I I III HI il I M II lr i Mil II H I 1 It - • .. T«lilP ■mi 111 THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES GIFT OF JAMES J. MC BRIDE BOTHWELL: A POEM. IN SIX PARTS. BY W. EDMONDSTOUNE AYTOUN, D. C. L., Author of" Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers," " Bon Gaultier's Ballads," &c. BOSTON : TIC K NOR AND FIELDS. M DCCC LVI. Author's Edition. C.'..YCniD3E : TIILUiTOS A.ND TOnRI, fMSTKIO. 13 t>4 TO SIR EDWARD BULWER-LYTTON, BART., M.P., IN MEMORY OF A VISIT TO HOLYROOD, THIS POEM IS INSCRIBED BY THE AUTHOR. 712494 PREFACE. Thk scene of this Poem, which is in the form of a monologue, is laid in the fortress of Malmoe, where Both well was confined. I have endeavored to make available for poetical composition the most striking events in the history of Mary, Queen of Scots, down to the period when she parted from Bothwell at Carberry Hill; and in doing so, I wish it to be distinctly understood, that, except in minor and immaterial matters, necessary for the construction of a Poem of this length, I have not deviated from what I consider to be the historical truth. I have founded my idea of the character of Bothwell on the descrip- tions of him given by Throckmorton and Herries: the one representing him to be "glorious, boast- ful, rash, and hazardous," and the other as " a man high in his own conceit, proud, vicious, and vainglorious above measure." The reader will find, in the Notes appended, some information regarding the more obscure and contested points of the history of this remarkable period. Edinburgh, 10th July, 1856. , PART FIRST. BOTHWELL. PART FIRST. i. Cold — cold ! The wind howls fierce without It drives the sleet and snow ; With thundering hurl, the angry sea Smites on the crags below. Each wave that leaps against the rock Makes this old prison reel — God ! cast it down upon my head, And let me cease to feel ! Cold — cold ! The brands are burning out. The dying embers wane ; The drops fall plashing from the roof Like slow and sullen rain. Cold — cold ! And yet the villain kernes Who keep me fettered here, Are feasting in the hall above, And holding Christmas cheer. When the wind pauses for its breath, I hear their idiot bray, 1 10 BOTHWELL. The laugh, the shout, the stamping feet, The song and roundelay. They pass the jest, they quaff the cup, The Yule-log sparkles brave, They riot o'er my dungeon vault As though it were my grave. Ay, howl again, thou bitter wind, Roar louder yet, thou sea ! And drown the gusts of brutal mirth That mock and madden me ! Ho, ho ! the eagle of the North Has stooped upon the main ! Scream on, O eagle, in thy flight, Through blast and hurricane — And, when thou mectest on thy way The black and plunging bark, Where those who pilot by the stars Stand quaking in the dark, Down with thy pinion on the mast, Scream louder in the air, And stifle in the wallowing sea The shrieks of their despair ! Be my avenger on this night, When all, save I, am free ; Why should I care for mortal man, When men care nought for me ? Care nought ? They loathe me, one and all. Else why should I be here — I, starving in a foreign cell, A Scottish prince and peer ? PAF5T »■ BOTHWELL. • 1 1 II. O, that the madness, which at times Comes surging through the brain, Would smite me deaf, and dumb, and blind, No more to wake again — Would make me, what I am indeed, A beast within a cage, Without the sense to feel my bonds, Without the power to rage — Would give me visions dark and drear, t Although they were of hell, Instead of memories of the place From which I stooped and fell ! in. I was the husband of a Queen, The partner of a throne ; For one short month the sceptred might Of Scotland was my own. The crown that father Fergus wore Lay ready for my hand, Yea, but for treason, I had been The monarch of the land ; The King of Scots, in right of her Who was my royal bride, The fairest woman on the earth That e'er the sun espied. Mary — Mary ! Even now, Seared as I am to shame, VI BOTHWELX. The blood grows thick around my heart At utterance of thy name ! I see her, as in bygone days, A widow, yet a child, Within the fields of sunny France, When heaven and fortune smiled. The violets grew beneath her feet, The lilies budded fair, All that is beautiful and bright Was gathered round her there. O lovelier than the fairest flower That ever bloomed on green, Was she, the lily of the land, That young and spotless Queen ! The sweet, sweet smile upon her lips, Her eyes so kind and clear, The magic of her gentle voice, That even now I hear ! And nobles knelt, and princes bent Before her as she came ; A Queen by gift of nature she, More than a Queen in name. Even I, a rugged border lord, Unused to courtly ways, Whose tongue was never tutored yet To lisp in polished phrase ; I, who would rather on the heath Confront a feudal foe, Than linger in a royal hall Where lackeys come and go — I'ART i- BOTHWELE. 13 I, who had seldom bent the knee At mass, or yet at prayer, Bowed down in homage at her feet, And paid my worship there ! IV. My worship ? yes ! My fealty r ay! — Rise, Satan, if thou wilt, And limn in fire, on yonder wall, The pictures of my guilt — Accuser ! Tempter ! Do thy worst, In this malignant hour, When God and man abandon me, And I am in thy power ! Come up, and show me all the past, Spare nothing that has been ; Thou wert not present, juggling fiend, When first I saw my Queen ! v. I worshipped ; and as pure a heart To her, I swear, was mine, As ever breathed a truthful vow Before Saint Mary's shrine : I thought of her, as of a star Within the heavens above, That such as I might gaze upon, But never dare to love. I swore to her that day my troth, As belted earl and knight, 14 BOTHWELL. run i. That I would still defend her throne, And aye protect her right. Well ; who dare call me traitor now ? My faith I never sold ; These fingers never felt the touch Of England's proffered gold. Free from one damning guilt at least My soul has ever been ; I did not sell my country's rights, Nor fawn on England's Queen ! Why stand'st thou ever at my head? False devil, hence, I say ! And seek for traitors, black as hell, 'Mongst those who preach and pray ! Get thee across the howling seas, And bend o'er Murray's bed, For there the falsest villain lies That ever Scotland bred. False to his faith, a wedded priest; Still falser to the Crown ; False to the blood, that in his veins Made bastardy renown ; False to his sister, whom he swore To guard and shield from harm ; The head of many a felon plot, But never once the arm ! What tie so holy that his hand Hath snapped it not in twain ? What oath so sacred but he broke For selfish end or gain ? BOTHWELL. 15 A verier knave ne'er stepped the earth. Since this wide world began ; And yet — he bandies texts with Knox, And walks a pious man ! VI. Or pass to crafty Lethington, That alchemist in wile, To grim Glencairn, the preacher's pride, To Cassilis or Argyle — To Morton, steeped in lust and guilt, My old accomplice he ! — O well for him that 'twixt us twain There rolls the trackless sea ! O well for him that never more On Scottish hill or plain, My foot shall tread, my shadow fall, My voice be heard again : For there are words that I could speak Would make him blench and quail, Yea, shiver like an aspen tree, Amidst his men of mail ! — Get thee to them, who sold their Queen For foreign gold and pay ; Assail them, rack them, mock them, fiend ! Bide with them till the day, But leave me here alone to-night — No fear that I will pray ! 1-b BOTHWELL. VII. many a deed that I have done Weighs heavy on my soul ; For I have been a sinful man, And never, since my life began, Have bowed me to control. Perchance my temper was too rude, Perchance my pride too great ; Perchance it was my fantasy, Perchance it was my fate ! 1 will not pour my muttered guilt In any shaveling's ear, Nor ask for prayer from mortal lips Were death and judgment near. They shall not weigh those deeds of mine By moral code or rule ; Man deals with man by human laws, And judges like a fool ! VIII. In Scotland, when my name is heard From Orkney's utmost bound, To where Tweed's silver waters run, Men shudder at the sound. They will not even deign to pray For one so lost and vile — They, who have raced to sec me ride, They, who have waited by my side For nothing save a smile ! I AKI I. i. BOTHWELL. 17 And yet I am not guiltier now Than when they watched me there ; Not more deserving of their curse, Less worthy of their prayer ! IX. What charge — what crime ? Come, trusty peers. Come all of you, and say Why I should be a prisoner here, And you be free to-day ! You dealt with England — that's assured! You murdered Riccio too ; And he who planned that felon deed, And, with his wife in view, Plunged his weak dagger in the corpse — That coward wretch I slew ! x. A king ? he was no king of mine ! A weak and worthless boy — A fool, in whose insensate hand The fairest jewel of the land Lay a neglected toy. A man, indeed, in outward form, But not a man in mind, Less fit by far to rule the realm Than many a vassal hind. O had I earlier sought the place That late — too late — was mine ; ltt BOTH WELL. PAitr i. Had I but seen the woman then, And deemed her less divine, When first upon the Scottish shore She, like a radiant star, Descended, bringing hope and mirth From those bright realms afar ; When all men's hearts were blithe and glad To greet their youthful Queen, And once again within the land A happy face was seen — I might have made my homage more Than that of subject peer, And with my oath of loyalty Have mixed a vow more dear — Proclaimed myself to be her knight, As in the olden time, When any he that wore the spurs Might love without a crime ; When Queens were queens of chivalry ; And deeds of bold emprise, Not flattering words or fawning speech, Found grace in woman's eyes. O had I then been bold indeed, And known the secret, power Which he who wins in battle-field Can use in lady's bower — Had I, with friends enow to back, And all my kith and kin, Who held the borders, far and wide, And hemmed the marches in, B0THWELL. 19 But bid defiance, broad and bold, To all wbo dared advance To claim the hand of Scotland's Queen, The widow-child of France — Had I but sent the cry abroad, That neither English peer, Nor Scottish lord from England's court, Should be our master here — Had I but trusted to myself, And bravely ta'en my stand, Then Darnley never would have been The Kina; within the land. XI. Too late — too late ! Poor Mary stood Unfriended and alone, The tenant of a dreary hall — A melancholy throne. No more as in her grandsire's days, Surrounded by a ring Of valiant lords and gentle knights, Who for fair Scotland and her rights Would die beside their King. Gone was the star of chivalry That gleamed so bright and pure Upon the crest of those who fell On Flodden's fatal moor. Gone were the merry times of old — The masque, and mirth, and glee, 20 BOTHAVELL. And wearier was the palace then Than prison needs to be. Forbidden were the vesper bells, — They broke the Sabbath calm ! Hushed were the notes of minstrelsy - They chimed not with the psalm : 'Twas sin to smile, 'twas sin to laugh, 'Twas sin to sport or play, And heavier than a hermit's fast "Was each dull holiday. Was but the sound of laughter heard, Or tinkling of a lute, Or, worse than all, in royal hall, The tread of dancing foot — Then to a drove of gaping clowns, Would Knox with unction tell The vengeance that in days of old Had fallen on Jezebel ! XII. She stood alone, without a friend On whom her arm might lean, No true and trusty counsellors Were there to serve their Queen ; But moody men, with sullen looks And faces hard and keen. They who professed the later faith Were trembling for their hold Of the broad lauds and fertile fields Owned bv the Church of old. PART I. '• BOTHWELL. 21 Apostles they of easy walk — No martyrdom or pain — What marvel if they loved a creed That brought such pleasant gain ? What marvel if their greedy hearts Were wrung with abject fear, Lest Rome once more should bear the sway, And strip them of their gear ? How could they serve a Papist Queen With loyal hearts and true? How own a rank idolatress With Paradise in view ? They, who upheld the word of truth With Mammon close combined, — How could they falter in their course, Or change their steadfast mind ? England was near, and England's Queen Defied both France and Rome — What marvel if they went to her, And broke their faith at home ? XIII. And she, the sister, maiden Queen — Rare maid and sister she ! True daughter of the Tudor line, Who claimed her crown by right divine. And ruled o'er land and sea — She who might well, without disgrace, Or any thought of fear, 22 BOTHWEIiL. PAM i. Have deigned, from her established place. To succor one so near — She, whom her slaves call wise in thought, And generous in deed, — How did she deal with Scotland's Queen, How help her in her need ? XIV. By heaven ! — if I dare speak the word. — I, steeped in guilt and crime, I, who must bear the blame and brand Of this accursed time — By heaven ! I think, had Scotland stood Unfriended and alone, Left to herself, without intrigue, From any neighbor throne ; Free to decide, and mould, and fix The manner of her sway, No Scottish soul had ever stooped To cozen or betray ! I say it — I, the twice betrayed, Their victim and their tool — I, whom they made the sacrifice For their unrighteous rule ; • I say it, even for the men Who drove me here to shame. Theirs is^the Jesser, paltrier guilt, And theirs the meaner blame ! BOTHWELL. 23 XV. They durst not, had they stood alone, Inheritors of names That over Christendom have flown, As stream the northern flames, — Whose fathers, in their silent graves, Sleep peacefully and well, Scotland's great champions while they lived, And greater when they fell — They durst not so have wronged their blood. And smirched their fair renown, Have flung their honor to the winds, And leagued against the crown. But at the gate the Temptress stood, Not beautiful nor young ; Nor luring, as a Syren might, By magic of her tongue ; High and imperious, stately, proud, Yet artful to beguile, A woman, without woman's heart, Or woman's sunny smile : By nature tyrannous and vain, By king-craft false and mean — She hated Mary from her soul, As woman and as Queen ! XVI. Men hate, because in act or strife They cross each other's path ; '24 BOTHWKLL. Short is the space for jealousy, And fierce the hour of wrath : But woman's hate runs deeper far, Though shallower at the spring ; Right seldom is it they forget The shaft that galled their wing. A fairer face, a higher place, More worship, more applause, Will make a woman loathe her friend Without a deadlier cause. In this at least Elizabeth To womankind was true, For who would ever bend to her When Mary was in view ? Mary, the bright and peerless moon That shines aloft in heaven, — Elizabeth, the envious cloud That o'er its disc is driven. What mattered it that flattering knaves Proclaimed her Beauty's Queen, And swore in verse and fulsome rhyme, That never, since the birth of time, Was such an angel seen ? Each morn and eve, her mirror gave Their wretched words the lie ; And though she fain would have believed. She could not close her eye. "RT I- BOTHWELL. 2o' XVII. And cause had she to hate and fear Past woman's pride alone ; For Boleyn's daughter sate not safe Nor surely on her throne. And many a lord of England thought On Mary's right and claim, And owned her in their wassail cups As Queen, though not by name. But why this paltering with the past ? Why mutter idly here, As though I were in dull debate With council or with peer ? Is it the dripping from the roof, Or plunging of the sea, That thus infects me with the weight Of their monotony ? Why should I brood o'er perished things, And, like a dotard, dream Of visions seen but not fulfilled Far up life's whirling stream ? Man cannot quite control his thoughts, Nor keep them in his power, Yet these of mine have wandered wide Within the bypast hour. What might have been, in phantom mist Has vanished long ago ; I need not try to trace it out, What was, and is, I know. 2 BOTH WELL. part i. Enough — no word of love was breathed In Mary's ear by me, When most she needed manly aid, And when her hand was free. But Darnley came, and woo'd, and won ; — They say that death should close All count of hate and enmity Between the deadliest foes — - And yet — I will not forge a lie, Here on my wretched bed — 1 hated Darnley while he lived ; I hate him now, though dead ! xvm. She wedded Darnley — and a fool In every sense was he, With scarce the wit to be a knave If born in low degree. But folly, when it walks abroad In royal guise and strain, Will never lack for knavery To loiter in its train. Loose comrades of the baser sort Were always by his side, To whisper lewdness in his ear, And pander to his pride. And men who wore a graver mask, Whose hearts were all untrue, Essayed — it was an easy task — To make him traitor too ! BOTHWELL. 27 XIX. The madman ! Had he only known His duty, style, and place, When lifted up beside the throne, And raised to such a grace — Had he — the winner of the prize, For whose transcendent charms, If deeds availed, not idle words, Through Europe wide, a thousand lords, Famous and proud, had drawn their sword? And courted death in arms — Had he been gentle, faithful, true, Kind, courteous, nobly-bred, To her who found him fugitive, Yet took him to her bed — Why then, in spite of England's Queen, Of treason hatched at home, Of foreign league, or civil war, Or danger yet to come, He might have kept the foremost place Without contending claim, Have won a kingdom for his race, And left a glorious name. xx. Not as a prince of high estate Came Darnley to the Queen : His pride provoked the nobles' hate, His folly stirred their spleen. 28 BOTHWELL. r And fiercely blazed Elizabeth's wrath Against the luckless pair, For still the phantom in her path Had been a Scottish heir. And well she knew the ancient strain That rings through Scotland free — That the French Queen should bear the son To rule all Britain to the sea, And from the Bruce's blood should come As near as in the ninth degree — She was no lioness, bereft Of cubs by men unkind ; Meet partner for her royal lair She sought, but could not find. And it was more than gall to her To think that Mary's son Must sit one day upon her scat — Must end what she begun. She might have frowned a cold consent, Had Mary stooped to take, As spouse, an English vassal peer, For her kind sister's sake. But Darnlcy stood too near the throne, And strong his place had been, If ready, like a valiant knight, Against the world to hold his right, And more — as love and honor bade, To vindicate the choice she made, By duty to the Queen. PART '• BOTHWELL. 29 But neither honor, truth, nor love Had power his selfish soul to move ; As cold of heart, as weak of brain, Unused his passion to restrain, At once the madman claimed to be In name and power a King ! He, weak as water, frail as sand, A beggar when on Mary's hand He placed the marriage ring ! Then, false to her who gave him all, And, lost to sense of shame, He banded with her deadliest foes To stain her spotless name ! XXI. There was that Riccio — sharp and sly, No friend of mine, I swear, For in that dark Italian eye Was craft beyond my mastery, And in his cold and subtle smile I read the evidence of guile "Was deep implanted there. He could not bend me to his will — No fanatic was I, Nor would I lend a helping hand To rivet on my native land The chains of Italy. Eight little cared I for the creeds Of either Church, I trow ; 3fl BOTIIWELL. part i I recked not which should win or lose, And more — I reck not now. But lost on me was all his speech, His policy was vain : What was to me the Papal cause In France or yet in Spain ? I never stood, as Atholl did, A soldier sworn of Rome, Nor asked for foreign surgery To stanch the wounds at home. Yet Riccio may have faithful been. And to his mistress true, For those who hated him the worst Were knaves and traitors too. I cannot tell — but this I know, That till my dying hour I never shall forget the shriek That rung from Mary's bower. XXII. 'Twas night — mirk night — the sleet beat on, The wind, as now, was rude, And I was lonely in my room In dreary Holyrood. I heard a cry, a tramp of men, A clash of steel below, And from my window, in the court I saw the torches glow. More common were such sounds to mc Than hum of evening hymn ; PART I. BOTH WELL. 3.1 I caught my sword, and hurried out Along the passage dim. But 0, the shriek that thrilled me then — The accents of despair, The man's imploring agony, The woman's frantic prayer ! " O, for the love of God and Christ, Have mercy — mercy — I ! O mistress — Queen — protect me yet, I am not fit to die ! " " O God ! stand by me, Darnley — you — My husband ! will you see Black murder in my presence here ! O God ! he turns from me ! Back — villains, back ! you shall not strike. Unless you slay me too. O help ! help ! help ! they kill the Queen ! Help ! help ! O nobles — you — Ruthven — Douglas — as you trust For mercy in your need, For Christ's dear sake, be satisfied — Do not this monstrous deed ! I'll yield — O yes ! I'll break with France, Do anything you will, But spare him — spare him — spare him, friends ! "Why should you seek to kill ? O God ! unloose me, Darnley ! shame ! Let go my arm, thou knave ! To me — to me — all Scottish hearts — Help ! Murder ! Come and save ! " 32 B0THWELL. tart !. XXIII. A door flew wide. I saw them there — Ruthvcn in mail complete, George Douglas, Ker of Fawdonside, And Riccio at their feet. With rapiers drawn and pistols bent, They seized their wretched prey ; They wrenched her garments from his grasp, Thev stabbed him where he lay. I saw George Douglas raise his arm, I saw his dagger gleam ; And then I heard the dying yell, And Mary's piteous scream. I saw her writhe in Darnley's arms As in a serpent's fold — The coward ! he was pale as death, But woidd not loose his hold ! And then the torches waved and shook. And louder grew the din, And up the stair, and through the doors The rest came trooping in. What could I do ? No time was that To listen or to wait ; Thronged were the rooms with furious men. And close beset the gate. Morton and Lindsay kept the court, With many a deadly foe ; And swords arc swift to do their work When blood begins to flow. BOTIIWELI,. 33 Darkling I traced the passage back As swiftly as I came, For through the din that rose without I heard them shout my name. Enough ! — that night one victim died Before Queen Mary's face, And in my heart, I doomed that night Another in his place. Not that I cared for Riccio's life, They might have worked their will ; Though base it was in men so high A helpless wretch to kill. But I had seen my Queen profaned, Outraged before my face, By him, the dastard, heartless boy, The land's and our disgrace. 'Twas he devised the felon plot — 'Twas he that planned the crime — He led the murderers to her room — And — God — at what a time ! XXIV. They call me savage, brutal, base, And more — because I wed A trembling, sickly, shrewish dame. And put her from my bed. Heaven wot, the match was ill ordained ; Her heart was given elsewhere, And for a second courtship 1^ « Had neither time nor care. 3 I BOTHWELL. It may be that she pined alone ; It may be in my hall She met with ruder company Than pleased her taste withal : I may have wronged her by neglect, I may have galled her pride ; But never brooked she scathe or scorn While she was Bothwell's bride. XXV. But he whom Mary's love had raised To such a high degree, The lord and husband of her heart, The father soon to be, The man who, in the hour of pain, Should still have kept her side — How paid he back the matchless debt. How did he tend his bride ? Why, had he never left her room, But, like the grooms of yore, To lay him on the rushes down His lady's nest before, To guard her all the livelong night, And slumber scarce till dawn, When her dear voice, so low and sweet, Like breathings of a fawn, Told that the time of rest was o'er, And then a simple hymn Arose, as if an angel led The choir of seraphim — HART I. bothweil. :J;> Would such a service have been more Than he was bound to give ? Nay, if he dared to make it less, Deserved the boy to live ? XXVI. I was a witness on that night Of all his shame and guilt ; I saw his outrage on the Queen, I saw the blood he spilt ; And, ere the day had dawned, I swore, Whilst spurring through the sand, I would avenge that treachery, And slay him with my hand — Or, in the preachers' cherished phrase, Would purge him from the land ! XXVII. Ah me ; and this is Christmas eve ; And here alone I lie, With nothing save my own wild thoughts For bitter company ! My own wild thoughts, that will not pass, Howe'er I bid them go — My torture, yet the only friends That visit me below. Full many a hearth is decked to-night To hail the blessed morn, On which, in ages long ago, The Saviour child was born — 36 B0THWELL. PART I. The churches all are wreathed with green. The altars set with flowers, And happy lowly hearts wait on And count the passing hours ; Until the midnight chimes proclaim The hallowed season come, When Heaven's broad gates are opened wide, And Hell's loud roar is dumb. Then myriad voices in acclaim The song of homage yield. That once from angels' lips was heard By shepherds in the field. Stilled for a time are angry thoughts, The hearts of men are mild : The father with a holier thrill Bends o'er his slumbering child ; New is the kiss the husband gives Unto his wedded wife, For earthly love when blest by Heaven, Ends not with earthly life ; And, fountain-like, o'er all the world, Where Christ's dear name is known, Leap up the sounds of prayer and praise Toward the eternal throne. But I, a slave in bondage here, Racked — torn by mad despair — How can I falter forth the words Of praise or yet of prayer ? Men drove me from them, as a wolf From mountain-folds is driven, BOTHWELL. 37 And what I could not win on earth How dare I seek from Heaven ? Ay, howl again, thou winter wind — Roar louder yet, thou sea ! For nothing else can stun the thoughts That rise to madden me ! PART SECOND. PART SECOND. The sun is bright, the day is warm, The breeze is blowing free — Come, I will rouse me from my lair, And look upon the sea : 'Tis clear and blue, with here and there A little fleck of foam ; And yonder glides a stately ship, Bound on her voyage home. The fishers, on the scanty sward, Spread out their nets to dry, And whistle o'er their lazy task In happy vacancy. Swift by the window skims the tern, On light and glancing wing, And every sound that rises up Gives token of the spring. Fair is the sight, yet strange to me : No memories I recall, 3 42 B0THWELL. While gazing on the headland cliffs, And waves that leap and fall ; No visions of my boyish days Or manhood's sterner prime Arise from yonder watery waste, To cheer me for a time. ii. For I was reared among the hills, Within a Border home, Where, sweeping from their narrow glens, The mountain torrents come ; And well I know the bonny braes Where the first primrose blows, And shrinking tufts of violets Rise from the melting snows. Ere yet the hazel leaf is out, Or birches grow their green. Or, on the sad and sullen ash, A kindling bud is seen. Hermitage, by Liddel's side. My old ancestral tower ! Were I again but lord of thee — Not owning half the power That in my days of reckless pride I held, but cast away — 1 would not leave thee, Border keep. Until my dying day ! Wise was Buccleuch, and (Vssfuid too, Who stoutly held their own, PART "• BOTHWELL. 43 And little cared, amidst their clans, For threat from either throne. They range at will the mountain paths, They hear the falcon cry, And here, within a loathly cell, A fettered slave am I. in. "Who owns thee now, fair Hermitage ? Who sits within my hall ? What banner flutters in the breeze Above that stately wall ? Does yet the court-yard ring with tramp Of horses and of men ; Do bay of hounds and bugle-note Sound merry from the glen ? Or art thou, as thy master is, A rent and ruined pile, Once noble, but deserted now By all that is not vile ? What matters it ? These eyes of mine Shall never see thee more ; Still in my thought must thou abide As stately as of yore, When, Warden of the Marches three, In Mary's right I came, To still the raging Border feuds, And trample out the flame. 44 BOTHWELL. tart it. IV. Good faith ! I had but little zeal To meddle with the knaves, Who simply kept their fathers' rule, And fought for bloody graves. No war was then between the lands, Else swift and sure, I ween, Each Border clan, on Scottish soil, Had mustered for their Queen ; The tidings of an English raid Had joined them, heart and hand ; For well the jackmen knew the wealth Of canny Cumberland. One note of war — and all the feuds Had vanished, like the snow From off the fells by Tcviot-side, When the warm May winds blow. But peace abroad breeds feud at home ; Old cause of quarrel rose ; Clan fought with clan, and name with name, As fierce and deadly foes. To them came I in evil hour — Most perilous the tide ; For he who seeks to part a fray. Wins strokes from cither side. Saint, Andrew! 'twas no easy task To hunt an Armstrong down, Or make a Johnstone yield his sword At summons from the crown : PABr "■ BOTIIWELL. 45 Yet, ere a week had passed away, One half my work was done, And safe within my castle lay Whitehaugh and Mangerton. I had them all but only one, John Elliot of the Park, As stalwart and as bold a man As ever rode by dark. I sought him far, I sought him near, He baffled all my men : At last I met him, face to face, Within the Billhope glen. Short parley passed between us twain — " Thou art the Warden ? " " Ay ! Thou Elliot of the Park ? " "I am." " Wilt yield thee ? " " Come and try ! " We lighted down from off our steeds, We tied them to a tree ; The sun was sinking in the west, And all alone were we. Out flew the steel ; and then began A sharp and desperate strife, For Elliot fought to 'scape the cord, I fought for fame and life. Ha, ha ! were he alive again, And on this dungeon floor, What joy with such a man as that, To cross the sword once more ! 46 BOTHWELL. PAHt n. The blows he fetched were stark and strong, And so were mine, I ween, Until I cleft his head-piece through, And stretched him on the green. •• Wilt yield thee now ? " "I will not yield, But an ye promise grace." " That must you ask \ipon your knee, Before our Sovereign's face." Blinded with blood, he struggled up — " Lord Earl ! " he said, " beware ! No man shall take me living yet ; Now follow, if you dare ! " I slipped upon the broken moss ; And in the sheugh wc rolled, Death-grappling, silent, heaving each Within the other's hold. He passed above me, and I felt — Once — twice — his dagger drive : But mine went deeper through his breast — I rose, but half alive ! All spun around me — trees and hills — A mist appeared to rise ; Yet one thing saw I clearly yet Before my fading eyes : Not half a rood beyond the burn, A man lay stiff and stark : I knew it was m;. stubborn foe, John Elliot of the Park. 1 strove in vain to sound my horn, No further strength had I ; BOTHWELL. 47 And reeling in that lonely glen, I fell — but not to die. VI. I Avakened in the Hermitage Up from my heavy swound, Thanks to the leech, who would not cease From probing of my wound : And there I lay, for many a day, Weak, wearied, dull, and wan, With little blood within my veins, To make me feel like man. In sooth, it was a heavy time — I heard the bugles blow, The horses neigh, the bridles ring, The soldiers come and go. I heard the voice of Ormiston, In short and gruff command. As outwards from the castle-gate He led his trooper band. Then silence ; and that hateful sound, The leech's stealthy tread — Aha ! when I had strength to stir, How swift the villain fled ! Then the long shades of afternoon — The twilight fastening in — The night, when still I heard the brook Come roaring down the linn. Strange ! that my memory should recall Those distant things to view — 48 BOTIIWELL. TART If. That every sound, and sight, and thought, Should visit me anew ! Have I not heard a hundred times The winter tempests roar, Since first they spread that wretched hed Here, on the dungeon floor ? Have I not heard the ocean-surge Come bellowing to the strand, When peals of thunder shook the heaven, When flashed the levin brand ? The hurleys that might wake the dead, Pass from me with their rage ; Not so the sounds that reached my bed In lonely Hermitage. VII. But 0, that day, when first I rose, A cripple, from my lair — Threw wide the casement, breathed my fill Of fresh and wholesome air — Drank in new life, and felt once more The pulse's stirring play — 0, madly in my heart is writ The record of that day ! I thought to hear the gorcock crow, Or ouzel whistle shrill, When, lo ! a gallant company ( 'uae riding up the hill. No banner was displayed on high, No sign of war was seen, r-*KT n. BOIHWELL. 49 No armed band, with spear and brand, Encompassed Scotland's Queen. She came, on gentle errand bound — The bounteous and the free — She came to cheer her wounded knight, She came to smile on me. VIII. She waited not for guard or groom, But passed into the hall ; Around her were the four Maries, Herself the rose of all. I never thought that woman's voice Could thrill my being so, As when she thanked me for my zeal In accents soft and low. I saw the tear within her eye, When, bending down to me, She placed her lily hand in mine, And bade me quit my knee. " Dear lord," she said, " 'tis woman's right To comfort when she may ; Then chafe not, if we take by storm Your Border-keep to-day. We come not to invade your hall, Or rudely mar your rest ; Though well I know, at fitter time, I were a welcome guest. But could I quit the Border-side Without my thanks to him •30 BOTinVELL. part n. Who paid his service far too well, At risk of life and limb ? Ah, Bothwell ! you have bravely done, And all my thanks are poor ; Would God that more were bent like you To make my throne secure ! True heart ! strong arm ! I cannot place A chaplct on your brow, For the old laws of chivalry Are dead and vanished now ; But, trust me, never was a Queen More debtor to a peer, Than I, brave Earl, am proud to own, Before the presence here ! How say you, brother ? " IX. At the word, I felt a sudden chill ; 1 knew not Murray as he rode Beside her up the hill. I marked him not within my hall — No wonder, for my eye Was lixed on one bright form alone Of all that company ! But there he stood, the pulseless man, The calculating lord, Swart in the Congregation's garb, And Leaning on his sword. PAKT ii. BOTHWEII. 51 By heaven ! I wished that on his face I could have traced a sneer — Right swiftly had I paid it back ; But all was calm and clear : Softly he spoke, but what he said Dwelt not within mine ear. Some phrase it was of mild assent, Framed in that glossy speech "Which statesmen use to cozen fools, And bring them to their reach ; Some staid and studied compliment, As soft and cold as snow — I would not, after fiery fight, Have thanked a trooper so ! And then he paused, and glancing round Upon the royal train, Began to falter forth excuse, Like one who spoke in pain, "Why Darnley came not with the Queen — How could the fool be there ? Had he not left his Sovereign's Court, Despite her tears and prayer ? — Left her, with base unmanly threat, Alone to weep and pine ; That he might lie in harlots' laps, And hiccup o'er his wine ? Well know I now what Murray meant, But then I did not care — o2 BOTIIWELL. PARI n. The siglit of Darnley in my hall Had darkened all the air. In sooth, I wished them far away, The Maries, and the rest, That I might throw me at her feet, Might ease my bursting breast, — Might tell her how I came to love, And how I hid my flame, Till he, the wretched perjured boy, Had filled his cup with shame — Might ask her of her sovran grace, To take and keep my vow, To rule James Hepburn's heart and hand, Not give him promise now — One word, one little word of hope Was all he dared to crave, — Hope ? There was none in store for me, Till Darnley filled his grave ! XI. O keenly do I know the spell That turned weak Arran's brain, That drove the luckless Chastellar To love and die in vain. With tenfold power that mighty charm Was stirring in my soul ; Though she had spurned me from her feet, I must have spoke the whole. Far better had I told her all, And waked at once her scorn, I"- 4 * 1 " "• BOTHWELL. 53 Than brood o'er passions ill-concealed, And wait for crimes unborn. Unborn, but yet, alas ! conceived — "Well — well ! what recks it now ? A child might weep, and moan, and fret, That yonder glorious bow, Which right before me spans the seas, Should melt in mist and rain : What is it but a pageantry That will not come again ? Yea, let it pass with other things, Old hope, and thought, and fear ; All these are phantoms, dead and gone, They shall not force a tear ! XII. Bright was the morn, and fresh the wind, And clear the trumpet's call, As, strong once more in heart and limb, I issued from my hall. A hundred troopers, cased in mail, Were mounted on the sward ; Men who would ride through steel and flame At signal of their lord. The knaves ! I know they loved me well • And what a wild acclaim Rang through the valley, up the glen, To greet me as I came ! Then spears were raised, and swords were swung, And banners tossed on high, 54 BOTHWELL. PART II. In such a storm of wild delight. As drives men onward to the fly lit. For death or victory ! The blood was warm within mc then, And proudly did it bound. As, clad again in knightly garb, I wheeled my charger round ; O'er moss and moor, o'er hill and heath, Right gallantly we sped, Until wc paused and drew the rein Hard by the river's head. ' Backward on Castle Hermitage One lingering look I cast ; I saw it in its strength and pride — That look, it was the last. XIII. Men say that in those northern seas, Far out from human view. There lies a huge and whirling pit, As deep as though the globe were split, To let the waters through ; All round and round for many a mile Spreads the strong tide's resistless coil ; And if a ship should chance to pass Within the .Maelstrom's sweep. Nor helm nor sail will then avail To drive her through the deep. Headlong she rolls on racing waves, Still narrowing in her round, BOTHWELL. 55 Still drawn towards the awful brim Of that abyss profound. Then one sharp whirl, one giant surge, A lurch, a plunge, a yell, — And down forever goes the ship Into the raging hell ! God wot, I am not fanciful ; But from that fatal day, When first I leagued with other men, And left my open way, No power had I to check my course, No will to pause or stay. They knew tbat I was proud and bold, And foremost still would go, "Where danger waited in the path, Nor ever count the foe. And they had read my secret heart, And set their cunning snare ; O, had my only thought been love, They'd not have bound me there ! XIV. But there was hatred in my soul ; And more, that glorious sin, Ambition, cursed by all who lose, No crime for those who win. What sceptre ever yet was gained Without the reddened hand ? Light penance serves to cleanse the stain From those who rule a land. 56 BOTHWELE. Hero, and king, and conqueror — So ring the changes here, For those who rise hy any art, No matter what they were ! Wretch, villain, traitor, regicide — These are the counter-names For men whom fortune sets aside, However bold their aims. I would not care for vulgar speech ; But, O, it drives me wild To know that cold and reckoning knaves Have swayed me like a child. Tell me no more of guilt and shame ! 'Tis worse to be a fool, To play the subtler traitors' game, Their partner and their tool ! xv. 'Twas in Ciaigmillar's ancient pile That first I lent my ear To the dark words of Lethington, With Murray bending near. The theme w r as Darnley and his deeds, His vain capricious mind, That no controlling power could guide Or sense of honor bind ; His wild outrageous insolence To men of high degree, Who, but for Mary's love and grace, Were higher far than he. PART II. u. BOTH WELL. 57 All this I heard, and answered not ; But when he came to speak Of Mary's wrongs, and Mary's woes, The blood was in my cheek. He told me of her breaking heart, Of bitter tears she shed, Of the sad cry she raised to heaven, " O God ! that I were dead ! " — Of that dull grief which, more than pain, Has power to waste and kill ; Yet in her secret heart, he said, Queen Mary loved him still. XVI. " Loves him ? " " Why, ay ! Our thought was b3ut. At first, on Darnley's banishment ; On loosing of the nuptial tie, As holy Church allows — An easy thing, for never yet Was such a faithless spouse — But when we broke it to the Queen, She would not deign to hear ; He was the father of her child, And so to her was dear. What then is left ? While Darnley lives As king within the land, Whate'er his insolence may be, He holds us at command. Why, even you, brave Earl, so high In honor and in place, 4 58 BOTKWELL. tart ii. You — Warden — Admiral — must bend Before his Royal Grace ! Nay, chafe not at my open speech : For more have felt the wrong, And, trust me, will not stoop to wear Those galling shackles long. My Lord of Murray stands prepared To aid us, heart and hand ; Your brother Huntley, and Argyie Are eager for the Band. You know their strength : yet more remains ; The banished lords are ours — Lindsay and Morton, were they here, "Would help us with their powers. In evil hour, in evil cause, They lent weak Darnley aid; Persuaded by his lying tongue, With treason foul repaid. XVII. " Surely 'tis time to stanch the wounds That vex the land so sore, To knit the noble brotherhood As closely as of yore ; To curb the wild fanatic mood That waxes day by day, And make the surly preachers know Their duty, to obey ! But for one plague-spot in the land, One course were plain and clear; P *"T "• BOTHWELL. 59 If Scotland's nobles back their Queen, What foemen need they fear ? No more will we of foreign league Or foreign wedlock hear ! A better husband for the Queen We'll find among our own : A champion, able, like the Bruce, To take and keep the throne ! More might I say ; but, valiant Earl, On you our fate depends ; — Speak but the word, give but the sign, And round us throng our friends. Scotland is weary of the load That lies upon her now, And Death is breathing, cold and damp, Upon our Sovereign's brow. This is the stalwart arm we need To save the State and Queen, Your own brave blood was freely shed For Mary, on the green — But Darnley's ! — for one drop of yours His life were all too mean." XVIII. I've heard that poison-sprinkled flowers Are sweeter in perfume Than when, untouched by deadly dew, They opened in their bloom ; I've heard that men, condemned to die, Have quaffed the fatal wine 60 BOTIIWKLL. PAitr tr With keener relish than the juice Of the untampered vine ; I've heard that with the witches' son! In most unwilling ears ; Of Greeks — I think he called them that Whose weapon was the knife, Who for some wretched servile cause Let out a tyrant's life — Of Romans, nearer to our times. Who butchered Csesar so — 66 BOTIIWELL. pa:;i ii. Base villain churls, who wreaked their hate On one so high, and grand, and great, Because they stood so low ! "When perfect nohlencss remains To fence a royal crown ; "When honor, faith, and chivalry Are prized beyond renown ; "When God's vicegerents on the earth Know how to rule and shine, With splendor as becomes their place. — Then is their right divine. But Darnley — fie ! why speak of him As royal, brave, or leal ? He was an adder in my path — I crushed him with my heel ! XXIV. 'Tis strange what freaks the fancy plays, When sense is shut by sleep ; How a vague horror thrills the frame. And awful sounds and deep Boom on the ear, as if the earth Moaned in her central caves Beneath the weight of buried men, And stirred them in their graves ! That night, as on my bed I lay, The terror passed on mc ; It wrung my heart, it froze my blood, It forced my eyes to sec BOTHAVELL. (57 The spectral fire upon the hearth, The arras' stiffened fold, The gaunt, mute figures on its web, In tarnished silk and gold, — All there — no motion — but a step Was creaking on the stair ; It made me pant, it made me gasp — "Who was it sought me there ? I saw my sword beside the bed, I could not stretch my arm — I could not stir, I could not cry, I lay beneath a charm. The door swung slowly on its hinge, And in a figure came, In form and face like Lethington, Most like, yet not the same. Those were his eyes that glared on mine, But in them was a gleam That burned like fire into my brain ; I felt them in my dream. And thus he spoke, in Maitland's voice, But deeper far than he : — " Rise up, Lord Bothwell, from thy bed, Rise up, and follow me ! " xxa\ I rose, but not as men arise At hasty call or loud ; I rose as rigid as a corpse Swathed in its burial-shroud. 68 BOTIIWELL. part 11. Spell-bound I stood upon the floor. Bereft of power or will, For well I knew, where'er he went, That I must follow still. Then up the stair he led the way, By winding steps and steep, Out to the topmost battlement Of old Craigmillar's keep. The moon was down, but myriad stars "Were sparkling in the sky — " Behold ! " he said, and raised his hand — They seemed to wane and die. They passed from out the firmament. Deep darkness fell around — Darkness, and horror as of hell, And silence most profound. No wind, no murmur, breath, nor stir, 'Twas utter blankness all, As though the face of God were hid, And heaven were wrapped in pall. x xvi. " Behold again ! " the deep voice said. And straight arose a spire Of lurid, red, and dismal light. Between me and the mountain height. A peak of wavering fire : Above it was a kingly crown — Then sounded in my ear, " That glorious prize may he thine own ! PART ii. BOTHWELL. 69 Xor only that, but honor, power, Beauty, and love — a matchless dower — Dominion far and near ! All these await thee, if thy heart Is tempered like thy steel, Keen, sharp, and strong, and prompt to strike — To strike, but not to feel ! That crown was won by valiant Bruce, He gained it by the blow That on the slippery altar-steps Laid the Red Comvn low ; He won and wore it as a king, And thou may's t win it now ! " XXVII. I spoke not, but he heard my thought : — " Well done, thou dauntless peer ! I love the brave and venturous will That knows nor ruth nor fear ! Come, then, I swear, by yonder fire — An oath ne'er broke by me — That thou shalt sit in Darnley's place When Darnley dies by thee ! Away that pageant ! " — Spire and crown Shut, like the lightning's leap ; But overhead a meteor came, Slow-moving, tinging with its flame The murky clouds and deep ; 70 BOTHWELL. It shed a glare on Arthur's Scat, It widened like a shield, And hurst, in thunder and in fire, Above the Kirk-of-Field. PART II. PART TIII11D. PART THIRD. i. That gaoler hath a savage look — Me thinks I see a change : For three long years, within this room, That man has been my only groom, And yet his voice is strange. He brings me food, he smooths my bed, Obedient to my sign ; But still his moody eye falls down, And will not answer mine. I had the art, in former days, To win, by short familiar phrase, The rudest hearts alive, — To bring the wildest to my side, And force them, in the battle-tide, Like thorough fiends to strive. When Warden, I have rode alone, Without a single spear to back, The marches through, although I knew That spies were prowling on my track ; 6 74 BOTinYELL. tart :n. I've passed into the midst of clans So fierce and wild, that, undismayed, They would have risen, sword in hand, Had the Queen's standard heen displayed : But never did I meet with one, Trooper or jackman, groom or knave, But to the ready fearless call A frank and fearless answer gave. ii. This fellow scoavIs as if in hate ; I've marked upon his hrow a scar, More like the hideous galley-brand Than any wound from broil or war. Either he is, in mind and sense, Far duller than a Lothian boor, Or there's a plot against my life, And he's the man to make it sure ! I never hear him at the door, When fumbling with his heavy keys, But something warns me to beware, Reminding me that sounds like these Were heard by llothsay, Scotland's heir. In Falkland's dungeon deep ; When, mad with famine and despair, He started from his sleep, To see the butchers usher in That terrible repast, The black bull's head, the awful sign Of death, to follow fast ! part m. EOTHWELL. Slave that he is ! I've strength enough To brain him at a blow : But Danish laws, they say, are hard ; And scarcely might a man in ward Deal with his gaoler so. The churl is better than the peer, Because the churl is free ; But should a gesture rouse suspect, Let him beware of me ! in. Is this indeed a warning voice That croaks within my ear ? Or is it guilt that frames the thought, And fashions it to fear? I'd have it so — I'll so believe ! These terrors are no more Than the wild blasts that conscience drives ; And though they shake me sore, I'll hold them empty, vain, and false, Nor so demean my place, As tremble at a clown's approach, Or deign to watch his face ! IV. Come — I will far away from hence — I cannot tarry here : Whate'er the penance, I must forth, And quit this dungeon drear ! it) 7fi B0THYVEL1. part in. Man lives not for the single point That marks the passing time ; He lives in thoughts and memories Of glory or of crime. And I will back — and bravely back, To that tremendous night When the whole state of Scotland reeled, And Darnley took his flight. That which I did, nor shrunk to do, I may at least recall ; If spectres rise from out the grave, I dare to face them all ! v. High mirth there was in Holyrood, As fitted nuptial scene, For on that day Sebastian wed The favorite of the Queen. All Scotland's nobles graced the feast, And ever passed the ready jest, Though some had secrets in their breast That might have marred their sport. But in a time when all men lied, Nor trusted neighbor by their side, Deceit was more than justified ; And, truly, of that Court, I doubt if there was any there, Who showed in face or mien a care, Save Mary. But her cheek was pale, Sad was her smile at jest or tale ; tart in. BOTHWELL. 77 And though she strove to bear her part, She could not so devise, But that the anguish of her heart Came glistening to her eyes. VI. Yes, when she looked upon the pair So fondly placed together there, Loving and loved, without a thought Beyond their present bliss and joy, All hope, all trust, all happiness, All faith, without alloy ; I saw her strive to hide her tears — I am no gentler than my peers ; Nor could I, in the general case, Divine why women weep and wail, But gazing on Queen Mary's face, I saw the cause, and could not fail. She thought her of the marriage-feast When Darnley was the chosen groom, When, trusting to his vows and faith, She gave herself, in beauty's bloom. When she was radiant, as the bride, And he was, as the lover, gay ; Alas ! there rolled an awful tide Between that time and this to-day ! Short interval ; yet where was he, The partner of her bed and throne, The chief of all her chivalry ? A wretched leper, and alone ! 7 own and urge my claims. Therefor" I i • suit which you despise Seems not so strange to other eyes; Nor, Ma : lam, were it safe or wise To thwart their wishes now. Alono. 'tis clc-ar you cannot stand ; For not the sceptre, but the brand, Must still the tumults of the land, And lay rebellion low. Your no' les proffer well and fair ; They wait your answer to their prayer, Not doubting that your Grace will own Their deep devotion to the throne. And now, 'twere best I tell you plain, Resistance to their prayer is vain. Their will — or, if you think the word Too harsh — their counsel must be heard ! 142 E0THWELL. part v. I am no madman, fond and blind, No fool to court contempt and shame ; Nor did I hope to sway your mind By any oaths that love can frame. "Well know I, Madam, what I do, And what awaits me if I fail : I stand not here to fawn or sue, I came determined to prevail ! Think not that rashly I provoke The sentence and the headsman's stroke ! Dream not of rescue — none will come ; As well seek answer from the dumb ! XXIV. " Nay, if you doubt me, send and try ; No harsh or timid gaoler 1 ! Your messengers have leave to go Where water runs or breezes blow. Send forth your summons — warn them all ! Tell every noble, far and near, That Bothwell lured you to his hall, And holds you as a captive here. Bid Morton come, bid Cassilis arm ; Call Errol, Caithness, and Argyle ; Give order for the loud alarm To ring through strath and sound o'er isl< Call Lethington, your trustiest friend ; Warn Hcrries of this rude surprise — How many lances will they send ? Believe me, not a man will rise ! PART T. B0THAVELL. 143 Bound to my cause is every peer ; With their consent I brought you here : And here your highness must remain, And quell your woman's pride ; Till from Dunbar a joyous train To Holyrood shall ride, With Bothwell at your palfrey's rein, And you his willing bride ! " XXV. O tiger heart ! that fiercer grew With every anguished breath she drew — That gloated on her quivering eye, And trance of mortal agony ! savage beast ! most justly driven By man from home, by God from heaven ! What fitter refuge could I have Than this neglected lair, Where, grovelling o'er my empty grave, 1 yet am free to howl and rave, And rend my grizzly hair : O well becomes it me to rage At crimes of other men ; To snarl defiance from my cage, And antic in my den — I, than all others guiltier far, So vile, so lost, so mean ! O fade from heaven, thou evening star, I cannot bear thy sheen ! 144 both-well. PART V. XXVI. Hopeless, abandoned to despair. What else could Mary do but yield? I took her hand — she left it there ; 'Twas cold and white as frost on field. I tried to comfort her ; a burst Of frenzied tears was her reply : Forever be the deed accurst That forced such witness from her eye ! Dim as an unregarded lamp, Her light of life was on the wane, And on her brow was set the stamp Of utter misery and pain. Like some caged bird that in dismay Has fluttered till its strength is gone, She had no power to fly away, Though wide the prison-door was thrown. In vain I strove to wake a smile, In vain protested she was free, For bitterly she felt the while That henceforth she was bound to me ! XXVII. Again I entered Holyrood ; Not as an unexpected guest, But, in the pride of masterhood, With haughty eye and princely crest. The cannon thundered welcome out ; The magnates all were there ; part v. BOTIIWELL. 145 And though I missed the people's shout, For them I did not care ; More trusty than the rabhle rout, My troopers filled the square ! XXVIII. No draught from ma^ic herb or flower Is equal to the taste of power ! Right royally I took my stand, With knights and squires on either hand, And gave due audience to the ring As though I had been born a king ! More wondrous yet — my altered tone Seemed strange or malapert to none. With deep respect and visage meek, Each civic ruler beard me speak — Was proud my mandate to fulfil, And bowed obedience to my will. But when I turned me to the Peers, Something there was that waked my fears : — A guarded, cold, and formal air, A staid retent of dignity, A studied guise of courtesy, Which faithful friends do never wear. The greatest nobles did not come To bid their Sovereign welcome home, Or ratify with cordial hand The weighty promise of their band. Why kept they from me at the time When most I lacked their aid ! 146 BOTHWELL. party. Was I, whom they had urged to crime. Discarded and hetrayed ? Did they but league to tempt me on ? Were all their vows a lure ? Even with my foot upon the throne, I stood as insecure As the rash huntsman on the lake When winter slacks its spell, Who feels the ice beneath him quake, And treads the treacherous well. XXIX. Yet not by look, or word, or sign, Did I my fears betray ; One sole desire and thought was mine, To haste the wedding-day. The law, though drowsy in its course, Gave me, at length, a full divorce : Nor did the Church refuse its aid, Though Craig a stern remonstrance made, lie was a zealot like the rest. But far more honest than his kind, And would not yield without protest A service hateful to his mind. Warned by the past, I would not wait Till Mary breathed again : 1 did not ask for idle state, For gathering of the proud and great, Or pomp of Quptial train. part t. BOTHWELL. 147 I spoke the word — she made me Duke ; I claimed her hand the self-same day : And though like aspen-leaf she shook, And wan and piteous was her look, She did not answer, Nay ! XXX. All was accomplished. By my side The Queen of Scotland knelt, a bride : In face of Holy Kirk, her hand Was linked with mine in marriage hand ; Her lips pronounced the solemn word ; I rose, her husband and her lord ! And now, what lacked I more ? Around me thronged the guests to pay Their duty on the wedding-day : Proud and elate, I smiled on all As master in that royal hall. Scarce had I spoke, when clashing fell A weapon on the floor : I trembled, for I knew it well — The sword that Darnley wore. PART SIXTH. PAItT SIXTH. i. O that I were a mountaineer, To dwell among the Highland hills ! To tread the heath, to watch the deer, Beside the fountains of the rills — To wander by the lonely lake All silent in the evening's glow, When, like a phantom from the brake Comes gliding past the stealthy roe — Without a thougbt, without a care, * Without ambition, pomp, or crime, To live a harmless peasant there, And die at God's appointed time ! Of what avail are wealth and power, Rank, worship — all we seek to win, Unless they bring the priceless dower Of rest, and hope, and peace within ? 152 BOTH WE LI,. part vi. II. I had no peace ; if peace it be To rest unscared, to wake secure, To let the fancy wander free, Or dream of pleasant things and pure : To take sweet counsel with a friend, Or, dearer, with a loving wife, And sometimes gladly to unbend The strained and weary bow of life. Broken and feverish was my sleep, For, all night long, within my room Methought I heard the murderers creep, And voices whisper through the gloom. Nor, when the ghastly night was o'er, Content or respite did I win ; For guilt stood sentry at the door. And challenged all who ventured in. In fear I slept ; in fear I woke ; In fear I lingered out the day ; "Whatever lord or courtier spoke, I thought was uttered to betray. I had no friends, save those whose fate A common danger linked with mine — Men who provoked the people's hate, And roared, like ruffians, o'er their wine. The burghers heard the noisy brawl That scared the swallows from their caM'^. And mourned that Scotland's royal hall Should thus be made a den of thieves. BOTH-WELL. 153 III. I had a wife — a fair one too — But love I durst not even name ! I kept aloof, for why renew The memory of my sin and shame ? She was my hostage, not my bride ; Enough it was for me to know She could not sever from my side, Nor yet unsay the marriage-vow. these were not my thoughts of yore, When, free from fell ambition's taint, 1 worshipped, as I knelt before The queen, the woman, and the saint ! My hand had torn the wings of love, Profaned its temple, soiled its shrine ; No pardon here, nor yet above, Could granted be to guilt like mine ! IV. Pardon ! I sought it not from men ; I would not take it at their hand ! I owned no judge, no master then; I was the lord within the land. Pardon ! the word was made for slaves, Not for a Sovereign Prince like me : Lost is the man who pardon craves From any baser in degree. There is a peak of guilt so high, That those who reach it stand above 10 154 BOTHWELL. PART VI. The sweep of dull humanity, The trail of passion and of love. The lower clouds that dim the heaven, Touch not the mountain's hoary crown, And on the summit, thunder-riven, God's lightning only smites them down ! for a war to make me freed ! Had England but denied my claim, And sent an army o'er the Tweed To wrap the Border braes in flame — Then Scotland would have risen indeed, And followed me, if but for shame ! 1 might have met the foe in field, And raised the Hepburn's name so high. That none thenceforward on my shield Could trace the bend of infamy. I might have won the people's heart, For all men love the stalwart arm ; And valor triumphs over art, As heroes burst a wizard's charm. Once victor o'er my country's foes, "What lord in Scotland durst oppose Her champion's rights, or mutter shame Against my newly-gilded name, All radiant with the gloss of fame ? Nor to the preachers had I turned Disdainful car. I never spurned part vi. BOTHWELL. 155 Their doctrines, though I did not care, And knew not what those doctrines were. In truth, I thought the time had come When every state in Europe wide Should clear itself from bonds of Rome, And let the Pontiff, deified, Deal with the candle, book, and bell, In any way that pleased him well ! vr. Men say the hills of Rome are high — They are not loftier than our own ; Let good Saint Peter's follower try How far his curses can be blown. Loud must his ghostly thunder be To roll so wide o'er land and sea ! Our fathers in their desperate fight For Scotland's freedom and her right — When lay the valiant on their shields As thick as sheaves in autumn fields, When, in the raging battle- tide, The banners of the foemen sunk — Gave not their blood to swell the pride, Or back the cause of Roman monk ! I would have left the people free To frame their worship at their will ; To utter chaunt, or psalmody, In kirk or abbey, glen or hill. Preacher and priest alike should stand, Have leave alike to teach and pray, 1 56 BOTHWELL. pabt So that they owned the King's command, Nor wandered widely from their way ; For woe betide the luckless land Where bigot churchmen bear the sway ! VII. But England moved not. England lay, As doth the lion in the brake, "When waiting for some noble prey, With ear intent and eye awake : I, like a wretched mongrel cur, Might safely pass his couch before ; Not for my snarling would he stir — I was not worth the lion's roar ! The courtiers left me ; one by one, Like shadows did they glide away ; My old confederates all were gone — Why should the fortune-hunters stay : VIII. There was dead silence for a space : A hush, as deep and still As on the lowly valley lies, When clouds, surcharged with lightning, rise, And loom along the hill. Then with a rush, the rumors came Of gatherings near at hand. Where nobles, knights, and chiefs of fame Were arming in the Prince's name, To drive me from the land ! part vi. BOTHAVELL. 157 And straightway through the city rose The low and angry hum, That tells of keen and bitter foes Who cluster ere they come. Post after post rode clattering in, Loud rung the court with soldiers' din ; For Bolton at the first alarm Bade all the troopers rise and arm. IX. Aroused as if by trumpet-call, I felt my spirit bound ; No longer pent in hateful hall, Now must I forth to fight or fall, With men-at-arms around. I cared not what the scouts might bring - I hungered for the strife ; When victor, I must reign as King : If vanquished, yield my life. With spear in rest and visor down, 'Twas but one mad career — A glorious grave, or else a crown — The sceptre or the bier ! Aha ! there was no tarrying then ! For prance of steed, and tramp of men, And clash of arms, and hasty call, Were heard in court, and street, and hall. Each trooper drew a heartier breath, And keener glowed his eye ; 158 BOTIIWELL. part vu I knew that from the field of death No man of mine would fly ! " Give me your hand, brave Ormiston ! My father loved you dear ! Not better than you love his son — For since the day that I could run, Or shake a mimic spear, You were my guardian and my guide, And never parted from my side In danger, doubt, or fear. Since then, old friend, we've held our course Together on a slippery way ; And I might tell you of remorse — But not to-day — no, not to-day ! There — let me feel that grasp again ! I know not why, but I am fain To utter more than suits the time. Ambition ever leads to crime ; And there's a forfeit all must pay. Out on these thoughts ! They cleave to me More closely than beseems the brave : So — let the past forgotten be, We'll lay it in the grave ! XI. " Now then ; what news?" " This much I learn, That Morton, Atholl, and Glcncairn, part ti. BOTHWEIL. 159' Lindsay and Home, Kirkaldy, Mar,. Drumlanrig, Cessford, raise the war,. And yesterday arrayed their powers — Not greater, say the scouts, than ours — Upon a plain near Stirling's towers. There may be more ; but these I know Are drawn against us." " Is it so ? If it be mine, but once, to tread Victorious on a field of dead, I'll have that villain Morton's head ! Atholl ? It is a monstrous sign, When Atholl and Glencairn combine : The friend of Rome, the preachers' boast, Together in that motley host ! Ah, now I see it ! Lethington, That arch dissembler, stirs him on, My evil genius, and my foe — Fool that I was to let him go ! A cell in yonder fortress grim, Had been the fit abode for him. What do the townsfolk ? Much I fear The knaves may breed some tumult here." XII. " If I have read their faces right, My life on't, they will rise to-night ! Closed are the booths, the windows barred ; In every street patrols a guard. The ports are watched ; men hurry by, None stop for question or reply. 160 BOTHWELL. The dullest bailie could not find An audience to relieve his mind. When angry men are brief or mute, Be sure that mischief is on foot ! A look, a nod, a sign from each, Are graver tokens far than speech. I am not wont to shun a fray, And seldom give a faint advice, But this most frankly do I say — I'd rather ride the Teviot thrice, When rolling in its heaviest flood, Than meet that angry multitude ! Our men are trained to fight in field, But here they have no skill nor space : Let's quit the Palace ; for to yield, If leaguered here, were sore disgrace. Nor have we any force to spare ; And time is wanting to prepare. Forthwith the messengers must ride, And scour the country far and wide, To bring our allies to your side. Were all the Border chieftains true, I'd care not what the rest might do. I knew that soon the strife must come — That stout Kirkaldy would not sleep, Nor Morton tarry in his keep — But this revolt of Ker and Home Hath changed the aspect of the war : Then Core let's forth without delay. Our trysting-place must be Dunbar, With Borthwick on the way. PART vi. BOTHAVELL. 161 XIII. " Short space is left ; for, ere the night, "We must decamp, though not in flight ; The craftsmen will be more afraid An empty palace to invade, Than if each window showed a man Prepared with pike and partisan. But, meanwhile, send the heralds through. The Hamiltons are surely true — Entreat, command them to appear, Nor leave behind one idle spear ; "We cannot spare a straggler here. Make the Queen write — you know the way — A wife her husband must obey. There's something in the royal name, If not to rouse, at least to tame ; And men who fain would see you down, May fear to rise against the Crown. Seton and Yester both will fight, "Without a call for Mary's right ; And many a Baron bold will come Soon as they hear the signal-drum. We'll beat them yet ! But have a care — No speech — no treaty — naught but blows ! Of that dark Lethington beware, The worst and wiliest of your foes. And Morton — hear no word from him ! No quaking moss is more unsound ; 1 62 BOTHAVEI-L. part vi. He'd venture all but life and limb To bring your greatness to tbe ground. Let him, if he has aught to say, Stand forth in front of his array, And from his helmet speak the word That can be answered by the sword. Come then, away ! 'Tis hard to go, Old Holyrood is worth a blow ; Yet is it wiser to abstain. Worse danger threats the roof than rain ; And, by my soul, 'twere sin and shame, To leave it wrapped in fiery flame ! Forth then ! and ere the sky be dark, Some safer lodging shall we find ; We'll change the cricket for the lark, And leave this troublous town behind." XIV. I know not why : but o'er my soul, That eve, the self-same bodement stole That thrilled me with a sad presage When last I gazed on Hermitage. The troopers in procession wound, Along the slant and broken ground. Beneath old Arthur's lion-hill. The Queen went onward witli her train ; I rode not by her palfrey's rein, But Lingered at the tiny rill That flows from Anton's fane. Bed was the sky; but Holyrood In dusk and sullen grandeur stood. part tt. B0THWELL. 163 It seemed as though, the setting sun Refused to lend it light, So cheerless was its look, and dun, While all ahove was bright. Black in the glare rose spire and vane, No lustre streamed from window-pane ; But, as I stood, the Abbey bell Tolled out, with such a dismal knell As smites with awe the shuddering crowd, When a king 's folded in his shroud — Methought it said, Farewell ! xv. So passed we on. The month was June : We did not need the lady moon To light us onward on our way Through thickets white with hawthorn spray ; Past old Dalhousie's stately tower, Up the lone Esk, across the moor, By many a hamlet, many a spring, By holt, and knowe, and fairy ring, By many a noted trysting-place, We held our course, nor slacked our pace, Till far away beyond the road The lights in Borthwick Castle showed. Short tarrying had we there, I ween ! Again we sought the woodlands green, For fiery Home was on our track, With thousand spearmen at his back : 164 BOTHWELL. PART VI. Not dared wc rest, till from Dunbar I gave the signal for the war. XVI. By heaven, it was a glorious sight, "When the sun started from the sea, And in the vivid morning light The long blue waves were rolling free ! But little time had I to gaze Upon the ocean's kindling face, Or mark the breakers in the bay — For other thoughts were mine that day. I stood upon the topmost tower : From wood, and shaw, and brake, and bower, I heard the trumpet's blithesome sound, I heard the tuck of drum ; And, bearing from the castle mound, I saw the squadrons come. Fach Baron, sheathed from head to heel In glorious panoply of steel, Rode stalwartly before his band, The bravest yeomen of the land. There were the pennons that in fight Had flashed across the Southron's sight — There were the spears that bore the brunt, And bristled in the battle's front On many a bloody day — The swords, that through the hostile press, "\\ hen steeds were plunging masterless, Had hewn their desperate way ! part vi. BOTHWELL. 165 < gallant hearts ! what joy to ride, Your lord and leader, prince and guide, With you around me and beside, But once in battle fray ! XVII. Brief counsel held we in the hall : Ready for fight seemed one and all. Though somewhat was I chafed to bear But cold regard from knight and peer. 1 was the husband of their Queen : Not less, nor more. Old Seton's mien Was graver than beseemed a lord Who came, prepared with hand and sword, To smite rebellion to the dust. To me he never gave his trust. He was a noble of a stamp Whereof this age hath witnessed few ; Men who came duly to the camp, Whene'er the royal trumpet blew. Blunt tenure-lords, who for the Crown Would lay their lives and fortunes down, Nor sift the cause that bade them bring Their vassals to support the King. Such men were they who held the fight, And strove, and would not yield, Till rushed from heaven the stars of night O'er Flodden's cumbered field. For Mary's sake he brought his band, He cared for her alone ; 166 BOTH WELL. And would not lend a helping hand To lift me to the throne. His words were spare, his greeting cold, His look as distant as of old. But that I could not then afford To lose a man or spare a sword ; But that my friends were few — I would have made Lord Scton know That not a peer should slight me so, Or fail in reverence due ! XVIII. And Mary — what did she the while ? Alas, she never showed a smile ! I dared not ask her to appear AVithin the castle hall, Her champions and her knights to cheer - She might have hailed them with a tear, Or hreathed a word in Seton's ear, That would have wrought my fall. She loathed her bondage — that I knew. What is it woman will not do To free herself from thrall ? She, daughter of a race of kings, Instinct with that desire Which makes the eagle beat its wings Against the prison wire — She, wronged, insulted, and betrayed, Might she not chum her vassals' aid ? FART VI. part vi. BOTH WE XL. 16' Conjure them by their oath and vows To bear her from her hated spouse, And in the face of heaven, proclaim My guilt, my treason, and my shame ? Too great the risk ! My sister came — Well skilled was she to turn a phrase, A ready, apt, quick-witted dame, Who knew the nobles and their ways. Freely she smiled, and deftly spoke, Gave cordial greeting from the Queen, Whose slumbers had been early broke By tramp of horses on the green — " Her Majesty had need of rest To fit her for the road ; But prayed each knight and noble guest Who honored her abode, To take the thanks so greatly due For all their service prompt and true." XIX. Another morn — another day ! — And what, ere dusk, was I ? A fugitive, a castaway, A recreant knight who did not stay On battle-field to die ! Curs'd be the hands that held me back When death lay ready in my track, Curs'd be the slaves who turned my rein And forced me panting from the plain ! — 168 BOTHWELL. part vi. O boaster, liar, murderer — worse, Traitor and felon — hold thy curse ! Curse not, for lost though others be, There's none so deep debased as thee ! A murderer may be strong of heart, A liar act a warrior's part, A traitor may be bold and brave, A felon fearless at the grave — Branded, condemned, of fame bereft, The courage of a man is left. But coward — O that sickening sound ! Great God! To pass without a wound, "Without one shivered spear or blow, From such a field, from such a foe, To lose a Queen and kingdom so — To tremble, shrink, and vilely fly — It was not I ! — it was not I ! xx. O breeze ! that blowest from the west, O'er that dear land I loved the best — Breathe on my temples, cool my brow, And keep the madness from me now ! Blood seems to rankle in my eyes, Bed as a furnace glare the skies ; And all things waver up and down, Like shadows in a burning town. There's hellish laughter in mine car — More air — more air ! I stifle here ! r.iRT vi. BOTHWELL. 1G9 XXI. Devil ! thou shalt not yet prevail ; Before thy face I will not quail ! I fled — Do brave men never fly? I am no coward — 'tis a lie ! I stood upon Carberry's height. Eager, intent, resolved to fight, Ay, to the death, as seems a knight ! Down on the plain, beyond the hill, The foe were motionless and still. Why tarried so the rebel lords ? Were we not ready with our swords ? They came not on with shield and targe, And lances levelled for the charge ; But safe in summer ambush lay, Like children on a holiday. XXII. I sent a message to their van — The Laird of Grange that challenge bore, I spared his life an hour before — I bade them choose their bravest man, My equal in degree ; So that we two alone might try The cast for death or victory, And all the rest go free. No braggart speech was that of mine. My blood had flowed, ere then, like wine, 11 170 BOTHWELL. In fiercer combat and more fell Than any Scottish peer could tell. I, who had laid John Elliot low, Need scarce have feared another foe ! XXIII. Rare answer to my call they gave — they were noble hearts and brave ! First, Tullibardine offered fight. He was at best a simple knight, Without a claim, without a right To meet a prince like me. He was no mate in camp or hall ; 1 stood not there to fight with all Whatever their degree. " I dare not then," Kirkaldy said, " To take this quarrel on my head. If Tullibardine ranks too low To hold your challenge as a foe, No better claim have I. Yet, would the Duke of Orkney deign To meet me yonder on the plain And there his fortune try, I cannot think that any stain Upon his name would lie. It has been mine, ere now, to ride In battle front by Princes' side ; With Fgmont I have broke a lance, Charged with the Constable of France, Part vi. BOTIIWELL. 171 And sate at council and at board With many a famous chief and lord " Then Ormiston broke in : — " Baron of Grange ! No need to tell A story that we know full well : For never Scot did win More fame than you in foreign field ; And proudly might you bear your shield In front of Europe's best array, But for your treason of to-day. Aha ! you startle at the word ! Here am I ready with my sword To prove it, if you dare ! I am your equal — Will you fight ? I stand in arms for Mary's right — Do this, and I'll forgive you quite, Rank traitor as you are ! " XXIV. A flush came o'er Kirkaldy's face, Nor spoke he for a little space, But then he answered cold : — " Ready, though rough, is thy rebuke ; I was in fault to urge the Duke. And yet, were he as bold As one at least that I could name, He might have deigned, for very shame, To set his rank aside. 1 72 BOTHWELL. Pabt ft. If, Ormiston, we chance to meet, A gallant foeman shall I greet In rolling hattle-tide. But vain it were for you and I In single fight our strength to try. Your death or mine could not affect The issue of the day : So, not in anger, but respect, Sir Knight, I turn away ! What more remains ? " XXV. I could not bear His calm, composed, contemptuous air ! Save Lethington's, of all that host I feared Kirkaldy's presence most. Already once had Mary sent, And communed with him in her tent. That meeting was not by my will ; I should have stopped him on the hill ; For he was subtile, wise, and keen, The very man to sway the Queen. " All this," I said, " is vain pretext ! What knight or squire shall follow next ? Must I do battle hand to hand With some stark yeoman of your band ? Or, for your sport, lay spear in rest Against some trooper from the west ? Go — say to Morton and to Mar, I strained my courtesy too far part ti. BOTHWELL. 173 In tliat I sent my battle-gage To every rebel peer. Perchance their prudence cools their rage* Or else they did not hear ! Brave leaders have you, Laird of Grange — I wish you joy, Sir, of the change ! Here might I tarry for a week, And never find a foe. The friends in France of whom you speak Had scarcely lingered so ! There stand your chiefs before our eyes ; Each Lord my challenge underlies, Yet none will venture here ! Kirkaldy ! wherefore should you try To shelter with your chivalry These cowards' abject fear? If I refuse to meet you now, I mean nor slight nor scorn ; Your valor, worth, and deeds I know — Ay, better than the men below — Your bad revolt I mourn. XXVI. " Go back — and tell them I revoke The general challenge that I spoke. Say, that I now demand the right, Open to every peer and knight, To call his equal to the field. Say, that I smite on Morton's shield ! 174 BOTH-WELL. paht ft. If he refuse, through Europe wide I'll brand him as a recreant knave — If he comes forth, the quarrel's tried, For one or both shall find a grave. And now, God speed you ! go your way : I have no other word to say. If Morton is so faint of heart That he prefers the coward's part, Why let the fight begin ! Here stand two armies in array. For them to waste a summer's day In boasting words and vain display, Were infamy and sin." xxvir. Glad was I when he turned his ste"d And slowly paced towards the mead, Where, round a standard whose device I could not scan so far, Lay stretched in sluggards' paradise, The leaders of the war. "What think you, Ormiston, my friend, Will Morton do me right? Or will he, like a craven, send Some other peer to fight? " XXVIII. " What think I ? That the rebels know Better than you, to crush their foe ! paut vi. BOTHWEU. 175 Curse on that old fantastic fool, The Frenchman, whom I went to guard ! Had he not eyes to see the pool, Or feet to bear him o'er the sward ? He kept me severed from your side When most you needed care ; And now your rashness and your pride Have cast you in the snare ! My Lord, my Lord ! I tell you here, This knightly freak may cost you dear ! Was this a time to vent your spite By calling Morton forth to fight ? Or worse, by pledging faith and word To tilt with any brainless lord ? Why, the mere offer on your part Shows that your friends are faint of heart : For never leader of a host On which he dared rely, Unless he deemed his fortune lost, Would peril for an empty boast The chance of victory. And they are faint : and fainter still You'll find them at the dawn, If sets the sun behind the hill Before the swords are drawn ! What said Kirkaldy to the Queen ? I hear there has been speech between. And are you not, my Lord, afraid That, even now, you stand betrayed ? 176 BOTH WELL, r art vi. Yon pining captive hath not shown Such liking to her range, That I would trust her, all alone, To speak with one like Grange ? I prate too much. One chance is ours — Let me, this instant, form our powers. I'll place old Scton in the van — I trust him not to-day — And send behind a Border clan, To goad him to the fray. Forego your challenge — strike the drum ! And when the rebels see us come, As comes a river, red and large, It may be they will shun the charge. Upon them now, with sword and lance — Believe me, 'tis our only chance ! " XXIX. " I cannot do it — for my word Is pledged and passed ; I needs must wait.' " You ? Are we nothing here, my Lord ? Care you so little for our fate ? I have some reverence for my neck, And will not risk it at your beck ! I fearken ! you know my way of old — Best is the truth when bluntly told. This day our lives are set at stake : Yovi are not able to command — Let me the whole disposal take, Or else, by heaven, I quit your band ! paiit vr. BOTHWELL. 177 Look not aghast ! There's no retreat For you or me. This very day You must ascend the royal seat, Or perish as a castaway ! Then wait not, like a fettered bear, Till some stout mastiff slips his chain ! Give me the order to prepare : I'll drive them from the plain. — But who spurs hither ? Bolton ! Well, What brings you from your post ? " " Come up ! I cannot stay to tell — * Come up, or all is lost ! The troopers murmur. On the green They pile their arms, and say Without an order from the Queen, They will not fight to-day. The Queen's with Seton in her tent ! And, more than once, has message sent Down to the rebel camp below — Marchmont is with them even now." XXX. "Enough! Go back; we'll follow straight — Now is the crisis of our fate ! Say but the word, and, with my band, I'll do what mortal can; Ride up with me ! Take sword in hand, And bear you like a man ! Better to die with helm on head, Than mount a scaffold grim — ITJ BOTIIWELL. part vi. Why — you are paler than the dead, You shake in every limb ! Are you the man who went so far At Kirk-of-field, and at Dunbar, And shrink you from the face of war ? Why stand you here as on parade ? By heaven — I think the Duke's afraid ! If it be so, then fare you well ! Now, shall we onwards go ? Each moment is a passing- b?ll — 'Sdcath ! answer, yes or no! " XXXI. " I tarry here ! " " God help thee then I'll see thy face no more ! Like water spilt upon the plain Not to be gathered up again Is the old love I bore. Best I forget thee, Bothwell ! Yet "lis not so easy to forget ; For at the latest hour, I see I've lost a life in following thee. Faint-hearted now ? Alas, for shame ! To bring disgrace on such a name — But wherefore should I chide ? See — yonder comes Kirkaldy back, With Marchmont at his side. Now, sir ; since other aid you lack, Make him your friend and guide. part vi. BOTHTVELL. 1 79 He's honest, brave, a generous foe — It may be he will let you go If you bespeak him fair ! Friends, fortune, fame, a crown are lost, By you, the captain of a host, And not a blade is bare ! Saint Andrew ! what a scurvy tale To carry back to Teviotdale ! Farewell, thou weak and wavering lord — Farewell — it is my latest word ! " XXXII. He parted, like a flash of fire ; He spurred his courser up the hill ; My friend, the follower of my sire, The man whom I had trusted still ! What spell was on me, that I stayed, Nor tried the chance of war ? Ah! — she, the injured and betrayed, The captive of Dunbar — I did not dare to face her then, Before Lord Seton and his men ! Then came Kiikaldy, riding slow — " Well, sir ; what message bring you now ? Will Morton come ? Though somewhat late, You see his answer still I wait." XXXIII. " My Lord — the message that I bear Comes from the peers assembled there. 180 BOTIIWKLL. PART VI. My charge is only to the Queen, Whose herald has been sent; Therefore no words can pass between, Save in the royal tent. But this 'tis mine to say, my Lord ; I gave your challenge, word for word. The answer, sent unto your Grace, I'll speak before my Sovereign's face." " "Why not to me ? " " Because they deem One answer will suffice ; Because they hold the Queen supreme, And know her just and wise ; Because, before a life is lost, For which, as leaders of the host, They must account to God, Most surely are they bound to say Why thus, in masterful array. They bar the royal road. Nay more ; because the Queen's command, Not yours, has brought me here : Therefore your challenge needs must stand Unanswered, till the Lords' demand Shall reach her Highness' ear. XXXIV. " Herald ! withdraw a little space — Now list to me, my Lord ! As truly as I hope for grace, I pledge my faith and word. PAHT VI. BOTHWELL. 181 That, if you do not take your flight Forthwith, and seek this very night Some distant hold or room, You die ! But not in open fight ; The scaffold is your doom. There is no chance of battle now — There never was — for all avow, Both yours and ours, tha same intent, To free her Highness from restraint. Beside your own retainers, few If any, there, will strike for you. I love you not : but loth Avere I, Whate'er your deeds have been, To see a Scottish noble die A death of shame and infamy ; And more, because he stood so high, The husband of my Queen. Therefore beware ! This much I say To you, as man to man. Think of it : make no long delay, Take warning while you can. If you are armed in innocence, Your answer may be strong ; But here, at least, is no defence. And now my duty calls me hence ; Wilt please you pass along ?" XXXV. Had the earth yawned, the thunder crashed, Or had the bolts of lightning flashed, 182 BOTIIWELL. PAKT VI. And right before me broke ; I had not felt more deep abasbed Than when Kirkaldy spoke. I went — God help me, bow I went ! — A culprit, up to Mary's tent : No eyes were fixed on me. All looked upon the Laird of Grange, As if, throughout broad Scotland's range, Was none so great as he. XXXVI. There was more life in Mary's face, More spirit, dignity, and grace, Than I had marked for many a day. Behind hor, in their steel array, Scton and Yester gravely stood : Their presence boded little good, No friends of mine were they. Then thus Kirkaldy she addressed : — " Since, Laird of Grange, you still protest That duty to the crown, Which fits a loyal subject best — Now make your message known. AVhat seek my Lords ? " Then answered he, " They come to set your Highness free ! Your pardon — though the Duke be here, I must speak boldly on. They hold him as a traitor peer, To you and to your son — " part vi. BOTUWELL. 1S3 Fierce I exclaimed ; — " Dare they deny The solemn Band they gave ! By heaven, such weight of infamy Should sink them to the grave ! Did they not say that I alone Was the fit man to guard the throne ? Is nothing written in the Band Of Bothwell's claim to Mary's hand ? Have faith and honor left the land? " XXXVII. " I well believe," Kirkaldy said, " That such a dangerous Band was made, But that avails not now. Though every peer had influence lent, There still remained the Queen's consent, And when spoke she the vow ? Not until you, by force of war, Had ta'en her Highness to Dunbar ! But let me speak. The Lords invite Your Highness to return this night To Holyrood, your royal home, And to escort you there, they come. Gladly their homage will they show : They pray you to believe it so ; For aye they hold your honor dear, And therefore, Madam, we are here. Not against you shall Scottish swords E'er glitter in the sun. 184 BOTHWELL. part VI. This message bear I from the Lords ; And now my task is done." XXXVIII. Not once did Mary's eye and mine Encounter while he spoke. I felt it as a dismal sign : The daughter of the Stuart line Would not endure the yoke ! "What I may do," she said, " depends Upon the temper of your friends. What is their purpose with the Duke ! Know you, that when his hand 1 took And spake the solemn vows, I lost my freedom to rebuke ; I owned him as my spouse ? If, for my sake, the Lords appear, I have the right to dictate here ; Nor will I so belie my race As yield to vengeance or disgrace The meanest vassal in my train. Therefore, Sir Knight, you speak in vain. Unless prepared to pledge your faith, That all are free to go. Nay more — I stir not from this heath Until I see it so." " So shall it be," Kirkaldy said ; " For that I pledge my life, my head. This message to the Duke I bear, That, if he craves the fight, paht vi. B0IHWEL1. 185 Lord Lindsay, high and noble peer, Will prove our quarrel right. Yet is he free to pass from hence, Without molest, without offence, With all his following, all his power, So that he tarries not an hour." XXXIX. The tear was in Queen Mary's eye, As forth she held her hand. " Then is the time of parting nigh ! For, Bothwell, my command Is that you go and save a life That else were lost in useless strife. Farewell ! We may not meet again ; But I have passed such years of pain — So many partings have I known, That this poor heart has callous grown. Farewell ! If anything there be That moves you when you think on me, Believe that you are quite forgiven By one who bids you pray to Heaven ! No soul alive so innocent But needs must beg at Mercy's door — Farewell ! " She passed from out the tent. O God — I never saw her more ! XL. Was it a dream ? or did I hear A yell of scorn assail my ear, 12 186 BOTHWELL. part vi. As frantic from the host I rode? The very charger I bestrode Rebelled in wrath against the rein, And strove to bear me back again ! Lost, lost ! I cared not where I went — Lost; lost ! And none were there, Save those who sought in banishment A refuge from despair. How fared the rest ? I do not know, For I was maddened with my woe. But I remember when we sailed From out that dreary Forth, And in the dull of morning hailed The headlands of the North : The hills of Caithness wrapped in rain, The reach of Stroma's isle, The Pentland, where the furious main Roars white for many a mile — Until we steered by Shapinsay, • And moored our bark in Kirkwall bay. Yet not in Orkney would they broi k The presence of their banished Duke. The castle gates vvere shut and barred, Up rose in arms the burgher guard; No refuge there we found. But that 1 durst not tarry long, I would have ta'en that castle strong, And razed it to the ground ! North, ever north ! we sailed by night, And yet the sky was red with light, And purple rolled the deep. part ti. BOTHWELL. 187 When morning came, we saw the tide Break thundering on the rugged side Of Sumburgh's awful steep ; And, weary of the wave, at last In Bressay Sound our anchor cast. XLI. faithless were the waves and wind ! Still the avenger sped behind. No rock so rude, no isle so lone, That I might claim it as my own. A price was set upon my head, Hunted from place to place I fled ; Till chased across the open seas, I met the surly Dane. These were his gifts and welcome — these ! A dungeon and a chain ! XLII. Descend, black night ! Blot out thy stars — Nor let them through those prison bars Behold me writhing here ! For there's a hand upon my heart That makes my being thrill and start — A voice is in mine ear. 1 hear its whisper, sad and low, As if a spirit wailed in woe — " Bothwell ! thine end is near." O then, in mercy, keep away, Ye spectral forms, nor cast dismay 188 BOTH WELL. PAKT vi. Upon me in my dying hour ! Why should it please you that I cower, Like a lashed hound, heneath your stare, And shriek, a madman, in despair ? Give me one night, 'tis all I crave, To pass in darkness to the grave, Nor more this agony renew — What's here ? — No phantom of the tomb ! Death has not shed his livid hue On that pale check, nor stamped his gloom Upon the forehead, fair and high, Of Scotland's Queenly Majesty ! Mary, is't thou ? and com'st thou here, Alive, to chide me for my wrong ? O, for the love of God, forbear ! Haunt me not now ! I've suffered long, And bitter has my anguish been ! What brings thee hither, woeful Queen ? Ah, what is that ? a scaffold dressed — The axe, the headsman, and the priest — O God ! it surely cannot be ! — Come, Death ; and I will welcome thee ! NOTES. NOTES. " For one short month the sceptred might Of Scotland ivas my ovm." — P. 11. DATES OF THE PRINCIPAL EVENTS NOTICED IN THIS POEM. I believe that a good deal of misconception regarding the personal history of Queen Mary has arisen from the slight attention which ordinary readers pay to dates. The leading events of Mary's life, at least such events as most powerfully influenced her destiny, are comprised within a very short pe- riod of time ; and I think it may assist the reader by placing these before him in their chronological order : — Marriage of Queen Mary with the Dauphin, 24th April, Dauphin succeeded to the throne of France, as Francis II., Francis II. died, Mary waited on by Darnley at Orleans, and by Bothwell at Joinville, in the early part of Mary landed at Leith, .... Marriage of Queen Mary with Darnley, Bothwell married Lady Jean Gordon, . Murder of Riccio, James VI. boi - n, . .... 1558 . 10th July, 1559 5th Dec. 1560 7 f 1561 . 20th Aug. 1561 . 27th July, 1565 . 24th Feb. 1566 9th March, 1566 . 19th June, 1566 192 BOTH-WELL. Murder of Darnley 10th Feb. 15G7 Bothwell tried and acquitted, . . . 12th April, 1567 Band subscribed by the chief nobility recom- mending Bothwell as a proper husband for the Queen, 19th April, 1567 Mary carried off to Dunbar by Bothwell, . 21th April, 1567 Mary brought back to Edinburgh by Both- well, and lodged in the Castle, . . 6th May, 1567 Bothwell divorced from his wife, . . 7th May, 1567 Marriage of Queen Mary with Bothwell, . 15th May, 1567 Parting of Mary from Bothwell at Carberry, 15th June, 1567 Queen Mary sent to Loch Leven, . . 16th June, 1567 " 'Twas sin to smile, "'twas sin to laugh, 'Twos sin to sport or p 1 ay.' 1 '' — P. 20. FANATICAL AUSTERITY OF THE REFORMERS. By an Act of the Parliament of Scotland, passed in 1555, during the minority of Mary, the old and popular sports of the common people were forbidden. "It is statute and or- dained, that in all times cumming, no manner of person bo chosen Robert Hi he, nor Little John, Abbot of Unreason, Queens of Mat, nor otherwise, nouther in Burgh nor to Landwart, in onie time to cum." This restriction on the amusement of the lieges was accompanied with severe penal- igainsl those who should contravene it. Any pretty girl who v. ished I i be a candidate for the flowery chaplet of " the Queen of the May." then stood in manifest peril of forfeiting her character; for the statute proceeds: — "And gif onie women or others about summer trees singand, makis pertur- bation to the Queenis Lieges in the passage throw Burrowes NOTES. 193 and uthers Landward Townes, the woman perturbatoures for skafrie of money, or utherwise, sail be taken, handled, and put upon the Cuclc-stules of e eerie Burgh or Toune.'" What a genial age it must have been, when poor maid Marian was liable to " handling " and the pillory for the heinous offence of singing under the summer trees ! This Act was in full force when Mary returned to Scotland ; and as any deprivation of the amusements of the working classes is certain to be followed by an outburst against the liberty of their superiors in rank and station, it is no wonder if the people, prohibited by statute from enjoying their own sports, should have regarded with jealousy the gayeties which were exhibited in the Palace. I shall simply quote the words of Hume, referable to the construction which the preachers were pleased to place upon the earliest attempts of Mary to render her Court attractive. " The pulpits had become mere scenes of railing against the vices of the Court ; among which were always noted as the principal, feasting, finery, dancing, balls, and whoredom (as Knox said), their necessary attendant. Some ornaments, which the ladies at that time wore upon their petticoats, excited mightily the indignation of the preachers ; and they affirmed that such vanity would provoke God's vengeance, not only against these foolish women, but against the whole realm." The personal remarks which John Knox directed from the pulpit against his Queen, may be found in any edition of his works. 194 BOTH WELL. " She haled Mary from her soul, As woman and as Queen." — P. 23. MABT'S CLAIM TO THE THRONE OF ENGLAND. It is not surprising that Elizabeth should have regarded Mary from the very first with extreme jealousy and dislike. Her own title to the crown of England, at least according be the ordinary rules of succession, was worse than doubtful, and had been disallowed by Parliaments held during the reigns both of her father and her brother. Tlie accession of her sister Mary, after the death of Edward VI. made her position even worse, since the Parliament of England, by acknowledging Mary's legitimate right, virtually declared Elizabeth to be a bastard. It will be remembered that tho marriage of Henry VIII. with his first wife, Catherine of Arragon, was set aside by the sentence of Cranmer, Arch- bishop of Canterbury, alter Henry had renounced allegiance to Rome, on the ground of nullity. Catherine having been his brother's widow. The marriage had been allowed iu quence of the papal dispensation; and Henry, who had then set his affections upon Anne Boleyn, used every exertion to obtain a divorce from Home. That divorce, Tope Clement, from political motives, was averse to grant; and Henry, in consequence, threw off the papal authority, and declared himself the head of the English Church. The sentenoe of Cranmer was ratified and confirmed by Act of Parliament ; and therefore .Mary, as the offspring of an unlawful marriage void and null ah initio, was declared illegitimate, and ren« dered incapable of succession. But Henry had not waited, even for the sentence of Cranmer, before consummating bis second marriage with Anne Boleyn ; and Elizabeth was born before the decease of Catherine of Arragon. When Henry, NOTES. 195 moved by the charms of Jane Seymour, who became his third •wife, sent Anne Boleyn upon false charges to the block, that marriage also was annulled, and the issue declared illegiti- mate ; and by Act of Parliament (8th June, 153G) the crown was settled on the King's issue by Jane Seymour, or any subsequent wife ; and in case he should die without children, he was empowered by will or letters-patent to dispose of the crown. Jane Seymour died, leaving only one son, Edward ; Anne of Cleves was unceremoniously sent back to her family, and Catherine Howard was beheaded. After taking to him- self a sixth wife, Catherine Parr, Henry became uneasy as to the state of the succession, and procured an Act of Parliament, limiting the succession to the crown, in the event of the death of Prince Edward without issue, " to the King's daughter, Lady Mary, and her issue ; and in default of such issue, to Lady Elizabeth and her issue : — the King being empowered to appoint the succession of the crown, on failure of all such issue, by his last will in writing." Such is the abbreviate of the Act of Parliament, 28 Henry VIII. c. 7, by which the ordinary laws of the realm were set at utter defiance ; for while the princesses were expressly called to the succession, the Acts which declared them to be illegitimate were not revoked. About a month before his decease, Henry made his will, leaving the crown first to Edward, then to Mary, then to Elizabeth ; and failing them and their issue, to the heirs of his younger sister, the Duchess of Suffolk, thus excluding the posterity of his eldest sister Margaret, Queen of Scots, who, after his lawful children, were next in succession. Of Edward's right to the crown there could be no doubt ; but Edward had formed the opinion that both his sisters were illegitimate. Accordingly, upon his death-bed, he desired letters- patent to be made out by commissioners specially named, again altering the succes- 196 BOTIIV.'ELL. Bion, setting aside Mary and Elizabeth, and preferring the heirs of the Duchess of Suffolk. Upon these letters-patent was founded the claim of the unfortunate Lady Jane Grey, who, personally blameless, became a sacrifice to the ambition of her husband's family. I5y the lirst Parliament of Queen Mary, the Acts affecting her own legitimacy were set aside; the 6entenco of divorce between Henry and Catherine of Arragon was repealed and annulled, and their marriage was declared to have been in every respect valid and lawful. This Ac4 was another solemn declaration of the illegitimacy of Elizabeth, who, as 1 have said, was born during the life- time of Queen Catherine.; fur it is evident that by no possible •construct ii in of law could Mary and Elizabeth both be held legitimate. Mary's right and status were never questioned by any power in Europe ; and so long as she lived, the claims of the Scots line were kept in abeyance. But on her death, when Elizabeth without opposition assumed the throne, with no better title than the destination contained in her father's will, Henry II. of France caused his daughter-in-law, Mary Queen of Scots and Dauphiness, to assume openly the arms as well as the title of Queen of England. This was a direct challenge of the right and legitimacy of Elizabeth ; and d lubtless gave rise to that hatred which was not appeased until the unfortunate Queen of Scots died upon the scailbld at Fotheringay. Elizabeth had the good fortune to be served by wist- and able ministers ; and they, conscious of the radical defect in the title of their mistress, advised her that the surest mode of counteracting her rival was by fomenting the dissensions which at that time agitated Scotland, and by lending her countenance and aid to the Lords of the Congregation. For the adoption of this policy it would be unreasonable to blame Elizabeth. She was, in fact, the great Protestant Sovereign NOTES. 197 of Europe, with Spain and France against her ; but the most serious and pressing danger was to be apprehended from Scot- land. If Mary could by any means conciliate her subjects, and restore internal harmony to her realm, she might, without any imputation of rashness, proceed to enforce her undoubted hereditary right to the throne of England ; in which attempt, besides the co-operation of the Continental Catholic powers, she was certain to receive assistance from the English Cath- olics, then a large, influential, and discontented body. But by promoting discord in Scotland, and by assuming the character of protectress of the reforming party there ; by giving secret subsidies to the disaffected ; and by affording shelter to those who were guilty of rebellion, Elizabeth played her game so well, that at last she was able to appear as umpire between her hated rival and the insurgent nobles of Scotland. In all this she displayed consummate tact, judgment, and perfidy — the latter a quality which, in State affairs, it has long been the fashion to excuse : and no one can rise from an attentive perusal of the records of that time, without the conviction that the very wisest of the so-called Scottish statesmen of the day were mere tools and puppets in the hands of her and her counsellors. Murray has, by more than one writer, been represented as a high-minded and patriotic man. Before Elizabeth he was no better than a spaniel, cowering under the degradation of the lash, which was often unsparingly applied. And so it was with Morton, and all the others to whom she extended her protection, and who privily were the recipients of her bounty. To her machinations, successfully carried through by adroit and active agents, each unfortunate step in the career of Mary, whose nature was too guileless to enable her to descry the fine meshes of the net by which she was pitilessly surrounded, may easily be traced. 198 BOTH\VF,T,L. •' For still the phantom in her path Had been a Scottish heir." — P. 28. POPULAR PKOPHECIES OF THE SUCCESSION OF THE SCOTS LINE TO THE CROWN OF ENGLAND. In every nation, at a certain period of its progress, prophe- cies of this kind are current ; though it is but proper to add that, in many instances, there is good reason to suspect that the vaticinations of the elder seers have been altered and modified to suit events after their occurrence. The leading- prophet of Scotland, whose fame has not yet passed into oblivion, was Thomas Learmonth of Ercildoune, familiarly known to the peasantry as Thomas the Rhymer, who lived in the days of King Alexander the Third, and died, as appears from a charter by his son, previous to 12'J'J, before Wallace had concluded his great struggle for Scottish liberty. His traditionary adventures with the Queen of Elfiand — a yery different personage from Titania, the spouse of Oberon — have been made the theme of ballad and of song : indeed, he seems to have enjoyed in Scotland, for a very long series of years, the same magical reputation which was conferred, during the middle ages, upon the poet Virgil His prophecies, however, are the great foundation of his lame, and it is Curious to observe at what an early period these were cited as instance s of remarkable fulfilment. He seems to have prophe- sied that one of the family of Bruce would gain the throne of Scotland ; for, in Barbour's poem of Th Bruce, which was composed about the year L370, the Bishop of St. An- drew.- i- made to exclaim, on receiving intelligence of the slaughter of the Red Comyn by King Robert— " Bekyrly I li"i>e, Thomas prophecy NOTES. 199 Off Hersildoune sail veryfyd be la him ; for, swa our Lord help me, I haitf gret hope he sail be king, Ami haitf this land all in leding." Andrew Wintoun, prior of St. Serf's, who compiled his Chronicle about the year 1420, speaks thus of one of the Rhymer's current prophecies : — " Of this fyeht quiluui spak Thomas Of Ersyldoune, that sayd in derne,. There suld melt stalwaitly, starke and sterne, He sayd it in his prophecy ; But how he wist, it was ferly." There were, however, other popular prophets than Thomas of Ercildoune ; and in process of time their vaticinations became blended with his, and the greater prophet eclipsed the group of the lesser ones, and enjoyed the monopoly of the whole. No collection of these prophecies seems to have been made and published before the year 1G08, after James VI. succeeded to the throne of England ; and therefore there is no satisfactory evidence as to their authenticity in the form in which they now exist. Ballads and popular rhymes, when transmitted only by oral tradition, must, in the course of time, undergo many changes both in dialect and form ; and that strong tendency towards the marvellous, which is by no means confined to the vulgar, may be presumed to encourage and invite imposture. But I deny altogether the assertion of Lord Hailes, that the popular Scottish prophecies relative to the succession of the Stuart family to the throne of England, were forgeries or interpolations made subsequent to the death of Queen Elizabeth, for the purpose of being accommodated to the accession of King James ; and I do so upon the strength of evidence which cannot be overthrown. It is but fair that 2C0 BOTHAVELL. the prophets should receive credit where credit is justly due ; and in this instance it is impossible to deny to Thomas the Rhymer, or his follower, the possession of the prophetic mantle. The rhyme stands thus : — "However it happen for to fall, The Lyon shall be lord of all ; The French Queene shall beare the son Shall rule all Britaine to the sea, Which of the Bruce's blood shall come As neare as the nint degree." Now, although there is no printed version of these prophe- cies earlier than that to which I have referred, it is easy to show that this particular prediction was known and popular- ly quoted previous to the return of Queen Mary from France ; therefore previous to her marriage with Darnley, and at a time when Elizabeth was still young, and when the prospect of her contracting a matrimonial alliance was extremely probable. The following remarkable passage is extracted from a poem, of the authenticity of which there can be no question, by Alexander Scott, entitled Ane New Yere Gift to the Qucne, quhen scho come first harne. The poem, therefore, was com- posed in 15G1. It opens thus : — " Welcum, illustrat Ladye, and oure Quene ; Welcum our lyone, with the Floure-de-lyce ; Welcum our thrissill, with the Lorane grene ; Welcum our rubent rois upon the ryee ; Welcum our jem and joyfull genetrice ; Welcum our beill of Albion to beir ; Welcum our plesand Princess, maist of price ; God gife th>' grace aganis this guid new yeir." Alter no fewer than twenty-four stanzas of loyal greeting and aspiration, closing with a devout wish for the Queen's NOTES. 201 marriage, the poet thus refers to the current prophecies. As it may be difficult for some readers to comprehend the mean- ing of the words when expressed in the old Scottish mode of spelling, I have ventured so far to modernize this stanza, but without changing a single word : — " If saws be sooth to show thy cclsitude, What bairn should brook all Britain by the sea 1 The prophecy expressly docs conclude The French wife of the Bruce's blood should be: Thou art by line from him the ninth degree, And was King Francis' party maik and peer ; So by descent, the same should spring of thee, By grace of God, against this good new year." Here we have, in language so precise as almost to amount to quotation, distinct and unequivocal reference to the pre- diction which Lord Hailes challenged as spurious. I may add that curious testimony has been borne to the strange fulfilment of some of tb.0 Rhymer's prophecies by John Colville, whose funeral oration upon Queen Elizabeth (Paris, 1604) contains the following passage : — " Nonne hsec Saturnii seculi argumenta indubitata ? quaa mihi in memoriam exulceratam revocant, quod, cum puer essem audiyeram balathrones ccraulas Thomas Rythmici fati- dici numerare quasdam carmina trivialia, quae tunc ludicra, nunc vero seria atque efficacia esse agnosco : verum se Del- phice an divinitas inspirata sint, definire non audeo cum teste Augustino." I am very far from wishing it to be supposed that I rest much faith in the authenticity of popular rhymes, especially when these are of a prophetic character. Nevertheless, I hope my readers will not be displeased at my calling their notice to one instance in which a popular prophecy was un- 13 202 BOTHWELL. doubtedly fulfilled. The extract from Scott's poem shows that the prediction -was then entreat among the people of Scotland ; and there can be little doubt that it was known to Elizabeth. If so, is it wonderful that, in an age when super- stitious feelings were still cherished, the announcement that her rival had given birth to a son and heir, next after herself in succession to the throne of England, should have grieved the haughty mind of Elizabeth ? " There was that Riccio — sharp and sly.'" — P. 29. FIRST CONSPIRACY AGAINST QUEEN MARY. The details of the murder of Riccio are so well known, that it would be out of place to repeat them here. But the con- spiracy which led to that event deserves especial notice ; and I trust that a short explanation of its origin and aim will nut be considered superfluous. The Scottish nobles who promoted the cause of the Refor- mation, had a deep interest in its permanence. They knew well that, if the authority of Rome was again established, the immediate consequence would be a restitution of the Church lands which had been appropriated as lawful spoils ; therefore, from the very first, they ranged themselves in opposition to Mary, whose devotion to the Catholic faith was notorious. At their head was Lord James Stuart, Prior of St. Andrews, better known as the Karl of Murray, a bastard brother of the Queen, formidable alike from his ability and his ambition, lie was the natural son of James V. by Margaret, daughter of Lord Erskine ; and is believed, from an early period of his life, to NOTES. 203 have entertained the hope of obtaining a reversal of his illegi- timacy, in which case he might, in the event of Mary dying without issue, have advanced a claim to the crown of Scot- land. Nor was this a scheme so wild as to appear beyond the pale of probability. The claims of Henry VII. to the throne of England had been rested upon no better founda- tion ; and Elizabeth's right, as I have explained in a former note, was worse than doubtful. Murray was just the kind of man likely to succeed in such a design. He was cool, cau- tious, long-sighted, and unscrupulous ; and by taking the popular side in the then all-absorbing religious controversy, he greatly increased his reputation and his power. He also entered into deep and intricate relations with the Court of England. When Mary, contrary to the wishes of Elizabeth, consulted her own inclination by marrying Darnley, Murray threw every possible obstacle in the way. The means he employed are concisely stated by Lord Herries in his History. " A little after this, Henry Lord Darnley came to Scotland, upon a pass from the Queen of England for three months' stay. Our Queen was desirous to see this young gentleman, who had been secretly proposed unto her for a husband. He was her own cousin in the third degree by his mother, who was daughter to the Earl of Angus, begotten upon the Queen who was mother to King James the Fifth, and grandmother to the Queen herself. It was soon seen that she took a liking unto him: which by many means was indirectly crossed by the Earl of Murray There had been propositions of mar- riage laid down heretofore to the Queen concerning this same gentleman, which were known to be put aside by the under- hand working of the Earl of Murray, whereof the Queen was not ignorant. But now the many dislikes she had conceived against him made her resolve to take a husband, that by the 204 BOTHW'ELL. happiness of succession a settlement might he expected to the crown and estate of the kingdom. Yet the crown being the mark whereat Murray aimed, his greatest study was to keep the Queen from marriage, which at this time he could not do handsomely himself. So now, as formerly, he had recourse to Queen Elizabeth of England, who was soon persuaded to throw stumhling-hlocks in the way. It was thought that, besides reasons of state and the assisting of Murray in his pretensions, the Queen of England had a secret averseness and antipathy to our Queen, one of her own sex, whom she knew to be her nearest successor ; hut now, to have the comfort of a husband and the happiness of children, blessings that she knew herself not capable of, were things that Bhe could not think upon but with envy. " But before Queen Elizabeth did show herself in the busi- ness, the Earl of Murray used what indirect means he could to cross the Queen's resolutions. Religion was his chief ob- jection, wherein he had the ministers to follow him with open mouth. They said that it could not stand with the honor of God, nor the Reformed Religion, that the Queen should take any to husband who had any tincture of Popery, nor before a visible assurance might be had of the preservation of the religion now established. These were public propositions. But tlic Karl of .Murray, finding them not take the wished effect, he laid open challenge to one David Rizius, an Italian, who had served the Queen for many years, and who, from a Musician, became the Secretary of State — an active politick man, whose counsel the Queen made use of in her greatest affairs. Upon this man he laid aspersions that the Queen misled by his advice; that lie was a stranger, and one basely born ; and that for his cause she misregarded thoad- \ice of Iht Dobility. These things were cried out by that party. They went yet further ; there were whispering means NOTES. 205 usad to divert the Lord Darnley"s affection from the Queen, and tales were sometimes minced at, as though David Rizius was many times too intimate with the Queen more than was fitting. " The Queen ohserved all these proceedings, and knew from whom they came. But she was resolved to marry ; which she suspected was the thing in the world that would most vex the Earl of Murray ; and to strengthen her own faction, she called home the Earl of Bothwell from France, the Earl of Sutherland from Flanders, and took George Gordon, the Earl of Huntley's eldest son, out of prison, gave them all remissions, and restored them to their estates and honors." Riccio was then laboring to remove every impediment which had been cast in the way of the marriage of his royal mistress with Darnley ; little dreaming that the infatuated fool whom he was raising to a throne would repay his ser- vices by the blow of the assassin's dagger ! Murray, though a master in dissimulation, regarded Mary's marriage as too hazardous an event for his own project to be allowed without an outbreak ; more especially as Mary had inconsiderately and foolishly agreed to use her influence with the Scottish Parliament to confer the crown-matrimonial upon her hus- band. This serious error cost Mary dear. The Duke of Chatelherault, who stood next after her in succession, was of course opposed to such a grant, which threatened his heredi- tary rights ; and was thus for a time induced to lend his influence to Murray. Mary, being unable to obtain the con- sent of the nobles, took upon herself to proclaim Darnley on the day of their marriage as King ; and the entry in the Canongate Register of Marriages is — il Henry and Marie, Kyng and Qweine of Scotis." Murray attempted a rebellion ; but not being adequately supported by the people, he and his confederates were 206 BOTH"\VELL. compelled to retire before the army, which the Queen led in person, and took refuge in England. So closes the first act of the Murray conspiracy. The opening of the second act is very different. The mar- riage being now consummated, and the Queen being pregnant, Murray, then fugitive and exiled, commenced an intimate correspondence with Darnley, whose pride, assumption, and insolence, coupled with his notorious ingratitude and infidel- ity to his consort, had by this time alienated from him the regard of all loyal subjects. It is almost inconceivable that Darnley, imbecile and thoroughly vicious as he was, should have fallen into such a snare ; nevertheless we find that, only seven days before the murder of Riccio, a Band was granted by " Archibald, Earl of Argyle ; James, Earl of Murray ; Alexander, Earl of Glencairn ; Andrew, Earl of Rothes ; Robert, Lord Boyd ; Andrew, Lord Ochiltree ; and their complices," " to ane noble and mychty Prence, Henry, King of Scotland, husband to our soverane Lady." And the terms of that Band were as follows. The subscribers bound them- selves to maintain Darnley 's cause and quarrel against all the world, with life, lands, and goods ; to use their influence in Parliament to have his assumption of the crown-matrimo- nial ratified ; to fortify and maintain his title to the crown, failing the Queen without issue ; and to use their interest with Elizabeth in his behalf. I quote one passage, for the purpose of .showing the extent of their submission : '• Item, as they ar becuming trew and faythfull subjectes, men, and B irvandis to the said noble prence, and sail be leall and trew to his Majestic, as becumes trew subjectis to ther naturall prence, and as trew and faythfull servandis servis ther gud maisteris with ther bodeis, landis, gudis, and possessiounis. Ami sail nouther spayr lyf nor dead in settyng fordwart all tliingis that may be to the advancement of the said noble NOTES. 207 prence." We have it on the authority of Knox, that a counter-band, signed by Darnley and his father, the Earl of Lennox, was granted to the confederates, " for they durst not trust the King's word without his Signet." All this was perfectly well known to Elizabeth's agents ; indeed, they were privy to the whole transaction. The support of Morton was purchased by Darnley's resigning his claim to the earldom of Angus ; and the plot being thus far advanced, Elizabeth was apprized of the conspiracy. Here, again, dates become of much value. The Earl of Bedford and Randolph, who were then at Berwick, wrote to Cecil on 6th March that " a mat- ter of no small consequence in Scotland was intended ; " and " to this determination of theirs there are privy in Scotland these : Argyle, Morton, Boyd, Ruthven, and Lethington. In England these : Murray, Rothes, Grange, myself, and the writer hereof. If persuasions to cause the Queen to yield to these matters do no good, they propose to proceed we know not in what sort." The "matters" in question were of great importance to Murray and his rebel confederates, for they included their estates in Scotland, it being Mary's declared intention that the fugitive Lords should be forfeited by Parliament. They were cited to appear on the 12th of March, so that some sudden and decisive step was necessary. On the 9th of March, Riccio was murdered in the presence of the Queen, who was made a prisoner in her own palace. It was at first intended that the slaughter should be on a larger scale, so as to include Mary's principal supporters ; as detailed by herself in a remarkable letter to Betoun, Arch- bishop of Glasgow, her ambassador at Paris. Tbat letter bears date the 2d April, and the revelation it contains rela- tive to the designs of the conspirators was evidently furnished by Darnley, who by that time had betrayed his confederates. After relating the horrible circumstances of the murder, but 208 BOTIIWELL. without charging her husband with direct participation, she writes : — " We all this time took no less care of ourselves than for our council and nobility, maintainers of our authority, being with us in our palace at the time ; to wit, the Earls of Hunt- ley, Bothwell, Atholl, Lords Fleming and Livingston. Sir James Balfour, and certain others our familiar servitors, against whom the enterprise was conspired as well as for David ; and namely, to have hanged the said Sir James in cords. Yet, by the providence of (Jod, the Earls of Huntley and Bothwell escaped forth of their chambers in our palace at a back wiu- dow by some cords ; whereon the conspirators took some fear, and thought themselves greatly disappointed in their enter- prise. The Earl of Atholl and Sir James Balfour by some other means, with the Lords Fleming and Livingston, ob- tained deliverance of their invasion. The provost and town of Edinburgh having understood this tumult in our palace, caused ring their common bell, came to us in great number, and desired to have seen our presence, intercommuned with us, and to have known our welfare: so when we was not permitted to give answer, being extremely bestead by those lords, who in our face declared, if we desired to have spoken them, they should cut us in collops, and east us over the wall. So this community, being commanded by our husband, retired them to quietness." \ ■■■.' iii. Murray arrived in Edinburgh, and at an inter- view with his sister expressed great affection and solicitude; but. as .M.u-y writes, " upon tie- in »rn he assembled the enter- prisers of this late crime, and such of our rebels as came with him. In their council they thought it most expedient we should be warded in our castle of Stirling, there to remain while we bad approved in Parliament all their w icked enter- prise . id their religion, and given to the King the NOTES. 209 crown-matrimonial and the whole government of our realm : or else, by all appearance, firmly purposed to have put us to death, or detained us in perpetual captivity." Mary owed her escape from this frightful peril to her own presence of mind, and the influence which she still exercised over the weak and vacillating Darnley. She represented to him that, by aiding the designs of the rebel Lords, he was inviting his own ruin ; and he, being thoroughly terrified by the dreadful consequences of his folly, abandoned the Lords ( with whom he had been confederated for scarcely ten days) , devised the means of escape, and fled with Mary to Dunbar. Once there, she was safe, at least in the meanwhile ; for the loyal gentlemen of Scotland, in indignation at the unparal- leled outrage upon their Queen, flocked to her standard, and the murderers of Riccio were compelled to take their flight. Murray, however, who denied complicity, and who had not been denounced by Darnley, remained ; and in the sequel, through the mediation of Elizabeth, whose acute counsellors forsaw the effect of such undeserved lenity, all the conspira- tors and actors in the murder of Riccio were pardoned, except Morton, Lindsay, Ruthven, and one or two of inferior note. This act of grace, which is only one of many proofs of Mary's singular clemency, was made shortly after the birth of the Prince. It was a political blunder, but undoubtedly an amiable one. Elizabeth never pardoned those who rebelled against her authority. Mary took the opposite course, and to that we must ascribe her ruin. 210 BOTH-WELL. " John Elliot of the Pari;." — P. 45. BOTHWELL'S ENCOUNTER WITH ELLIOT. TnE circu id stances of this duel, in which Bothwell dis- played great intrepidity, are minutely stated by a journalist of the time, and I have not deviated from his account. Elliot of the Park was no common marauder. He claimed to be, if not the head of his name, at least the chief of a powerful branch of the Elliots ; and asserted that, by hereditary right, ho was the Captain of Hermitage Castle. He was, however, a notorious Border depredator, and is specially mentioned in an old poem by Sir Richard Maitland, entitled " Aganie the Thieves of Liddesdail." " They spulzie poor men of their packs, They leave them not on bed, nor backs : Both hen and cock, With reel and rock, The Laird's Jock — All with him takes. " They leave not spindle, spoon, nor spit, Bed, bolster, blanket, shirt, nor sheet ; John of the Pakk Rypes chest and ark : For all such wark lie is right meet." NOTES. 211 " I heard the voice of Or-miston." — P. 47. ORMISTON OF THAT ILK. James Ormiston of that Ilk — or Black Ormiston, as he was sometimes distinctively called — was a Baron of Teviot- dale, the devoted adherent and adviser of Bothwell. He is not to be confounded, as some writers have done, with Cockburn of Ormiston, a baron of East Lothian, who was noted for his zeal in the cause of the Reformation, and who was the patron of Wishart. James Ormiston did not follow the fortunes of Bothwell after his flight from Carberry ; nor was he brought to trial for his share in the murder of Darnley until the year 1573, six years after that atrocious event. His confession, which is of great value as showing who were the real perpe- trators of the crime, will be more specially referred to in another note. " 'Twas in Craigmillar's ancient pile That first 1 lent my ear To the dark ivords of Lethington." — P. 56. CONFERENCES AT CRAIGMILLAR. After the flight of the insurgents who were openly con- cerned in the murder of Riccio, the affairs of Scotland assumed for some little time the appearance of tranquillity. The chief power was lodged in the hands of Murray, Both- well, Argyle, Huntley, and Lethington ; and if all these men had been well affected towards their Sovereign, and actuated 212 BOTHWELL. by patriotic motives, there would have been no difficulty in settling the kingdom. Knox, the leading ecclesiastical demagogue, had disappeared immediately after the murder of Riccio ; Morton, Lindsay, Ruthven, and other daring conspira- tors were in exile ; and Darnley, at least in political influence, was a mere cipher. He had forfeited the regard, if he had not entirely alienated from himself the affections of his wife, to whom the Bands and other evidence of his consummate perfidy had been shown. He was hated and despised by those who were privy to the designs of the conspirators ; and his looseness, debaucheries, and arrogance were such that he was respected by none. Yet was he the occasion of a new con- spiracy, far more tragical in its results than the first. Murray and Lethington were both traitors; and the unex- ampled lenity shown to them by their Sovereign, who not only had pardoned their offences, but had intrusted them with the administration of affairs, had not the effect of riveting their allegiance. The birth of a prince had lessened the chances, whatever these might have been, of Murray's succession to the throne. Still he miglit hope to reign as Regent, if not as King, and he never for a moment lost sight of that grand object of his ambition. Lethington was bound heart and soul to Murray, whose dark, subtile, and intriguing spirit very much resembled his own. These two men, therefore, were ever on the watch for opportunities secretly to under- mine the fortune of their mistress ; but their power was greatly eircuinscrihed by the banishment of their confede- rates, and the vigilance of the noblemen who were associated with tliem iii the government. Of these Bothwell was the most formidable. "Without any pretence to personal religion, he was nominally a Protestant, and therefore not obnoxious to the people on the score of Popery. Since bis recall from France, he had done good scr- NOTES. 213 vice to the Queen, and Lad risen high in her favor. He was Warden of the three Marches, Lord High Admiral of Scot- land, and General of the land forces ; and his connections were extensive and powerful. He was held in great dislike by the emissaries of Elizabeth, who had ever found him in- corruptible ; and he was regarded by the conspirators as the formidable enemy of their faction. But with all this, he was a profligate man, of a daring and ambitious spirit ; unre- strained by real principle, and ready to go at any lengths for the gratification of his own desires. He was also exorbitantly vain ; and the preference which was shown him by the Queen, on account of his undoubted services, appears to have awakened hopes, which possibly, at an earlier period, he had conceived. Had Darnley, after the birth of his son, conducted himself with ordinary discretion, it might have been difficult for the conspirators to gain over Bothwell to their side. But that unhappy young Prince was thoroughly infatuated. His per- sonal behavior towards the Queen was of the most heartless and insolent kind. He took every opportunity of thwarting her government. He began to intrigue with the Romanists, and even went so far as to write to the Pope, denouncing the Queen for not having restored the mass. " When," says Tytler, " his letters were intercepted, and his practices dis- covered, he complained bitterly of the neglect into which he had fallen, affirmed that he had no share in the government, accused the nobles of a plot against his life, and at last formed the desperate resolution of leaving the kingdom, and remonstrating to foreign powers against the cruelty with which he was treated." Here is the testimony of Monsieur de Croc, the French ambassador to Scotland, written on 15th Oct. 15G6, as to the relative estimation in which Darnley and the Queen were held : " It is in vain to imagine that he shall 214 BOTHWELL. he able to raise any disturbance ; for there is not one person in all this kingdom, from the highest to the lowest, that re- gards him any further than is agreeable to the Queen. And I never saw her Majesty so much beloved, esteemed, and hon- ored ; nor so great a harmony amongst all her subjects, as at present is, by her wise conduct; for I cannot perceive the smallest difference or division."' The conduct of Darnley at length became so outrageous that the health of the Queen was visibly affected. She fell into a profound melancholy ; and her state of mind and body is thus described in a letter from De Croc : " The Queen is for the present at Craigmillar, about a league distant from this city. She is in the hands of the physicians, and I do assure you is not at all well, and I do believe the principal part of her disease to consist of a deep grief and sorrow. Nor does it seem possible to make her forget the same. Still she repeats these words, ' I could wish to be dead.' You know very well that the injury she has received is exceeding great, and her Majesty will never forget it."' At this point I conceive that the complicity of Bothwell begins. It is impossible to ascertain whether or not, in the first instance, Murray and Lcthington confided to him their whole scheme, and induced him to become the principal actor in the murder of Darnley by offering to obtain for him the hand of the Queen. I think it probable that they advanced more cautiously, and in the manner set forth in the remark- able " Protestation of the Earls of Huntley and Argyle, Touching the Murder of the King of Scots," which in the year L568 was forwarded to the Court of England, and which is published in Anderson's Collections. That narrative bears, that in December 150G, "Her Grace being in the Castle of Oraigmillar, accompanied by us above written, and by the Earls of Bothwell, Murray, and Secretary Lcthington, the NOTES. 215 said Earl of Murray and Lethington came into the chamber of us, the Earl of Argyle, in the morning, we being in our bed ; who, lamenting the banishment of the Earl of Mor- ton, Lords Lindsay and Ruthven, with the rest of their faction, said that the occasion of the murder of David slain by them in presence of the Queen's Majesty, was for to trouble and impesche the Parliament, wherein the Earl of Murray and others should have been forfeited and declared rebels ; and seeing that this same was chiefly for the welfare of the Earl of Murray, it should be esteemed ingratitude if he and his friends, in reciprocal manner, did not interpose all that was possible for relief of the saids banished, wherefore they thought that we of our part should have been as desir- ous thereto as they were. And we agreeing to the same, to do all that was in us for their relief, providing that the Queen's Majesty should not be offended thereat. On this Lethington proponed and said, that the nearest and the best way to obtain the said Earl of Morton's pardon was to promise to the Queen's Majesty to find a means to make divorce- ment betwixt her Grace and the King her husband, who had offended her Highness so highly in many ways. Where- unto we answering that Ave knew not how that might be done, Lethington said (the Earl of Murray being ever pre- sent), 'My Lord, care not you thereof. We shall find the means well enough to make her quit of him, so that you and my Lord of Huntley will only behold the matter, and not be offended thereat.' And then they send to my Lord of Hunt- ley, praying him to come to our chamber. This is as they dealt with us particularly ; now let us show what followed after that we were assembled. " We, Earl of Huntley, being in that said chamber, the saids Earl of Murray and Lethington opened the matter likewise to us in manner foresaid, promising, if we would 216 BOTHAVELL. consent to the same, that they should find the means to restore us in our own lands and offices, and they to stand good friend unto us, and cause the said Earl of Morton, Ruthven, and all the; rest of that company, to do the like in time coming. Our answer was, it should not stop hy us that the matter come not to effect in all might be profitable and honorable both for them and us; and specially where the pleasure, weal, and contentment of the Queen's Majesty consisted. And thereon we four, viz. Earls of Huntley, Argyle, Murray, and Secretary Lethington passed all to the Earl of Bothwell's chamber to understand his advice on these things proponed, wherein he gainsaid not more than we. So therefore Ave passed all together toward the Queen's Grace. Where Lethington — after he had reminded her Majesty of a great number of grievous and intolerable offences, that the King (as he said), ingrate of the honor received of her Highness, had done to her Grace, and continuing every day from evil to worse — proposed, That if it pleased her Majesty to pardon the Earl of Morton, Lords Ruthven and Lindsay, with their company, they should find the means, with the rest of the nobility, to make divorcement betwixt her Highness and the King her husband, which should not need her Grace to mel (meddle) therewith. To the which it was necessary that her Majesty take heed to make resolution therein, as well for his own easement as well of the realm ; for he troubled her Grace and us all ; and remaining with her Majesty, would not cease till he did her some other evil turn, when that her Highness would be mickle Lmpesched to put remedy thereto. After these persuasions, and divers others which the said Lethington used, besides those that every one of ua Bhowed particularly to her Majesty, to bring her to the Baid purpose, her Grace answered, That under two conditions she might understand the same. The one that the divorce NOTES. 217 was made lawfully ; the other that it was not prejudice to her son, otherwise her Highness would rather endure all tor- ments, and abide the perils that might chance her in her Grace's lifetime. The Earl of Bothwell answered : That he doubted not but the divorcement might be made without prejudice in any wise of my Lord Prince ; alleging the exam- ple of himself that he ceased not to succeed to his father's heritage without any difficulty, albeit there was divorce betwixt him and his mother. It was also proposed that after their divorcement the King should remain alone in one part of the country, and the Queen's Majesty in another, or else he should retire to another realm ; and hereon her Majesty said, that peradventure he would change opinion, that it were better that she herself for a time should pass to France, abid- ing till he acknowledged himself. Then Lethington, taking the speech, said : ' Madam, fancy ye not : we are here of the principal of your Grace's nobility and Council, that shall find the means that your Majesty shall be quit of him with out prejudice of your son ; and albeit that my Lord of Mur- ray here present be little less scrupulous for a Protestant than your Grace is for a Papist, I am assured he will look through his fingers thereto, and will behold our doings, saying noth- ing to the same.' The Queen's Majesty answered: ' I will that ye do nothing whereby any spot may be laid upon my honor or conscience, and therefore I pray you rather let the matter be in the estate as it is, abiding till God of His good- ness put remedy thereto ; that ye, believing to do me service, may possibly turn to my hurt and displeasure.' ' Madame,' said Lethington, ' let us guide the matter amongst us, and your Grace shall see nothing but good, and approved by Parliament.' "So, after the premises, the murder of the said Henry Stuart following, we judge in our conscience, and hold for 14 218 BOTHWELL. certain and truth, tliat the saids Earl of Murray and Secre- tary Lethington were authors, inventors, devisers, council- lors, and causers of the said murder, in what manner and liy whatsomever persons the same was executed." Mr Tytler, who has ((noted part of the foregoing remarka- ble document in his History of Scotland, seems to think that the language used by Lethington conveyed a hint that Darn- ley might be got rid of hy violent means. I am sure that, had he reflected for a moment, he would have seen the extreme absurdity of any such construction. Argyle and Huntley are telling what took place in their presence, and Lethington was their spokesman ; therefore, if this construc- tion is to be put upon Maitland's language, the two Earls must be held as acknowledging their own complicity in the murder his design. That evidently was not their intention. Besides this, his closing words, referring to the approval of Parliament, utterly negative such an idea. The impression made upon me by the perusal of this document is, that .Mary, though greatly and must justly incensed against Darn- ley, was unwilling to take the extreme step of a divorce; partly because she feared that it might prejudice her son, and partly because she had not abandoned all hope of Darnley's reformation. Iler Language is that of pious resig- nation to the will of God, not of indignant anger 1 1 must als i be remarked that there is nothing in this docu- ment to criminate Bothwell. He was the last consulted ; and the only remark of his specially quoted, is an argument in favor 'if the proposed divorce. Hut if not an accomplice then, he became so immediately afterwards; and there is little doubt that, before he left Craigmillar, he received a Band ibscribed by persons of influence consenting to the murder of Darnley. That Band was probably among the private papers of Bothwell, which fell into the hands of Mur- XOTES. 219 ray ; and if so, was of course destroyed. Its existence, and to a certain extent its tenor, were vouched for by Ormiston in his confession, reported by John Brand, Minister at Holy- rood ; and as the passage is very curious, I shall transcribe it: — " He (Both-well) let me see the contract subscribed by four or five handwritings, which he affirmed to me was the sub- scription of the Earl of Huntley, Argyle, the Secretary Mait- land, and Sir James Balfuur, and alleged that many more promised who would assist him if he was put at : And there- after read the said contract, which, as I remember, contained these words iu effect — 'That inasmuch as it was thought expedient and most profitable for the common wealth, by the whole Nobility and Lords undersubscribed. that such a young fool and proud tyrant should not reign nor bear rule over them ; and that for divers causes therefore, that they all had concluded he should be put off, by one way or other ; and whosoever should take the deed m hand, or do it, they should defend and fortify it as themselves ; for it should be, by every one of their own, reckoned and holden done by themselves : Which writing, as the said Earl showed unto me, was devised by Sir James Balfour, subscribed by them all a quarter of a year before the deed was done.' " This confession, though it bears to be emitted by Ormiston, was not subscribed by him ; but the writer states that it was read over to him in the presence of the Constable of the Castle of Edinburgh, and other persons of character ; and I see no ground for doubting its authenticity. It contains a heavy charge against the Earls of Huntley and Argyle, and gives countenance to the idea that the nobility were nearly unani- mous in consenting to the death of Darnley. When we consider that Mary's principal accusers were the men most deeply implicated in the deed, what a fearful picture of treachery and turpitude is disclosed ! 220 BOTHWEIX. " I stood that night in Darnlcifs room, Above the chamber charged with death.''' 1 — P. 84. MURDER OF DARNLET. The narrative contained in the third part of the poem will be found to correspond closely with the account of the mur- der given by Bothwell's accomplices, Ormiston, Hay of Talla, and Hepburn of Bolton, in their examinations and confes- sions, which are printed at full length in Pitcairn's Criminal Trials. Yet over some parts of this frightful tragedy there still hangs a cloud of mystery : in particular, it appears impos- sible to ascertain whether Darnley perished by the explosion, or whether he was strangled in bed, or in the orchard, when attempting to escape. There is strong evidence to support the latter view. On the following morning, his body, and that of his servant Taylor, were found lying under a tree, in an orchard, about eighty yards from the ruins. There were no marks of fire or of actual injury on his person ; and what is most remarkable, his furred pelisse and pantouffles were found close by. The bodies of four men, members of Darn- ley's honseliuld, were found crushed among the ruins. The only survivor, Thomas Nelson, was asleep when the explosion took place. Buchanan says that on that night there were three distinct bands of conspirators watching the house. Drury, writing not very lung after to Cecil, makes an aver- ment to the same effect, and specifies Ker of Fawdonside, the ruffian who, at the murder of Biccio, leveUed a pistol at the Queen, as having been on horseback near the place, to aid in case of ii i Bsitj . Drury further uses these significant words, " the Bang was long of 'lying, and to his strength made debate for his life." MelviUe says, '-it was spoken that the NOTES. 221 King was taken forth, and brought down to a stable, where a napkin was stopped in his mouth, and he therewith suffo- cated." Herries' account is different, but very circumstan- tial. He says that Bothwell, after leaving Holyrood, " went straight to the Kirk-of-Field, up Robloch's Wynd, where he met with William Parris and John Hamilton (a servant to the Archbishop of St. Andrews), who had stolen the keys of the gates. They entered softly the King's chamber, and found him asleep, where they both strangled him and his man, William Taylor, that lay by him on a pallet-bed. Those as sassins that are named to be with Bothwell, and actors, were those two above named, Parris and Hamilton, John Hay of Talla, John Hepburn of Bolton, George Dalgleish, and one Powrie, Bothwell's men all ; James Ormiston of that Ilk (called Black Ormiston), Hob Ormiston, and Patrick Wilson. After they had strangled the King and his man dead, they carried them both out at a back gate of the town wall, which opened at the back of the house, and laid them down care- lessly, one from another, and then fired some barrels of powder which they had put in the room below the King's chamber ; which, with a great noise, blew up the house. They imagined the people would conceive the house to be blown up by accident, and the corpse of the King and his man to be blown over the wall by the force of the powder. But neither were their shirts singet, nor their clothes burned (which were likeways laid by them), nor their skins anything touched by fire ; which gave easie satisfaction to all that looked upon them." My own conviction is, that Darnley was strangled in the orchard while attempting to escape ; that he had been awak- ened either by the sound of the locking of the door, or by the smell of the burning fuse, which, Bolton says, was lighted for a quarter of an hour before the explosion took place ; and 222 BOTHVVELL. that, in his haste, he had caught up the garments which were found beside his corpse. I do not see how it is possible to account otherwise for the appearance of the bodies and the scattering of the dress. For let it be supposed possible that the bodies could be blown through the roof, and cast such a distance into the orchard, without presenting any visible marks, still no one can believe that loose articles of dress could be carried there by the explosion. I think that the real details of the murder, from whatsoever source they might have c ime, were known to Drury ; for the accuracy of the information obtained by the agents of Elizabeth with regard to every important event in Scotland is truly wonderful. But if Darnley was muni -red in the orchard, and not in the - s, 1 must also conclude that other actors, unknown to Both well and his men, were engaged in the villanous work. Bolton and Talla, who confessed to haying put the powder in the house, fired the match, and locked the door behind them, averred, both in their depositions when examined, and in their confessions before execution, that there wen- but nine of their company, and that they neither saw nor knew of any others. The nine were Bothwell, two Ormistons, Bolton, Talla, Dalgleish, Wilson, Powrie, and French Paris. And the conl'. Bsion of Bolton, corroborated by that of Talla, b •■ He knows no others, but that he (Darnley) was blown in the air; for he was handled with no man's hands as be saw ; and if he was, it was with others, and not with them." They both concur in Baying that the two Ormistons went awa\ after the powder was put in, the Queen being then in the house with Darnley, un ,i that they did Dot return ; which tallies perfectly with the account given by Ormiston in In . for he says that the clock struck ten • returned t» his lodging, "to avoid suspicion, that no man should say I was at the deed-doing; for I was an hour and NOTES. 223 more in 'my bed before the blast and crack was." Wilson and Powrie were mere servants, who brought the powder, by order of Bolton, and having delivered it, returned to the Abbey, where they waited, until summoned by Bothwell to go with him to the Kirk-of-Field. They were carrying back the mail and trunk in which the powder had been conveyed, when, " as they came up the Black Friar Wynd, the Queen's grace was going before them with light torches." This marks the time of their departure. Dalgleish, Bothwell's groom of the chamber, was not at the Kirk-of-Field in the earlier part of the night, and only witnessed the catastrophe. Paris went away at the same time as Ormiston, but he seems to have come back to witness the explosion. This man, whose real name was Nicholas Hubert, and who had previ- ously been in Bothwell's service, was the party who furnished the keys. There is, however, trace of one other person, Archibald Betoun, who was Queen's usher, and the proper custodier of the room in which the powder was placed. Nel- son, the sole survivor of the explosion, deponed that this Betoun had the keys ; and Ormiston, in his confession, says, that "Archie Betoun" was along with Paris while they were preparing to lay down the fuse. But apart from this, all the confederates and servants of Bothwell, who were ex- ecuted for their share in the murder, declared that they knew of no others present at or concerned in the deed. Neither Ormiston, nor Bolton, nor Talla, could have any motive or interest in giving a false account ; for they all three admitted that they were principal actors in causing the explosion, by which they evidently thought that Darnley perished. Powrie, however, stated in his deposition, that when he and Wilson brought the powder to the gate at the entrance of the Black Friars, there were with Bothwell two strangers " who had cloaks about their faces ; " and upon being re- 22 1 BOTHWELL. examined, lie said that the Earl Bothwell came to them at the gate, " accompanied with three more, who had their cloaka, and 'mules' upon their feet." Mules were large slippers, worn to prevent the tread of the feet from being heard. From evidence given at a much later trial, it appears extremely probable that one of these strangers was Archibald Douglas, I 'arson of Glasgow, a near relative of Morton. But, whoever they were, they had departed by ten o'clock; and both Hepburn of Bolton, and Hay of Talla, who were in the bouse " till after two hours alter midnight," when the match was lighted, say positively in their depositions that they knew of no others concerned, save the nine in their company. It is quite possible that their depositions may have been altered to suit the purposes of Murray and Morton, before whom they were emitted ; but there is no evidence to that effect, and we must take them as they stand. 11' their depositions are entitled to credence, they establish this much, that these two men, as well as Bothwell, believed that Darn- ley was asleep in the house when the explosion took place, and that no other company was on the watch. But, as Miss Strickland, who has taken great pains in the investigation of this point, has shown, it appears from depo- sitions recently discovered in the General Register House of Edinburgh, that on thai night two detachments of men, one of eight, and the other of eleven (two of whom were in armor) , were seen hurrying from the Kirk-of-Field immedi- ately before and after the explosion. There is thus evidence that another party, besides that of Bothwell, was on the watch; and this circumstai strongly corroborates the ac- ttl of the miird.r which was scut by I hairy to Cecil. These complications maj appear to the casual reader un- natural and overstrained ; for at first sight it Beems extremely improbable that two bodies of conspirators should ha\e been notes. 225 sent on the same errand, without the one being cognizant of the presence of the other. But then it must be kept in view that the main object of the other conspirators was to impli- cate Bothwell, and to avoid anything that might leave a trace of their participation in the deed. Murray found it convenient to go over to Fife on the morning before the murder, selecting Sunday as his travelling day, which assur- edly was a great lapse in so rigid a professor of Calvinism. Morton was at St. Andrews. His kinsman, Archibald Douglas, was indeed in the plot, as the Earl long afterwards confessed on the eve of his execution, and had told him of the purpose ; but then, as he said to the inquisitive minis- ters, " Mr. Archibald at that time was a depender of the Earl of Bothwell, making court for himself, rather than a depender of mine." In short, the leading conspirators were desirous of two things — first, that Darnley should be effec- tually disposed of; and, secondly, that the whole blame should rest on the shoulders of Bothwell — and they took their measures accordingly. It seems very clear that they had not much faith in Both- well's dexterity ; for they made provision, unknown to him, that he should not blunder in the execution of his design. From Bolton's deposition and Oriniston's confession, it would appear that, until two days before the murder took place, Bothwell understood that Darnley was to be disposed of in a different manner — viz. that each conspiring nobleman was to send " two servants to the doing thereof, either in the fields or otherwise, as he may be apprehended." " But," said Bolton, " within two days before the murder, the said Earl changed purpose of the slaying of the King in the fields, be- cause then it would be known ; and showed to them (Ormis- ton, Bolton, and Talla) what way it might be used better by the powder." Now, as to the quantity of powder used. 22G BOTH WELL. That was contained in a trunk and a mail or portmanteau, and was brought by Powrie and Wilson from the Earl's lodg- ing in II dyrood to the Black Friars gate, where it was handed over to Bolton and Talla. It was in bags, and was poured out loose on the floor of the room below Parnley's chamber. All this is distinctly proven. Bolton and Talla, after lighting the match — a soldier's fuse " of half a fathom or thereby '* — locked the door, and joined Bothwell outside ; and SO long was it until the explosion took place, that Both- well could hardly be restrained from entering the house to ertain whether the match had not failed. When it came, the explosion was awful. Not only the upper part of the house, but the whole fabric, from the foundation-stones, was heaved into air. French Paris said, it was like a tempest or a thunder-peal, and that for fear thereof he fell to the ground, with every hair on bis head standing up like awls ! To use the language of the Privy Council, the bouse was " dung into dross. "' The same phrase is used in Mary's letter to Archbishop Betoun (Labanoff, vol. ii. p. 3). " The mat- ter is so horrible and so strange, as we believe the like was never beard of in any country. This night past, being the 9th February, a little after two hours after midnight, the house wherein the King was lodged was in an instant blown in the air, he lying Bleeping in his bed, with such a vehomency that of the whole Lodging, walls and oilier, there is nothing remaining — no, not a Btone above another, but all other carried far away, or dung in dross to the very ground-stone." In the firsl volume oi Chalmers's Life of Qullh. Mary, there ifl a fac- imile of a draw ing, taken at the time, of the ruin.-, which entirely corroborates the statement thai the house was blown up from the verj foundations. 1 do not pretend to be a masl r of the theory of explosive forces, but I have asked the opinion of a >me competent judges, and I am assured, that NOTES. 227 if the facts above stated, regarding the quantity of powder deposited by Bothwell's people, are correct, 'it is absolutely impossible that the house could have been so demolished from the foundation. Here, then, is another mystery. Bothwell's only agents were the men specially named ; and they did nothing more than bring to the Kirk-of-Field, on the night of the murder, a quantity of powder quite inadequate to pro- duce the actual result. The house had been previously un- dermined. There was no difficulty in doing this, for the house of Kirk-of-Field belonged to Robert Balfour, brother of Sir James Balfour, who drew the original Band for the King's death, and he was entirely in the hands of Leth- ino-ton. This is not a mere hypothesis, for the fact rests upon undeniable evidence : and it is proved that both Sir James Balfour ' and Archibald Douglas sent powder for the purpose. Miss Strickland has the great merit of hav- ing brought together, in a little compass, all the evidence upon that point. That such were the operations of the conspirators is also evident from the terms of the indictment raised against Morton in 1581, in which it is set forth that he " most vilely, unmercifully, and treasonably slew and murdered him (Darnley), with William Taylor and Andrew MacKaig, his cubiculars (grooms), when as they, buried in sleep, were taking the night's rest, burned his hail lodging foresaid, and raised the same in the air by force of gunpow- der, which, a little before was placed and in put by him and his foresaids under the ground, and angular stands, and within the vaults, laiyh and dime parts and places thereof, to that effete These operations, however, seemed to have been studiously concealed from Bothwell ; nor was the idea of blowing up the house suggested to him until two days before the period fixed for the murder. Like many other men of action, Both 228 BOTHWELL. well -was infirm of purpose and liable to be imposed on, as indeed his whole history shows, and he fell at onee into the snare. But he never was informed that the house was al- ready undermined — fur this reason, that the other conspir- ators calculated on his taking such steps as would avert suspicion from themselves. And so it proved ; for the powder, conveyed to the Kirk-of-Field in the trunk and valise, was brought on the Saturday, by Bothwell's order, from the magazine at Dunbar, of which he was keeper, to his apart- ments in Holyrood — was carried by his own servants, and laid down by his own associates — things which could not be done so secretly as to defy detection. In consequence, he was looked upon as the sole deviser of the murder, which, however, there are strong grounds for believing was not per- petrated by his means. " Am! pictures on the Cross were hung Of him who died at Kirk-of-Field." — P. 97- POLITICAL CARICATURES. — "THE MERMAID." " Among other cruel devices practised against Mary at this season by her cowardly assailants, was the dissemination of gross personal caricatures, which, like the placards charging her as an accomplice in her husband's murder, were fixed on the doors ol churches and other public places in Edinburgh, irds were vainly offered for the discovery of the limners by whom these treasonable painted tickets, as they were styled in the proclamations, were designed. Mary was pecu- liarly annoyed al one of these productions, called ' The Mer- maid, 1 which represented her in the character of ;i crowned Byron, with a sceptre formed of a fish's tail in her hand, NOTES. 229 and flanked -with the regal initials M. K. This curious speci- men of party malignity is still preserved in the State Paper Office." — Miss Strickland's Life of Queen Mary. I recommend this passage to the notice of future commen- tators on Shakespeare ; because it appears to me very strongly to corroborate the idea originally started by Warburton, that the following well-known lines in the " Midsummer Night's Dream " were meant to apply to Mary : — " My gentle Puck, come hither : Thou remember'st Since once I sat upon a promontory, And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin's back, Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, That the rude sea grew civil at her song ; And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, To hear the sea-maid's music." This theory of Warburton 's led to an animated controversy, his opponents declaring that they were unable to under- stand why Mary should be allegorized as a mermaid. Here is historical evidence that she was so represented many years before Shakespeare wrote. " Old Lennox failed in his appeal, And my acquittal was complete.''' — P. 102. TRIAL OF BOTHWELL. The trial of Pwthwell was a mere sham and mockery of justice. The management of it was left to Lethington, Mor- ton, Huntley, and Argyle, of whom two at least were partici- pators in Darnley's murder, while Huntley was the brother- 230 BOTHWELL. in-law of Bothwell. "The whole proceedings," says Mr. Tytler, " had already been arranged in a council, held some little time before, in which Bothwell had taken his seat, and given directions regarding hie own arraignment. The jury consisted principally, if not wholly, of the favorers of the Karl ; the law-officers of the Crown were either in his inter- est, or overawed into silence ; no witnesses were summoned; the indictment was framed with a flaw too manifest to be accidental ; and his accuser, the Earl of Lennox, who was on his road to the city, surrounded by a Large force of his friends, had received an order not to enter the town with more than six in his company." Morton and Lethington with Bothwell to the Tolbooth, where the trial took place. lie was attended by two hundred harquebussiers, and escorted by upwards of four thousand gentlemen ; and so he pass d " witli a merry and lusty cheer " to the Tolbooth. This was upon the 12th of April, more than two months after the murder, during which time the common people bad been thoroughly impressed with the conviction that Bothwell was the real assassin, and that tin' Queen was privy to the design. In fact, the public mind was in a state of violent excitement. Murray, as was his custom on the approach of any crisis when his presence might ha e inconvenient results for himself, left Edinburgh three day- before the trial; hut his faction to a man supported Bothwell. This latter circum- stance ought especially to he home in mind, because it shows that Bothwell was not deserted by the nobility on account of In- participation in the slaughter of Darnley. No new fact relating i i that matter emerged between the day of his trial and that when lie fled from Carberry Hill; no divulgements ol further or concealed evidence were made. The voluntary 1 ol four thousand gentlemen to his trial, is an unequi- vocal proof of the strength of Ids position at the time. NOTES. 231 He teas not deserted because the confederates believed him to be guilty of the murder if Darney. They knew him to be guilty, but in the meantime, instead of deserting, they sup- ported him; because through his means, and by stimulating his exorbitant ambition, they expected to accomplish their great design, which was the overthrow and ruin of the Queen. Their next advance in that direction is referred to in the note immediately following. " They gave it me — that fatal Band.'" — P. 110. BAND MADE BY A NUMBER OF THE NOBILITY IN FAVOR OF THE EARL OF BOTIIWELL, IUtH APRIL, 1567. " We undersubscribing, understanding, that altho' the noble and mighty Lord James Earl Both well, Lord Ilailes, Crichton, and Liddesdale, Great Admiral ot Scotland, and Lieutenant to our Sovereign Lady over all the Marches thereof, being not only bruited and calumniated by placards privily affixed on the public places of the Kirk of Edinburgh, and otherways slandered by his evil willers and privy Enemies, as Art and Part of the heinous Murder of the King, the Queen's Majes- ty's late Husband, but also by special Letters sent to her Highness by the Earl of Lennox, and dilated of the same crime, who in his Letters earnestly desired and required the said Earl Bothwell to be tried of the said murder, — he, by con- dign Inquest and Assize of certain Noblemen his Peers, and other Barons of good reputation, is found guiltless and inno- cent of the odious crime objected to him, and acquitted thereof, conform to the Laws of this Realm ; who also, for 232 BOTH-WELL. further trial of hifl part, has offered himself readie to defend and maintain his innocence against all that will impugn the same by the Law of Arms, and so has omitted nothing for the perfect trial of his accusation, that any Nobleman of honour, or hy the Laws ought to underlie and accomplish. And We considering the Ancientncss and Nobleness of his House, the honourable and good service done by his predeces- sors, and specially by himself, to our Sovereign, and for the defence of this her Highness' Realm against the enemies thereof and the Amity and Friendship which so long has per- severed betwixt his House and every one of us, and others our Predecessors in particular : and therewithal seeing how all Noblemen, being in reputation, honour, and credit with their Sovereign, arc commonly subject to sustain as well the vain bruits of the inconstant common people, as the accusations and calumnies of their adversaries, envious of our Place and Vocation, which we of our duty and friendship arc astricted and debt-hound to repress and withstand ; Therefore oblige us, and each one of us, upon our Faith and Honours, and Truth in our bodies, as we are Noblemen, and will answer to God, that in case hereafter any manner of person or per- sons, in whatsoever manner, shall happen to insist further to the slander and calumniation of the said Earl of Bothwell, as participant, Art or Part, of the said heinous murder, whereof ordinary Justice has acquitted him, and for which he has offered to do his Devoir by the Law of Arms in manner above rehearsed ; we, and every one of us, by ourselves, our kin, friends, assisters, partakers, and all that will do for us, Bhall take true, honest, plain, and upright Part with him, to the Defence ami .Maintenance of his Quarrell, with our bodies, heritage, and goods, against his private or public oalumniators, byepast or to come, or any others presuming anything in Word or Deed to his Reproach, Dishonour, or NOTES. 233 Infamy . Moreover, weighing and considering the time pres- ent, and how our Sovereign the Queen's Majesty is now desti- tute of a Husband, in the which solitary state the Commonweal of this Realme may not permit her Highness to continue and endure, but at some time her Highness in appearance may be inclined to yield into a Marriage ; and therefore, in case the former affectionate and hearty service of the said Earl done to her Majesty from time to time, and his other good Quali- ties and Behaviour, may move her Majesty so far to humble herself, as, preferring one of her native born subjects unto all foreign Princes, to take to Husband the said Earl, We and every one of us undersubscribing, upon our Honours and Fidelity, oblige us and promise, not only to further, advance, and set forward the Marriage to be solemnised and completed betwixt her Highness and the said Noble Lord, with our Votes, Counsel, Fortification, and Assistance in Word and Heed, at such time as it shall please her Majesty to think it convenient, and how soon the Laws shall leave it to be done ; but in case any should presume directly or indirectly, openly, or under whatsoever Colour or Pretence, to hinder, hold back, or disturb the said Marriage, we shall, in that behalf, esteem, hold, and repute the Hinderers, Adversaries, or Disturbers thereof, as our common Enemies and evil Willers ; and not- withstanding the same, take part and fortify the said Earl to the said Marriage, so far as it may please our Sovereign Lady to allow ; and therein shall spend and bestow our Lives and Goods against all that live or die may, as we shall answer to God, and upon our own Fidelities and Conscience ; and in case we do to the contrary, never to have Reputation or Credit in no Time hereafter, but to be accounted unworthy and faithless Traitors. In Witness whereof, we have sub- scribed these presents, as follows, at Edinburgh, the 19th day of April, the year of God 1567 years." 15 231 BOTHWELL. Such was the tenor and substance of that celebrated " Band," the origin and object of which has given rise to so much discussion. But the historian or annotator who attempts the investigation of any point in this distracted period of Scottish annuls, must exercise the utmost caution before adopting as genuine any kind of documentary evidence, so artfully have many papers been altered or perverted to suit the views or to maintain the credit of the chief actors in political intrigue. In this instance there seems no ground for supposing that material alteration has been made in the body of the Band by copyists or transcribers. The points in dispute, however, are very important, as they involve the circumstances under which the Band was granted, and the status, character, and even individuality of the subscribers. The story commonly received — but which I entirely dis- credit, for reasons which I shall immediately state — is as follows : The Hand in question is said to have been subscribed after a supper to which Bothwell had invited the whole of the nobility in Kdinburgh, on the occasion of the dismissal of Parliament. According to this version, the entertainment was given at a tavern kept by a person of the name of Ansley or Ainslie; and Mr. Tytler, who seems in this instance to have departed from his usual accurate habit <>l' investigation, gives us the following narrative: "On the evening of the day on which the Parliament ruse (April 19th), Bothwell invited the principal nobility to supper in a tavern kept by a person named Ansley. They sat drinking till a late hour ; and dur- ing the entertainment a band of two hundred hagbutters sur- rounded the house and overawed its inmates. The Karl then and proposed his marriage with the Qi n. affirming that he had gained her consent, and even (it is said) pro- ducing her written warrant empowering him to propose the matter t., he r nobility, (jf the guests some were his sworn :notes. 235 friends, others were terrified and irresolute ; and in the con- fusion one nobleman, the Earl of Eglinton, contrived to make his escape ; but the rest, both Papist and Protestant, were overawed into compliance, and affixed their signatures to a bond." The foundation of the story is to be found in a letter to Queen Elizabeth from her Commissioners at York, dated 11th October 15G8, and printed both by Anderson and Goodall. It contains the account of the transaction, or rather the explanation of the signatures, as given on the part of Murray and his colleagues, some of whom were parties to the bond. " It appeared also," say the Commissioners, " that the self-same day of the date of this Band, being the 19th of April, the Earl of Huntley was restored by Parlia- ment, which Parliament was the occasion that so many Lords. were there assembled, which, being all invited to a supper by B.ithwell, were induced after supper, more for fear than otherwise, to subscribe to the said Band ; two hundred harke- busiers being in the Court and about the Chamber door where they supped, which were all at Bothwell's devotion." Ainslie, " mine host," owes his immortality to a document, a copy of which is in the Cottonian Library under this head- ing, " The names of such of the nobility as subscribed the Band, so far as John Read might remember, of whom I had this copy, being in his own hand, being commonly termed in Scot- land Ayxsleis Supper." The list is as follows : — " Eari,s Murray, Argyle, Huntley, Cassilis, Morton, Suth- erland, Rothes, Glencairn, Caithness. " Lords Boyd, Seton, Sinclair, Semple, Oliphant, Ogilvy, Ross of Hawkhead, Carlyle, Herries, Hume, Innermeith. " Eglinton subscribed not, but slipped away." But the memory of" John Read," whom I strongly suspect to have been an amanuensis of George Buchanan, cannot have been of the most reliable kind, inasmuch as Murray 236 BOTHWELL. could by no possibility bave signed the Band, for this simple reason, that he was not in Scotland at the time. This au- thority, such as it is, has imposed not only on Mr. Tytler, but on Miss Strickland, who, in her recent elaborate and most valuable Life of Queen Mary, repeats the story ad longum, and, in her surprise at finding the names of Seton and Her- ries appended to the Band, hazards the conjecture, " that they must have drunk to excess, and signed it when under the temporary delirium of intoxication! " In Schiller's grand political drama of Wallcnstein, the Im- perialist generals are represented as signing, after supper, a fabricated bond, differing materially in substance from that which had been exhibited before the commencement of the convivialities. But at Ainslie's tavern the transaction is wholly of another character. Eight Earls and eleven Barons, of all shades of political and religious opinion, are said to have been invited by Bothwell to supper — not in some remote chateau, with its dungeon and oubliette, but in a public inn, in the heart of populous Edinburgh. We are then asked to believe that a couple of hundred armed desperadoes beset the courtyard and the stairs — that Bothwell drew from his pocket the document ready prepared — and that the nineteen noble poltroons signed it without remonstrance or hesita- tion ! " Credat Judseus Apella, Non ego " What, it may be inquired, had the nobles to fear if they refused compliance? Not massacre, surely, for that would have effectually extinguished all the hopes and prospects of Bothwell ; not abduction, for that would have been impos- sible, considering the locality. There is no difficulty in accounting for the signature of some of the Peers, who were NOTES. 237 conspirators, and therefore ready enough to sign without compulsion ; but there were others, such as Glencairn, Seton, and Oliphant, little likely, under any circumstances, to have submitted to such insolent dictation. But even granting that they had been constrained, it is a very singular and significant fact, that none of them deemed it necessary at an after period to offer an explanation, in order to clear their characters from so very serious a stain. A skilful artisan of romance would hardly have dared, in defiance of all probability, to depict such a scene in his pages. Grave historians, however, have not hesitated to stand sponsors for the story. That Both well may have entertained his friends at supper in Ainslie's tavern, on the occasion of the dismissal of Par- liament, is quite possible — but that the signatures were then extorted and given, appears to me, from intrinsic and extrin- sic evidence, as preposterous a fiction as ever was devised. Bishop Keith states that there is, or was in his time, in the Scottish College at Paris, another copy of this Band, " at- tested by the proper subscription of Sir James Balfour of Pittendrich, the Clerk of Register and Privy-Council at the time the Band was formed, who had the original in his keep- ing." That copy bears date the 20th, not the 19th April, and the following are the parties subscribing : — The Archbishop of St. Andrews ; the Bishops of Aberdeen, Galloway, Dun- blane, Brechin, Ross, the Isles, and Orkney ; the Earls of Huntley, Argyle, Morton, Cassilis, Sutherland, Enrol, Craw- ford, Caithness, and Rothes; the Lords Boyd, Glammis, Ruthven, Semple, Hcrries, Ogilvy, and Fleming. This is a very different list from that which ' ; John Read " sets down from memory. Its accuracy may, like that of the other, be impugned, but it does not shock credibility. Boyd was a waverer, who, after the Queen's marriage, joined the confed- eracy against her, but afterwards came over to her side. 238 BOTIIAVELL. Hemes, according to Mr. Tytler, was not to be trusted when his own interests came in the way. And it is certain that not one of the nobles on that list repaired to the standard of Queen Mary previous to the affair at Carberry Hill. Both- well, in his memorial to the King of Denmark, penned after he was a fugitive, states that, on his acquittal, twenty-eight members of Parliament came to him at his own house without solicitation, offering him their support towards the further- ance of his marriage with the Queen, and that of these, eight were bishops. I admit that Bothwell's own statements are entitled to very little respect, but his averment as to the con- currence of the bishops is worthy of notice. It is not difficult to understand the reason why, in the communications made to Elizabeth's commissioners, all mention of the bishops' signatures was suppressed ; for Buchanan, though endowed with preternatural impudence, could scarcely have hoped to persuade the Duke of Norfolk that Bothwell had decoyed eight prelates into a tavern, and there, under the influence of drink and terror, compelled them to set their names to a bond, recognizing him as a proper match for their sovereign ! In the introductory letter to the Memoirs of Sir James Mel- ville, addressed to his son, there occurs this significant passage, which I have never seen quoted, but which appears to mo very decisive against the authenticity of the Ainslie Legend : '• Had I not more regarded my Princess, her interest than mine own, I should have accepted the large offers made to me by tin 1 Earl of Bothwell, when he desired me to subscribe, with th( rest of his flatterers, thai paper wherein they declared it was her Majesty's interest to marry the said Earl; but I chose rather tw lay myself open to his hatred and revenge, whereby I was afterward in peril of my life." This evidently points t" : > deliberate am! Btudied attempt, not to a drunken sur- prise. Bothwell was a daring and unscrupulous villain — not jiotes. 239 a wise man, yet certainly not an idiot ; and he never would have resorted to a device, which, so far from promoting his object, must have led to his immediate detection. My conclusion therefore is, that the terms of the Band were arranged between Bothwell and the lords of the faction of Murray and Morton, with whom he was then acting in apparent concert. It was part of their regular scheme ; for Bothwell would not have been seduced from his allegiance without very distinct promises made hy his tempters Their object in signing the Band was to fortify Bothwell in his pre- tensions to the hand of the Queen, they being aware that such a marriage would be the signal for insurrection, and inevitably lead to her deposition: That marriage was the bribe, by means of which they induced Bothwell to become the principal actor in the murder of Darnley, and it was also their interest to keep faith with him, until he was installed as Darnley*s successor ; after that he was to be hunted down. It seems established, moreover, that this Band was signed by a considerable number of the nobility who did not belong to the faction, but who may have given their names partly from example and partly from interest. I very much fear, however, that no one who subscribed the deed, had any faith in Bothwell "s innocence. Darnley had made himself so obnoxious to the whole nobility, that his removal was regarded in the light of a state necessity ; and in those days, men were not over-scrupulous or inquisitive as to the means which were employed for an end which they approved. Some who knew BothweH's violent temper, may have had no better reason for signing than a vague dread of his resentment, but I think there is no ground for supposing that in any case there was an extortion of signatures. I may here remark, that lists, such as that drawn up from the recollection of " John Read," ought not to be relied on 240 BOTH-WELL. as authentic historical documents. Mr. Tytler has been blamed, and I think deservedly, for preferring a charge against Knox of complicity in the murder of Riccio, founded upon a document in the State-paper Office. It is highly probable, as Dr. M'Crie allows, that Knox regarded that event with satisfaction; and his disappearance from Scotland immediately after the assassination, coupled with the fact that he did not return to Edinburgh until Mary was impris- oned and her enemies triumphant, has naturally enough engendered suspicion. Grave doubts may be entertained as to his innocence ; but I am bound to say that, in a question of this kind, no weight ought to be given to a paper which is unsigned, and not satisfactorily authenticated. I am clearly of opinion that the list referred to by Mr. Tytler cannot be accepted as reliable evidence that Knox was one of the actual conspirators. In that list, " John Craig, preacher," is set down as having consented, along with Knox, to the death of Riccio : and the evidence which would condemn the one, must be held to apply to the other. Yet no writer has ventured to maintain that Craig had any previous knowledge of the murder. lie was the colleague of Knox in the ministerial eharge of Edinburgh, but did not quit his post when those who were notoriously concerned in the assassination of Riccio were compelled to seek safety in flight ; and his subsequent demeanor ami bearing, as well as his high and really admira- ble character, seem to me utterly inconsistent with the idea that he was privy to that act of violence and blood. Indeed, I have a Btrong eonvietion that there was less real confidence than is generally supposed to have existed between the nol.les who professed the cause of the Reformation and the preachers , and that the latter were seldom consulted with regard to political movements, however their influence with the people mav ha\e been used to forward them. NOTES. 241 " Your own brave father woo'd a Queen — T/us Mary's mother.?' — P. 111. PATRICK EARL BOTHWELL, AND MARY OF GUISE. There is a remarkable coincidence in the leading points of the personal history of the two Bothwells, father and son. Both of them paid their addresses to Scottish Queens ; both divorced their wives with a view to the more ambitious marriage ; both received crown-grants of Orkney ; and both died in exile. During the lifetime of James V., Earl Patrick was suspected of treasonable practices with England, and in 1531 was imprisoned in the Castle of Edinburgh, and after- wards, according to Pitscottie, banished from the kingdom. He returned, however, after the death of James, and paid court to the Queen-Dowager, his rival being the Earl of Lennox. But his suit did not prosper, notwithstanding the apparent encouragement which he received from Mary of Guise, a woman of great talent, who possessed in an uncommon degree the power of fascinating all who ap- proached her. I am enabled, through the kindness of my friend Mr. Joseph Robertson, of the General Register House, Edinburgh, to make public a curious document, prepared by Earl Patrick for the consideration of the King of France, in which he asserts that the Queen-Dowager had twice promised him marriage. li Tiiir ar the articlis that Patrik Erie Boithuile, greit admirall of Scotland, prornissis to bid at and debait with his body ; That is to say, ane hundreth men for ane hun- dreth men, or man for man, as the King of Frances Maieste will pleis command him thairto. " In primis, that the Quenis Grace, his auld maistress, for his continewale seruice done for the tyme, and for eschewing of sic inconvenient cummeris that apperit to fall vpoun hir, 242 BOTHWELL. Promest faithfullie be hir hand writ at twa sindre tymes to tak the said Erie in mariage; Hir talking deliuerit to him thairupoune, and day aasignit thairto, as hir writtingis obli- gatouris vnder hir hand writ inair fullelie proportis. " Secundlic, scho gaif to the said Erie the erledome of Fiff during her lifetynie, for seruice done and to be done, As hir euidentis maid to him thairof proportis. " Thirdlie. scho gaif to the said Erie fre the lordschip of Galloway, elike maner induring hir lifetynie. " Fferdlie, scho gaif to the said Eric the erledome of Orknay during hir lifetynie for payment, Reservand ane thousand merk thairof at the said Erles dispositioune in feis quhair he plesit. i "Alswa, scho is awand to the said Erie foure thowsand crovnis, And gaif in command to the Ambassatour passand for the tyme to France to answer Maister Michell Balfour, seruitour to the said Erie, twa thowsand crovnis, and incon- tinent thaireftir send the post with ane discharge. "The said Erie desyris thir articlis to be representit vnto the King of Frances Maieste ; And for vereficatioune hereof, And clering of all promissis allegit maid be him to Ingland afore the day of the dait hereof, Off'eris him to cum to France or Scotland, quhair it pleissis the Kingis Maieste of France to appunct, To debait the sainin with his body aganis all thaim will say in the contrair, That he nevir did afore the said day that micht be prejudiciall to the realme of Scot- land. In witnes hereof, and for vereficatioune of the premissis, he lias Bubsoriuit thir presentis with his hand, At Armetago the first day of Aprile, the yere of God ane thowsand five bundreth fourtynyne yeris. " ErI.E BoTHtTILE, Amirall." NOTES. 243 As this document is preserved in the Register House of Edinburgh, we may presume that it never was forwarded to France. Very shortly afterwards. Earl Patrick formally re- nounced his allegiance, and became a pensioner of England, as appears in an instrument of King Edward VI., dated at Westminster, 3d September 1549. " Whereas Patrick, Earl of Bothwell, has acknowledged his duty to us. his natural sovereign lord and King, superior lord of the realm of Scotland, we have taken him, his castles, towers, lands, tene- ments, rents, goods, and cattals, men-servants, and retainers into our protection and defence ; and we grant to him an annuity of yearly rent of 3000 crowns, and the wages of 100 horsemen, to serve under him for the defence of his person and the annoying of the enemy ; and if it shall fortune him, by means of our service, to lose his lands and possessions in Scotland above the space of three years, we promise to give and grant to him and his heirs for ever lands and tenements to the yearly rent and value of all such lands, &c, as from this day forward he shall lose by reason of his service." We find him, however, again in Scotland, and in attendance on the Queen-Dowager in 1554. He appears to have died in 1556, when he was succeeded by his son James. I have noted these particulars, because even by old writers, such as Buchanan and Herries, the two Bothwells have been confounded ; so much so, that a dissertation was written by Patrick Lord Elibank, to prove that the rival of Lennox in the favor of Mary of Guise, and the husband of her daugh- ter Mary, Queen of Scots, was one and the same person. Hence have arisen the extraordinary discrepancies of state- ment regarding the age of James Earl of Bothwell, which have puzzled so many readers of history. Bothwell was certainly little more than twenty years of age when his father died ; consequently he must have been about twenty- 244 BOTHWELL. fix when he first paid his duty to the Queen at Joinville in 1561, and ubuut thirty-two when he curried her ofi' to Dunbar. Strange to say, it appears that another of the house of Hepburn, Adam, Master of Hales, father of the first Earl of Bothwell, had an intrigue with another Queen-Dowager of Scotland, Mary of Gueldres, widow of James II. The authorities upon which this statement has been made, will be found in the first volume of Pinkerton's History of Scotland. " Of evil omen is the day That brings Kirkaldy to the fray.'''' — P. 113. SIR WILLIAM KIRKALDY OF GRANGE. Those who desire to know the particulars of the career of this remarkable soldier, whose name is so conspicuous in Scottish annals, may consult Mr. James Grant's M< moirs and Adventures of Kirkaldy of Grange, an animated biog- raphy which will amply repay perusal. Unfortunately for the cause of Queen Mary, he was too long duped by her betrayers ; but no sooner were his eyes opened to the real nature of the infamous conspiracy, than lie took her part ; maintained it with that energy and valor which had won him an European fame; and after a desperate struggle, in which he probably would have been victorious had not the armed power of England been put forth, was sent to the scaffold, the las! and greatest of the adherents of that unfortunate Queen. I -hall content myself by transcribing the following ige from the Memoirs of Sir James Melville : — NOTES. 245 " On this manner both England and the Regent were revenged upon that worthy champion Grange, whom they had some time in great estimation, who had dune such notable service in France, being captain of an hundred light horsemen, that he was extolled by the Duke of Vendome, Prince of Conde, and Duke Aumale, governors and colonels then in Picardy ; that I heard Henry II. point unto him and say, 'Yonder is one of the most valiant men of our age.' Also the King used him so familiarly that he chose him com- monly upon his side in all pastimes he went to ; and because he shott far with a great shaft at the buts, the King would have him to shoot two arrows, one for his pleasure. The great Constable of France would never speak to him uncov- ered, and the King gave him an honorable pension, whereof he never sought payment. England had proof of his valor frequently against them upon the Borders, where he gave them divers ruffles. In single combat he vanquished the Earl of Rivers' brother between the two armies of Scotland and England. He afterwards debated manfully the liberty of his country against the Frenchmen, when they intended to erect the land into a province. He had lately refused the demands of Mr. Randolph and Mr. Killigrew, as is before mentioned, and had reproached both the said ambassadors of false and deceitful dealing. Last of all, he had refused to put the castle into the hands of Englishmen, and therefore, because he was true to his Prince and country, it cost him his life. For they boasted plainly to bring down that giant's pride, who, as they alleged, presumed to be another Wallace ; albeit contrariwise he was humble, gentle, and meek, like a lamb in the house, but like a lion in the fields. He was a lusty, strong, and well-proportioned personage, hardy, and of a magnanimous courage ; secret and prudent in all his enter- prises, so that never one that he made or devised misgave 246 BOTHWELL. where he was present himself. When he was victorious, he was very merciful, and naturally liberal ; an enemy to greedi- ness and ambition, and a friend tu all men in adversity." " How many churches, wrapped in fames, Have witnessed to the spoilers' 1 power." — P. 133. DEMOLITION OF CHURCHES BY THE REFORMERS. " Now arises tumults upon tumults, killing of priests, sack- ing and pulling down of Churches, ruining of statlie Abbacies, and other glorious buildings, dissolving hospitals ; all in con- fusion. In a word, these ancient buildings and brave fabrics, monuments of antiquity and marks of piety, which for many hundred years have been a-building, shall in few months be destroyed and razed to the ground ! Tbe ornaments and riches of tbe Churches fell to the share of tbe common rabble; the estates and lands were divided amongst the great men, by themselves, without right or law; which they resolve to maintain by the sword ! " The first storm fell upon Saint Johnstoun, in this same month of May. John Knox (of whom we spoke before, who bad been minister to tbese rebels in the castle of St. Andrews) was the occasion ; who, by a seditious sermon, stirred up the people to fury and madness; who encouraged them to pull down the Churches; for in bis sermon he bid them ' Pull down tli" nests that the crows might not build again!' Whereupon they run out in confusion, killed the priests, broke down altars, ami destroyed all tbe images and orna- ments. From that they fell upon the Religious Houses and NOTES. 247 Monasteries ; those two goodly Abbacies of Franciscans and Dominicans, with their Churches, were pulled down and made level with the ground in two days, and all their riches made a prey to the people ! But the Abbay of Charters Monks stood longer by one day. The next storm fell upon Couper. Those people, upon notice of this business at Perth, fell likeways upon their Churches : which they spoiled and ransackt, and chased away the priests." " When the news was known that Lord James and the Earl of Argyle had deserted the Queen-Regent, and joined themselves to the Congregation, the people were bo much encouradged that they flockt in multitudes. Then a declara- tion was put out, by which it was declared, That the cause of their rising in arms was for defence of the cause of God, their religion, and liberty, and lives, that were all in eminent danger by the false dealing of the Queen-Regent, whom neither Bands, religion, nor solemn oaths could bind : That she was a breaker of truth and faith : That she was a stranger who had no respect to the well of Scotland. These words being declared to the people by John Knox, they grew so exas- peratt that they were ready to attempt anything. They run in confusion to the town of Crail, and fell upon the Church, which they ransackt and spoiled. From thence to St. An- droes, and there they spoiled all : and not content with the spoil of the whole Churches and Monasteries, they pulled down the very walls of the Grey and Black Friers' Monas- teries, goodlie things, and of great antiquity ; and chased the Archbishop himself out of the toune." " This being refused, the congregation marches directly to Perth, and besieges the town, which was rendered within few days. Then the Laird of Kinfauns (whom the Queen-Regent had made Provost) was displaced, and the Lord Ruthven was again admitted. Then they send a strong party over to Scone, 248 BOTHWELL. who ransickt and defaced the Churches, broke down the altars and images, and destroyed the whole ornaments and ancient monuments, and so retired. Upon the other hand, Lord James and the Earl of Argyle marched to Stirling, and served the Churches there with the like fare ; and razes the Monasterie of Black Friers to the ground. The next day they remove to Edinburgh, and in their way, they visit the Churches of Lithgow, which they altogether spoiled and ruined. They were willingly received in Edinburgh by the Magistrates, where they were no sooner entered, but they fell upon the Churches, which they ransackt and ruined with admirable speed. They begun at the great Church of St. Giles, and from it to the Colledge Kirk, both which they spoiled of all their ornaments. From thence to the Black Friers Monasterie, which they overturned to the foundation. They likeways pulled down the Monasterie and Church of Grey Friers, and our Lady Kirk in the Fields (called Maria de Campis), and made them level with the ground. Thus, having defaced all the Churches in Edinburgh, and pulled down those they pleased, they planted Reformed preachers in those they had reserved, and disposed of the government of the town as they thought fit. Then they seized upon the Quecn*s palace of llolyroodhouse, with all the rich furniture, which they possessed and kept for their own use." — Lord Hkiuues' Historic of the Reign of Marie Queen of Scots. These atrocities, for such undoubtedly they were (though even at the present day they have found apologists and defen- ders, wlio, in common consistency, arc hound to vindicate the proc lings of Lord George Gordon and his fanatical mob), took place during the Regency of Mary of Guise. But the disposition to attack and deface religious edifices was not extinguished. In making Bothwell deceive the Queen by an account of un imaginary tumult in Edinburgh and an attack jtotes. 249 upon Holyrood Chapel, I have not outraged probability. Within a fortnight from the day when Queen Mary landed in her kingdom, she received practical proof of the tolerant spirit of her subjects, who, demanding freedom of worship for themselves, fell into the usual mistake of confounding freedom with monopoly. Before Mary left France she had expressly stipulated that she was to be allowed the privilege of worshipping God according to the rites of the Church to which she helonged, and this was at once conceded by Murray in his character of delegate from the Lords of the Congrega- tion. Trusting to this pledge, she gave orders that mass should be performed in the Royal Chapel of Holyrood ; but no sooner was this known than the tumults began. The Master of Lindsay put on his armor, assembled his followers, and rushed into the courtyard of the palace, exclaiming that the priests should die the death ! The almoner of the Queen was assaulted, and had difficulty in saving his life by flight. " This," says Hemes, " took great impression on the Queen, for she knew this durst not have been done without the pro- tection of great men. Lord James took upon him to pacify the tumult, which he did to the Queen's disadvantage." Knox seized the occasion to deliver a pithy sermon against idolatry, and averred in his peroration that " one mass was more fearful unto him than if ten thousand armed enemies were landed in ony parte of the realme, of purpose to sup- press the whole religioun." This was a mere expression of opinion ; but opinions when uttered by influential persons, often lead to practical results. Accordingly, the Town- council of Edinburgh shortly afterwards passed the following coarse and most disgraceful resolution : — " Secundo Octobris 1561. " The quhilk day the Provest, Baillies, Counsale, and hale 16 250 BOTH-WELL. Deckynis, persaving the priestis, monkis, frcris, and uthcris of the wikit rable of the Antechrist the Paip, to resort to this toune, encontrare the tenour of the Proclamatioun maid in the contra ir ; therefor ordanis the said Proclamatioun to be proclamyt of new, chargeing all monkis, freris, priestis, nun- nys, adulteraris, fornicatouris, and all sic filthy personis to remove themselfis of this toun, and bounds thairoff, within 2 1 hours, under tlie pane of carting throucb the toun, hyrn- iug on the cheik, and banissing the saniyn for evir." It is gratifying to know that this monstrous exhibition of civic insolence was followed by the deprivation of the Provost and Bailies. After Mary was sent as a prisoner to Lochleven, llolyrood Chapel was honored with another sanitory visit. According to Berries, '• Before they left Edinburgh, the Earl of Glencairn, witli his domestick servants onlie in Ins company, went to the Chapel of Halliroodhouse, and with great noise broke down tlie altar, and defaced every thing that pertained to the orna- ments thairof ; which was much commended by the ministry for an act of pietie and zeal ; but the nobility did not approve of it, for they reprehended him for acting without a public order." " O tiger heart ! that fiercer grew With every anguished breath shedrew. ,i — P. 143. ABDUCTION OF QUEEN MARY BY BOTUWELL. '! ffE opponents of Queen Mary would have us believe that no real force was used, and that she was carried by Bothwell to Dunbar with her nun consent. It is matter of surprise t" me lh.it a story so palpably absurd should ever have NOTES. 251 received credence; for if Mary was possessed, as her calum- niators say, by an infatuated passion for Bothwell, there was no occasion whatever for her resorting to so ridiculous an expedient. Bothwell had been tried for the murder, and acquit- ted. The strength of his own party is evident from the fact, already stated, that he was escorted to his trial by no less than four thousand gentlemen. His influence with the nubil- ity is evidenced by the Band which was granted to him by so many men of high station, recommending him as a fit person to marry the Queen, and pledging themselves to assist him in that object. If Mary had really desired the marriage, nothing more was needful than her consent to the advice of her councillors ; and she might then have wedded Bothwell publicly without reproach. There was actually no impedi- ment in her way, supposing her to have been so inclined ; but we are asked to believe that, instead of following this clear and open course, she agreed that Bothwell should waylay her on the public highway, almost at the gate of her capital of Edinburgh, carry her off to Dunbar, and detain her there as a captive ! We are asked to believe that she willingly con- sented to appear, in the eyes of her subjects, as a woman whose pei-son had been violated, and who could only obtain reparation of her wrong by marriage with her ravisher ! We are asked to believe that Bothwell, in the full knowledge that he might press his suit openly to a successful conclusion, having already the concurrence of the nobility, was mad enough to simulate a crime by which he incurred the penal- ties of high treason, and which could have no other effect than that of raising the indignation of the people, and forfeiting all chance of the future support of those peers and barons who were not implicated in any of the conspiracies of the time, but were devotedly attached to their Queen ! The real obstacle to the marriage was, that Bothwell. 252 BOIHAVELL. though lie had obtained the support of the nobility, could not obtain the consent of the Queen. I believe that, up to the time of Darnley's murder, Mary regarded Botbwell with as much favor as could honestly he grunted by a sovereign to a subject of high rank who bad rendered extraordinary serr pices. He had joined in none of the conspiracies which were directed against her, but, on the contrary, had been active IB quelling them ; he had rejected with scorn all advances made to him l)y the emissaries of Elizabeth ; and — what was likely to weigh much with a woman of Mary's disposition — he had shed his blood in her cause. The visit, which Mary, apanied by her brother, had paid to him at Hermitage Castle, when he was lying wounded there, was a strong token of her sense of gratitude; hut her feelings towards him, as shown by her subsequent conduct, were of no warmer kind. That Mary should have believed him innocent of the murder of Darnley, aeed surprise no one. Among the avowed ener mi es of Darnley were the men who had murdered Kiccio before her face, intending the same fate for Bothwell on ac- count of his loyalty to her. Her suspicion naturally lighted upon those who had already shown themselves capable of any atrocity, and who had intelligible cause of hatred against Darnley, their betrayer. AN" i 1 1 1 Darnley, Bothwell had no personal ground of quarrel ; and it certainly appeared most improbable that he would confederate with men who, a few months before, had sought to take his life. Besides this, popular rumor had not spared Mary herself. She had been as she well knew, of being privy to the murder of her husband; and, conscious of her own innocence, she would nut believe Bothwell to be guilty. But I think, from " ' ' 'I" circumstances \\ bich occurred about tin' time of Botb- well's trial, thai Mary bad begun to suspect that he was aspiring to her hand. Deeply as Murray had offended her NOTES. 253 on previous occasions, she wept passionately when he came to rake leave of her, and besought him to remain in Scotland. This certainly she would not have done, if influenced by an infatuated passion for Both well. Immediately after the latter had obtained the Band from the nobility, he began to dis- cover his purpose. The following extract is from Queen Mary's letter to the Bishop of Dunblane, written after her unhappy nuptials, for the purpose of explaining to the Court of France the position in which she stood. After alluding to the favor which she had previously shown to Bothwell, she says : — " But he, as well has appeared since then, making his profit of everything that might serve his turn, not discover- ing to our self his intent, or that he had any such purpose in his head, was content to entertain our favor by his good outward behavior and all means possible. And in the mean- time went about by practising with the noblemen secretly to make them his friends, and to procure their consent to the furtherance of his intents : and so far proceeded by means with them, before that ever the same came to our knowledge, that our whole Estates being here assembled in Parliament, he obtained a writing, subscribed with all their hands, where- in they not only granted their consents to our marriage with him, but also obliged themselves to set him forward thereto with their lives and goods, and to be enemies to all would disturb or impede the same ; which latter he pur- chased, giving them to understand that we were content therewith. " And the same being once obtained, he begun afar off to discover his intention to us, and to assay if he might by humble suit purchase our good-will ; but finding our answer nothing corresponding to his desire, and casting before his eyes all doubts that customarily men use to revolve with 254 BOTHWELL. themselves in similar enterprises, the outwardness of our own mind, the persuasions which our friends, or bis unfriends, might east out for his hindrance, the change of their minds whose consent he had already obtained, with many other incidents which might occur to frustrate him of his expecta- tion, he resolved with himself to follow forth his good for- tune, and all respects laid apart, either to tyne (lose) all in one hour, or to bring to pass that thing he had taken in hand ; and so resolved quickly to prosecute his deliberation, he suffered not the matter long to sleep, but within four days thereafter, finding opportunity, by reason we were past se- cretly towards Stirling to visit the Prince our dearest son, in our returning he awaited us by the way, accompanied with a great force, and led us with all diligence to Dunbar.'' It is easy to understand why Bothwell could not afford to wait; because, the day after the Band was signed, Kirkaldy began to bestir himself, and his influence with the commons was such that he could very soon have raised an insurrection. I have no doubt that, notwithstanding this, lie would have waited if there had been any reasonable ground for supposing that the Queen would ultimately consent; but the failure of his father in his attempt to gain the hand of Mary of Guise (vide previous note) , may have been regarded by him as a warning against delay. 1 say nothing of what occurred at Dunbar ; but this much must be kept in mind, that the Act of Parliament for B6th- well's forfeiture (20th Dec. 1567) contains the following nar- rative : — " And for that purpose, lie (Bothwell), with a great num- ber id armed men — to wit, a thousand horsemen in mail, and others equipped in warlike manner — did, on the twenty- fourth day of the month of April last, waylay our dearest mother .Mary, then Queen of Scots, on her journey from NOTES. 255 Linlithgow to our city of Edinburgh, she suspecting no evil from any subject of hers, much less from the said Earl of Bothwell, to whom she had vouchsafed as many tokens of liberality and bounty as any prince could show or exhibit to a faithful subject ; and with force and treasonable violence did saize upon her august person, and did lay violent hands upon her, not permitting her to enter the city of Edinburgh peacefully; but committed the heinous crime of ravishment upon her august person, by apprehending our said dearest mother on the public highway, and by carrying her away on the s.ime night to the Castle of Dunbar, which was then in his keeping ; by forcibly and violently incarcerating and holding her therein captive for the space of twelve days or thereby ; and by compelling her, through fear, to which even the most constant of women are liable, to give him a promise of marriage at as early period as it possibly could be contracted." If there is any faith to be placed in public records or sol- emn acts of national assemblies, this statute, which was passed after Mary was deposed, must clear her of the charge of deliberate collusion with Bothwell. Her enemies were then in power ; and it is not credible that they would have lost such an opportunity of justifying their rebellion, had they been able to show that Mary went willingly with Both- well to Dunbar. The attainder of Bothwell was certain upon other grounds. Nay, more ; this Act was passed six months after the silver casket, alleged to contain letters from Mary to Bothwell, was seized, when Dalgleish, Bothwell "s groom of the chambers, was apprehended. The letters are now, I believe, universally admitted to be rank forgeries ; but if any one should still entertain a doubt as to that, let him remember that the letters, if genuine, must have been in the hands of Murray and Morton six months before the Act 256 BOTHWELL. for Bothwell'B forfeiture was passed, and that, according to their tenor, the narrative of the Act was false. This is one of the most remarkable instances in history tending to show that deliberate villany leads to inextricable contradictions. If the letters said to be written by Mary to Bothwell -were g inline — if they had even 1 n forged at so early a period — is it conceivable that Murray, with such evidence in his hands, would, as Regent, have passed an Act which expressly acquits Mary of all complicity with Bothwell? Be it re- membered, also, that at the time when that Act was passed, the Queen's cause was by no means desperate. A large party of the nobility and barons were convinced of her innocence, indignant at the treachery which had been used towards her, and determined to reinstate her on the throne ; and therefore the dominant faction was little likely to omit any opportu- nity of easting a stain upon her character. I would further ask those who doubt the innocence of Mary, to consider how la r her demeanor and that of Both- well, alter their marriage, is consistent with the theory of a devoted attachment upon her part. I shall not insist upon the hot that she was brought from Dunbar, not to Ilolyrood, but to the Castle of Edinburgh, where she was kept closely guarded till !'i i day of marriage. Thai might have been collusive, lint take Melville's account of what followed the nuptials: " When 1 returned to Edinburgh, 1 dealt with Sir James Balfour not to pari with the Castle, whereby lie might be an instrument to save the Prince and the Queen, who was so disdainfully handled, and with such re] roachful language, that, in presence of Arthur Artskine, 1 heard her ask for a knife to stab hers ilf, or else, said she, 1 shall drow o myself." Five days after the marriage, Drury, writing to Cecil, said, " T] i mi I' divers is that the Queen is the si changed woman in face, thai in so little a time, without extremity of notes. 257 sickness, they have seen ; " and on the very day after the marriage, she said to De Croc, the French ambassador, " that he must not be surprised if he saw her sorrowful, for she could not rejoice, nor ever should again : all she desired was death." Such were the manifestations of the vehement and passionate love which some historians would have us to be- lieve that Mary felt for Bothwell ! " Was it a dream? or did I hear A yell of scorn assail my ear, As frantic from the host I rode ? " — P. 185. bothwell's flight from carberry. I have endeavored, as nearly as poetical requirements would allow, to follow history accurately. I interpret the events thus. Bothwell, by carrying Mary off to Dunbar, at once consummated his own ruin. His fellow-conspirators mig t easily have rescued her from his hands ; but their object was to have her married to him, so they delayed. After the marriage had taken place, they lost no time, but strengthened themselves by calling in the aid of such of the Border barons as regarded with jealousy the increasing power of the house of Hepburn. They could also depend upon the assistance of the craftsmen of Edinburgh, a body trained to the use of arms, and not degenerate from their fathers, who had fought valiantly at Flodden. Bothwell, on the other hand, had none beyond his own troopers in whom he could placo perfect reliance. The royal summons had brought to Dunbar many of the East-Lothian barons, headed by Lords 258 bothwell. Seton, Yester, !< Inn/,!,/,- and they throw a strong light upon the daring character and mendacity of the writer. The narrative opens with the following declaration : '• In order that the Kin- of Denmark and the Council of his kingdom may he better and NOTES. 261 more clearly informed of the wickedness and treachery of my accusers hereafter named, I have (as succinctly as I am able) explained and truly declared the causes of the troubles and commotions which have occurred ; of which they alone have been the principal authors and promoters from the year 1559 to the present time. I have similarly declared their calum- nies, and the mischief and detriment they have occasioned to myself : which statement I can and will maintain to be true, as (with God's assistance) any one may clearly see and understand." The narrative itself is exceedingly artful, truth and false- hood being blended together so dexterously as to make the story plausible, and to leave the impression that Bothwell had been made the innocent victim of a deep-laid and unprincipled conspiracy. The first memorial appears, from its date, " Co- penhagen, Eve of Twelfth day {la vielle des roys), 15G8," to have been written immediately before his imprisonment ; but the second is dated from Malmoe, 13th January 1568. In this latter document Bothwell assumes high ground, repre- senting himself as an ambassador from Queen Mary to the King of Denmark, " comme allie et confedere de la Royne," sent to solicit aid and assistance, in the shape of troops and vessels, towards rescuing her from the hands of her insurgent nobility. He further states that he is authorized, in return for such assistance, " to offer to his said Majesty to restore the islands of Orkney and Zetland, free and quit, without any reservation, to the crown of Denmark and Norway, as they had been in time past." No answer seems to have been made to these memorials ; and the unhappy man never quit- ted the prison in which he had been immured. Lord llerries, in his Historie of the Reign of Marie Queen of Scots, gives the following account of him after his flight from Zetland, and this may be taken as the popular rumor 262 BOTHWELL. of that time. " From thence be went to Denmark, where he was known by some Scots merchants that acquented the Earl of Murray at their returne, when lie was Regent. Where- upon he sends to the King of Denmark an information against him, and desired him to put him to death, for an example to all who shall attempt the Prince's lyfe. It is recorded that the King of Denmark caused cast him in a lothfiome prisone, where none had access unto him but only those who carried him such scurvie meat and drink as was allowed, which was given him in at a little window. Here he was kept ten years, till, being overgrown with hair and filth, he went mad and died — a just punishment for his wickedness." It a] pears, however, that Bothwell died in the course of 1576, as on 1st June of that year Queen Mary wrote from Sheffield to Be- fcoun, Archbishop of Glasgow, her ambassador at Paris, as follows : " I have received intelligence of the death of the Earl of Bothwell ; as also that before his decease he made an ample confession of his crimes, and acknowledged himself to have been the author and guilty of the murder of the late King, my husband, wherein he expressly acquits me. d< daring me innocent even on the peril of the damnation of his soul. If this indeed he so, this testimony would he id' vast impor- tance in refuting the false calumnies of my enemies. I pray you therefore, by even means, to ascertain the truth of this. Those who wen; present at the said declaration, which was afterwards signed and sealed in the form of a testament, are Qtto Braw of the Castle of Blcambre, Paris Braw of the 1 istle of Vascut, M. Gullunstarne of the Castle of Fulkcn- stere, the Bishop of Schonen, and four Bailiffs of the town." In reply, the Archbishop states that he had heard of the death of Bothwell, and that the French ambassador in Denmark had been instructed to apply for a formal copy of the -ut. <>n 6th January 1577, Queen Mary again NOTES. 263 wrote to the Archbishop of Glasgow in these terms : "lam assured that the King of Denmark has transmitted to this Queen (Elizabeth) the testament of the late Earl of Bothwell, and that she has done the utmost in her power to suppress and keep it secret." About the same time the Archbishop wrote to Queen Mary that, according to his information, a copy of the testament had been sent to Scotland ; that it had been in the hands of Murray of Tullibardine, the Comptroll- er ; and that it had been perused by the Prince (James), who thereupon used the following words: " Tullibardine, have. I not reason to be glad, considering the accusations and calum- nies against my mother the Queen, so often repeated to me, when I have this day seen so clear a proof of her innocence? " The authenticity of these letters, which are to be found in Keith and Labanoff, is undoubted ; and I think that they establish very clearly two things : 1st, That Bothwell did emit a dying declaration or testament ; and, 2dly, That copies of that document, if not the original, had been transmitted to England and Scotland. I might perhaps be entitled to say that they establish something more, viz. the tenor of that declaration, as testifying to Queen Mary's innocence of any participation in the murder of Darnley ; but I do not wish to follow the example of those who have labored to make out her guilt, by attaching too much importance to casual expressions or reported conversations. But the question will necessarily occur to every candid and inquiring mind — why, if this declaration was not favorable to Queen Mary, should it have been suppressed ? That suppression was freely used for the purpose of injuring Mary, is proved by a letter, printed in Goodall*s Appendix, from the Earl of Morton and others, Commissioners at the Conference in England, to the Regent; in which, referring to a communication on this very subject from Denmark, they say : " In that we had no will the con- 264 BOTHAVELL. tents of the same should be known, fearing that some words and matters mentioned in the same, being dispersed here as news, should rather have hindered than forwarded our cause. And therefore, being desired at Court to show the letter, we gave to understand thai we had sent the principal away; and delivered a <'<>j>