worldly affairs. She 
 wrote her testament with her own hand. Her money, 
 her jewels, and her clothes, she distributed among her 
 servants, according to their rank or merit. She wTote 
 a short letter to the King of France, and another to the 
 Duke of Guise, full of tender but magnanimous senti- 
 ments, and recommended her soul to their prayers, and 
 her afflicted servants to their protection. At supper, 
 she eat temperately, as usual, and conversed not only 
 with ease, but with chearfulness ; she drank to every 
 one of her servants, and asked their forgiveness, if ever 
 she had failed in any part of her duty towards them. 
 At her wonted time she went to bed, and slept calmly 
 a few hours. Early in the morning she retired into her 
 closet, and employed a considerable time in devotion. 
 At eight o'clock, the high sheriff and his officers entered 
 her chamber, and found her still kneeling at the altar. 
 She immediately started up, and with a majestic mien, 
 and a countenance undismayed, and eiven chearful, 
 advanced towards the place of execution, leaning on 
 two of Paulet's attendants. She was dressed in a 
 mourning habit, but with an elegance and splendour, 
 which she had long laid aside, except on a few festival 
 days. An Agnus Dei hung by a pomander chain at her 
 neck ; her beads at her girdle ; and in her hand she 
 carried a crucifix of ivory. At the bottom of the stairs 
 the two Earls, attended by several gentlemen from the 
 neighbouring counties, received her; and there Sir 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 351 
 
 Andrew Melvil, the master of her houshold, who had 
 been secluded, for some weeks, from her presence, was 
 permitted to take his last farewel. At the sight of a 
 mistress whom he tenderly lored, in such a situation, 
 he melted into tears ; and as he was bewailing her con- 
 dition, and complaining of his own hard fate, in being 
 appointed to carry the account of such a mournful 
 event into Scotland, Mary replied, " Weep not, good 
 Melvil, there is at present greater cause for rejoicing. 
 Thou shalt this day see Mary Stuart delivered from all 
 her cares, and such an end put to her tedious sufferings, 
 as she has long expected. Bear witness, that I die 
 constant in my religion; firm in my fidelity towards 
 Scotland; and unchanged in my affection to France. 
 Commend me to my son. Tell him I have done nothing 
 injurious to his kingdom, to his honour, or to his rights; 
 and God forgive all those who have thirsted, without 
 cause, for my blood." 
 
 With much difficulty, and after many entreaties, she 
 prevailed on the two Earls to allow Melvil, together 
 with three of her men servants, and two of her maids, 
 to attend her to the scaffold. It w^as erected in the 
 same hall where she had been tried, raised a little 
 above the floor, and covered, as well as a chair, the 
 cushion, and block, with black cloth. Mary mounted 
 the steps with alacrity, beheld all this apparatus of 
 death with an unaltered countenance, and signing her- 
 self with the cross, she sat down in the chair. Beale 
 read the warrant for execution with a loud voice, to 
 which she listened with a careless air, and like one 
 occupied in other thoughts. Then the Dean of Peter- 
 borough began a devout discourse, suitable to her pre- 
 sent condition, and offered up prayers to Heaven in 
 her behalf; but she declared that she could not in con- 
 
352 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 science hearken to the one, nor join with the othef ; 
 and falling on her knees, repeated a Latin prayer. 
 When the Dean had finished his devotions, she with an 
 audible voice, and in the English tongue, recommended 
 unto God the afflicted state of the church, and prayed 
 for prosperity to her son, and for a long life, and peace- 
 able reign to Elizabeth. She declared that she hoped 
 for mercy only through the death of Christ, at the foot 
 of whose image she now willingly shed her blood ; and 
 lifting up, and kissing the crucifix, she thus addressed 
 it: " As thy arms, O Jesus, were extended on the cross ; 
 so with the outstretched arms of thy mercy, receive me, 
 and forgive my sins." 
 
 She then prepared for the block, by taking off her 
 veil, and upper garments ; and one of the executioners 
 rudely endeavouring to assist, she gently checked him, 
 and said, with a smile, that she had not been accus- 
 tomed to undress before so many spectators, nor to b^ 
 served by such valets. With calm but undaunted 
 fortitude, she laid her neck on the block ; and while 
 one executioner held her hands, the other at the second 
 stroke, cut off her head, which falling out of its attire, 
 discovered her hair already grown quite grey, w ith cares 
 and sorrows. The executioner held it up still streaming 
 with blood, and the Dean crying out, " So perish all 
 Queen Elizabeth's enemies \" the Earl of Kent alone 
 answered Amen. The rest of the spectators continued 
 silent, and drowned in tears ; being incapable, at that 
 moment, of any other sentiments, but those of pity, or 
 admiration. 
 
 Such was the tragical death of Mary Queen of Scots, 
 after a life of forty-four years and two months, almost 
 nineteen years of which she passed in captivity. The 
 political parties which were formed in the kingdom. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 358 
 
 during her reign, have subsisted^ under various deno- 
 minations, ever since that time. The rancour, with 
 which they were at first animated, hath descended to 
 succeeding ages, and their prejudices, as well as their 
 rage, have been perpetuated, and even augmented. 
 Among historians, who were under the dominion of all 
 these passions, and who have either ascribed to her 
 every virtuous and amiable quality, or have imputed 
 to her all the vices, of which the human heart is sus- 
 ceptible, we search in vain for Mary's real character. 
 She neither merited the exaggerated praises of the one^ 
 nor the undistinguishing censure of the other. 
 
 To all the charms of beauty, and the utmost elegance 
 of external form, she added those accomplishments, 
 which render their impression irresistible* Polite, 
 afi*able, insinuating^ sprightly, and capable of speak- 
 ing and of writing with equal ease and dignity. Sudden, 
 however, and violent in all her attachments ; because 
 her heart was w arm and unsuspicious. Impatient of 
 contradiction ; because she had been accustomed from 
 her infancy to be treated as a Queen. No stranger, on 
 some occasions, to dissimulation ; which in that per- 
 fidious court where she received her education, was 
 rec- ^*ned among the necessary arts of government. 
 Not insensible of flattery, or unconscious of that plea- 
 sure, with which almost every woman beholds the in- 
 fluence of her own beauty. Formed with the qualities 
 which we love, not with the talents that we admire ; 
 she was an agreeable woman rather than an illustrious 
 Queen. The vivacity of her spirit, not sufficiently 
 tempered with sound judgment, and the warmth of her 
 heart, which was not, at all times, under the restraint 
 of discretion, betrayed her both into errors, and into 
 crimes. To say that she was always unfortunate, will 
 
 A a 
 
354 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 not account for that long and almost uninterrupted 
 succession of calamities which befel her; we must 
 likewise add, that she was often imprudent. Her pas- 
 sion for Darnley was rash, youthful, and excessive. 
 And though the sudden transition to the opposite ex- 
 treme, w as the natural effect of her ill-requited love, 
 and of his ingratitude, insolence and brutality ; yet 
 neither these, nor Bothwell's artful address, and im- 
 portant services, can justify her attachment to that 
 nobleman. Even the manners of the age, licentious as 
 they were, are no apology for this unhappy passion ; 
 nor can they induce us to look on that tragical and 
 infamous scene which followed upon it, with less ab- 
 horrence. Humanity will draw a veil over this part of 
 her character, which it cannot approve, and may, per- 
 haps, prompt some to impute her actions to her situa- 
 tion, more than to her dispositions ; and to lament the 
 unhappiness of the former, rather than accuse the per- 
 Terseness of the latter. Mary's sufferings exceed, both 
 in degree and in duration, those tragical distresses, 
 which fancy has feigned to excite sorrow and com- 
 miseration; and while we survey them, v,e are apt 
 altogether to forget her frailties ; we think of her faults 
 with less indignation, and approve of our tears, Its if 
 they were shed for a person who had attained much 
 nearer to pure virtue. 
 
 With regard to the Queen's person, a circumstance 
 not to be omitted in writing the history of a female 
 reign, all cotemporary authors agree in ascribing to 
 Mary the utmost beauty of countenance, and elegance 
 of shape, of which the human form is capable. Her 
 hair was black, though, according to the fashion of that 
 age, she frequently wore borrowed locks, and of differ- 
 ent colours. Her eyes were a dark grey; her com- 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 355 
 
 plexion was exquisitely fine ; and her hands and arms 
 remarkably delicate, both as to shape and colour. 
 Her stature was of an height that rose to the majestic. 
 She danced, she walked, and rode with equal grace. 
 Her taste for music was just, and she both sung and 
 played upon the lute, with uncommon skill. Towards 
 the end of her life, she began to grow fat; and her long 
 confinement, and the coldness of the houses in which 
 she had been imprisoned, brought on a rheumatism, 
 which deprived her of the use of her limbs. No man, 
 says Brantome, ever beheld her person without admi- 
 ration and love, or will read her history without sorrow. 
 
 None of her women were sufi*ered to come near her 
 dead body, which was carried into a room adjoining the 
 place of execution, where it lay for some days, cover- 
 ed with a coarse cloth torn from a billiard-table. The 
 block, the scaffold, the aprons of the executioners, and 
 every thing stained with her blood, were reduced to 
 ashes. Not long after, Elizabeth appointed her body 
 to be buried in the Cathedral of Peterborough, with \ 
 royal magnificence. But this vulgar artifice was em- 
 ployed in vain ; the pageantry of a pompous funeral 
 did not eflface the memory of those injuries, which laid 
 Mary in her grave. James, soon after his accession to 
 the English throne, ordered her body to be removed to 
 Westminster-abbey, and to be deposited among the 
 monarchs of England. 
 
 Elizabeth afi'ected to receive the accounts of Mary's 
 death, with the most violent emotions of surprize, and ^ 
 of concern. Sighs, tears, lamentation and mourning, 
 were all employed to display the reality and greatness 
 of her sorrow. Evident marks of dissimulation and 
 artifice, may be traced through every period of Eliza- 
 beth's proceedings against the life of the Scottish 
 
 A a2 
 
35C 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 Queen. The commission for bringing Mary to a publicr 
 trial was seemingly extorted from her, by the entreaties 
 of her privy counsellors. She delayed publishing the 
 sentence against her, till she was twice solicited by 
 both houses of parliament. Nor did she sign the war- 
 rant for execution without the utmost apparent reluc- 
 tance. One scene more of the boldest and most solemn 
 deceit remained to be exhibited. She undertook to 
 make the world believe, that Mary had been put to 
 death without her knowledge, and against her will. 
 And Davison, who neither suspected her intention, nor 
 his own danger, was her instrument in carrying on this 
 artifice, and fell a victim to it. 
 
 It was his duty, as secretary of state, to lay before her 
 the warrant for execution, in order to be signed ; and 
 by her command, he carried it to the great seal. She 
 pretended, however, that she had charged him not to 
 communicate what she had done to any person, nor to 
 suffer the warrant to go out of his hands, without her 
 express permission ; that, in contempt of this order, he 
 had not only revealed the matter to several of her mi- 
 nisters, but had, in concert with them, assembled her 
 privy counsellors, by whom, without her consent or 
 knowledge, the warrant was issued, and the Earls of 
 Shrewsbury and Kent empowered to put it in execution. 
 Though Davison denied all this, and with circumstances 
 which bear the strongest marks of truth and credibility ; 
 though it can scarce be conceived that her privy-coun- 
 cil, composed of the persons in whom she most con- 
 fided, of her ministers and favourites, would assemble 
 within the walls of her palace, and venture to transact 
 a matter of so much importance, without her privity, 
 and contrary to her inclination ; yet so far did she carry 
 her dissimulation, that, with all the signs of displeasure 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 3d7 
 
 and of rage, she banished most of her counsellors out 
 of her presence ; and treated Burleigh, in particular, 
 so harshly, and with such marks of disgust, that he gave 
 up himself for lost, and in the deepest affliction wrote 
 to the Queen, begging leave to resign all his places, 
 that he might retire to his own estate. Davison she 
 instantly deprived of his office, and committed him a 
 close prisoner to the Tower. He was soon after 
 brought to a solemn trial in the star-chamber; con- 
 demned to pay a fine of 10,000 pounds, and to be im- 
 prisoned during the Queen's pleasure. He languished 
 several years in confinement, and never recovered any 
 degree of favour or of power. As her jealousy and fear 
 had bereaved the Queen of Scots of life, in order to 
 palliate this part of her conduct, Elizabeth made no 
 scruple of sacrificing the reputation and happiness of 
 one of the most virtuous and able men in her kingdom. 
 
 This solemn farce, for it deserves no better name, 
 furnished Elizabeth, however, with an apology to the 
 King of Scots. As the prospect of his mother's danger 
 had excited the King's filial care and concern, the 
 account of her death filled him with grief and resent- 
 ment. His subjects felt the dishonour done to him 
 and to the nation. In order to soothe both, Elizabeth 
 instantly dispatched Robert Carey, one of Lord Huns- 
 dane's sons, with a letter expressing her extreme 
 affliction on account of that miserable accident, which, 
 as she pretended, had happened far contrary to her 
 appointment or intention. James would not permit 
 her messenger to enter Scotland ; and vvith some diffi- 
 culty received a memorial he sent from Berwick. It 
 contained the tale concerning Davison, dressed up 
 with all the circumstances, which tended to exculpate 
 Elizabeth, and to throw the whole blame on his rash- 
 
358 
 
 MARY QUEEX OF SCOTS, 
 
 ness or treachery. Such a defence gave little satis- 
 faction, and was considered as mockery added to 
 insult ; and many of the nobles, as well as the King, 
 breathed nothing but revenge. Elizabeth was extremely 
 solicitous to pacify them, and neither wanted instru- 
 ments, nor reasons to gain her end. Leicester wrote 
 to the King, and Walsingham to secretary Maitland. 
 They represented the certain destruction to which 
 James would expt)se himself, if, with the forces of 
 Scotland alone, he should venture to attack a king- 
 dom so far superior in power ; that the history of past 
 ages, as well as his mother's sad experience, might 
 convince him that nothing could be more dangerous, 
 or deceitful, than dependance on foreign aid ; that the 
 King of France would never wish to see the British 
 kingdoms united under one monarch, nor contribute to 
 invest a prince so nearly allied to the house of Guise, 
 with such formidable power ; that Philip might be a 
 more active ally, but would certainly prove a more 
 dangerous one, and under pretence of assisting him, 
 would assert his own right to the English crown, which 
 he already began openly to claim ; that the same 
 statute, on which the sentence of death against his 
 mother had been founded, would justify the excluding 
 him from the succession to the crown ; that the Eng- 
 lish, naturally averse from the dominion of strangers, 
 would not fail, if exasperated by his hostilities, to 
 apply it in that manner ; that Elizabeth was disposed 
 to repair the wrongs which the mother had suffered, 
 by her tenderness and affection towards the son; and 
 that, by engaging in a fruitless war, he would deprive 
 himself of a noble inheritance, which, by cultivating 
 her friendship, he must infallibly obtain. 
 
 These representations, added to the consciousness 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 359 
 
 of his own weakness, to the smallness of his revenues, 
 to the mutinous spirit of some of the nobles, to the 
 <3ubious fidelity of others, and to the influence of that 
 faction, which was entirely at Elizabeth's devotion, 
 convinced James that a war with England, however just, 
 would in the present juncture be altogether impoliti- 
 cal. All these considerations induced him to stifle his 
 resentment, to appear satisfied with the punishment 
 inflicted on Davison, and to preserve all the sem- 
 blances of friendship with the English court. In this 
 manner did the cloud which threatened such a storm, 
 pass away. Mary's death, like that of a common 
 criminal, remained unavenged by any prince ; and 
 whatever infamy Elizabeth might incur, she was ex- 
 posed to no new danger on that account. — Robertson. 
 
 [Cotton Lib.] 
 
 THE ACCOUNT OF THE EXECUTION, AND OF MARY's BEHA- 
 VIOUR AT HER DEATH, BY THE EARLS OF KENT AND 
 SHREWSBURY. 
 
 It may please your hon^'^^ good lordships to be ad- 
 vertised, that, on Saturday the 4th of this present, I 
 Robert Beale came to the house of me the Earl of 
 
 Kent, in the county of , to whom your lordships' 
 
 letter and message was delivered, and her Majesty's 
 commission shewn; whereupon I the Earl forthwith 
 sent precepts for the staying of such hues and cries as 
 had troubled the country, requiring the officers to make 
 stay of all such persons, as should bring any such war- 
 rants without names, as before had been done, and to 
 bring them to the next justice of peace, to the intent 
 that upon their examination, the occasion and causes 
 of such seditious bruites might be bolted out and 
 known. It was also resolved, that I the said Earl of 
 Kent should on the Monday following, come to Lyl- 
 
360 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 lord to Mr. Elmes, to be the nearer and readier to con- 
 fer with my Lord of Shrewsbury. Sonday at night, I 
 Robert Beale came to Fotheringay, where after the 
 communicating the commission, &c. unto us, Sir Amice 
 Pawlet and Sir Drue Drury, by reason that Sir A. 
 Pawlet was but late recovered, and not able to repair 
 to the Earl of Shrewsbury, being then at Orton, six 
 miles of; it was thought good that we. Sir Drue Drury 
 and Robert Beale, should go unto him, which we did 
 
 on morning; and together with the delivery of 
 
 her Majesty's commission, and your lordships' letter, 
 imparted unto him what both the Earl of Kent and we 
 thought meet to be done in the cause, praying his lord- 
 ship hither the day following, to confer with me the 
 said Earl, concerning the same ; which his lordship 
 promised. And for the better colouring of the matter, 
 I the said Earl of Shrewsbury sent to Mr. Beale, a 
 justice of the peace of the county of Huntingdon next 
 adjoining, to whom T communicated that warrant, 
 which Robert Beale had under your lordships' hands, 
 for the staying of the hues and cries, requiring him to 
 give notice thereof to the town of Peterborough, and 
 especially unto the justices of peace of Huntingdon- 
 shire, and to cause the pursuers and bringers of such 
 warrants to be stayed, and brought to the next justice 
 of peace ; and to bring us w^ord to Fotheringay castle 
 on Wednesday morning what he had done, and what 
 he should in the mean time understand of the authors 
 of such bruites. Which like order, 1 also Sir Amias 
 Pawlet had taken on Monday morning in this town, 
 and other places adjoining. The same night, the 
 sheriff of the county of Northampton, upon the receit 
 of your lordships' letter, came to Arundel, and letters 
 \yeie sent to me the Earl of Kent, of the Earl pf 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 361 
 
 Shrewsbury's intention and meeting here on Tuesday 
 by noon; and other letters wer-e also sent with their 
 lordships' assents, to Sir Edward Montague, Sir Ri- 
 chard Knightly, Mr. Tho. Brudenell, &c. to be here on 
 Wednesday by eight of the clock in the morning, at 
 which time it was thought meet that the execution 
 should be. So upon Tuesday, we the Earls came hither, 
 where the sheriflf met us ; and upon conference between 
 us it was resolved, that the care for the sending for the 
 surgeons, and other necessary provision, should be 
 committed unto him against the time. And we forth- 
 with repaired unter her, and first in the presence of 
 herself and her folks, to the intent that they might see 
 and report hereafter that she was not otherwise pro- 
 ceeded with than according to law, and the form of the 
 statute made in the 27th year of her Majesty's reign, it 
 was thought convenient that her Majesty's commission 
 should be read unto her; and afterwards she was by 
 sundry speeches willed to prepare herself against the 
 next morning. She was also put in remembrance of 
 her fault, the honourable manner of proceeding with 
 her, and the necessity that was imposed upon her 
 Majesty to proceed to execution, for that otherwise it 
 was found that they could not both stand together; 
 and however, sithence the Lord Buckhurst's his being 
 here, new conspiracys were attempted, and so would 
 be still ; wherefore since she had now a good while 
 since warning, by the said Lord and Robert Beale, to 
 think upon and prepare herself to die, we doubted not 
 but that she was, before this, settled, and therefore 
 would accept this message in good part. And to the 
 effect that no Christian duty might be said to be omit- 
 ted, that might be for her comfort, and tend to the 
 salvation both of her body and soul in the world to 
 
362 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 come, we offered unto her, that if it would please her 
 to confer with the Bishop and Dean of Peterborough, 
 she might; which Dean, we had, for that purpose, 
 appointed to be lodged within one mile of that place. 
 Hereto she replied, crossing herself in the name of the 
 Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, saying that she 
 was ready to die in the Catholic Roman faith, which 
 her ancestors had professed, from which she would not 
 be removed. And albeit we used many persuasions to 
 the contrary, yet we prevailed nothing; and therefore, 
 when she demanded the admittance of her priest, we 
 utterly denied that unto her. Hereupon, she demanded 
 to understand what answer we had, touching her former 
 petition to her Majesty, concerning her papers of 
 accounts, and the bestowing of her body. To the first 
 we had none other answer to make, but that we thought 
 if they w^ere not sent before, the same might be in Mr. 
 Waade's custody, who was now in France ; and see- 
 ing her papers could not anywise pleasure her Majesty, 
 w e doubted not but that the same would be delivered 
 unto such as she should appoint. For, for our own 
 parts, we undoubtedly thought that her Majesty would 
 not make any profit of her things, and therefore (in 
 our opinions) she might set down what she would have 
 done, and the same should be imparted unto her Ma- 
 jesty, of w^hom both she and others might expect all 
 courtesy. Touching her body, w^e knew not her Ma- 
 jesty's pleasure, and therefore could neither say that 
 her petition should be deny'd, or granted. For the 
 practice of Babington, she utterly denied it, and 
 would have inferred it, that her death was for her 
 religion; whereunto it was eftsoons, by us replied, 
 that for many years she was not touched for religion, 
 nor should have been now, but that this proceeding 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 363 
 
 against her was for treason, in that she was culpable 
 of that horrible conspiracy for destroying her Majesty's 
 person ; which she again denied, adding further, that 
 albeit she for herself forgave them that were the pro- 
 curers of her death, yet she doubted not but that God 
 would take vengeance thoreof. And being charged with 
 the depositions of Nau^ and Curie to prove it against 
 her, she replied, that she accused none; but that 
 hereafter, when she shall be dead, and they remain 
 alive, it shall be seen how indiflferently she had been 
 dealt with, and what measure had been used unto her; 
 and asked whether it had been heard before this, that 
 servants had been practised to accuse their mistress, 
 and hereupon also required what was become of them, 
 and where they remained. 
 
 Upon our departure from her, for that it seemed by 
 the commission, that the charge of her was in the dis- 
 positions of us the Earls, we required S. Amias Paulet 
 and S. Drue Drurie to receive, for that night, the 
 charge, which they had before, and to cause the whole 
 number of soldiers to watch that night, and that her 
 folks should be put up, and take order that only four 
 of them should be at the execution, remaining aloof of 
 and guarded with certain persons, so as they should 
 not come near unto her, which were Melvil her stew- 
 ard, the physician, surgeon, and apothecary. 
 
 Wednesday morning, after that we the Earls were 
 repaired unto the castle, and the sheriff had prepared 
 all things in the hall for the execution, he was com- 
 manded to go into her chamber, and to bring her down 
 to the place where were present, we which have signed 
 this letter, Mr. Henry Talbot, Esq. Sir Edward Mon- 
 tague, Knt. his son and heir apparent, and William 
 Montague his brother, Sir Richard Knichtly, Knt. 
 
364 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 Mr. Thomas Brudenel, Mr. Beuill, Mr. Robert and 
 J ohn Wingefield, Mr. Forest, and llayner, Benjamin 
 Piggot, Mr. Dean of Peterborough, and others. 
 
 At the stairfold, she paused to speak to Melvil in 
 our hearing, which was to this effect: "Melvil, as thou 
 hast been an honest servant to me, so I pray thee con- 
 tinue to my son, and commend me unto him. I have 
 not impugned his religion, nor the religion of others, 
 but wish him well. And as I forgive all that have 
 offended me in Scotland, so I would that he should 
 also ; and beseech God, that he would send him his 
 holy spirit, and illuminate him." Melvil's answer was, 
 that he would so do, and at that instant he would be- 
 seech God to assist him with his spirit. Then she 
 demanded to speak with her priest, which was denied 
 unto her, the rather, for that she came with a super- 
 stitious pair of beads and a crucitix. She then desired 
 to have her women to help her, and upon her earnest 
 request, and saying that when other gentlewomen were 
 executed, she had read in chronicles that they had 
 women allowed unto them, it was permitted that she 
 should have two, named by herself, which were Mrs. 
 Curie and Kennedy. After she came to the scaffold, 
 first, in presence of them all, her Majestie's commis- 
 sion was openly read ; and afterwards, Mr. Dean of 
 Peterborough, according to a direction which he had 
 received the night before, from us the Earls, wou'd 
 have made a godly admonition to her, to repent and 
 dye well in the fear of God and charity to the world. 
 But at the first entry she utterly refused it, saying that 
 she was Catholique, and that it were a folly to move 
 her, being so resolutely minded, and that our prayers 
 would little avail her. Whereupon, to the intent it 
 might appear that we, and the whole assembly, had 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 365 
 
 a Christian desire to have her die well, a godly prayer, 
 conceiv'd by Mr. Dean, was read and pronounced by 
 us all : " That it would please Almighty God to send 
 her his holy spirit and grace, and also, if it were his 
 will, to pardon all her offences, and of his mercy to 
 receive her into his heavenly and everlasting kingdom, 
 and finally to bless her Majesty, and confound all her 
 enemies;" whereof Mr. Dean, minding to repair up 
 shortly, can shew your lordships a copy. 
 
 This done, she pronounced a prayer upon her knees 
 to this effect, to beseech God to send her his holy 
 spirit, and that she trusted to receive her salvation in 
 his blood, and of his grace to be received into his 
 kingdom, besought God to forgive her enemies, as she 
 forgave them ; and to turn his wrath from this land, to 
 bless the Queen's Majestic, that she might serve him. 
 Likewise to be merciful to her son, to have compassion 
 of his church ; and altho' she was not worthy to be 
 heard, yet she had a confidence in his mercy, and 
 prayed all the saints to pray unto her Saviour to re- 
 ceive her." After this (turning towards her servants), 
 she desired them to pray for her, that her Saviour 
 would receive her. Then, upon petition made by the 
 executioners, she pardoned them ; and said, she was 
 glad that the end of all her sorrows was so near. Then 
 she misliked the whinning and weeping of her women, 
 saying, that they rather ought to thank God for her 
 resolution, and kissing them, willed them to depart 
 from the scafi'old, and farewell. And so resolutely 
 kneel'd down, and having a kerchefi" banded about her 
 eyes, laid down her neck, whereupon the executioner 
 proceeded. Her servants were incontinently removed, 
 and order taken that none should approach unto her 
 corps, but that it should be embalmed by the surgeon 
 
366 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 appointed. And further her crosse, apparell, and 
 other things are retained here, and not yielded unto 
 the executioner, for inconveniences that might follow, 
 but he is remitted to be rewarded by such as sent him 
 hither. 
 
 This hath been the manner of our dealings in this 
 service, whereof we have thought good to advertise 
 your lordships, as particularly as we could, for the 
 time; and further have thought good to signify unto 
 your lordships besides, that for the avoiding of all 
 sinister and slanderous reports that may be raised to 
 the contrary, we have caused a note thereof to be con- 
 ceiv'd to the same effect in writing, which we the said 
 lords have subscribed, with the hands of such other 
 there, the knights and gentlemen above named, that 
 were present at the action. And so beseeching Al- 
 mighty God long to bless her Majesty with a most 
 prosperous reign, and to confound all his, and her 
 enemies, we take our leaves. From Fotheringay Castle, 
 the 8th of February, 1586, in hast. 
 
 Your lordships at commandment. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 367 
 
 CHAP. XX. 
 
 Of Davison the Secretary, and his Apology for the part he 
 had in the signing of the Death - Warrant — Elizabeth 
 condemned by his Detail of the Proceedings thereon. 
 
 On Wednesday the first of this present*, about 
 ten of the clock, came one of the grooms of the 
 chamber unto me, to let me understand, that her 
 Majesty had called for me by my lord admiral, who 
 was in the privy chamber. I found his lordship there, 
 who told me the cause of my sending for; having, 
 first, summarily discoursed unto me some speech, that 
 had past that morning betwixt her Majesty and him, 
 touching the execution of the Scotish Queen ; the 
 conclusion whereof was, that she would no longer 
 defer it, and therefore had commanded him to send 
 expressly for me, to bring the warrant unto herf. 
 
 " Whereupon returning to my chamber, I took both 
 that and divers other things, to be signed for her 
 service ; and, returning, sent in Mrs. Brooke to sig-^ 
 nify my being there, to her Majesty, who immediately 
 called for me. At my coming in, her Majesty first 
 asking me, whether I had been abroad that fair mom- 
 
 * This shows the apology to have been written immediately after the events. 
 Mary was put to death on Wednesday the 8th of February, 1586-7. And 
 this apology appears, from the words here, to have been written before the 
 month was expired. 
 
 t This warrant appears, from another and a more general apology by 
 Davison, written evidently at a period of time much later, and when he had 
 forgotten some of the minuter circumstances, to have been by him ** retained 
 — at the least, five or six weeks un-presented, nor once offering to carry it 
 «p, till she sent," &c.— i2o6er«w», ii. 482. 
 
368 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 ing ; advising me to use it oftner; and reprehending 
 me for the contrary ; finally demanded, what I had in 
 my hands. I answered. Divers warrants, and other 
 things, to be signed for her service. She enquired, 
 whether my lord admiral had not sent for me, and 
 whether I had not brought up the w^arrant for the 
 Queen of Scots*. I answered. Yes; and thereupon, 
 [she] calling for it, T delivered it into her hands ; after 
 the reading whereof, she, calling for pen and ink, 
 signed it ; and, laying it from her, asked me. Whether 
 I were not heartily sorry it was done ? Mine answer 
 was, That I was sorry a lady, so near in blood to 
 herself, and of her place and quality, should so far 
 forget her duty both to God and her Majesty, as to 
 give her this cause ; but sithens this act of her Majesty 
 was, in all mens opinions, of that justice and necessity, 
 that she could not defer it without the manifest danger 
 of her person and state, I could not be sorry to see 
 her Majesty take this course, of removing the cause 
 
 * The other apology says, that he was sharply reproved" for not bring- 
 ing the warrant before ; *' by a great peer, and in her Majesty's presence." 
 (Robertsoii, iu 'iS2). — Yet this cannot be wholly true. The present apo- 
 logy shows it cannot. And Davison's memory must have failed him here. 
 It failed him thus, I apprehend. The " great peer" is the same, no doubt, 
 who is called the great counsellor" before, that was sent to him about 
 the warrant ; and who was, we know from the present apology, the lord 
 admiral. He had heard Elizabeth express her anger at Davison's not bringing 
 up the warrant before; as she had actually " given her commandment to 
 me," says Dax-ison himself near the end of this present apology, " many 
 days before to bring up the warrant unto her." He heard it. And he took 
 upon him in consequence of this, " sharply" to reprove" him therfor." 
 Only he did not do so, " in her Majesty's presence." It is plain, that he 
 did not accompany Da\-ison to the Queen. Davison went from him to his 
 own apartments, there took the warrant, &c., sent in Mrs. Brooke to the 
 Queen, and then went in himself. And no one was present, it is plain, at 
 the converaution that followed between the Queen and Davison. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 369 
 
 of that danger which threatened the one and the other: 
 protesting nevertheless, that, for my own part, I was 
 so far from thirsting after the blood of that unhappy 
 lady, that, if there had been any other way to preserve 
 her Majesty and the state from mischief, than by 
 taking her life, I could not have wished it. But the 
 case standing so in the opinion of all men, that either 
 her Majesty or she must die; I must confess freely, 
 that I preferr'd the death of the guilty before the 
 innocent. 
 
 After this, she commanded me to carry it to the 
 seal ; and to give my lord chancellor orders from her, 
 to use it as secretly as might be*; and by the way to 
 shew it to Mr. Secretary Walsingham, because she 
 thought the grief thereof would kill him outright, for so 
 it pleas'd her Majesty to say of himf. This done, she 
 call'd for the rest of the warrants and other things I 
 had to sign ; and dispatched them all, with the best 
 disposition and willingness that might be ; in the mean 
 time repeating unto me some reasons, why she had so 
 long deferred the matter, as namely, for her honour's 
 sake, that the world might see she had not been vio- 
 lently or maliciously drawn into it. She concluded, 
 she was never so ill advis'd, as not to see and appre- 
 hend her own danger, and the necessity that she had 
 to proceed to this execution. And thereupon, after 
 
 * The other apolo^' says, that, when Elizabeth had signed it, she 
 commanded him " to carry it to the seal, and, being sealed, to send it 
 m mediately away unto the commissioners, according to the direction" 
 ( Robertson^ ii. 482) . — This is implied, in the direction for the chancellor 
 here, and in the repeated direction to himself, to use it secretly. 
 
 t W^alsingham was then sick, as these words imply, and as Camden 
 asserts fOrt^. i. 465 ; and Trans. 2>'d2>) . — In all probability he was only 
 crafty-sick, for reasons that wall appear hereafter. 
 
 Bb 
 
370 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 some other intermingled speech here and there, she 
 told me. That she would have it done as secretly as 
 may be ; and, misliking that it should be executed in 
 the open court or green of the castle, expressly willed 
 that it should be done in the hall : which I take to be 
 certain arguments, both of her meaning it should be 
 done, and in the form prescribed in the warrant. 
 
 " But, after I had gathered up my papers, and was 
 ready to depart, she fell into some complaint of Sir 
 Amias Poulet and others, that might have eas'd her of 
 this burthen; wishing me yet to deal with Mr. Secre- 
 tary, and that we would jointly write unto Sir Amias 
 and Sir Drue Drury, to sound their dispositions; 
 aiming still at this, that it might be so done, as the 
 blame might be removed from herself. And tho* I had 
 always before refused to meddle therein, upon sundry 
 her Majesty's former motions, as a thing I utterly 
 condemned ; yet was I content, as I told her, for her 
 satisfying to let Sir Amias understand, what she ex- 
 pected at his hands ; albeit I did before assure myself, 
 it should be so much labour lost, knowing the wisdom 
 and integrity of the gentlemen, who, I thought, would 
 not do an unlawful act for any respect in the world. 
 But finding her Majesty desirous to have him sounded 
 in this behalf, I departed from her Majesty, with pro- 
 mise to signify so much unto Mr. Secretary, and that 
 we would both acquaint Sir Amias with this her plea- 
 sure. And here repeating unto me again, that she 
 would have the matter closely handled, because of 
 her danger; I promis'd to use it as secretly as I could, 
 and so for that time departed*. 
 
 * The other apology says, that Elizabeth in conclusion absolutely 
 forbad him, to trouble her any further, or let her hear any more hereof. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 371 
 
 " That afternoon I repaired to my lord chancellor, 
 where I procur'd the warrant to be seal'd ; having in 
 my way visited Mr. Secretary, and agreed with him 
 about the form of the letter, that should be written for 
 her Majesty's satisfying to Sir Amias Poulet and Mr. 
 Dniry, which at my return from my lord chancellor was 
 dispatch'd*. The next morning I received a letter 
 
 till all was done" (Robertson, ii. 482). — But this cannot possHjly be true, 
 as a letter was to be written to Paulet about the assassination, and an answer 
 to be returned, before the warrant was to be sent away. 
 
 Camden's account of all this business is much more wrong. He makes 
 Elizabeth send a letter under her own hand to Da\-ison, commanding a 
 warrant under the great seal to be drawn up by him ; when the warrant was 
 drawn up by Cecil, given by him with her Majesty's own privity" unto 
 Davison (Robertson, ii. 481) ; kept by Davison five or six weeks, and then 
 called for by Elizabeth as above. This, says Camden, was to lie in readi- 
 ness, if any danger should chance to break out. But the reason is as ridi- 
 culous, as the fact is false. And she, adds Camden, commanded him to 
 acquaint no one with it ; when she actually told him to acquaint Walsing- 
 ham, and when she necessarily told him to acquaint the chancellor. See 
 Orig, i. 455 ; and Trans. 382. Camden has here taken up for truths, the 
 wretched falshoods which Elizabeth obtruded afterwards upon the world, as 
 a subterfuge for her guilt. 
 
 * The letter is thus entitled, " a copy of a letter from Sir F. Walsingham 
 and Secretary Davison to Sir Amias Poulet," and runs thus : 
 
 ** After our hearty commendations, we find by speech lately uttered by her 
 Majesty, that she doth note in you both a lack of that care and zeal for her 
 sendee, that she looketh for at your hands ; in that you have not in all this 
 time (of yourselves without other provocation) found out some way to shorten 
 the [life of] that Queen ; considering the great peril she is hourly subject to, 
 so long as the said Queen shall live. Wherein, besides a kind of lack of love 
 towards her, she noteth greatly, that you have not that care of your own 
 particular safeties, or rather of the preservation of religion, and the publick 
 good and prosperity of your country, that reason and policy commandeth ; 
 especially, having so good a warrant and ground, for the satisfaction of your 
 consciences towards God, and the discharge of your credit and reputation 
 towards the world, as the oath of the association, which you both have so 
 solemnly taken and vowed ; especially^ the matter, wherewith she standeth 
 charged, being clearly and manifestly proved against her. And therefore 
 
 Bb2 
 
372 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 from Cranmer my servant, whom I left at court, signi- 
 fying unto me her Majesty's pleasure, that T should 
 forbear to go to my lord chancellor till I had spoken 
 with her; and, within an hour after, came William 
 Killigrew with the like message from her ; whom I re- 
 tum'd with this answer, that I would be at the court 
 as soon as himself, and give her Majesty an account of 
 what I had done. At my coming to her, she asked 
 me. Whether I had been with my lord chancellor ? I 
 told her. Yes. She demanded, whatneeded-that hast? 
 I answered. That I had done no more than she com- 
 manded, and thought it no matter to be dally'd withal. 
 But, saith she, methinks the best and safest way for 
 me, is to have it otherways handled ; particularizing a 
 
 she taketh it most unkindly, that men, professing that love towards her that 
 you do, should in a kind of sort, for lack of the discharge of your duty, cast 
 the burthen upon her ; knowing, as you do, her indisposition to shed blood, 
 especially of one of that sex and quality, and so near to her in blood as the 
 said Queen is. These respects, we find, do greatly trouble her Majesty, 
 who, we assure you, hath sundry times protested, that, if the regard of the 
 danger of her good subjects and faithful sei-vants, did not more move her 
 than her own peril, she would never be drawn to assent to the shedding of 
 her blood. We thought it very meet to acquaint you with these speeches, 
 lately passed from her Majesty ; referring the same to your good judgment. 
 And so we commit you to the protection of the Almighty'. 
 
 " Your most assured friends, 
 " At London^ 1 Febry. " Fra. Walsixgham. 
 
 1586." " William Daviso?^." 
 
 «ro the Right Honourable 
 
 Sir Amias Poulet, Kt. one 
 
 of her Majesty's most Ho^ 
 
 nourable Privy Council." 
 
 This letter, which ought to be preser%'ed, as an eternal monument of the 
 insidious savageness of the writer, "Walsingham, and of the suggester, Eliza- 
 beth, was " found amongst Sir Amias Poulet's writings," thus indorsed by 
 Sir Amias : This letter was received at Fotheringay the 2d of February at 
 5 in the afternoon." 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 373 
 
 form, that, as she pretended, liked her better ; naming 
 unto me some that were of that opinion, whose judg- 
 ment she recommended. 1 answered, that 1 took the 
 honourable and just way to be the best and safest \yay, 
 if she meant to have it done at all. Whereto her 
 Majesty, replying nothing for that time, left me, and 
 went to dinner*. 
 
 ''Within a day or two after, her Majesty, being in 
 the privy chamber, call'd me unto her ; and smiling told 
 me, how she had been troubled that night with me, 
 upon a dream that she had that the Scots Queen was 
 executed; pretending to have been so troubled with the 
 news, as, if she had had a sword, she could have run 
 me through. But this being delivered in a pleasant 
 and smiling manner, I answered her Majesty, that it 
 was good for me I was not near her, so long as that 
 humour lasted. But, taking hold of her speech, I 
 ask*d her Majesty in great earnest, what it meant, and 
 whether, having proceeded thus far, she had not a 
 meaning to go forward w ith the execution ? Her answer, 
 confirmed with a solemn oath, in some vehemency was. 
 Yes : but she thought it might receive a better form ; 
 because, saith she, this casteth the whole burthen upon 
 myself. Whereunto I replied, that the form prescribed 
 
 * How a man, who could talk in this strain of probity to Elizabeth, should 
 ever have become one of her secretaries of state, must excite surprize in us. 
 Camden's account is very remarkable : " Thus was Davison," he says a few 
 weeks beyond this period, " a man of good ingenuity, but not well skilled in 
 court-arts, brought upon the court-stage of purpose (as most men thought) 
 to act for a time this part in the tragedy ; and soon after, the part being 
 acted, and his stage-attire laid aside, as if he had failed in the last act, he 
 was thrust down from the stage, and, not without the pity of many, shut up 
 a long time in prison." He was also fined ten thousand pounds, sentenced 
 to prison during Elizabeth's pleasure, and "never recovered" her favour, 
 " thouffh she sometimes relieved his wants" COrig.i, 4C5 ; Trans . "^^2) , 
 
374 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 by her warrant was what the law required, and the only 
 form that was to be kept in honour and justice. She 
 answered, that there were wiser men than myself of 
 another opinion. I told her, that I could not answer 
 for other men; but this I was sure of, that I never 
 heard any man give a sound reason, to prove it ho- 
 nourable or safe for her Majesty, to take any other 
 course than that, which standeth with law and justice. 
 And so, without further replication or speech, her 
 Majesty rose up, and left me*. 
 
 The same afternoon, as I take it, she ask'd me, 
 whether I had heard from Sir Amias Poulet ? I told 
 
 * The day, here meant by the words '* within a day or two after," was 
 the very next day, Thursday. In the other apology Davison says, that he 
 kept the warrant after it was sealed, which was sealed in the afternoon of 
 Wednesday, all that night, and the greatest part of the next day, in his 
 hands ; brought it back with him to the court, acquainted her Majesty withal, 
 and, finding her Majesty resolved to proceed therein, according to her former 
 directions, and yet desirous to carry the matter so, as she might throw the 
 burthen from herself, he absolutely resolved to quit his hands thereof : and 
 hereupon went over unto the lord treasurer's chamber, together with Mr. 
 Vice-chamberlain Hatton, and in his presence restored the same into the 
 hands of the said lord treasurer, of whom he had before received it ; who 
 from thenceforth kept it, till himself and the rest of the council sent it away'* 
 (Rohertson^ ii. 482) . These two passages serve each to correct the other. 
 He did not deliver up the warrant to Cecil, the day after it was signed, that 
 is, Thursday, in the afternoon, and just after he had been with Elizabeth. 
 On Thursday he was with her in the morning. Nor was it " a day or two 
 after" Thursday, when he saw Elizabeth for the third time concerning the 
 warrant and the great seal. It was only the very day after it, Friday. This 
 is plain from the nature of the conversation which passed, and from the 
 sending away of the warrant after it. In that conversation, as in this, she 
 declared herself resolved to proceed with putting Mary to death, and yet 
 wanted to throw the burden off from herself. This fixes both to be the same. 
 After the conversation, he gave the warrant to the lord treasurer, and that 
 very evening the lord treasurer sent it away ; Beale, the bearer of it, reaching 
 the Earl of Kent's near Fotheringay-castle the very next day, that is, Satur- 
 day, with the warrant, &c. in his pocket (Robertson, ii. 475). 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 375 
 
 her. No. But within an hour or two after, going to 
 London, I met with letters from him, in answer to those 
 were written to him by Mr. Secretary and myself*. 
 
 ** The next morning having access to her Majesty 
 upon some other occasion, I told her that I had letters 
 from Mr. Poulet ; which her Majesty desiring to see, 
 took and readf. But finding thereby, that he was 
 
 * It was certainly " tlie same afternoon," the afternoon of Friday. The 
 letter from the two secretaries, and an additional letter from DaN^son alone, 
 are both dated on the first of February, which was Wednesday. They were 
 received at Fotheringay-castle, as we see in a note above, " the second of 
 February at five in the afternoon." Paulet's answer, as we shall soon see, 
 was dated the second of February" too, and ** at six in the afternoon." 
 And it would reach London, in the afternoon of the third, that is, of Friday. 
 The letter arrived accordingly on Friday. Davison showed it to Walsingham 
 of course, immediately. It came directed to Walsingham, though it was re- 
 ceived by Davison. He also communicated the contents of it, to Cecil and 
 others of the council. It was then resolved by them, to wait no longer, but 
 send off the warrant by Beale that evening. This appears from the present 
 apology, and a fact mentioned before. On the Tuesday following, says Da- 
 vison, " knowing what order had been taken by my lords, in sending the 
 commission to the earls, I answered," &c. Afterwards he says also, " as 
 for ray proceeding therein mth the rest of my lords," &c. And the i^arrant, 
 as I have showed before, reached one of the earls on Saturday evening. 
 
 t This letter also has been luckily preserved, being also " foimd amongst 
 Sir Amias Poulet's writings," and thus entitled and copied by him : 
 
 " A copy of a letter to Sir Francis Walsingham of the 2d of February, 
 1586, at six in the afternoon, to the [in] answer of a letter from the said Sir 
 Francis of the first of February 1586, received at Fotheringhay the second 
 day of the said month at five in the afternoon." 
 " Sir, 
 
 " Your letters of yesterday coming to my hands this present day at five in . 
 the afternoon, I would not fail, according to your direction, to return my 
 answer with all possible speed ; which I shall deliver unto you with great 
 grief and bitterness of mind, in that I am so unhappy to have liven to see 
 this unhappy day, in which I am required, by direction from my most gra- 
 cious Sovereign, to do an act which God and the law forbiddeth. My goods, 
 livings, and life are at her Majesty's disposition j and I am ready to lose 
 them this next morrow, if it shall so please her ; acknowledging that I hold 
 
376 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 grieved with the motion made unto him, offering his 
 life and all he had to be disposed by his [her] Majesty, 
 but absolutely refusing to be an instrument, in any 
 such action as was not warranted in honour and justice ; 
 her Majesty, falling into some terms of offence, com- 
 plaining of the daintiness, and, as she termed it, per- 
 jury, of him and others, who, contrary to their oath of 
 association, did cast the burthen upon herself; she 
 rose up, and, after a turn or two, went into the gallery ; 
 whether I follow^ed her. And there [she] renewed her 
 former speech; blaming the niceness of those precise 
 fellows, who in words would do great things for her 
 safety, but in deed perform nothing : and concluded, 
 she would have it done without them. And here, 
 entring into particularities, [she] named unto me, as I 
 remember, one Wingfield, who, she assured me, would 
 with some others undertake it*. Which gave me oc- 
 
 them as of her mere and most gracious favour, and do not desire to enjoy 
 them, but with her Highness's good liking. But God forbid, that I should 
 make so foul a shipwreck of my conscience, or leave so great a blot to my 
 poor posterity, to shed blood without law and warrant j trusting that her 
 Majesty of her accustomed clemency, and the rather by your good mediation, 
 will take this my dutiful answer in good part, as proceeding from one who 
 will never be inferior to any Christian subject lining, in duty, honour, love, 
 and obedience towards his Sovereign. And thus I commit you to the mercy 
 of the Almighty. 
 
 Your most assured poor friend, 
 
 «* A. POULET." 
 
 ** From Fotheringhay , 
 Id of February y 1586.'* 
 
 ^ Your letters, coming in the plural number, seem to be meant as well to 
 Sir Drue Drur)-, as to myself ; and yet because he is not named in them, 
 neither the letter directed unto him, he forbeareth to make any particular 
 answer, but subscribeth in heart to my opinion." 
 " D. Drurv." 
 
 * This Wingfield is perhaps the Robert or John Wingefield, " that assist- 
 ed at Mary's execution" (Robertson, ii. 478}, 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 377 
 
 casion to shew unto her Majesty, how dishonourable 
 in my poor opinion any such course would be, and how 
 far off she w ould be from shunning the blame and stain 
 thereof, which she so much sought to avoid : and here, 
 falling particularly into the case of Sir Amias Poulet 
 and Sir Drue Drury, told her, that it was a marvellous 
 extremity, she would have exposed these gentlemen 
 unto. For if, in a tender care for her surety, they should 
 have done that she desired, she must either allow 
 their act, or dis-allow it. If she allowed it, she took 
 the matter upon herself, with her infinite dishonour. 
 If she disallowed it, she overthrew these faithful gen- 
 tlemen, who, she knew, did truly and faithfully love 
 her ; and not only themselves, but their estate and pos- 
 terity. And therefore [I] thought this, a dangerous 
 and dishonourable course, both for herself and them. 
 And so, after some particular speech of Mr. Secretary 
 and others, touching some matters past heretofore * ; 
 
 * What this means, is too plain from the very obscurity of it. But it may 
 be made more distinctly visible, by some observations. In 1586, Mary says 
 at her trial, a few months only before this period, as I have noted in the 
 body of the work; that Walsingham, — as she heard, had practised both 
 against her life and her son's" (Camden, Orig. i. 424 ; Trans.Zbb). — In May 
 1587, an Englishman was seized in Scotland, as I have equally noted before, 
 ** who was sent into Scotland on purpose, to poison the King's Majesty, or 
 to take him away by some indirect means ; it was said at the time, that he 
 was induced thereto, by the Queen of England and her council" (Moyse, 
 1 28) . — ^But let me add some things concerning Leicester. Fuller says of Sir 
 Nicholas Throgmorton, that he died in 1570, " at supper, eating of sallad, 
 not without suspicion of poison ; the rather because hapning in the house of 
 one no mean artist in that faculty, R. Earl of Leicester" (Baronettagey ii. 
 358, edit. 1741). — Camden also, a still better authority, says of Leicester, 
 that he was suspected of poisoning Walter Earl of Essex in 1576 ; and that 
 ** the suspicion was increased by Leicester's presently putting awAy Douglas 
 [Baroness Dowager of] Sheffield with money and fair promises (whether his 
 paramour or his wife, I cannot say) , on whom he had begotten a son, and 
 iiow more openly making love to Lettice, Essex his widow, to whom after- 
 
37S 
 
 !^1ARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 her Majesty, calling to understand, whether it were 
 time to go to the closet, broke off our discourse *. 
 
 wards he joyned himself in — matrimony" (Orig. i. 2t4 j Tram. 217-218). — 
 Leicester too, says Aubrey in his Berkshire, L 149, *' prescribed to Sir 
 Richard Vamey, a promoter to this design" of murdering his first wife, ** at 
 his co min g hither," to Cunmer, " that he should first attempt to poison 
 her." A like attempt appears to hare been equally made upon his second 
 wife. Lady Sheffield ; ** for it is certain," says Dugdale in his Warwickshire, 
 p. 167, " that she had some ill potions giren her, so that, with the loss of 
 her hair and nails, she hardly escaped death" (Cenera! Biog. Diet. 1784, 
 Dudley) . — ^And Camden adds in 1536, when Elizabeth was considering the 
 mode of putting Mary to death, that " Leicester thought rather by poison, 
 and sent a diriiie pnrately to Walsingham, to satisde him — it was lawfuD" 
 (Orig. L 413 ; Trcms. 346} . — Such an infernal villain was Leicester, and so 
 worthy to be the mate of Elizabeth ! 
 
 * That Darison should have allowed himself to talk, in this higher strain 
 of probity to Elizabeth ; is an evidence of what Camden has said of him ; 
 that he was " a man not well skilied in court-arts." Yet he was not an . 
 honest man. He had been too long one of Elizabeth's ministers, to be 
 honest. And he actually appears not to have been so, from other parts of 
 his conversation wich Elizabeth, and from a couple of letters which he wrote 
 singly to Paulet. In the first of them, which appears from the date as well 
 as the subject, to have been sent along with the extraordinary letter before, 
 for the assassination of Mary ; he writes in this strain to Paulet -. 
 
 " An abstract of a letter from Mr. Secretary Davison of the said first of 
 February 1586", as foUoweth." 
 
 ** I pray you, let both this and the inclosed he committed to the fire ; 
 which measmre shall be likewise met [meted] to your answer, after it hath 
 been communicated to her Majesty for ber satisfactkMu" 
 
 But, not content wifli dns, he wrote a postso^ to another letter, exactly 
 in the same strain. This letter and postscript appear equally from the sub- 
 ject and date, to have been written immediately after tilie receipt of Pauleys 
 answer, at the very moment of sending otf the warrant by Beale, and before 
 Bwisoii bad yet shewn Paulet 's answer to Elizabeth. 
 
 ** A postscript in a letter from Mr. Secretary Davison of the third of 
 February 1586." 
 
 ** I intreated you in my last letters, to bum both the letters sent unto you, 
 for the argument's sake ; which, by your answer to Mr. Secretary (wbich \ 
 have seen), appeareth not to be done. I pray you let me intreat you, to 
 make beretidES both of th' one and th' other, as I mean to use yours after 
 her Ifsgesty hath seen it." 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 379 
 
 At my next access to her Majesty (which, I take 
 it, was Tuesday, the day before my coming to court), 
 having certain things to be sign'd ; her Majesty entered 
 of herself into some earnest discourse, of the danger 
 she daily liv'd in, and how it was more than time this 
 matter were dispatched ; swearing a great oath, that it 
 
 In the end of the postscript." 
 
 " I pray you let me know, what you have done with my letters, because 
 they are not fit to be kept ; that I may satisfy her Majesty therein, who 
 might otherwise take offence thereat : and, if you intreat this postscript in 
 the same kind, you shall not err a whit." 
 
 "A. PouLET." "D. Drory." 
 
 Davison thus shows his conscious knavery, by his lively apprehensiveness. 
 He had been long in the school of knavery, and had necessarily learnt some 
 jof its lessons. Yet he appears from the conversation in the text here, and 
 from another before, to have not been entirely tainted in his principles by it. 
 He was therefore worthy to be brought forward, by a conspiracy betwixt 
 Elizabeth and her more flagitious ministers, in order to be sacrificed for those 
 remains of honesty about him, which were such a disgrace to the school and 
 its preceptress ; to be sacrificed by them, for his incongruous acting with 
 them ; to be sacrificed by her, for his yet un-subdued relicks of honour in 
 his conversation with her ; and to become the grand scape-goat of both, on 
 whose head were laid all the enormities of both, and by whom they were all 
 supposed to be carried away for ever. 
 
 Let me only observe in addition to this, that Davison appears to have 
 actually burned their letter ; and, had they burned his and Walsingham's, 
 and not kept a copy of their own, we had lost some valuable monuments of 
 the time ; that Davison, but not Walsingham, had the honest timorous- 
 ness of conscience, to wish to suppress the letter concerning the recom- 
 mended assassination of Mary ; and that he was very anxious to suppress it. 
 The much more knavish Walsingham never thought of this. The lamp of 
 conscience was no longer burning in the bosom of the latter. It was in 
 that of the former. And yet it was burning so tremulously there, that he 
 wished to have the guilty letter destroyed, when to destroy could not hide 
 it from the eye of God» He reflected not in the hurry of his apprehensions, 
 that, could he bury it under the foundations 6f the earth, yet the day was 
 coming, in which those very foundations would be overturned, and, then 
 peculiarly, would 
 
 murderous deeds arise. 
 Though all the earth o'erwhelm'd them, to men's eyes. 
 
380 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 was a shame for them all it was not already done ; and 
 therefore spake unto me, to have a letter written, for 
 the dispatch thereof, because the longer it was deferr'd, 
 the more her danger encreas'd. Whereto, knowing 
 what order had been taken by my lords, in sending the 
 commission to the earls ; 1 answer'd, that there was no 
 necessity, as I thought, of such a letter, the warrant 
 being so general and sufficient as it was. Her Majesty 
 reply'd little else, but that she thought Mr. Poulet 
 would look for it*. 
 
 And this, as near as I can possibly remember, is 
 
 * From these words above, at my next access to her Majest)^, which, 
 I take it, was Tuesday, the day before my coming to court," and from 
 these words soon afterwards, " until the hour of my departure from court," 
 as uniting to mark the concluding period of all his story ; it appears, that, 
 Elizabeth rated him very harshly on Wednesday, the day so strongly marked 
 as the well-kno\vn " day of his coming to court" and of his departure 
 from it ;" on account of the warrant, ordered away the Friday evening 
 before, for the execution of Ma.vy. On this very Wednesday was she 
 executed. Elizabeth had now been apprized, that the warrant was sent 
 away. It was high time to apprize her ; though her signing the warrant 
 was a sufficient justification in itself, for sending it away. And, in her 
 usual tergiversation of conduct, she chose to forget all her conversation of 
 the very day before ; her " earnest discourse of the danger she daUy liv'd 
 in her declaration, that, it was more than time this matter were dis- 
 patched ;" her swearing a great oath, that it was a shame for them all it 
 was not already done ;" and her " speaking unto Davison" himself, to 
 have a letter written to Mr. Poulet for the dispatch thereof, because, the 
 longer it was deferr'd, the more her danger encreas'd." She now censured 
 him for not " deferring" the execution longer, for averting this in- 
 creasing danger," for removing the shame" from " them all," and for 
 doing that which it was more than time" had then been done already. 
 But she so censured him not, till she was sure the execution had already 
 taken place, or would irrevocably take place in a few hours afterward. 
 
 Yet, what shows still more the artifice of the whole, she censured him 
 exclusively. She here does so at first, we see. She did so afterwards, and 
 to the last. Indeed she also expressed her anger intermediately against the 
 council in general. She issued a commission, " for their calling to the star- 
 chamber for the same," But she afterwards issued another, "for their pri- 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 381 
 
 a faithful and true report of the whole substance, of 
 that hath past betwixt her Majesty and me, from the 
 day of signing the warrant, and commandment given 
 to me to carry it to the seal, until the hour of my de- 
 rate appearance^, instead thereof, before the lord chancellor Bromley" 
 (Robertson^ ii. 482, 483). — Then, by another touch of mildness to them, 
 just after the trial of Davison was over, " Wray, lord privy seal, sig- 
 nified" in court, ** That albeit the Queen had been offended (and that not 
 without just cause) with her council, and had thereupon left them to exami- 
 nation ; yet now she forgave them, and withall acknowledged, that they had 
 been very carefull and diligent in their actions and counsels, for the pre- 
 servation of religion and the commonwealth, and for preventing of all 
 dangers" (Camden^ Orig. i. 464-465 ; Trans. 392) . — And she centered all 
 her resentment on the single head of Davison. 
 
 But what is Davison pretended to have done ? He had given up the war- 
 rant, now signed and sealed, to that very lord treasurer CecU, who drew 
 it up originally, and who had given it to him for her signing ; when he had 
 been sent at the signing, by the Queen's own express orders, to carry it to 
 the lord chancellor for his sealing. He had not given it up, however, till an 
 answer had been received from Paulet ; and till Elizabeth, posteriourly as 
 well as previously to her order for a letter to Paulet, had charged him, and 
 had charged the chancellor by him, to use it with all possible secresy. 
 
 Yet Camden, imposed upon by the hypocrisy of Elizabeth, says, that 
 Davison " acquainted the council with the warrant and the whole matter, 
 and easily persuaded them, — that the Queen had commanded it should be 
 executed." Davison however gave not up the warrant to the coimcil, and 
 called not a council at all. He gave the warrant to CecU. Cecil called the 
 council ; and CecU produced the warrant to them. But, as Camden adds. 
 She at that very time told Davison, that she would take another course with 
 the Queen of Scots" {Orig. i. 445; Tra7is.Z^2). — Cecil accordingly made 
 a confession, which, in the loose and arbitrary modes of proceeding usual 
 with Elizabeth, was produced in court against Davison, instead of a perso- 
 nal testimony from Cecil ; and which averrecl, that Cecil, " doubting whe- 
 ther the Queen had absolutely resolved to have execution done, Davison 
 confidently affirmed it" (Camde7i, Qrig. i. 462 ; 7Va?2j. 390) .—And as Da- 
 vison was arraigned for sending away the warrant, when Elizabeth never 
 intended that the Queen of Scots — should have been put to death ;" so Eli- 
 zabeth, in her letter immediately afterwards, to Mary's son, called her 
 death " tliis lamentable accident, which is happened contrary to my mean- 
 ing and intention," and *< which, since my pen trembleth to mention it, you 
 shall fully understand by this my kinsman" (Camden, Orig. i. 461 and 460; 
 Trans, 389 and 388).— Yet, all the while, not Davison, but the council. 
 
382 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 parture from court. In all which I must protest un- 
 feignedly before God, that 1 neither remember any such 
 commandment given me by her Majesty, as is pre- 
 tended ; neither did I ever conceive such an intent or 
 meaning in her. And that mine innocency herein may 
 the better appear, let it be considered, first, what the 
 commandment is, and next, upon what consideration 
 it was grounded. 
 
 The commandment (as I understand it) hath two 
 parts ; one, that I should conceal it from the rest of 
 her Majesty's council; another, that I should retain it 
 by myself until some tumultuous time, as a thing her 
 Majesty meant not otherwise to put in execution: 
 both which I must in all duty and humbleness, under her 
 most gracious favour*, absolutely denyf. 
 
 " And, for the first, I trust her Majesty, in her 
 princely and honourable nature, will not deny*, but 
 
 sent the waiTant away ; and the council sent it, only in consequence of 
 Cecil's resignation of it, to them or to their clerk, Beale. 
 
 All therefore makes up the boldest scene of hypocrisy that was ever exhi- 
 bited to the world. We peculiarly know it to be so, from this apology. 
 Elizabeth meant, and always meant, the death of Mary. She particidarly 
 declared so, only the day before her execution. Nor was there any need of 
 Davison's attesting to CecU, that she meant to have the warrant executed. 
 Cecil knew this suflficiently before. The very signing of the warrant, also, 
 proved this decisively. Nor was Davison false in attesting, if he did attest, 
 her meaning from his own knowledge. Elizabeth had declared bver and over 
 again, that she meant to have it used. She had repeatedly ordered it to be 
 used with secresy. She had even gone on, for that reason, to forbid the 
 open court, and to point out the hall, for the place of execution. And 
 though she had intimated to Davison, that " she would take another course 
 with the Queen of Scots," yet we, who know that course to have been assas- 
 sination, can only execrate her the more for it. 
 
 * These passages show clearly, that this apology was intended to be seen 
 by Elizabeth. Such an intention adds much to its credit. And it naturally 
 suggests to us, that Davison has rather softened than exaggerated some par- 
 ticulars in his narrative. 
 
 t Yet Camden makes Da\ison on his trial to allow, " That, when the 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 383 
 
 that she first sent for me by my lord admiral, to bring 
 the warrant unto her ; which proveth that his lordship 
 was acquainted with her purpose : and next, that she 
 gave express word, both to carry it forthwith to the 
 seal, with a message to my lord chancellor, who con- 
 sequently must be acquainted with all ; and also, by 
 the way, to impart it to Mr. Secretary. So as, these 
 three being made privy unto it by her good liking, and 
 myself, as I say, not restrained to the contrary, by 
 any such commandment as is pretended ; what reason 
 had I to conceal it from my lord treasurer, to whom 
 my lord admiral had first imparted it, or from my Lord 
 of Leicester, to whom her Majesty is [familiar, and 
 had*] signify 'd as much, as likewise afterwards to Mr. 
 
 Queen blamed him for making such haste, to get the warrant under the 
 great seal [to have the warrant passed under the great seal] , she gave some 
 signification, but not express command, that he should keep it in his own 
 hands" {Orig. i. 462 ; Trans. 390). — ^This acknowledgment, if at all true 
 in itself, can refer only to the conversation on Thursday morning, and to 
 the hint of assassination by others, then given. But Davison could not 
 explain the hint to the court. This we see strikingly exemplified in one part 
 of his trial. Then Egerton, the Queen's solicitor (says Camden) , began to 
 press Davison with his own confession," one different from this apology, and 
 equally from that in Dr. Robertson's Appendix (ii. 480) ; reading a piece 
 thereof. But Da'vdson prayed him to reade the whole, and not parcels 
 picked out here and there : but he had rather (he said) it should not be 
 read git all ; because there were contained in it some secrets, not fit to be 
 divulged abroad" (0?%. i. 462; Trans. 390). — ^And, while Elizabeth pre- 
 sumed to tell the boldest lies, and was believed in all that she said, which 
 was the whole e\ddence that could be brought against Davison ; he durst not 
 speak the truth in his own vindication. She thus took advantage equally, 
 of his timorous delicacy, of her own confidence in falshoods, and of the mean 
 ductility of the judges, to ruin him entirely. He had refused to concur 
 with her, in her plot of assassination. He had presumed to remonstrate 
 with her against it. He had preached up honour and conscience to her. 
 And she was resolved to chastise the monitor and the man. 
 * I have filled up this blank. 
 
384 IMARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 Vice-Chamberlain [Hatton*] ; as they are acquainted 
 with the rest of the whole proceeding, and as far inte- 
 rested in the cause as myself or any of the othersf ? 
 Unless her Majesty had a meaning, that Mr. Secretary 
 and I should have dealt alone, in the sending of it to 
 the earls : which for my own part I confess I never 
 liked, knowing her Majesty's purpose, often uttered 
 to myself, to remove as much of the burden as she 
 might, from her own shoulders upon others ; which I 
 knew mine own unfit to sustain. 
 
 Now seeing the end of signing and sealing this 
 warrant, in all reasonable probability and judgment, 
 was to go forward withal ; that the delay thereof did 
 infinitely increase her Majesty's peril, and thereby 
 hazard the whole estate; seeing it was imparted to 
 some by her Majesty's own order, and no cause or 
 
 * I have filled up this also. 
 
 f This shows the whole pretence against Davison, of his ha\'ing commu- 
 nicated the secret of sealing the warrant, as if such a secret should be kept, 
 to be only an after-thought, and a mere cover for accusing Davison. She 
 herself had told Hatton, had told Leicester, had told the lord admiral. She 
 had actually sent the last with an order for Davison and the warrant to come 
 to her, and the warrant expressly for her sealing. He had received no com- 
 mand to keep his message a secret, and he had told the lord treasurer Cecil. 
 Cecil, therefore, the very man that we have detected in such knaveries 
 before, must have known of Elizabeth's message, and of Davison's coming, 
 before Davison gave him any assurance of the Queen's resolution. And as 
 Elizabeth had told the lord admiral, and the lord admiral had told Davison 
 from her, that she had spoken with "sharpness" against Davison, for not 
 bringing up the warrant before, and that she had declared "she would no 
 longer defer" the execution (see the beginning of this apology), so the lord 
 admiral must necessarily have imparted this to Cecil. Yet Cecil appeared as 
 a witness against Davison, by his written confession at least, as if Da\-ison 
 had been the first and the only one who assured him of Elizabeth's resolution 
 to have the warrant executed. He was, no doubt, in the secrets of his con- 
 genial mistress, and said or did whatever she wished him to do or say. He 
 seems indeed to have been the principal tool of that wretched Queen. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 385 
 
 possibility, being sealed, to keep it from the rest, as 
 much interested in the cause as myself; and finally, 
 seeing I could neither, as I take it, in law, nor in the 
 duty of a good subject, conceal it from them, the cause 
 importing so greatly her Majesty's life as it did, and 
 the disposition both of the time and state of things, at 
 home and abroad, being such as it was: I trust it shall 
 suflSciently appear, that I was both in reason, duty, 
 and necessity forced thereunto ; unless I would have 
 wilfully endanger'd myself, whose offence, if ought in 
 the mean time had happen'd amiss to her Majesty, 
 must have been, in my own censure, worthy of a 
 tliousand deaths*. 
 
 "And as for my proceeding therein \vith the rest of 
 my lords, after it was resolved, that it was neither fit 
 nor convenient to trouble her Majesty any further 
 withal, considering she had done all that the law re- 
 quired at her handsf ; and that she had, both to myself 
 and others, signify'd at other times, her indisposition 
 to be acquainted with the particular circumstances of 
 time, place, &c.j;; and that to detain the warrant in 
 
 * This argument, though tinctured a little with that fear for the danger 
 of Elizabeth, which was merely chimerical in the extravagance here hinted 
 at, carries a great force with it. 
 
 f This points out to us a new circumstance in the conduct of this business. 
 On Davison's showing the answer from Paulet, and giving the warrant to 
 Cecil upon Friday afternoon, it was resolved by the council, he being pre- 
 sent, neither fit nor convenient to trouble her Majesty any further withal." 
 And it is this resolution of the council which Davison aftenvards confounded 
 in his memory, and as falsely ascribed to Elizabeth herself, when he says so 
 absurdly in his other apology, as I have shown before, that on Wednesday 
 she " in conclusion absolutely forbad him to trouble her any further, or let 
 her hear any more hereof till it was done ; she for her part having, as she 
 said, performed all |that in law or reason could be required of her" (Ro- 
 Sertson, ii. 482) . — ^The close of both, peculiarly shows both to be the same. 
 
 X This also tells us a new circumstance. Elizabeth had signified" to 
 
 Davison and others," at "other" times before, her desire not to be 
 
 C C 
 
386 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 expectation of any further directions from herself, was 
 both needless and dangerous, considering the hourly 
 hazard her Majesty liv'd in; and finally, that my lords, 
 knowing her Majesty's unwillingness to bear all the bur- 
 then alone, were content, most resolutely, honourably, 
 and dutifully, to ease her as much as they might*: with 
 what reason and justice should I have hindered the 
 course of justice, tending so greatly to her Majesty's 
 safety, and preservation of the whole realm? 
 
 "And for the other part, of keeping it by me to such 
 end as is before alleged, I trust the w orld does not 
 hold me so undutiful to her Majesty, or ill-advised for 
 my particular, as to take such a charge upon me, to 
 the evident peril of her Majesty's life, subversion of 
 the whole estate, and my own utter overthrow. 
 Neither is there cause to think (I speak it all in 
 reverence, and under her Majesty's most gracious 
 favourf), that her Majesty having proceeded so far as 
 she had done to the trial of that lady's fact, found her 
 guilty by a most honourable jury of her nobility, 
 assembled her parliament only for that purpose, gra- 
 ciously heard their petitions, and dismissed them with 
 so great hope ; published afterwards the proclamation 
 for her dishabilment, rejected the suits both of the 
 French and Scotish kings for her life, and returned 
 their ambassadors hopeless ; confirmed that impression 
 
 acquainted with the place," &c. of the execution. Yet she had altered her 
 desire in this respect, when on \Vednesday the first of February, she could 
 forbid the green, and point out the hall, as the scene of execution. 
 
 * This shows the lords to have been all well acquainted -odth Elizabeth's 
 desire for thro-ning the load of murder off fi'oui her own shoulders, by sub- 
 stituting assassination for execution ; and artfully to have given it another 
 turn, in order to bring the execution forwards. 
 
 t This unites Avith two passages before, to show the apology was intended 
 for the eye of Elizabeth. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 387 
 
 by her letters to both princes (some of wliich it pleased 
 her to communieate with myself); protested many 
 hundred times her necessity and resolution to go 
 through withall* (albeit, for sundry good respects, 
 she had so long deferred it) ; having given her com- 
 mandment to me, many days before, to bring the war- 
 rant to herf, and then voluntarily sent for it by my 
 lord admiral ; signing it as soon as I brought it, with 
 her express commandment given me to carry it to the 
 seal, and to have it secretly handled ; and, finally, her 
 particular direction, while she was signing other things 
 at the same time, to have the execution done." 
 
 The Objections against Mr. Davison, in the Cause of the 
 late Scottish Queen, must concern Things done either 
 — 1. Before her Trial at Fotheriugay — 2. During 
 that Session — 3. After the same. 
 
 1. Before her trial, he neither is, nor can be charged 
 to have had any hand at all in the cause of the said 
 Queen, or done any thing whatsoever, concerning the 
 same, directly or indirectly. 
 
 2. During that session, he remained at court, where 
 the only interest he had therein, was, as her Majesty's 
 secretary, to receive the letters from the commission- 
 ers, impart them to her Highness, and return them her 
 answers. 
 
 3. After the return thence, of the said commission- 
 ers, it is well known to all her council, 
 
 1. That he never was at any deliberation or meeting 
 
 * This, as to the '^resolution" vouched ''many hundred times," is quite 
 a new circumstance. 
 
 t This is also a new circumstance. And I have accordingly noticed it and 
 the preceding, as such, in ^he body of the work. 
 
 c c 2 
 
388 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SGOTS, 
 
 whatsoever, in parliament or council, concerning the 
 cause of the said Queen, till the sending down of her 
 Majesty's warrant unto the commissioners, by the 
 lords and others of her council. 
 
 2. That he was no party in signing the sentence 
 passed against her. 
 
 S. That he never penned either the proclamation 
 publishing the same, the warrant after her death, nor 
 any other letter or thing whatsoever concerning the 
 same. And, 
 
 That the only thing which can be specially and truly 
 imputed to him, is the carrying up the said warrant 
 unto her Majesty to be signed. She sending a great 
 counsellor unto him, with her pleasure to that end, and 
 carrying it to the great seal of England, by her own 
 special direction and commandment. 
 
 For the better clearing of which truth, it is evident^ 
 
 1. That the letter, being penned by the lord trea- 
 surer, was delivered by him unto Mr. Davison, with 
 her Majesty's own privity, to be ready for to sign, 
 when she should be pleased to call for it. 
 
 2. That with respect to the warrant, he retained it 
 at the least five or six weeks unpresented, nor once 
 offering to carry it up, till she sent a great counsellor 
 unto him for the same, and was sharply reproved there- 
 fore by a great peer, in her Majesty's own presence. 
 
 3. That having signed it, she gave him an express 
 commandment to carry it to the seal, and being sealed, 
 to ssnd it immediately away unto the commissioners, 
 according to the direction. Herself appointing the 
 hall of Fotheringay for the place of execution, mislik- 
 ing the court-yard, in divers respects ; and in conclu- 
 sion, absolutely forbad him to trouble her any further. 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 38r9 
 
 or let her hear any more hereof, till it was done. She 
 for her part, having (as she said) performed all that, 
 in law or reason, could be required of her. 
 
 4. Which directions notwithstanding, he kept the 
 warrant seal'd all that night, and the greatest part of 
 the next day in his hands, brought it back with him to 
 the court, acquainted her Majesty withal, and finding 
 her Majesty resolved to proceed therein, according to 
 her former directions, and yet desirous to carry the 
 matter so, as she might throw the burden from herself, 
 he absolutely resolved to quit his hands thereof. 
 
 5. And hereupon, went over unto the lord treasurer's 
 chamber, together with Mr. Vice-Chamberlain Hatton, 
 and in his presence restored the same into the hands 
 of the said lord treasurer, of whom he had before re- 
 ceived it, who from thenceforth kept it, till himself 
 and the rest of the council sent it away. 
 
 Which, in substance and truth, is all the part and 
 interest the said Davison had in this cause, whatso- 
 ever is, or may be pretended to the contrary. 
 
 Touching the sending down thereof unto the commis- 
 sioners, that it was the general act of her Majesty's 
 council (as is before mentioned and not any private act 
 of his, may appear by, 
 
 1. Their own confession. 2. Their own letters sent 
 down therewith to the commissioners. 3. The testi- 
 monies of the lords and others to whom they were di- 
 rected. As also 4, of Mr. Beale, by whom they were 
 sent. 5. The tenor of her Majesty's first commission 
 for their calling to the star-chamber for the same, and 
 private appearance and submission afterward instead 
 thereof, before the Lord Chancellor Broomley. 6. The 
 
390 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, 
 
 confession of Mr. Attorney-General, in open court 
 confirmed. 7. By the sentence itself upon record. 
 8. Besides a common act of council, containing an 
 answer to be verbally delivered to the Scottish ambas- 
 sador then remaining here, avowing and justifying the 
 same. 
 
 Now where some suppose him to have given some 
 extraordinary furtherance thereunto, the contrary may 
 evidently appear by 
 
 1. His former absolute refusal to sign the band of 
 association, being earnestly pressed thereunto by her 
 Majesty's self. 
 
 2. His excusing of himself from being used as a 
 commissioner, in the examination of Babington and 
 his complices, and avoiding the same by a journey to 
 the Bath. 
 
 3. His being a mean to stay the commissioners from 
 pronouncing of the sentence at Fotheringay, and de- 
 ferring it till they should return to her Majesty's pre- 
 sence. 
 
 4. His keeping the warrant in his hands six weeks 
 unpresented, without once offering to carry it up, till 
 her Majesty sent expresly for the same to sign. 
 
 5. His deferring to send it aw^ay after it was seal'd, 
 unto the commissioners, as he was specially com- 
 manded, staying it all that night, and the greatest part 
 of the next day in his hands. 
 
 6. And finally, his restoring thereof into the hands 
 of the lord treasurer, of whom he had before received 
 the same. 
 
 Which are clear and evident proofs, that the said 
 Davison did nothing in this cause whatsoever, con- 
 
AND ELIZABETH. 391 
 
 trary to the duty of the place he then held in her Ma- 
 jesty's service. 
 Cal. C. 9. 
 
 This seems to be an original. On the back is this 
 title. 
 
 The innocency of Mr. Davison in the cause of the 
 late Scottish Queen. — Robertson. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 B. M'Millan, Priutcr, 
 Cow Street, Covent Garden. 
 
V 
 
 NEW WORKS, 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 SHERWOOD, JONES, AND CO. 
 
 LADY JANE GREY, AND HER TIMES. 
 
 By GEORGE HOWARD, Esq. 
 Elegantly printed on Post Octavo, and Embellished with an accredited Like- 
 ness, and numerous Cuts, Price 12*. in boards. 
 *«* This Volume, independent of the interest excited by its subject, * the 
 victim of parental ambition, and a sacrifice to filial obedience,' illustrates 
 the intervening period of history between the turbulent and tyrannic reign 
 of Henry VIII. and the glorious, though despotic one of his daughter Eliza- 
 beth. — " The Author has been happy in his choice of subject ; for, though 
 the life of the Heroine scarcely extended to seventeen years, yet the period 
 which may be called * Her Times,' embraces some of the most important facts 
 connected with our constitution, both political and religious." — New Monthly 
 Magazine. 
 
 WOLSEY THE CARDINAL, AND HIS TIMES, 
 
 COURTLY, POLITICAL, AND ECCLESIASTICAL. 
 By GEORGE HOWARD, Esq. 
 Elegantly printed in Octavo, and Embellished with a finely-engraved Por- 
 trait and Autograph, and numerous Cuts, Price 16*. in boards. 
 " Works of the kind before us are excellently fitted to supply the defects 
 in history, where a leading personage may not have his proper share of dis- 
 tinction, and the result be much the same as spoiling a drama, by curtailing 
 the acts and speeches of the principal character." — Gent. Mag. 
 
 " We consider this Life of the Cardinal as a valuable addition to bio- 
 graphy." — Lit. Chron. 
 
 " Mr. Howard has depicted Wolsey exactly as we think he was. In the 
 several stages of his procuress, and onward to his decline, fall, and death, the 
 heart and mind of this smgular man are figured to us in perhaps the best of 
 all possible ways — in his demeanor and his actions." — Critical Gazette. 
 
 " We are quite disposed to do Mr. Howard justice, by saying that he has 
 left no source of information concerning the subject of his biography unvi- 
 sited, and has brought together, within a reasonable compasss, the scattered 
 information which he derived from various authorities. In one particular, 
 also, his work has an essential value ; namely, in reconciling some chrono- 
 logical discrepancies, arising from the different modes of notation used by 
 the earlier annalists." — Monthly Review, 
 
 OLIVER CROMWELL, AND HIS TIMES. * 
 
 By THOMAS CROMWELL. 
 Second Edition, considerably improved, and illustrated with a correct 
 Likeness of Cromwell, Price 16*. boards. 
 ** The Author of the present Volume has done more to pourtray the true 
 .character of Cromwell, than any preceding writer." — Lit. Chron. 
 
 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION ON THE NATURE AND 
 PRINCIPLES OF TASTE. 
 
 By M. M'DERMOT, Esq. 
 Elegantly printed in Octavo, Price 12*. in boards. 
 In this Volume, the various Theories adopted by former Writers, are 
 critically examined, the Author entering into a philosophical investigation 
 of all the important questions connected, not only with Taste itself, but 
 with its proper objects. The Work will be found to contain, in all re- ' 
 spects, an original view of the subject, both in design and execution. 
 
V 
 
DATE DUE 
 
 UNIVERSITY PRODUCTS, INC. #859-5503 
 
I 
 
 OEC 1 3 198e< 
 
 mv M !999 
 
 renewed for the ...c period, unless reserved. 
 
 Two cents a ■■ charged for each book kept 
 
 overtime. 
 
 If you cannot find what you want, ask the 
 Librarian who will be glad to help you. 
 
 The borrower is responsible for books drawn 
 on his card and for all fines accruing on the same.