THE QUEEN OF SCOTS

THE QUEEN OFSCOTSSTEFAN ZWEIGTranslated by Eden and Cedar PaulHALLAM't(Ra)«ndr«nagiCASSELLand Company LimitedLONDON TORONTOSYDNEYMELBOURNEWELLINGTON

Originally published in Austria as Maria Stuart, 1935First published in Great Britain, 1935First publishld in the Hallam Edition, ig^oPRI>rrED IN GREAT BRITAINBY EBENEZfeP- BAYLIS AND SON, LTD., TlWTRINITY PRESS, WORCESTER, AND LONDONF.949

CONTENTSFOREWORD . . . .CHIEF PERSONS OF THE DRAMAPAGEixxivCHAPTERI QUEEN IN THE CRADLE, 1542-1548H YOUTH IN FRANCE, I548-I559III ftUEEN, WIDOW, AND NEVERTHELESS Q,UEEN1560-1561 . ."*';'IV RETURN TO SCOTLAND, AUGUST .I561V THE STONE BEGINS TO ROLL, 1561-I563VI POLITICAL MARRIAGE MART, I563-I565VII PASSION DECIDES, 1565 .VIII THE FATAL NIGHT IN HOLYROOD, MARCH 91566 . . . .IX TRAITORS BETRAYED, MARCH TO JUNE 1566X A TERRIBLE ENTANGLEMENT, JULY TOCHRISTMAS 1566 . . . .XI THE TRAGEDY OF A PASSION, 1566-1567 .XIIXIIITHE PATH TO MURDER, JANUARY 22 tO FEB­RUARY 9, 1567QUEM DEUS VULT PERDERE . . ., FEBRUARYTO APRIL 1567 . . . . .XIV ABLIND ALLEY, APRIL TO JUNE 1567 .XV DEPOSITION, SUMMER 1567XVIFAREWELL TO FREEDOM, SUMMER X567 TOSUMMER 1568 . . . . .XVII WEAVING A NET, MAY 16 TO JUNE 28, 1568 .XVIIITHE NET CLOSES ROUND HER, JULY 1568 TOJANUARY 1569 . . . . .VI1632547490116135157176195222241263291307323335

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONSFACING PAOEMARY STUART IN I559 . . . . . 11°Drawing by Frangois Clouet in the Bibliotheque NationaleMARY STUART AND FRANCIS 11 . . . . 111From the Book of Hours of Catherine de' Medici in the Biblictheque Mationale. Photo: Archives PhotographiquesMARY STUART IN WHITE MOURNING, I560 . . 142Drawing after Frangois Clouet in the Bibliotheque RationaleHENRY STUART;, LORD DARNLEY. . . . l43Painting, artist unknown, in the possession of F. A. Stewart'Mackenzie, Esq.JAMES HEPBURN, EARL OF BOTHWELL, IN 1566 . 3°^Miniature, artist unknown, in the National Gallery of ScotlandJAMES VI . . . . . . . Z^iPainting, artist unknown, in the National Gallery of ScotlandMARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS, AGED 36 . . . 334Painting by P. Oudry in the National Portrait Gallery, LondonTHE EXECUTION OF MARY STUART . , . 335From La Mort de la Royne d'Ecosse, by Adam Blackwood,Paris, J589vii\:C'^~

J'oreword1 H E clear, the manifest, is self-explanatory; but mysteryis a spur to creative imagination. Always, therefore,figures and events that are shrouded in mysterydemand elucidation and stimulate the ingenuity of theartistic mind. Among historical problems that call unceasinglyfor solution, the tragedy of Mary Stuart ranksas a crucial instance. Surely of all the women who havemade their mark in the world, no other has been thetheme of so many dramas, novels, biographies, and discussions?Throughout four centuries, she has alluredpoets and tormented the fancy of men of learning. Still,to-day, her story ha§ again and again to be retold.Wherefore? Because that which is confused craves forclarity, that which is in darkness strains towards thelight.The answers to the riddle of Mary's life and characterare almost as contradictory as manifold. Some regardher as a murderess, others as a martyr; some as an intriguer,others as a saint. The diversity of opinionsabout this woman is due, not to a shortage of material,but to the perplexing superabundance of contemporaryrecords. In the thousands upon thousands of documents,reports, records of trials, letters, etc., relating to her,the question of her guilt or innocence is continuallybeing re-examined, and the "retrial" has continued forthree centuries. The more meticulously we scrutinizethe documents, the more painfully do we become awarehow dubious is the authenticity of historical evidence,and how untrustworthy therefore the conclusions ofhistorians. For no matter how incontestably genuine anancient document may be, this genuineness does notix A*

FOREWORDprovide any guarantee as to the human validity of itscontents. In the case of Mary Queen of Scots moreplainly perhaps than in any other do we become awarehow diversely two or more observers may describe anincident which they have witnessed simultaneously.Every well-attested "Yes" is countered by an equallywell-attested "No"; every charge, by a rebuttal. Falsehoodand truth, fact and fiction, are so confusinglymingled that every possible view as to her guilt or innocencewhere this or that matter is concerned (andespecially as to her complicity in Damley's murder)seems equally supported by reliable testimony. When,over and above this conflict of evidence, we have toallow for the partisanship of politicians and patriots,our dubiety as to the value of the picture that emergesis yet further increased.In any case it is but natural for people to take sideswhere characters, ideas, and outlooks are contrastedone with another; so that few if any can avoid the temptationof calling one right and the other wrong, oneguilty and the other innocent. If, as in the presentinstance, the witnesses belong to one or other of thecontending parties, religions or philosophies, we maytake bias to be a matter of course. Speaking generally,we find that Protestant writers ascribe the blame toMary, and Catholic ones the blame to Elizabeth; thatEnglish historians tend to describe the former unhesitatinglyas a murderess, whilst Scottish authorities inclineto exonerate her and to speak of her as a victim ofcalumny. The members of one faction describe theCasket Letters (the thorniest problem of the period) asgenuine; the members of the other faction are no lessfirmly convinced that these epistles must have beenforgeries. The rivalry of interpretation extends into themost trivial details of the Scottish Queen's life. It is'perhaps easier for one who is neither an Englishman nor

FOREWORDhaustive study and in the light of internal evidence whichseems to him to warrant his conviction. When a decisionbetween two divergent accounts has been requisite inthe absence of corroborative evidence on one side or theother, judgment has been guided by the reflection whichof the two versions is more conformable, psychologically,with the general picture of Mary's character. Thatcharacter, that personality, was by no means abstruse;nay, rather, it was lucid. Mary Stuart was one of thoserare and interesting women whose period of supremeactivity is comparatively restricted in duration; oneof those who have brief though vigorous blossoming;one of those whose life is mainly lived during the shortand glowing phase of a great passion, instead of beingspread equably throughout the normal span of existence.Until her twenty-third year, her affective life was almostquiescent; so was it again after her twenty-fifth: duringthe two years that intervened, passion flamed up in herwith elemental force, and what might have seemed anaverage destiny assumed the lineaments of a Greektragedy as formidable as that of Orestes. It was onlyduring these two years that Mary underwent the supremeexperiences which led in the end to her destruction, andthanks to which, likewise, her memory has become sonoteworthy—^for what destroyed her, made her immortalin song and story.This peculiar compression of the main happenings ofher career into, as it were, one explosive surge of feelingdictates the form and rhythm of her biography. Thereader, therefore, must not feel a sense of disproportionbecause, in the chronological assignment of space inthis book, the twenty-three opening years of Mary's lifeand the nineteen years of her imprisonment occupyfewer pages than do the two years of her tragical passions.Only in semblance are the outward and inward seasonsof a life identical; in verity, wealth of experience is the

FOREWORDsole measure of living, and the spirit is timed by anotherclock than that of the calendar. Under the intoxicationof destiny, the mind may traverse lengthy periods in afew days; whereas long years may count for nothingwhen life is void of momentous spiritual happenings.Just as the historian pays little heed to slow and stagnantepochs, and his interest is focussed upon few and scatteredbut dramatic and decisive moments—so, for thebiographer, who is concerned with the inmost story of alife, only the pulses of passion count. A human beingis not fully alive except when his best energies are atwork; and when feeling is active, time moves swiftlythough the clock-hands circle at their customary pace.Then, as in dreams, one under stress of powerful effectslives through measureless epochs between two ticks ofthe pendulum; and with each of us it is as with theenchanted man in the folk-tale who fancied that he hadspent a thousand years in the interval between twoheart-beats.xiu

CHIEF PERSONS OF THE DRAMAJAMES DOUGLAS, EARL OF MORTON (1530-1581), Regentof Scotland after Moray's murder,' executed forcomplicity in the murder of Darnley.MATTHEW STUART, EARL OF LENNOX (1516-15 71),father of Darnley and chief accuser of MaryStuart after Darnley's murder. Regent of Scotland1570, murdered 1571.ARGYLLARRANMORTONERSKINEGORDONHERRIESHUNTLYKIRKCALDY OF GRANGELINDSAYMARRUTHVENMARY BEATONMARY FLEMINGMARY LIVINGSTONEMARY SETONScottish lords and lairdswho sometimes supportedQueen Mary, sometimesrebelled against her; werenow in league, now atodds; and almost all diedby violence.> "the Queen's Maries."JOHN KNOX (I505-1572), Calvinist minister, fierceadversary of Mary Stuart.DAVID RIZZIO, musician and secretary at Mary's Scottishcourt; murdered in 1566.PIERRE DE CHASTELARD, French poet at Mary's Scottishcourt, executed 1563.GEORGE BUCHANAN (1506-1582), Latin master to QueenMary, author of the Detection, tutor to KingJames VI.FRANCEHENRY II (1518-1559), King of France i547-i559.CATHERINE DE' MEDICI (1519-1589), his wife.FRANCIS II (I 544-1560), their eldest son, Mary Stuart'sfirst husband.XV

CHIEF PERSONS OF THE DRAMACHARLES IX (1550-15 74), their second son.HENRY III (1551-1589), their third son.THE CARDINAL OF LORRAINECLAUDE DE GUISEFRANCOIS DE GUISEHENRI DE GUISEthe four Guises,RONSARD 1Du BELLAY > poets who eulogised Mary Stuart.BRANTOME JENGLANDHENRY VH (1457-1509), King of England from 1485,grandfather of Elizabeth, great-grandfather ofMary Stuart and Darnley.HENRY VIH (1491-1547), son of above. King of Englandfrom 1509.ANNE BOLEYN (1507-1536), Henly VHI's second wife,executed as an adulteress.MARY I (1516-1558), commonly known as "BloodyMary," daughter of Henry VIH by his firstmarriage to Catherine of Aragon, became Queenof England on the death of her brother Edward in1553-ELIZABETH (1533-1603), daughter of Henry VHI by hissecond marriage, to Anne Boleyn, declared a bastardduring her father's lifetime, and imprisonedby her half-sister Mary, on whose death in 1558she became Queen of England.EDWARD VI (i 537-1553), son of Henry VIII by histhird marriage, with Jane Seymour, succeededHenry on the latter's death in 1547, betrothed inearly childhood to Mary Stuart.JAMES I OF ENGLAND AND VI OF SCOTLAND, MaryStuart's son and Elizabeth Tudor's successor on theEnglish throne (see above).WILLIAM CECIL (i 520-1598), Lord Burleigh, held officesuccessively under Protector Somerset, Edward VI,

CHIEF PERSONS OF THE DRAMAMary I, and Elizabeth. Lord high treasurerand chief minister to Elizabeth from 1572 to1598-SIR FRANCIS WALSINGHAM (1536-1590), Elizabeth'ssecretary of State and director of espionage from1573 onwards.WILLIAM DAVISON (1541?-! 608), secretary to QueenElizabeth.ROBERT DUDLEY, Earl of Leicester (1532-1588), formany years Elizabeth's closest intimate, proposedby her as husband of Mary Stuart.THOMAS HOWARD, DUKE OF NORFOLK (1536-1572),premier peer of England, a suitor for Mary Stuart'shand, and joined in a conspiracy for her liberation,consequently executed.GEORGE TALBOT, EARL OF SHREWSBURY(I528?-I59O),for fifteen years Mary Stuart's "guardian," i.e.gaoler.ELIZABETH, COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY (BESS OF HARD-WICK, 1518-1608), married the foregoing as herfourth husband.SIR AMYAS PAULET (i536?-i588), Mary Stuart's gaolerduring the last years, and present at her execution.ANTHO^sY BABINGTON, BALLARD, SAVAGE, AND OTHERSexecuted for Babington's (or Walsingham's) conspiracy.BULLE, the London executioner.xvn

Cnapter 1Q.UEEN IN THE CRADLE1542-1548MARY STUART was but six days old when shebecame Queen of Scotland, thus obeying in spite of herselfwhat appears to have been the law of her life: toreceive too soon what fate had to give her. On the samedreary December day in 1542 that Mary was born atLinlithgow Castle, her father, James V, was breathinghis last in the royal palace at Falkland, little more thantwenty miles away. Although he had hardly reached theage of thirty-one, he was broken on the wheel of life,tired of his crown, and wearied of perpetual warfare. Hehad proved a brave and chivalrous man, fundamentallycheerful by disposition, a passionate friend of the arts andof women, trusted by his people. Many a time would heput on a disguise in order to participate unrecognized atvillage merry-makings. But this unlucky scion of anunlucky house had been born into a wild epoch andwithin the borders of an intractable land. From the outsethe seemed foredoomed to a tragical destiny.A self-willed and inconsiderate neighbour, HenryVni, tried to force the Scottish king to introduce theReformation into the northern realm. But James Vremained a faithful son of the old Church. The lordsand nobles gleefully took every opportunity to createtrouble for their sovereign, stirring up contention andmisunderstanding, and involving the studious and pacificJames in further turmoil and war. Four years earlier,I

THE aUEEN OF SCOTS,.hen he ^vassuing for Mary of Guise's hand in marriagehe made c/ear in a letter to the lady how heavy a taskit was to act as king to the rebellious and rapaciousclans. "Madam," he wrote in this moving epistle(penned in French), "I am no more than seven-andtvventyyears of age, and life is already crushing me asheavily as does my crown. . • • An orphan from myearliest childhood, I kU a prey to ambitious noblemen;the powerful House of Douglas kept me prisoner formany years, and I have come to hate the name of mypersecutors and any references to the sad days of mycaptivity. Archibald, Earl of Angus, George his brother,together with their exiled relatives, are untiring in theirendeavours to rouse the King of England against me andmine. There is not a nobleman in my realm who has notbeen seduced from his allegiance by promises and bribes.Even my person is not safe; there is no guarantee thatmy wishes will be carried out, or that existing laws willbe obeyed. All these things^ alarm me. Madam, and Iexpect to receive from you both strength and counsel.I have no money, save that which comes to me fromFrance's generosity and through the thrift of my wealthierclergy; and it is with these scanty funds that I try toadorn my palaces, maintain my fortresses, and buildmy ships. Unfortunately, my barons look upon a kingwho would act the king in very deed, as an insufferablerival. In spite of the friendship shown me by the Kingof France, in spite of the support I receive from hisarmies, in spite of the attachment of my people to theirmonarch, I fear that I shall never be able to achieve adecisive victory over my unruly nobles. I would fainput every obstacle out of the path in order to bringjustice and tranquillity to my people. Peradventure Imight achieve this aim if my nobles were the only impediment.But the King of England never wearies ofsowing discord between them and me; and the heresies

Q^UEEN IN THECRADLEhe has introduced into the land are not only devouringmy people as a whole, but have penetrated even intoecclesiastical circles. My power, as did that of my ancestors,rests solely upon the burgesses of my towns andupon the fidelity of my clergy, and I cannot but askmyself whether this power will long endure. ..."All the disasters foretold by the King in this letter tookplace, and even worse things befell the writer. The twosons Mary of Guise brought into the world died in thecradle, so that James, in the flower of his manhood, hadno heir growing up beside him, an heir who should relievehim of the crown which, as the years passed,pressed more heavily on his brow. In despite of his ownwill and better judgment, he was pressed by his noblesto enter the field against England, a mighty enemy, onlyto be deserted by them in the eleventh hour. At SolwayMoss, Scotland lost not only the battle but likewise herhonour. Forsaken by the chieftains of the clans, thetroops hardly put up even the semblance of a fight, butran leaderless hither and thither. James, too, a manusually so acutely aware of his knightly duty, when thedecisive hour came was no longer in a position to strikedown the hereditary foe, for he was already woundedunto death. They bore him away, feverish and weary,and laid him to bed in his palace at Falkland. He hadhad his fill of the senseless struggle and of a life whichhad become nothing but a burden to him.Mist-wreaths darkened the window-panes on December9, 1542, when there came a messenger knocking atthe door. He announced to the sick king that a daughterhad been born to the House of Stuart—an heiress to thethrone. But James V was by that time so near his endthat he lacked the strength to feel happy at the tidings orto harbour any hope as to the issue. Why was he notgranted a son, a male heir? The dying man could see nothingbut disaster in every event, nothing but tragedy and3

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSdefeat. In a resigned voice, he answered the messenger:"Farewell, it came with ane lass and it will pass with anelass." This dismal prophecy proved to be the last wordshe was destined to utter. With a sigh, he turned his faceto the wall, and, heeding nobody, refused to answer anyquestions. A few days later he was buried, and Mary Stuartbefore she had been given time to open her baby eyes andlook around her, became Queen of the Scottish realm.To be a Stuart and at the same time to be Queen ofScotland was to be placed indeed under an evil starand to be exposed to a twofold doom, for no Stuarthad so far been happy on the Scottish throne, nor hadany occupied it for long. James I and James III weremurdered, James II and James IV perished on thebattlefield, while for two of their descendants, the unwittinginfant Mary and her grandchild Charles I, aneven crueller end was in prospect, for they both diedon the scaffold. Not one of this Atrides-race ever reachedthe zenith of life's course, not one was born under ahappy star. The Stuarts were always to be at war withenemies without, with enemies within the frontiers oftheir homeland, with themselves; they were surroundedby unrest, and unrest raged perpetually in their hearts.Just as they could find no peace for their own turbulentspirits, so they could not safeguard peace for theircountry. Those who should have proved the mostloyal of their subjects were the least to be depended uponlords and barons of the dark, strong land, the wholeknighthood, inconstant and headstrong, wild and unbridled,rapacious and rejoicing in the fight, constantlybetraying and betrayed. As Ronsard sighed during hisenforced stay in this fog-bound region, "c'est un paysbarbare et un gent brutelle;" Themselves acting theking on their estates, behind the massive walls of their4

qUEEN IN THECRADLEStrongholds they would herd the clansmen, who weretheir ploughmen and shepherds, into vast armies tocarry on their endless feuds and forays—^for these autocratsof the clans knew only one genuine pleasure, andthat pleasure was war. "A bonfiie fecht" was theirdelight; they were goaded on by jealousy; their onethought was to have power and ever more power. TheFrench ambassador wrote: "Money and personal advantageare the only Sirens to whose voices the Scottish lordswill lend an ear. To try and bring them to a sense oftheir devoir towards their prince, to talk to them ofhonour, justice, virtue, decent and reliable negotiations,merely incites them to laughter." In their amoral combativenessand cupidity they resembled the Italian condottieri,though lacking the latter's culture, and beingeven more unbridled in their instincts. Thus they wereceaselessly battling for precedence; and the ancientand powerful clans of the Gordons, the Hamiltons, theArrans, the Maitlands, the Crawfords, the Lindsays,the Lennoxes, the Argylls, were unendingly at oneanother's throats. During certain periods they would befighting their perennial feuds; during others, swearing apact—which was never of long duration!—that theymight outwit and overthrow a third party; though theywere never tired of forming cliques and factions, noneof these minor leagues ever possessed any internal cohesion; and no bond of blood or of kinship by marriagewas able to break down the relentlessfeelingof envy andenmity that existed among them. A vestige of the heathenbarbarian lived on in their wild souls, whether theycalled themselves Protestants or Catholics; and theytook up with either faith according to which would bemost profitable to their ambitions. They were genuinedescendants of Macbeth and Macduff, the fierce thanesof Shakespearean drama.One cause only was capable of bringing this envious5

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSrabble to act in concert: to attack their liege lord, theirking; for they knew neither what loyalty meant norobedience. If, in actual fact, this "pack of rascals" (asBurns, that true son of his native soil, nicknamed them)tolerated a shadow king to rule over their castles andestates, this was made possible solely through thejealousies entertained by one clan against another. TheGordons helped to keep the crown on the Stuarts' headsmerely that it might not fall to the Hamiltons; whereasthe Hamiltons swore fealty to the king to keep theGordons out. But woe to him who should try to act as agenuine king in Scotland, should endeavour to introducediscipline and order into the realm, should, in a fit ofyouthful enthusiasm, set his will up against the arroganceand greed of his nobles! In such circumstances, theywould join forces to frustrate the designs of the sovereign,and if the issue could not be solved on the battlefield itcould easily be dealt with through the assassin's dirk.This last outpost of Europe towards the northern seaswhich lash its rugged coasts was indeed a tragical land,perpetually rent in sunder by antagonistic passions,dark and romantic as a saga, a poverty-stricken landto boot, since unremitting warfare crushed every effortto make it prosperous. The few towns, which hardlydeserved the name seeing that they consisted of a huddleof wretched hovels clustering for protection around astronghold, were eternally being plundered and destroyedby fire so that it was impossible for them toacquire wealth or to bring the semblance of wellbeingto a settled burgherdom. We may still behold to-daythe ruins of the gloomy and domineering castles whereinthe nobles dwelt, castles by courtesy, for these buildingsshow none of the ornate brilliance we are accustomed tofind in such edifices, nor is it easy to imagine any courdystate possible within those austere walls. Their useswere purely for war, and there had been no scope in6'

Q,UEEN IN THECRADLEtheir construction for the gentler arts of entertainmentand hospitality. Between this handful of nobles andtheir serfs there existed no middle estate of the realmwhich could serve as an efficient pillar for the maintenanceof the State authority. The most populousdistrict, that situated between Tweed and Forth, wasnever given a chance to prosper, for it was always beinginvaded by the English from over the border, its peoplekilled and the fruits of their industry destroyed. In thenorthern half of the country a man could walk for hoursby lonely lake-shores over boundless heaths, throughmysterious forests and woodlands, without spying avillage, a castle, a town. Here the hamlets did not pressone upon the other as they did over the over-populatedcontinent of Europe, here were no broad highwaysserving as channels for intercourse and commerce; nothere, as in Holland and England, did one see the shipssail forth out of busy harbours, making for far-offstrands, and bringing back gold and spices. Sheepherding,fishing, hunting—such constituted the patriarchaloccupations of the folk in northern Scotland at thatdate. Their customs, their laws, their wealth, and theirculture lay a hundred years in arrear of England and therest of Europe. Whereas, with the advent of new timesin the coast towns elsewhere banks and exchanges werebeginning to flourish, in Scotland, as in biblical days,wealth was calculated by the amount of land and thenumber of sheep a man owned. James V, Mary'sfather, possessed ten thousand head, and that was thewhole of his fortune. He had no crown treasure,' norhad he an army, or a body-guard wherewith to strengthenhis authority, for he could not have paid theif services.Nor would his parliament, where the decisive wordbelonged to his lords, ever consent to vote him supplies.Everything this king needed over and above the barestnecessaries of life was provided by wealthy allies, France7

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSand the Pope for instance, either as a loan or as a gift, sothat every carpet, every Gobelin, every chandelier to befound in his palaces, was bought v^^ith fresh humiliation.Poverty—such was the purulent ulcer which sappedthe strength from political life in this fair and hardyland. Because of the poverty and the voracity of itskings, its soldiers, and its lords, this realm was ever thegruesome plaything of foreign powers. Those whofought against the king and in the cause of Protestantismwere in the pay of London; those who championed theCatholic side received their emoluments from Paris,Madrid, and Rome. Outsiders gladly put their handsinto their pockets for the spilling of Scottish blood. Afinal decision had yet to be come to between Englandand France after centuries of strife, and Scotland furnishedFrance with a trump card in her contest with themighty rival across the Channel. Each time the Englisharmies set foot in Normandy, France hastened to stabEngland in the back. At the first summons, the Scots,who were by nature a war-lusty people, would be overthe border, prepared for the enjoyment of "a bonniefecht" with the "auld enemies." Even in time of peacethey were a perpetual menace to the southern realm.It became, therefore, a recognized feature of Frenchpolicy to strengthen Scotland from the military point ofview. What could be more natural, in the circumstances,than that England should seek to consolidate her ownposition by sowing discord and encouraging rebellionamong the Scottish nobles? Thus the unhappy countrywas the cockpit of perpetual warfare, of which Mary'sfate was at length to mark the close.With her incurable delight in racy and paradoxicalsymbolism, Dame History decreed that this decisivestruggle should begin while Mary Stuart was an infant8

qUEEN IN THECRADLEin the cradle. The "wee lassie" can neither speak northink as yet, hardly is she sentient and conscious, hertiny hands are scarcely strong enough to naove, yetalready the world of politics thrusts relentlessly into herinnocent life, seizing upon her immature body andgrasping at her unsuspecting soul. For it was Mary'sdoom to be under the spell of this dicers' game of politics.Never was she allowed to develop her ego unhindered.All her life long she would be the pawn of policy; bequeen or heiress, ally or foe, never simply child or girl orwoman. The messenger bearing the twin tidings ofJames V's death and the birth of his daughter as Queenof Scotland and the Isles had barely time to convey hisnews to the King of England when the latter deterrninedto sue for her hand in favour of his little son Edward. Abride worth the wooing from every point of view, HenryVIII considered. So it was that this girl's body with itsyet uita.wakened saul became a.a abject ofAaggiJing-jj-gmthe outtset. But politics is impervious to the feelings ofmankind; what it is interested in are crowns, countries,heritages. The individual man or woman simply doesnot exist when politics is in the ascendant; such thingsare of no value as compared with tangible and practicalvalues to be won in the world-game.In the present instance, however, Henry VIII's desireto bring about a matrimonial union between the heiressto Scotland's throne arid the heii; to the throne of Englandwas reasonable and humane. For the sempiternalstrife between the neighbouring nations had long sincebecome a senseless iniquity. England and Scotland, formingas they do one island in the northern seas, their shoreswashed by the waters of the selfsame oceans, their peoplesso closely akin, and their mode of life so similar, couldhave but one common duty to perform: come together inunity and concord. Nature in this case could not havemade her wishes plainer. There was nothing to hinder9

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSunification except the jealous rivalries which existed betweenthe two dynasties of the Tudors and of the Stuarts.But if a marriage between the children of the contendingdynasts could be successfully afrangedj then the differencesmight be amicably smoothed out and the Stuartsand Tudors would achieve simultaneously kingship ofEngland, Scotland, and Ireland. Thus the contentiousparties would become friends, no more blood need bespilled in fratricidal war, and a powerful, united GreatBritain could take the place that was due to her amongthe nations in the struggle for dominion over the world.When, quite exceptionally, a clear and logical ideacomes to light up the political arena it is invariablyruined by the idiotic way men have of putting it intoexecution. At the start, the suggestion of this marriageseemed to strike the precise note that was required toestablish harmony. The Scottish lords, whose pocketswere quickly and amply filled with moneys from England,gladly agreed to the proposal. But Henry VIII wasastute enough not to be satisfied with a mere piece ofparchment. Too often had he suffered from the doubledealingand greed of these honourable gentlemen not toknow that such shifty wights can never be bound by atreaty, and that should a higher bidder present himself,should, let us say, the French king offer his son and heiras aspirant for Mary's hand, they would snap theirfingers at the first proposal in order to reap what advantagethey might from the second. He therefore demandedof the negotiators that Mary should immediately be sentto England. But if the Tudors were suspicious of theStuarts, the latter whole-heartedly reciprocated thesentiment. The Queen Mother, in especial, was opposedto the treaty. A Guise and a strict Catholic, she had nowish to see her daughter brought up by heretics. Moreover,in the treaty itself she was not slow to detect a trapwhich might prove highly injurious to her child's welfare.lO

Q_UEEN I^ THE CRADLEIn a clause which had been kept secret, Henry VIIIbribed the Scottish nobles to agree that if the Httle girldied before her majority the whole of her rights andownership in the Scottish crown should pass to him. Theclause was undoubtedly suspect, especially when associatedwith the fact that its inventor had already doneaway with two wives. What more natural than to supposethat a child might die prematurely and not altogetherby natural means in order that he might come into theheritage the sooner? Mary of Guise, in her role of prudentand loving mother, rejected the proposal of sendingher infant daughter to London. Thereupon the proxywooing was upon the verge of being converted into awar, for Henry VIII, overbearing as was his wont, senthis troops across the border that they might seize thecoveted prize by force of arms. The army orders disclosethe brutality of those days: "It is His Majesty's willthat all be laid waste with fire and sword. Burn Edinburghand raze the city to the ground, as soon as youhave seized whatever is worth taking. Plunder Holyroodand as many towns and villages as you can; ravage, burn,and destroy Leith; and the same whithersoever you go,exterminating men, women, and children without mercy,wherever resistance is shown." At the decisive hour,however, mother and child were safely conducted toStirling and placed within the shelter of its fortified castle.Henry VIII had to rest content with a treaty whereinScotland was committed to send Mary to England on theday she reached the tenth year of her life—again she wastreated as an object of chaffering and purchase.Now all was happily settled. Another crown hadfallen into the cradle of the Scottish infant queen. Byher future marriage with young Edward of England,the kingdoms of Scotland and England would becomeunited. But politics has always been a science of contradiction.It is for ever in conflict with simple, natural,II

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSsensible solutions; difficulties are its greatest joy, and itfeels thoroughly in its element when dissension is abroad.The Catholic party soon set to work intriguing againstthe compact, wondering whether it would not be preferableto barter the girl elsewhere and offer her as a bridefor the French king's son; and, by the time Henry VIIIcame to die, there was scant inclination anywhere tohold to the bond. Protector Somerset, acting on behalfof Edward who was still in his minority, demanded thatthe child-bride should be sent to London. Since Scotlandrefused to obey, an English army was dispatched over theborder. This was the only language the Scottish lordsproperly understood. On September lo, 1547, at thebattle, or, rather, the massacre of Pinkie, the Scots werecrushed, leaving more than ten thousand dead on thefield. Mary Stuart was not yet five years old when bloodin gallons flowed in her cause.Scotland now lay open to any incursion England choseto make. But there was nothing left worth the plundering; the countryside was empty, was cleaned out. Onesingle treasure remained so far as the House of Tudorwas concerned: a little girl in whose person was incorporateda crown and the rights this crown commanded.It was essential, therefore, to place the treasure wherecovetous hands could not reach it. To the despair of theEnglish spies the child suddenly vanished from StirUngCastle. None, not even those in the Queen Mother'sconfidence, knew whither Mary had been spirited away.The hiding-place was admirably chosen. One night,in the custody of a trustworthy servant, the lassie hadbeen smuggled into the Priory of Inchmahome. This issituated on a speck of an island in the Lake of Menteith,"dans le pays des sauvages," as the French envoy reports,very remote from the world of men. Not even a pathled to this romantic spot. The precious freight wasconveyed to its destination in a boat. Here the childla

QUEEN IN THE CRADLEdwelt, hidden and removed from the turmoil of events,vvhile'over lands and seas diplomacy continued to weavethe tissue of her fate.Meanwhile France had entered the lists, menacingand determined, resolved that Scotland should not becomesubject to England. Henry II, son of Francis I,sent a strong fleet to the northern realm, and, throughthe lieutenant-general of the auxiliary army, sued thehand of Mary Stuart for his young son and heir, Francis.In a night-time, Mary's destiny changed its courseowing to the set of the political wind which swept inmighty war-engendering gusts over the Channel. Insteadof becoming Queen of England the little daughter ofthe House of Stuart was now fated to become Queen ofFrance. Hardly had the new and advantageous bargainbeen struck, when, on August 7, 1548, the costly merchandise(Mary was then five years and eight monthsold) was shipped from Dumbarton for a French port.Once more she had been sold to an unknown bridegroom,and committed to a marriage which might havelasted for decades. Again, and not for the last time, alienhands were moulding her destiny.Trustfulness is a distinctive quality of childhood.What does a toddler of two, three, or even four years oldknow of war and of peace, of battles and of treaties?What can such words as England or France, Edward orFrancis, mean to it? What, all the madness and furyof the world? An elfin, fair-haired damsel was seen runninggleefully in and out the dark or the brightly-lightedrooms of a palace, with four other girls of the same ageat her heels. A charming thought had been allowed toblossom in the bleak atmosphere of a barbaric age.From the earliest days of her life Mary Stuart had beengiven four companions, all of them born at the same13

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTStime as herself, chosen from among the most distinguishedScottish famiUes, the lucky clover-Ieaf of thefour Maries: Mary Fleming, Mary Beaton, MaryLivingstone, and Mary Seton. In early years, thesenamesakes of the Queen were her merry playmates,later they were her class-mates in a foreign land so thatshe did not feel her novel surroundings to be unbearablystrange, still later they were to become her maids ofhonour. In a moment of unusual affection, they took avow not to enter the married state before Mary herselfhad found a spouse. Even after three of them hadforsaken the Queen in the days when misfortune befellher, the fourth of the Maries followed her mistress, claveto her in adversity, shared in her exile and her prisons,waited upon her when she died on the scaffold, andnever left her until her body had been consigned to thegrave. Thus, to the very end of her life, Mary wasaccompanied by a ray of childhood's care-free days.Still, at the time she sailed for France as a tender childthese sad and darkened days lay far ahead.At Holyrood or at Stirling, the palace and the castlerang with peals of laughter and the patter of tiny feet,as the five Maries ran from room to room, untiringly,from morning till nightfall. Little did they care for highestate, for dignities, for kingdoms; nothing did theyknow of the pride and danger encompassing a crown.One night, Mary the Queen was roused from her babysleep, lifted from her crib; a boat was waiting in readinesson a lake that was hardly bigger than a pond; some onerowed her across, and they landed on an island. Howquiet and pleasant the place! Inchmahome, the isle ofpeace. Strange men stooped to welcome her; some ofthese men were robed inore like women, and had peakedhoods to their black gowns. Gentle and kind were they,singing beautifully in a high-ceilinged hall whose windowsconsisted of lovely stained glass. Mary soon grew14

gUEEN IN THECRADLEaccustomed to her new home. But all too soon anotherevenin'T came when once more she was taken in a boatacross the waters. Fate had decreed that Mary Stuart•was constantly to be making such night flittings fromone destiny to another. On this occasion she awoke tofind herself on a ship with high masts and milk-whitesails, surrounded by unknown, rugged soldiers and hirsutesailor-men. What need was there for Mary to befrightened? Every one aboard was kind and friendlyto her; her seventeen-year-old half-brother James wasgently stroking her silky hair. This youngster was oneof her father's innumerable bastards, born in the decadebefore he married Mary of Guise. There, too, were thefour Maries, her beloved companions. Delighted andhappy in their novel environment, the five little girlsfrolicked about the vessel, dodging in and out among thecannons of the French man-of-war, laughing madly andjoyously. Above these innocents, at the mast-head, was aman whose vigilance never relaxed. Anxiously he spiedin every direction, for he knew that the English fleet wascruising about in those waters and only awaited anauspicious moment to pounce upon the precious freightand make her England's queen before she had been givena chance to become queen of France. But what shouldshe know of crowns and the ways of men, of trouble anddanger, of England and France? The seas were blue,the people around her were amiable and strong, and thegreat vessel swam onward like some huge bird, speedingover the waves.On August 13th, the galleon dropped anchor in thesmall harbour of Roscoff near Brest. A boat was lowered,and conveyed the queen to the landing-place. Enchantedwith her voyage by land and by sea, Mary sprang lightheartedlyfrom the gangway on to French soil. She wasnot yet six years old; but with this landing, the Queen ofScotland left her childhood behind. Destiny awaited her.15 B

Cnapte ter 2YOUTH IN FRANCE1548-1559X HE French court excelled in the courtly accomplishmentsof the day, and was practised in the mysteriousscience of etiquette. Henry II, a prince of the House ofValois, knew what was proper to the reception of adauphin's bride. Before her arrival he issued a decreethat "la reinette," the little Queen of Scotland, was tobe welcomed by every town and village through whichshe might pass with as much ceremony as if she hadbeen his own .daughter. In Nantes, therefore, MaryStuart was received with almost overwhelming pomp.At the street-corners there had been erected galleriesadorned with classical emblems, goddesses, nymphs, andsirens; to put the escort in a good humour, barrels ofcostly wine were broached; salvos of artillery and afirework-display greeted the newcomer; furthermore, aliliputian body-guard had been enrolled, consisting ofone hundred and fifty youngsters under eight years ofage, dressed in white uniforms, and marching in frontof the child queen, playing drums and fifes, armed withminiature pikes and halberds, shouting acclamations.Everywhere the same sort of reception had been prepared,so that it was through an uninterrupted series offestivities that the maiden queen at length reachedSaint-Germain. There she, not yet six years of age, hadthe first glimpse of her husband-to-be, four and a halfyears old, weakly, pale, rachitic, a boy whose poisoned16

YOUTH IN FRANCEblood foredoomed him to illness and premature death,and who now greeted his "bride" shyly. All the heartier,however, was the welcome accorded her by the othermembers of the royal family, who were greatly impressedby her youthful charm; and Henry II described herenthusiastically in a letter as "la plus parfayt enfant quejevys James."At that time, the French court was one of the mostresplendent in the world. A gleam of dying chivalryillumined this transitional generation which belongedin a certain measure to the gloomier period of the MiddleAges. Hardihood and courage were still displayed inthe chase, in tilting at the ring, and in tournays; theold harsh and virile spirit was manifested in adventureand in war: but more spiritual outlooks had alreadycome into their own amid the ruling circles; and humanisticculture, which had before conquered the cloistersand the universities, was now supreme in the palaces ofkings. From Italy, the papal love of display, the joie devivre of the Renaissance (a joy that was both mental andphysical) and delight in the fine arts, had made theirtriumphal entry into France; the upshot being, at thisjuncture, an almost unique welding of strength withbeauty, of high spirits with recklessness—the supremefaculty of having no fear of death while loving life withthe full passion of the senses. More naturally and moreeasily than anywhere else was, among the French, temperamentassociated with frivolity, Gallic chevaleriebeing extraordinarily akin to the classical culture of theRenaissance. It was expected of a French noblemanthat he should be equally competent, in full panoply, tocharge his adversary in the lists, and gracefully andcorrectly to tread the mazes of the dance; he must atone and the same time be a past master of the science ofwar, and proficient in the manners and practices ofcourts. The hand which could wield the broadsword in17

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSa life-or-death struggle must be able to strum the lutetunefully and to indite sonnets to a fair mistress. To besimultaneously strong and tender, rough and cultured,skilled in battle and skilled in the fine arts, was the idealof the time. In the daylight hours, the king and hisnobles, attended by a pack of baying hounds, hunted .thestag or the boar, while spears were broken and lancessplintered; but when night fell there assembled in thehalls of the splendidly renovated palaces of the Louvreor of Saint-Germain, of Blois or Amboise, lords andladies eager to participate in witty conversation. Poemswere read aloud, musical instruments were played,madrigals were sung, and in masques the spirit of classicalliterature was revived. The presence of numerouslovely and tastefully dressed women, the work of suchpoets and painters as Ronsard, du Bellay, and Glouet,gave the French royal court a colour and verve whichfound lavish expression in every form of art and of life.As elsewhere in Europe before the unhappy outbreak ofthe wars of religion, in the France of that epoch awonderful surge of civilisation was in progress.One who was to live at such a court, and, above all,one who might be expected in due time to rule there,must become adapted to the new cultural demands.He must strive to perfect himself in the arts and sciences,must develop his mind no less carefully than his body.It will be an everlasting glory of the movement we callHumanism that its apostles insisted upon familiarity withthe arts even among those whose mission it was tomove in the highest circles. We can hardly think of anyother period in history thaui the epoch then dawning,in which not only men of station, but noblewomen aswell, were expected to. be highly educated. Like Maryof England and her half-sister Elizabeth, Mary Stuarthad to become familiar with Greek and Latin, and, inaddition, with modern tongues, with French, Italian,i8

YOUTH IN FRANCEEnglish, and Spanish. Having a clear intelligence anda ready wit coupled with an inherited delight in learning,these things came easily to the gifted child. When she•vvas no more than thirteen (having been taught herLatin from Erasmus' Colloquies) she recited, in the greatgallery of the Louvre, before the assembled court andthe foreign ambassadors, a Latin oration of her owncomposition, and did this so ably, with so much ease andffrace, that her uncle, the Cardinal of Lorraine, wasable to write to Mary of Guise: "Your daughter is improving,and increasing day by day in stature, goodness,beauty, wisdom, and worth. She is so perfect and accomplishedin all things, honourable and virtuous, that thelike of her is not to be seen in this realm, whether amongnoble damsels, maidens of low degree, or in middlestation. The king has taken so great a liking to her thathe spends much of his time chatting with her, sometimesby the hour together; and she knows as well how to entertainhim, with pleasant and sensible subjects of conversation,as if she were a woman of five-and-twenty."In very truth, Mary's mental development was noless speedy than it was thorough. Soon she had acquiredso perfect a command of French that she could ventureto express herself in verse, vying with Ronsard and duBellay in her answers to their adulatory poems. In daysto come, when most sorely distressed, or when the firesof passion must find vent, she would by choice use themetrical form; and down to her last hour she remainedtrue to poesy as the most loyal of her friends. In theother arts, she could express herself with extraordinarygood taste: she sang charmingly to the accompanimentof the lute; her dancing was acclaimed as bewitching;her embroideries were those of a hand gifted no lessthan trained; her dress was always discreet and' becominglychosen, since she had no love for the hugehooped skirts in which Elizabeth delighted to strut;19

THE ^UEEN OF SCOTSher maidenly figure looked equally .well whether shewas clad in Highland dress or in silken robes of State.Tact and a fine discrimination were inseparable firomher nature; and this daughter of the Stuarts wouldpreserve even in her darkest hours, as the pricelessheritage of her royal blood and courdy training, anexalted but nowise theatrical demeanour which will forall time endow- her with a halo of romance. Even inmatters of sport she was well-nigh the equal of the mostskilful at this court where sport was a cult. An indefatigablehorsewoman, an ardent huntress, agile at thegame of pall-mall, tall, slender, and graceful though shewas, she knew nothing of fatigue. Bright and cheerful,care-free and joyous, she drained the dehghts of youthout of every goblet that offered, never guessing that thiswas to be the only happy period of her life. Mary Queenof Scots at the French court comes down to us as an unfadingand unique picture^ There is scarce anotherwoman in whom the chivalrous ideal of the FrenchRenaissance found so entrancing and maidenly anexpression as in this merry and ardent daughter of aroyal race.She had barely left childhood when, as a maid in herteens and later as a woman, the poets of the day sangher praises. "In her fifteenth year her beauty began toradiate from her like the sun in a noontide sky," wroteBrantome. Du Bellay was even rnore passionate in hisadmiration:En votre esprit le ciel s'est surmont6.Nature et art ont en votre beauteMis tout le beau dont la beauty s' assemble.[Heaven outdid itself when it created your mind.Nature and art have combined to make your beautyThe quintessence of all that is beautiful.]20

YOUTH IN FRANCELope de Vega exclaimed: "From her eyes the starsborrow their brilliancy, and from her features the colourswhich make them so wonderful." Ronsard ascribes thefollowing words to a brother of Charles IX:Avoir joui d'une telle beaute,Sein contre sein, valoit ta royaut^,[To have enjoyed such beauty,Heart to heart, was worth your regal crown.]j\ffain, Du Bellay sums up all the praise of all the poetsjn the couplet:Contentez vous, mes yeux!Vous ne verrez jamais une chose pareille.[Rest content, oh you, mine eyes!Ne'er will you see again so lovely a thing.]Poets are prone to let their feelings run away withthem; especially is this so in the case of court poetswhen they wish to sing the merits of their ruler. Withthe greater curiosity do we turn to the portraits left tous by such a master as Clouet. Here we suffer no disappointment,indeed, and yet we cannot altogetheragree with the paeans of the poets. No radiant beautyshines down from the canvas, but, rather, a piquant httlevisage, a delicate and attractive oval, a slightly pointednose, giving the features that charming irregularitywhich invariably renders a woman's face so attractive.The dark eyes are gentle, mysterious, veiled; the mouthis closed and calm. It must be admitted that eachfeature is finely moulded, and that Mother Nature hadmade use of her best materials when she was fashioningthis daughter of many kings. The skin is wonderfullywhite and smooth, shimmering like nacre; the hair isabundant and of a chestnut colour, its beauty of texture21

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSbeing enhanced by the pearls entwined in its strands;the hands are long and slinv, pale as snow; the bodytall and straight, "dent le corsage laissait entrevoir laneige de sa poitrine et dont le collet releve droit decouvraitle pur modele de ses epaules" ["the corselet so cutas to give but a glimpse of the snowy texture of herbreast; and the collar raised, thus revealing the exquisitemodelling of her shoulders"]. No flaw is to befound in this face and figure. But precisely because it isso cool and flawless, so smooth and pretty, the face islacking in expression. It seems to be a fair, clean pageon which nothing personal, nothing characteristic ofthe young woman herself, has yet been inscribed.There is something indecisive and vague in the lineaments; something that has not yet blossomed is awaitingthe moment of awakening. Every portrait produces animpression of flatness and debility. Here, one feels, thenature of the real woman has still to be revealed; perhaps,the true character of the sitter has never been giventhe chance to develop along its own lines. The visage isthat of one whose spirit and senses lie dormant; thewoman within has yet to find expression without. Weare looking, forsooth, at the portrait of a sweet andfascinating school miss.Verbal accounts of the young queen only serve toconfirm the impression of unawakened and incompletemaidenhood, for everyone seems agreed to aflSrm Mary'sperfection, to praise her deportment, her industry andearnest endeavour, just as if she were the top girl of herclass. We are told that she was studious, amiable andpleasant in intercourse, pretty-mannered and pious,that she excelled in the practice of the arts and sports ofthe day and yet showed no predilection for any art orsport in particular, nor any special talent one way orthe other. Good, obedient, she was a model of thevirtues expected of a king's bride in the making. Always22

YOUTH IN FRANCE't is her social and courtly virtues that her contemporariesbelaud, which seems to point to the fact that the queenlycharacteristics were developed in Mary before thewomanly ones. Her true personality was, for the moment,echpsed behind a facade of decorum, merely because,so far, it had not been allowed to blossom. For manyyears to come her dignified behaviour and generalculture successfully hid the passionate nature of thislovely princess; no one could guess what the soul of the•woman was capable of; it lay quiet and untroubledwithin her, unmoved and untouched. Smooth and muteis the brow, friendly and sweet the mouth; the dark eyesare pensive and searching, eyes that have looked forthinto the world, but have not yet looked deep into herown heart. Her contemporaries and Mary herself haveno inkling of what is in store for her, they know nothingof the heritage in her blood. She who was life's spoileddarling, who had experienced nothing but happiness,could not foresee the dangers lying in the path of hercareer. Passion is needed in order that a woman maydiscover herself, in order that her character may expandto its true proportions; love and sorrow are needed forit to find its own magnitude.Mary Stuart had created so powerful an impressionupon all who came in contact with her, and was souniversal a favourite at court, that it was agreed tocelebrate her nuptials earlier than had been anticipated.Throughout her life Mary's hour seemed always tobe in advance of the solar time, and she invariably wascalled upon to do things earlier than any others of herown age. The Dauphin, her future husband as bytreaty arranged, was barely fourteen and in additionhe suffered from all-round debility. But politics cannotafford to wait upon nature. The French court was23 B*

THE QUEEN OF SCOTSsuspiciously eager to get on with the job, to celebratethe marriage, especially since it knew from the royalphysicians that young Francis' health was undermined,that, indeed, the boy was dangerously ill. The importantthing for France, however, was to make sure of the Scottishcrown, and this could only be accomplished if thewedding took place. With all possible speed, therefore,the two children were brought to the altar. In themarriage procuration, which was drawn up by theFrench and the Scottish parliamentary envoys acting inconcert, the Dauphin was to receive the "crown matrimonial."Simultaneously with the signing of the publicmarriage contract, Mary's relatives, the Guises, made thefifteen-year-old girl sign three other, separate and secret,deeds which rendered the public guarantees worthless,and which remained hidden from the Scottish parliament.Herein she pledged herself, in the event of herpremature death, or if she died without issue, to bequeathher country as a free gift to France—as if it wereher own private estate—and to hand over to the reigningHouse of Valois her rights of succession to the thrones ofEngland and Ireland.The secrecy wherein' the signing of these documentswas shrouded was in itself a proof that the bargain wasa dishonourable one. Mary Stuart had no right tochange the course of succession in so arbitrary a manner,and to hand over her kingdom to a foreign power as ifit were a cloak or other personal belonging. But heruncles brought pressure to bear, and the unsuspectinghand of an innocent girl duly signed the instrument.Tragical obedience! The first time Mary Stuart put hersignature to a political document brought dishonourupon her fair head, and forced an otherwise straightforward,trustful, and candid creature to acquiesce in alie. If she was to become a queen and remain a queen inactual fact, she could never again follow the dictates of24

YOUTH IN FRANCEher own will, could never again be genuinely true toherself. One who has vowed himself to politics, is nolonser a free agent and has to obey other laws than thosewhich have been sanctioned and blessed by his ownnature.These secret machinations were, however, hiddenaway behind the magnificence of the wedding festivities.It was now more than two hundred years since a dauphinof France had been married within the frontiers of hishomeland, and for that reason the Valois court was disposedto provide the French people (who were not, ingeneral, cosseted) with a spectacle of unexampled splendour.Catherine de' Medici had in Italy witnessedfestivals designed by the leading artists of the Renaissance,and it became a point of pride with her to excelthese wonders when her eldest son was married. OnApril 24, 1558, Paris held high revel such as had not erethis been witnessed. In the large square before NotreDame, there had been erected an open pavilion inwhich there was a "ciel royal" of blue Cyprus silk bespangledwith golden fleur-de-lis; and a huge bluecarpet, stamped likewise, with golden lilies, covered theground. Musicians led the way, clad in red and yellow,playing manifold instruments. Then came the royalprocession, sumptuously attired and enthusiasticallyacclaimed. The rite was solemnised under the eyes ofthe populace, assembled in thousands to gloat over thebride and the sickly boy-bridegroom, who seemed overwhelmedby the pomp and circumstance. The courtpoets, on this occasion, again vied with one another inecstatic descriptions of Mary's beauty. "She appeared,"wrote Brantome (whose pen was better accustomed tothe writing of salacious anecdotes), "a hundred tirnesmore beautiful than a goddess." Indeed, in that momen-25

THE qUEEN OF SCOTStous hour, a glow of happiness and a sense of gocjd fortunemay have equipped this ambitious girl with a peculiaraureole. As she smiled upon all and sundry, and acknowledgedthe acclamations, she had arrived in truth—-though so early—at the climax of her life. Never againwould Mary Stuart be the central figure in such a galaxyof wealth, approval, and jubilation as now when, at theside of the most distinguished crown prince in Europe andat the head of a troop of gaily dressed cavaliers, shepassed through the streets to the accompaniment ofthunderous applause. In the evening there was a banquetat the Palais de Justice, and all Paris thronged togape through the open windows at the royal family,gleaming with gold, silver, and precious stones, payinghonour to the young woman who was adding a newcrown to the crown of France. The celebrations endedin a ball, for which artists who had studied the achievementsof the Italian Renaissance had prepared marvelloussurprises. Among these there was a pageant ofsix ships decked with gold, having masts of silver andsails of gauze, which were propelled into the hall by anunseen and cunning mechanism. They rolled andpitched as if on a stormy sea and made their mimicvoyage round the hall. In each of these miniature shipswas sitting, apparelled in gold and wearing a damaskmask, a prince who, rising with a deferent gesture, ledone of the ladies of the court to his vessel: Catherine de'Medici, Mary Queen of Scots and heiress to the throneof France, the Queen of Navarre, and the princessesElizabeth, Margaret, and Claude. This was intendedto symbolize a happy voyage through life, amid aflourish of pageantry. But fate is not subject to humanwishes, and from this_ dazzling moment the life-ship ofMary Stuart was to be steered towards other and moreperilous shores.26

YOUTH IN FRANCEThe first danger arose unexpectedly in her path.Mary was Queen of Scotland in her own right, by birthand heritage, whereas the "roi-dauphin," the crownnrince of France, had raised her to a further high estateby marriage. But hardly had the marriage ceremonyterminated when a third and more advantageous crownbeean to shimmer vaguely before the girl's eyes; and heryoung hands, inexperienced and ill-advised, grasped atthis treasure and its treacherous brilliance. In the yearof the Scottish queen's marriage to Francis, Mary TudorQueen of England, died. Elizabeth, her half-sister,succeeded to the crown. But had she any legal right toascend the throne? Henry VIII, a veritable Bluebeardwith his many wives, had left only three children behindhirn, Edward and two daughters. Mary, the eldest ofthe three, issued from his lawful union with Catherine ofAragon; Elizabeth, seventeen years younger than Mary,was the child of his marriage with Anne Boleyn. Edward,four years junior to Elizabeth, was the son of Henry'sthird wife, Jane Seymour, and, as the only male heir,immediately succeeded his father, being then only tenyears of age. On Edward's premature demise, there wasno question as to the legality of Mary's accession. Sheleft no children, and Elizabeth's right was of a dubiousnature. The English crown lawyers contended that,since Henry's marriage with Anne had been sanctionedby an ecclesiastical court's pronouncement and theprevious marriage to Catherine of Aragon had beenannulled, Elizabeth was a legitimate child of the union.She was his direct descendant, and was a legal claimantto the throne. The French crown jurists, on the otherhand, recalled the fact that Henry VIII had himselfdeclared his marriage to Anne Boleyn a union with nolegal foundation, and had insisted upon his parliament'sproclaiming Elizabeth a bastard. The whole of theCatholic world held the opinion that Elizabeth was27

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSborn out of lawful wedlock, and was, therefore, cut offfrom the succession. If this view was a true one, thenthe next legitimate claimant could be no other thanMary Queen of Scots, the great-granddaughter ofHenry VII.Young Mary was faced with a decision of world-wideimportance. Two alternatives presented themselves.She could be diplomatic and yielding, could maintainfriendly relations by recognizing her cousin as therightful Queen of England, thus putting aside her ownclaim which in any case could not be pushed except bythe use of arms. Or she could boldly and resolutelydeclare Elizabeth to be a usurper, and thereupon gathertogether an army of French and Scottish supporters toeniorce^ her claim and deprive Elizabeth of a usurper'scrown. Unfortunately, Mary and her counsellors chosea third way out of the dilemma, a way which is invariablybeset with difficulties, especially in the realm of politics.They elected to take a middle course. Instead of marchingforth in full strength and with determination againstElizabeth, the French royal house made an absurd andvainglorious gesture. Henry II commanded that thebridal pair should have the royal arms of England andScotland surmounted by the crown of France paintedand engraved on blason, shield, and seal, and, moreover,that Mary Stuart, in all public announcements andproclamations henceforward should style herself: "ReginaFranciae, Scotiae, Angliae, et Hiberniae." Theclaim was thus maintained but was left undefended.War was not declared against Elizabeth; she was merelyfretted and annoyed. Instead of enforcing a right at thepoint of the sword, the claim was asserted by a merepainting on a piece of wood and a style at the foot of asheet of paper. Misunderstanding and ambiguity werethus created, for Mary Stuart's claim to the Enghshthrone remained a fact which at the same time was no28 '

YOUTH IN FRANCEtangible fact. According to the prevailing mood, theclaim was trotted out into the light of day or kept hiddenin the background. When, acting upon the clauses of a•vvell-known treaty, Elizabeth demanded the return ofCalais to the English crown, Henry II answered: "Calaisouffht to be surrendered to the dauphin's consort, theQueen of Scotland, whom we take to be the Queen ofEngland." Nevertheless, Henry made no move toenforce his daughter-in-law's claim, and continued todeal on equal terms with the English monarch as if therev^rere no question of her being a usurper.This foolish and vain gesture, this childish and idioticpainting of the coat of arms of England and Scotlandupon a single escutcheon, brought absolutely no advantageto Mary Stuart. On the contrary, it ruined hercause. Every one of us m^ortals is guilty of errors ofjudgment and mistakes in the course of life, faults whichcan never be made good, stupidities committed inmoments of excitement or of thoughtlessness and whoseconsequences have to be endured through long years ofregret. In this instance, Mary Stuart had to sufferthroughout life from an act committed in her behalfwhen she was hardly more than a child, an act which wasa gross political blunder performed as a salve to aggressivenessand vanity. This petty mortification of Elizabeth'spride converted the most powerful woman ofEurope into Mary's irreconcilable foe. A genuine ruler,to the manner born, can tolerate and permit everythingexcept that another should put his dominion in doubtand make a counter-claim to that same dominion.Elizabeth, therefore, in spite of apparently friendly andeven tender letters, always looked upon Mary Stuartas a spectre casting a shadow over her throne, invariablyheld her young cousin to be an enemy, an opponent, arival. Mary, on the other hand, was too proud to acknowledgeherself in the wrong once the claim had pub-29

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSlicly been made, and never could she consent unconditionallyto recognize a "concubine's" bastard as thelegitimate Queen of England. Relations between thetwo women could not be any other than a pretence and asubterfuge, beneath which the cleavage remained. Halfmeasuresand dishonourable deeds, whether in theworld of politics or in private life, invariably bring moredamage in their train than energetic and free-handeddecisions. The painting-in of the English coat of armson to the dauphin's and Mary's blason made moreblood to flow than a real war could have done, for openwarfare in the end must decide the issue one way oranother, whereas the ambiguous method adopted byHenry II proved to be a constant and ever-recurringpin-prick which estranged the two women for a lifetimeand played havoc with their rule as monarchs.The coat of arms incorporating the English heraldicemblems was, in July 1559, publicly displayed by the"roi-dauphin" aiid the "reine-dauphine" when theywere on their way to a tournament which was to takeplace in Paris. On that occasion they were borne to thearena in a triumphal car emblazoned with the fatalescutcheon. The car was preceded by two Scottishheralds, apparelled with the arms of England and Scotland,and crying for all men to hear: "Make place!Make place, for the Qjaeen of England!" This festivityhad been arranged to celebrate the Peace of Cateau-Cambresis (April, 1559). King Henry II, ever thechivalrous knight, did not feel it beneath his dignity tosplinter a lance or two "pour I'amour des dames," andevery one knew which lady was in his mind. Diane dePoitiers, proud and beautiful as ever, sat in her box, andlooked complaisantly upon her royal lover. On a sudden,however, what had been a joyous sport became deadly30

YOUTH IN FRANCEearnest. The tournay proved to be a pivot of worldhistory. The Gomte de Montgomery, a French knightand officer in the Scottish Hfeguard of the king, enteredthe lists at the latter's command as the opponent of hisroyal master. Having broken his lance, he galloped tothe attack once more with the stump of his weapon. Theonslaught was so energetic that a splinter of jMontffomery'slance penetrated the king's eye through thevisor. The monarch fell from his horse in a faint. Atfirst the wound was considered trifling, but the kingnever regained consciousness. Around his bed thefamily gathered, appalled and horrified. Valois' sturdyframe fought valiantly for a few days, but on July lothhe gave up the ghost.Even when plunged into the deepest grief, the Frenchnever forgot the dictates of etiquette. As the royalfamily was leaving the palace, Catherine de' Medici,Henry II's wife, held back at the door. From the hourwhen she became a widow she had no longer any rightto take precedence at court. This right now fell to a girlwho had automatically become Queen of France as thelast breath went out of the erstwhile king's body. MaryStuart, the spouse of France's new king, a chit of seventeen,had to go before, and in this moment Maiy roseto the highest peak life had reserved for her.31

Qkapter 3Q,UEEN, WIDOW,AND NEVERTHELESS Q,UEEN1560-1561NOTHING contributed so greatly to render MaryStuart's fate tragical as that at the outset of her careerearthly honours fell deceptively to her lot without herlifting a finger to attain them. Her rise to power waslike a rocket for swiftness: six days after birth, she wasalready Queen of Scotland; at six years of age she becamethe betrothed of one o£ the most powerful princesin Europe; at sixteen she was his wife; at seventeen.Queen of France. She reached the zenith of her publiccareer ere she had had time to develop her inner life.Things dropped into her lap as if out of a horn of plenty;never did she fight in her own behalf for a desired object,or reap any advantage through the exercise of personalendeavour. Not through trial and merit did thisprincess attain a goal; everything flowed towards herby inheritance, or grace, or gift. As in a dream, whereinhappenings fly past in ephemeral and multicolouredprecipitancy, she lived through the wedding ceremonyand the coronation. Before her senses could begin tograsp the significance of this precocious springtime, theblossoms were already withered and dead, the season offlowering was over, and Mary awoke disappointed, disillusioned,plundered of her hopes, fleeced as it were,bewildered to distraction. At an age, when other maidsare beginning to form wishes, are beginning to hope for32

UEEN, WIDOW, AND NEVERTHELESS Q,UEENnd to hanker after they hardly know what, Mary ex-•gjjced in profusion the possibilities of a triumphantregress without being granted time or leisure to grasptheir spiritual significance. This premature coming to•ps with destiny explains her subsequent restlessnessand voracity. One who has so early been the most outstandingfigure in a country, nay in the world, will neveraffain be content with a less exalted position. It was inthe stubborn fight to maintain herself at the centre of thestage that her real greatness was developed. Renunciationand forgetfulness are permissible to the weak; strongnatures, on the other hand, are not in the habit of resigningthemselves, but challenge even the mightiest destinyto a trial at arms.In very truth, this brief period of royalty in Francepassed for Mary like a dream—a poignant, uneasy, andanxious dream. The ceremony at the cathedral atRheims, where the archbishop crowned the sickly youth,and where the lovely girl-queen, bedecked with thejewels appropriate to her position, shone forth fromamong the nobles like a slender white lily not yet in fullbloom—was an isolated occasion of splendour. Exceptfor this, the chronicles have nothing to tell of festivalsor merry-making. Fate left Mary Stuart no time tofound the troubadour's court of the arts and poesy forwhich she yearned; left the painters no time to finishportraits of the monarch and his lovely wife in the panoplyof royal robes; no time for historians to describe theirrespective characters; no time for the populace to makeclose acquaintance with its new rulers or learn to lovethem. In the long procession of kings and queens ofFrance, the figures of these two children are driven onwardlike mist-wreaths before the wind.Francis II, a tainted tree in the forest, was doomed to33

THE (JUEEN OF SCOTSpremature death. A round and bloated face, timid eyes,weary, and reminding us of one who has been startledout of sleep, give the dominant expression to his countenance.His strength was further undermined by asudden and extensive growth in stature such as oftenoccurs at his age. Physicians watched over him sedulouslyand urgently advised him to take care of himself,but the boy was animated by a foolish dread lest heshould be outdone by his willowy untiring spouse, whowas passionately devoted to sylvan sports. That he mightseem hale and manly, he rode hell-for-leather andengaged in other exhausting bodily exercises. But naturecould not be cheated. His blood was incurably sluggish,was poisoned by an evil heritage from his grandfatherFrancis I. Again and again he was laid low by paroxysmsof fever. When the weather was inclement he had tokeep indoors, restive and bored, a pitiful shade, surroundedby his train of doctors. So weakly a king arousedmore pity than respect among his courtiers; among thecommon people, on the other hand, it was soon bruitedabroad that he was smitten with leprosy, and was wontto bathe in the blood of freshly-killed children in thehope of regaining health. The peasants regarded thestricken lad menacingly when he went out riding. Atcourt those with an eye to the future were beginning tothrong round Catherine de' Medici, and Charles thenext heir to the throne. Hands so weak as Francis' couldnot long nor firmly grip the reins of power. Now andagain, in stiff, awkward writing, the boy would pen his"Francois" at the foot of decrees; but the real rulerswere the Guises, the kin of Mary Stuart, in place of onewhose energies must be devoted to keeping his vitalspark aglow as long as^.possible. Such a sick-room companionship,with its perpetual watchfulness over failinghealth, can scarcely be spoken of as a happy marriage,even if we suppose it to have been a marriage in any34

OUEEN, WIDOW, AND NEVERTHELESS Q,UEENsense of the term. Yet there is nothing to justifythe supposition that the union of these younsters wasunhappy one, for even at this maHcious court whereffossip was rife, at this court where every amourette wasrecorded by Brantome in his Vie des dames galantes, nosuspicion seems to have been aroused by Mary Stuart'sbehaviour. Long before they were dragged to the altar,Francis of Valois and Mary Stuart had been playmates,and it seems unlikely that the erotic element can havehad much part in their companionship after the wedding.Years were still to pass before, in Mary Queen ofScots there was to develop the capacity for passionateself-surrender to a lover; and Francis, an ailing boy,was not the type of male to arouse the passion that layhid so deep in the enigmatic nature of his wife. Tendernessand clemency of character prompted Mary tocare for her husband to the best of her abiUty. Even ifshe had not been moved to this by feeling, her reasonwould have informed her that power and position dependedupon the breathing and the heart-beats of thispoor, sick body, to safeguard which would be to defendher own happiness. But for real happiness, during herbrief span of queenship in France, there was no scope.The storms aroused by the Huguenot movement werecausing widespread agitation. After the conspiracy ofAmboise, in which the royal pair were personally endangered,Mary had to pay one of the painful tributescalled for by her position as ruler. She had to witness theexecution of the rebels, and we may well suppose thatthe sight was deeply graven in her memory, forgottenthen, maybe, for decades, to leap back again into vividreality when the hour of her own doom was struck. Nowshe watched the awesome sight of a human being, handstied behind the back, kneeling with head on the blockand awaiting the fall of the executioner's axe. She heardfor the first time the curiously muffled and dull tone of35

THE Q,UKEN OF SCOTSI Steel that severs living flesh, she saw the blood spurt, andthe head roll away from the body into the sand. Apicture gruesome enough to blot out from the remembranceof a sensitive soul the splendid scenes so recentlyenacted at Rheims when her young head was crowned.Now evil tidings followed quickly one upon the other.Mary's mother, Mary of Guise, who had been acting asregent in Scotland during her daughter's minority, hadreached her end, and, surrounded by enemies, breathedher last in June 1560. She left the country embroiled inreligious strife and in full rebellion, with war ragingalong the border and English armies occupying theLowlands. Mary Stuart had to exchange her festalattire for mourning. No more music was she to hear fora while; her feet were for the nonce no longer to treadthe mazes of the dance. Then Death's bony knucklecame knocking at the door of her heart and home.Francis II grew weaker and weaker; the envenomedblood usually flowing so sluggishly through his veinsnow beat a tattoo in his temples and his ears. No morecould he even walk or ride, but had to be carried in alitter from place to place. At length the gathering pusburst the ear-drum; but it was too late, for the inflammationhad already spread inwards to the brainand the suflferer was beyond reach of medical aid. Hisheart ceased to beat on December 6, 1560.Once more a tragical scene between two women wasplayed to the finish beside this second deathbed. Hardlywas the breath out of Francis' frail body when MaryStuart, no longer Queen of France, had to yield precedenceto Catherine de' Medici; the younger of the royalwidows had to draw back at the door in order to allowthe elder one to go first. Mary was no longer the firstlady in the realm, but again, as before, the second. Oneshort year sufficed to bring Mary Stuart's dream to anend. She would never again be reigning Queen of36

EEN, WIDOW, AND NEVERTHELESS Q,UEENauFrance but must henceforth remain till the hour of herHeath what she had always been from birth: MaryOueen of Scotland and the Isles.The rigours of regal etiquette in France decreed thatking's widow should pass forty days in strict seclusion,during which she might not for a moment leave hernrivate apartments or admit the daylight into her rooms.In the first two weeks of mourning she was forbidden toreceive any visitors except the new king and his nextof kin, and these she entertained in her retreat which,gloomy as it was and lighted only by candles, resembled aliving tomb. Nor might a royal widow wear the regulationblack adopted almost universally by commonersas a sign of bereavement. The widow of a Frenchnionarch had to don the "deuil blanc" prescribed bythe law of the land. A white coif framed the pale face,a white brocade dress covered body and limbs, whitewere the shoes and stockings. Ample folds of white fellfrom head to waist. This is how Janet depicts MaryStuart in the days of her mourning; this is how Ronsardportrays her in words:Un crespe long, subtil et d6\i6Ply centre ply, retors et repli^Habit de deuil, vous sert de couverture,Depuis le chef jusques ^ la ceinture.Qui s'enfle ainsi qu'un voile quand le ventSoufle la barque et la cingle en avant.De tel habit vous etiez accoutr^ePartant, h^las! de la belle contr^eDont aviez eu le sceptre dans la main,Lorsque, pensive et baignant votre seinDu beau cristal de vos larmes coulteTriste marchiez par les longues alliesDu grand jardin de ce royal chateauQui prend son nom de la beaute des eaux.37

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTS[A long veil, soft and clingingFold upon fold, a mourning garb,Swathes your young bodyFrom head to waist.It bellies and fills like a sailBefore the wind, urging the barque along.Thus were you clad when, alas.You left the beautiful landWhose sceptre you had held in hand,When, pensive and weeping as you were,Tears, like crystals, coursed down your cheeksWhile you paced the long alley-waysIn the gardens of that royal castleWhose name derives from the beauty of its waters.]Never before had this young and sympathetic and gentlecreature been more successfully painted than at thistime of her first grief and her first disappointment. Herroving and restless eyes had become steadfast, and earnestin expression; the dignity of her bearing is moreobvious in the modest and simple garb of mourning thanin the portraits which show her bedecked with gems andthe insignia of power.The same dignified melancholy speaks to us from thelines she herself composed as a lament for her deadhusband. These verses are not unworthy of the youngqueen's master, Ronsard. Even if it had not beenpenned by a queen, the tender elegy would appeal toany heart through the simplicity of its tone and itstouching candour. Here we find no passionate regretfor the young dead king, since Mary Stuart was alwaystruthful and candid where poesy was concerned, thoughnot invariably so in the world of politics. But we aregiven a picture of her utter loneliness, and the feelingthat she was lost and forsaken.Sans cesse mon coeur sentLe regret d'un absent.Si parfdis vers les cieux38

nUEEN, WIDOW, AND NEVERTHELESS Q^UEENViens h. dresser ma veue,Le doux traict de ses yeuxJe vois dans une nue;Soudain je vois dans I'eauComme dans un tombeau.Si je suis en reposSomeillant sur ma couche,Je le sens qu'il me touche:En labeur, en recoyToujour est pres de racy.[Unceasingly my heart bemoansThe absence of my dear. . . .If to the distant skiesI life my mournful gaze,I see his gentle eyesGaze down from the misty heights;And the waters all aroundSeem to me like a grave..When, resting on my couch,I close my eyes and drowse,His hand softly strokes me:In labour and reposeHis presence never quits my side.]Mary Stuart's sorrow at the loss of her husband,Francis II, was undeniably genuine, and not merely apoetical fiction. For in losing Francis, Mary not onlylost a pleasant and docile companion, and an affectionatefriend, but at the same time her position amongEuropean potentates, her power, and her security. Thiswoman, who was still half a child, soon felt how muchit signified to her stability and gratification to be thefirst lady in a great kingdom, and how paltry it was tohave to be content with playing second fiddle. Indeed,for proud natures, this is even more galling than to benobody at all. Mary's situation was rendered if anythingbitterer by Catherine de' Medici's open hostilitynow that the haughtiest member of a haughty house hadresumed her old place at court. It would appear that39

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSMary, in an unwitting moment, goaded by the inconsideraterashness of youth, had incurred the elder lady'sundying displeasure by hazarding an observation on thecommercial origins of the wealthy family of Medici, andreferring to the upstart ancestors of this merchant'sdaughter, thus making a derogatory comparison withher own long line of kingly forefathers. Such scatterbrainedutterances—heedless and ill-advised, she was ata future date to let her tongue run away with her inregard to Elizabeth of England as well—when spokenby one woman to the detriment of another, are moredevastating in their consequences than open invectives.Catherine's ambitions had already been thwartedduring two long decades through the power wielded byDiane de Poitiers; then came Mary Stuart's rise. Hardly,therefore, had she at length entered into her own, andtaken her place in the political arena, when she allowedher detestation of these two rivals to find challenging anddictatorial vent.But in Mary Stuart's case, pride, which was an essentialtrait in her make-up, prevented her from acceptinga minor part. High-hearted and passionate by nature,she refused half glories and petty positions. Better to beaccounted nothing, better to be dead, than to be anunderling. For a space she thought seriously of retiringto a nunnery, of eschewing worldly prerogatives, of forfeitingher rights and privileges since she could not bethe leading lady of her court. But life was still too seductivea business for a girl of eighteen to go against thedictates of her innermost being and give up its allurementsfor ever. Besides, it was possible that the lostcrown might yet be compensated for by the acquisitionof another, and no less resplendent, one. The Spanishambassador was even now suing for Mary on behalf ofDon Carlos, the heir to two worlds; the court of Austriawas simultaneously undertaking secret negotiations; the40

OUEEN, WIDOW, AND NEVERTHELESSqUEENkings of Sweden and of Denmark were offering her throneand hand. And was she not, as ever, a queen in her ownriffht, was she not Queen of Scotland and the Isles? Thenthere was the neighbour crown of England which mightfall to her at any moment. Incalculable possibilitiesJay around the girl-widow now ripening to the fullbeauty of womanhood—though henceforward she wouldhave to grab what she could get. Gone for ever the days•when treasures dropped into her lap like gifts from theffods. Henceforward she would have to fight a lonehand, would have to seize what she wanted by the manipulationof the arts of diplomacy, using her utmost skill,exercising patience. But with such an abundance ofcourage, with so much loveliness at her command, withyouth to warm her blossoming body, why should she notventure on the boldest game? Resolute and greatlydaring, Mary Stuart marched forth to battle.Granted, it would be hard to bid farewell to France.She had lived twelve years at this royal court, in thisbeautiful, wealthy, happy land that seemed more likehome to her than Scotland which had by now becomeno more than a vague memory of childhood. Here, inFrance, dwelt her mother's relatives who cherished andguarded her; here were the many palaces and castleswherein she had passed numberless blithe and merryhours; here lived the poets who had sung her praisesand who had so well understood her; here she wassurrounded by the knightly courtesies which renderedlife so charming, the gallant chivalry which suited hertaste so admirably. She put off her departure frommonth to month, hesitant in spite of urgent messagesfrom her homeland. She visited her relatives in Joinvilleand in Nancy, was present at the coronation of her tenyear-oldbrother-in-law Charles IX, in Rheims cathe-41

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSdral. Perpetually she found fresh excuses for postponingthe journey, as though she harboured a premonition ofits finality. It was as if she were waiting for some signthat would spare her the dreaded separation from Franceand the voyage home.For no matter how inexperienced a girl of eighteenmay be in affairs of State, it is undeniable that MaryStuart must have been convinced that a very hard testwas awaiting her so soon as she set foot on her native soilSince her mother's death, the Protestant Lords of theCongregation, her fiercest enemies, had gained theupper hand, and they were at no pains to hide the factthat they did not want a Catholic, a believer in theMass and other idolatrous practices, to return to theland. They brazenly declared (and the English ambassadoreagerly conveyed the news to London) that thequeen's journey to Scotland must be postponed for a fewmonths longer, and, were it not that it was their dutyto obey, they would not be'much put out if they neversaw her again. They had, as a matter of fact, been intriguingon the quiet, proposing that the Queen ofEngland should marry the Protestant James Hamilton,Earl of Arran, who was the next heir to the Scottishthrone, thus bartering the crown to Mary's rival, acrown that was unquestionably Mary Stuart's by rightof succession. Nor could she place any greater confidencein her half-brother James Stuart, who, as envoyfrom the Scottish parliament, sought Mary out inFrance "to know her mind." His relations with Elizabethwere dubious, and some even suspected that hewas in the English queen's pay. The only way for Maryto put an end to these intrigues was to be on the spotherself, and with proverbial Stuart courage defend andmaintain her rights to~the Stuart throne. Determinednot to lose a second crown within a year of losing theother, full of dreary foreboding and heavy at heart,42

ITEEN, WIDOW,AND NEVERTHELESS qUEENivfarV Stuart obeyed a summons which had not proededfrom loyal hearts and which she obeyed whilehalf doubtful as to its honesty.Before returning to her native land, Mary Stuart couldnot but be aware that Elizabeth h^d no reason and stillless any inclination to make things easy and smooth fora rival who was only awaiting her death to step intojjer shoes and mount the English throne. With cynicalcandour Elizabeth's minister, Cecil, supported everyaggressive act on the part of his sovereign, saying: "Thelonger the Scottish queen's affairs remain in disorder,tlie better for Your Majesty's cause." The animusaroused by that painted claim to the throne of Englandwas still fresh and vigorous. True, the Scottish estatesand lords in Edinburgh had drawn up a treaty withEngland wherein it was clearly stated that Mary Stuart"for all times coming" undertook to recognize Elizabethas the rightful tenant of the English throne. But whenthe document reached Paris and was placed beforeMary for signature, she and young Francis refused toratify it or to have anything to do with it. Renunciationwas not in Mary's blood, especially since her claim hadofficially been incorporated in her husband's coat ofarms. Never would she be able to lower the standard^once it had been raised. For political reasons she mightconsent to not making a display of her pretentions, butin the innermost sanctum of her heart Mary Stuarthad an iron determination never to yield in thismatter.Elizabeth could not tolerate such ambiguity; for herthe question must be settled with an outright Yes or No.The Scottish queen's representatives in Edinburgh, saidElizabeth, acting on behalf of Mary, had already signedthe treaty, thus comitting their sovereign to the under-43

THE qUEEN OF SCOTStaking, and compelling her to acquiesce. The Englishmonarch would not be satisfied with a secret agreement;what she needed was a public and binding pronouncement,a document which should leave no dooropen for misinterpretation. Every refusal on Mary'spart suggested that she still laid claim to Elizabeth'spossessions; that, in addition to the Scottish throne shefelt herself entitled to ascend the English. Elizabeth,whose sympathies lay more in the direction of the Protestantcause, knew only too well that half her realm wasstill passionately Catholic in sentiment. A Catholicpretender to her throne meant, therefore, not merely adanger to her public office, but likewise a menace toher private life. For safety's sake she must have Mary'ssignature to the before-mentioned treaty, and it wassound policy on her part that she should not relax inopen hostihty to the Scottish queen so long as the latterrefused to sign. She felt her position insecure, felt thatshe was no true queen until her rival had made publicacknowledgment, and had abdicated all immediateclaims to the English crown.None would venture to deny that right was on Elizabeth'sside in the quarrel. Unfortunately she put herselfin the wrong by trying to settle a political conflict ofsuch magnitude by adopting petty and unworthymethods. When women enter the field of politics theyare often tempted to wound opponents with pin-pricks,and to envenom rivalries by the use of personal invective.In this instance Elizabeth, despite the width of herpolitical vision, fell into the fault peculiar to her sexwhen faced by such circumstances. Mary was proposingto travel home by sea, but asked for a "safe-conduct,"should sickness or rough weather make a landingon English soil desirable. Was not this demand a fairly 'plain proffer of a desire for a friendly personal talk withher cousin—a talk which might smooth away their44

OUEEN, WIDOW, AND NEVERTHELESS Q,UEENdifferences? To grant the safe-conduct would have beerino more than a formal act of courtesy, since anyhow thesea route was open. Elizabeth's response was to saythat she would grant no safe-conduct so long as Maryhad not placed her signature at the foot of the Edinburghtreaty. In the hope of coercing the queen she thusvvounded the woman. Instead of making a magnanipiousgesture or if necessary going to war, she had recourseto a personal affront.So far the conflict between the two cousins had beenniore or less masked; now all veils were wrenched aside,and with hard, hot eyes one proud woman confrontecithe other. Mary Stuart summoned the English ambassadorto audience, and addressed him with passionatedisdain: "There is nothing that doth more grieve methan that I did so forget myself as to require of theQueen your mistress that favour which I had no need toask. I needed no more to have made her privy to myjourney than she doth me of hers. I may pass wellenough home into my own realm, I think, without herpassport or licence, for though the late King your masterused all the impeachment he could both to stay me, andto catch me when I came hither, yet you know, MonsieurI'Ambassadeur, I came hither safely: and I may haveas good means to help me home again as I had to comehither, if I would employ my friends. . . . You have.Monsieur I'Ambassadeur, oftentimes told me that theamity between the Queen your mistress and me was verynecessary and profitable for us both. I have some reasoAnow to think that the Queen your mistress is not of thatmind; for I am sure, if she were, she would not haverefused me thus unkindly. It seemeth she maketh moreaccount of the amity of my disobedient subjects thafishe doth of me their sovereign, who am her equal ifl45

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSdegree, though inferior in wisdom and experieiice, hernighest kinswoman, and her next neighbour. ... I asknothing but her friendship; I do not trouble h^r State,nor practise with her subjects: and yet I know therebe in her realm those that be inclined enough to hearoffers."This was a threat in good earnest, strong rather thanwise, for, ere ever setting foot in Scotland, Mary Stuartalready allowed it to be known that if constrained tofight Elizabeth, she would carry the war over the borderand on to English soil. In courtly words the ambassadordrew Mary's attention to the fact that these many difficultiesand misunderstandings had arisen because shebore the arms of England diversely quartered with herown, and used notoriously the style and titl^ of theQueen his mistress. To which Mary answered in spiritedprotest:"Monsieur I'Ambassadeur, I was then under thecommand of K-ing Henry m.y father, and of the T?angmy lord and husband; and whatsoever was done then bytheir order and commandments, the same waS in likemanner continued until both their deaths; since whichtime, you know, I have neither borne the arms, nor usedthe title of England. Methinks these my doings mightascertain the Queen your mistress that that which wasdone before, was done by commandment of them thathad the power over me; and also in reason she ought tobe satisfied, seeing I order my doings as I tell you. Itwere no great dishonour to the Queen my cousin . . .though I, as Queen also, did bear the Arms of England;for I am sure, some, inferior to me, and that be not onevery side so well apparented, as I am, do bear the Armsof England. You cannot deny but that my grandmotherwas the King her father's sister, and, I trow, the eldestsister he had. . . ."Though the method of expression was quite friendly,46

OUEEN, WIDOW,AND NEVERTHELESS Q.UEENhpiieath the outer semblance of amiability the ambasadordetected another threat. When, wishing toQoth matters over, he urged Mary to clear unjgasantnessout of the way by fulfilling her representatives'pledge and signing the Edinburgh protocol, Marywas evasive, as always when this thorny point came upfor discussion. She did not actually decline to sign thetreaty, but promised to consult her estates after her„]-rival in Scotland. The English ambassador, however,naid her back in her own coin, and remained as evasiveas she, refusing to commit himself or his mistress in the0iatter of the succession. Whenever negotiations took acritical turn, and it became evident that one queen orihe other would have to cede a particle of her rights,both women became insincere. Each hung on to hertrump card, grimly and resolutely. Thus the game wasprotracted indefinitely, and must inevitably lead to atragical issue. Of a sudden Mary broke off the discussionconcerning her safe-conduct; it was as if a cloth hadbeen torn across, producing a harsh and rasping hiss."If my preparations were not so much advanced as theyare, peradventure the Queen your mistress's unkindnessmight stay my voyage; but now I am determined toadventure the matter, whatsoever come of it; I trustthe wind will be so favourable that I shall not need tocome on the coast of England; for if I do then. MonsieurI'Ambassadeur, the Queen, your mistress shall have mein her hands to do her will of me; and if she be so hardheartedas to desire my end, she may then do her pleasureand make sacrifice of me. Peradventure that casualtymight be better for me than to live. In this matter, God'swill be fulfilled."For the first time in her life Mary Stuart put force,self-determination, and resoluteness into the words shespoke. As a rule, she had proved herself to be of anaffable, easy-going, frivolous, and laughter-loving47 ' G

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSnature more enthralled with enjoyment and the beautyof life than with a fight; but now she showed herself tobe as hard as iron, defiant, daring, for she was faced byan issue involving her personal pride, while her rightsas queen were likewise being questioned. Better byfar to die than bend to another's will. Better royal follythan pitiful weakness. One who challenged her queenlydignity touched the very nerve of her life. In momentslike this she became truly great, and, woman though shewas, she showed a man's knightly strength. The ambassadorsent an express to London, reporting that hisraission bad not met with success. Elizabeth thereuponwith her usual suppleness and shrewdness where politicswere concerned, yielded the point, and dispatched apassport to Calais forthwith. It arrived two days behindtime, for Mary had meanwhile decided to undertakethe voyage even though this might mean an encounterwith English privateers in the Channel. She infinitelypreferred running a risk and experiencing grave discomfortto accepting a favour at the price of humiliation,Elizabeth had missed a splendid opportunity. Had sheon this occasion, acted with magnanimity, had shewelcomed as an honoured guest the young womanwhom she had reason to fear as a rival, she might haveswept the whole of this dangerous conflict out of herpath. Alas that reason and politics so seldom can stephand in hand along the same road! May it not be thatthe dramatic events in the history of mankind arisesolely from a failure to seize possibilities?The sun in its setting often illumines the countrysidewith a red and golden glory, giving to the landscape afalse aspect of life and vitality. Such a deceptive aureolesurrounded Mary Stuart as she took her final leave o!jFrance, for the French made a point of carrying out iiil48

QUEEN, WIDOW, AND NEVERTHELESSQ,UEEKher honour a full ceremonial in all its magnificent osteiitation.She, who had been a French king's bride, whohad fallen from her high estate through no fault of h^rown, and who had been deprived of her position EISFrance's ruler by a mishap, could not be allowed toleave the land of her adoption unaccompanied and ur'-sung. It must be made abundantly clear to every onethat Mary was not sailing forth under a cloud, as theunhappy widow of a French monarch or as a weak andhelpless woman whom her friends had left in the lurch-No, the Queen of Scotland was going home, backed byFrench honour and French arms. Setting out from Saint-Germain, she made her way to Calais in the company c)fa vast procession, a cavalcade whose horses were caparisonedwith the most elaborate and beautiful harness,trappings inlaid with gold and other precious metals, andwhose riders were dressed in the full splendour of whichthe French Renaissance was capable. The highwayleading to the little port was made gay with colouf,bright with the polished steel of weapons, loud with thevoices of the flower of the French nobility. At the headof the brilliant retinue was a State carriage conveyingthe queen's uncles, the Duke of Guise and the Cardinalsof Lorraine and of Guise. Mary herself was surroundedby the four girls who had never left her, by noblewomen,by pages, poets, and musicians. The days of romanceand chivalry seemed to be living a second springtime-The train was followed by a succession of chariotsbearing costly furniture and other objects that had goneto the making of her homes in France. The crown jewelswere transported in a closed shrine. As she had come aqueen, welcomed with a pageantry and honour worthyof her rank, so, too, did she leave the country of heradoption, the country which had won the love of herheart. But on this occasion joy was lacking, that innocentjoy which had lighted up the eyes of an astonished49

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSchild; this was the fading afterglow of sunset and notthe radiance of dawn.The main body of the princely cortege stayed ashorein Calais. Then the cavalcade dispersed, each riderseeking his own home. Away in Paris, sheltered behindthe walls of the Louvre, another monarch was awaitingthe return of these nobles who were henceforth to servehim, for courtiers may not live in the pomp of yesterday,it being their business to think only of the present andthe future. Dignities and position, not the human beingwho has to shoulder them, are the only things that countso far as a courtier is concerned. These fine fellows willforget Mary Stuart as soon as the wind has filled thesails of her galleon, they will expunge her image fromtheir hearts. The parting was no more to them than apathetic ritual, belonging to the same category of publicpageantry as a coronation or a funeral. Genuine sorrowat Mary Stuart's melancholy pilgrimage was felt onlyby the poets, for poets are endowed with keener perceptions,and with the twofold gifts of prophecy andremembrance. Those who wept over Mary's going knewonly too acutely that with this young woman, who hadwished to create a court of cheerfulness and beauty, theMuses would disappear likewise from French territory;they foresaw days filled with vicissitude and uncertaintyin store for themselves and the French peoples; theysensed the advent of political and religious disputes andcontentions, the struggle with the Huguenots, the disastrousSt. Bartholomew's night, squabbles with zealotsand quibblers. Gone were the days of chivalry, goneromance, as the maidenly figure disappeared over thewaters. The star of poesy, the star of the "Pleiade," wasabout to set in a murky sky, rendered the gloomier bythe prospect of war. Spiritual happiness, pure and unsullied,sailed away with Marv Stuart. As Ronsard putit, in his elegy Au Depart:50

OUEEN, WIDOW, AND NEVERTHELESSLe jour que votre voile aux vents se recourba,Et de nos yeux pleurants les vostres d6roba,Ce jour la meme voile emporta loin de FranceLes Muses, qui songeoient y faire demourance.Q,UEEN[The day whereon the breeze did fill the sailsOf the galleon which snatched you from our streaming eyes,Carried, likewise, far away from FranceThe Muses, who had thought to make that land their dwelling-place.]In this same poem the writer, with a heart ever responsiveto all that was young and charming, wished tocelebrate in the written word that which his ardent eyesViTOuld never again behold in the quick, warm flesh. Thegenuine grief which pulled at his heart-strings inspiredhim to pen a dirge which alone would make him rankliigh arnong the poets of his day.Comment pourroient chanter les bouches des pontes,Quand par vostre depart les Muses sont muettes?Tout ce qu'il est de beau ne se garde longtemps,Les roses et les lys ne regnent qu'un printemps.Ainsi votre beauty, seulement apparueQuinze ans en notre France, est soudain disparue,Comme on voit d'un Eclair s'dvanouir le trait,Et d'elle n'a laiss6 sinon le regret,Sinon le d^plaisir qui me remet sans cesseAu coeur le souvenir d'une telle princesse.[How can the mouths of poets pour forth songSince your departure has struck the Muses dumb?Beauty lives no longer than a day,Roses and lilies die when spring is dead.Thus has your flowerlike loveliness passed awayAfter gracing our France for fifteen years.Passed with the speed of a lightning flash.Leaving behind it nothing but regret,And a grief which continually calls to mindThe memory of so radiant a princess.]Whereas by the court and nobles and gentry of Francethe absent queen was soon to be forgotten, the poets of51

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSthat fair realm were to remain for long her faithful servitors;for to the poetic imagination misfortune investsthe sufferer with fresh nobility, and she whom the poetshad sung on account of her beauty would henceforwardbe doubly loved because of the evils which befell her.To the end of her days Mary Stuart kept their faithfulhomage, and their tuneful lyrics accompanied her evenas she mounted the scaffold. When a person of intrinsicworth lives a life that is a genuine poem, a true drama, abeautiful saga and ballad, poets will never be lacking toclothe it anew and to breathe into it the fresh and vibrantimagery of inspiration.A splendid white galleon was riding at anchor inCalais roads. She was a French flag-ship, flying theScottish colours as well. Here, on August 14, 1561,Mary Stuart went aboard, accompanied by three of heruncles^ a few of the most distinguished noblemen^ andthe four Maries her inseparable companions. Two othervessels formed an escort. But the ship had not left thinner harbour, her sails had not been fully unfurledwhen a portent cast a shadow on this voyage into th(unknown. A vessel entering the port the queen hacbarely left, struck the bar, split, and sank. Mary, greatlyagitated, called upon her captain to save the drowningmariners. But the accident had occurred too suddenl)for human aid to be of any avail. This catastrophe wasindeed, a bad omen for the young and inexperiencedwoman who was leaving the protection of a land sheloved to take up her duties as queen and ruler in acountry that was strange and foreign to her. ,Was it a secret dread of what fate held in store for her,was it a keen sense of loss as she left what had hithertobeen her homeland, was it a feeling that she would not 'return to these shores, \vhich brought the tears to eyes52

gUEEN, WIDOW, AND NEVERTHELESS Q^UEENwhose gaze never for a moment left the retreating land,scape, the country where she had spent her care-fre^girlhood, where she had been so happy because nt^•vvrorries had been allowed to approach her? Her pas.sionate grief on bidding farewell to France has beetjtouchingly described for us by Brantome: "So soon asthe ship had steered clear of the harbour and the wincjrose a little, the crew began to hoist the sails. Standingin the stern, close to the rudder, and leaning with botl^arms on the taffrail, Queen Mary wept as she looked atthe harbour and the country from which she was de.parting. There she remained, again and again mourii.fully repeating, 'Farewell France,' until night fell. Hercompanions urged her to retire to her cabin and rest, butshe refused, so a couch was improvised for her on thgpoop. Before lying down she told the pilot to awaken herat dawn, if the coast of France were still visible. He w^gnot to be afraid, even if he had to shout at her. Fortun^necessary to have recourse to the oars, and the galleoi^made little progress. At daybreak France was still in th^offing. Directly the pilot spoke to her she rose and con.tinned to gaze at the coasts so long as they were in sightagain and again repeatingly plaintively, 'FarewellFrance! Farewell France! I fear I shall never see yoi^53

Qkapter URETURN TO SCOTLANDAUGUST 1561A. FOG, thicker than is usual in summer even in anortherly clime, shrouded sea and land when, onAugust 19, 1561, Mary stepped out of the boat whichput her ashore at Leith. What a contrast was thisarrival in Scotland as compared with the magnificentsend-off she had been accorded when bidding adieu tola Douce France! Then she had been escorted by thebravest and noblest gentlemen of the land; princes andcounts, poets and musicians had graced her passagealong the roads and at the port, coining courtly phrases,and composing rapturous songs in her honour. In Scotlandno one was expecting her, and it was not until shewas handed out of the boat and stepped along on firmground that a few commoners gathered to gape openmouthedat the dainty apparition. A fisherman or twoin their rough working clothes, a handful of loiteringsoldiers, some shopkeepers, and peasants who had cometo sell their sheep in the town, looked at her and hersuite shyly rather than with enthusiasm. They seemedto be asking themselves who these fine folk could be withtheir sumptuous clothing and display of jewels.Strangers gazed into the eyes of strangers. A rudewelcome hard and austere as are the souls of thesenorthern people. From the first hour of her landingMary Stuart was made to see the appalling poverty ofher native country, to realize that during the few days• '51

RETURN TO SCOTLANDof her voyage she had travelled backward in history atleast one hundred years, that she had left behind her agreat civilization, rich and luxurious, wasteful andsensuous, had exchanged the refined and open-handedculture of France for something narrow, dark, andfraught with tragedy. A dozen times and more the townhad been ravaged and plundered by the English, and byScottish rebels, so that it could boast of no palace orbaronial hall wherein Mary might be received with a dignityworthy of her rank. This night, therefore, she wasput up in a burgher's house; simple quarters it is true, butat least the Queen of Scotland had a roof over her head.First impressions make a distinctive mark on themind; they are stamped in deeply, and much of subsequenthappenings depends upon whether they aregood or bad. Perhaps Mary herself scarcely understoodwhat moved her so profoundly when, after an absence ofthirteen years, she returned to her kingdom as a stranger.Gould it be home-sickness, an unconscious longing fora warm sweet existence which had taught her to love theFrench soil? Was it perhaps the shadow cast upon herhigh spirits by the grey skies of an unknown land ? Mayit not have been a premonition of coming disaster? Whateverthe emotion was, Brantome tells us that hardly didshe find herself alone in the room allotted her, than sheburst into tears. It was not like William the Conqueror,strong in the consciousness of his power, that this poorgirl set foot on British earth. Her feeling was one of constraintand perplexity mingled with gloomy forebodings.Meanwhile her half-brother. Lord James Stuart(better known to history by his later title, the Earl ofMoray, or as the Regent Moray in subsequent years), hadbeen informed of Mary's arrival, and he in companywith some of his fellow-noblemen rode with all haste to

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSLeith in order to provide a worthy escort to accompanyher on her entry into Edinburgh. But the cavalcade didnot cut much of a figure. Under the very transparentpretext of a search for pirates, the English had waylaidone of Mary's ships. This happened to be the one conveyingher favourite palfrey, which she used on Stateoccasions, together with the whole of the royal stud.Since the Queen rode well, she would not have beenloth to display her equestrian skill to the crowds assembledto see her pass. But, being deprived of her ownmount, she had to ride into her kingdom sitting the besthorse the town of Leith could provide. A sorry nag,indeed, but serviceable. The mortification was no smallthing for a girl of eighteen to face. Her suite faredworse, having to be content with what the stables andstalls of the neighbouring countryside could produce.Again tears suflfused Mary's'eyes, tears of wounded prideand regret, for suddenly there was borne in on her themagnitude of her loss the day her husband, Francis II,was taken from her. Also she realized that to be Queenof Scotland was a poor, mean thing when comparedwith the glory of being Queen of France. Her nationalpride was piqued because she was thus humiliated beforethe French gentlemen who accompanied her, and shefelt personally affronted at having to present herselffor the first time to her new subjects in so pitiable aplight. Instead, therefore, of making a "joyeuse entree"through the main streets of Edinburgh, Mary decidedto stop at Holyrood which was outside the city walls.Her father had built this palace; its crenellated battlementsdominated the landscape, dark and defiant;at first sight it created a formidable impression, with itsmenacing towers, its clear-cut lines, its square-shapedmajesty. But how chill, empty arid dismal must it haveappeared to a child who had lived amid the voluptuousrefinement of the French Renaissance. Here were no56

RETURN TO SCOTLANDGobelins to cheer and refresh the eyes, no chandeliersreflecting their lustrous illumination in Italian mirrorsfrom wall to wall, no costly hangings, no sheen of goldand silver. Many years had gone by since the place hadbeen used; no laughter re-echoed from its forlorn walls,no kingly hand had cared for or renovated the buildingsince her father's death. Poverty, the age-long curseof her kingdom, stared down at her from every nook.But, night though it was, the inhabitants of Edinburghhad no sooner learned that their queen had come thanthey issued from their houses, determined to give her asuitable welcome. It is not to be wondered at that thiswelcome seemed uncouth and boorish to Mary and herentourage, used as they were to French brilliancy andpolish. Edinburgh's cits had no festive attire to gracethe ceremony withal, nor did they know how to set uptriumphal arches in honour of their young queen. Herewere no "musiciens de la cour" to enchant the ears ofRonsard's pupil with sweet madrigals and smoothlyflowing canzoni. They could only follow the traditionalcustoms such occasions demanded. The country wasrich in wood, so what more natural than to constructhuge bonfires in the public squares, and by their glarechange night into day? They gathered beneath herwindow and serenaded her with" the wild skirling of bagpipesand other outlandish instruments, a sound theycalled music, but which to her trained ears was nothingbut an ugly noise. In addition they raised their rough,manly voices in song; and, since they were forbidden bytheir Calvinistic pastors to sing profane melodies, theyfilled the air with the lilt pf psalms and hymns. With'thebest will in the world, they were incapable of producinga more soothing lullaby. Nevertheless, Mary Stuart'sheart warmed with the honest love which breathedthrough these rustic endeavours; the reception was instinctwith friendliness towards herself and pleasure at57

THE QUEEN OF SCOTSher advent. For decades such harmony had not existedbetween the sovereign and the people of this distraughtand tragical land.Neither the queen, young and politically inexperiencedas she was, nor her chief advisers, blinked the fact thatunusually difficult tasks lay ahead. Maitland of Lethington,who had one of the shrewdest brains of his day inScotland, wrote prophetically ere ever Mary returnedto her native heath: "It could not fail to raise wonderfultragedies." Even an energetic man, a man with an ironfist and resolute mind, could not for long impose peaceon this unmanageable environment with its chaos ofcontradictions making for perpetual unrest. How then,could so joyous and ethereal a young queen, a strangerin these parts, unaccustomed to rule, how could Marybe expected to fare better? A poverty-stricken country, acorrupt nobility which seized upon any and every occasionto rise in arms, a countless number of contendingclans on the look-out for a pretext to engage in civilstrife, a clergy that was half Catholic and half Protestantfighting for precedence, an alert and dangerous neighbourprofiting by fratricidal disputes across the border tofeather her own nest, antagonism on the part of thebig powers ruthlessly making use of Scotland as catspawin their bloody game—such was the situation bywhich Mary Stuart was faced.At the time of Mary's return, dissension and discordwere at their height. Instead of leaving the treasuryfull, Mary of Guise had left a veritable "damnosahereditas"; no money, and a war of religions which was,perhaps, to become more bitter on this soil than anywhereelse in the world. During the years Mary hadspent so happily in France, the Reformation had struckdeep roots in the Scottish earth, and was almost univer-58

RETURN TO SCOTLANDsally victorious. The cleavage was felt at court and inthe home, in villages and towns, throughout wholekinships and families, one half the nobility and gentryCatholic whilst the other half was Protestant, th^ townsadvocating the new faith, the countryside the old, clanopposed to clan, family opposed to family, and allparties stimulated in their hatred by fanatical priestsand by the political ambitions of foreign powers. Whatconstituted the gravest danger so far as Mary was concerned,was that the most powerful and influetitial ofher nobles had gone over to the Calvinistic camjj; theyhad made the best of their opportunities, and had seizedthe lands and properties of the old Church while simultaneouslyweakening the power of the crowti^ twoachievements which made a special and quasi-rjiagicalappeal to this rout of ambitious and greedy rebels. Theyfound a specious and ostensibly moral pretext, as protectorsof the true faith, as Lords of the Congregation, toset themselves up in opposition to their ruler, and Englandas usual was not slow to give them a helping handin this endeavour. Though Elizabeth was by natijre of athrifty disposition, she had not grudged spending morethan two hundred thousand pounds sterling in fiAancingthese traitors, in fomenting rebellion and civil war toundermine the throne of the Catholic Stuarts. Evennow, when a truce had been signed, a goodly riumberof Mary's subjects were in the secret pay of the Englishqueen. Of course equilibrium could easily be restoredif Mary should consent to embrace the new faith, andsome of her advisers urged her to do so. But M^ry wasnot only a Stuart she was also a Guise. She was a childof the most ardent champions of the Catholic cause, andthough not fanatically pious, she was true to the beliefsof her forebears. Never was she to stray from the path ofher convictions, no matter the dangers which Encompassedher; and, loyal to her own nature, sh^ chose59

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSrather perpetual warfare than, in a moment of cowardlyweakness, to run counter to the dictates of her conscience.Unfortunately this meant that the rift between herselfand her nobles was irremediable. It is always a fatalthing when a ruler belongs to a different religion fromthat of the majority of his subjects. The scales cannotvacillate for ever, but must incline definitely in onedirection or the other. Thus in the end Mary Stuart wascompelled either to make herself mistress of the Reformationor else to bow' her head beneath its superior force.The inevitable settlement of accounts as between Luther,Calvin, and Rome was, by an extraordinary coincidence,to find a dramatic decision in the fate that awaited her.For the personal struggle between Mary and Elizabeth,between Scotland and England, was decisive also—andthis is what makes the struggle so historically important—for the struggle between England and Spain, betweenthe Reformation and the Counter-Reformation.The ominousness of the situation was aggravated bythe fact that the religious dissensions above describedextended into Mary's family, her palace, and hercouncil chamber. The most powerful man in Scotland,her half-brother James Stuart, whom she found it expedientto appoint prime minister, was an ardent Protestantand protector of that Kirk which she, being agood Catholic, could not but regard as heretical. Fouryears earlier he had been the first to append his signaturebeneath the joint pledge of the Lords of the Congregation"to forsake and renounce the Congregation ofSatan, with all superstitions, abominations and idolatrytherefore, and moreover to declare themselves manifestlyenemies thereto." What was here called the "Congregationof Satan" was nothing other than the HolyCatholic Church of which his half-sister. Queen Mary,60

RETURN TO SCOTLANDwas a devoted adherent. Thus from the start there wasa profound cleavage of convictions between the monarchand her chief minister. Such a state of affairs does notmake for peace. For, at the bottom of her heart theQueen had but one thought, to repress the Reformation inScotland; whereas James, her brother, had but one desireto make Protestantism the only religion in Scotland.James Stuart was to be one of the most notable figuresin the life drama of Mary Queen of Scots. Fate hadallotted him a leading role which he was destined toplay in masterly fashion. A natural son of James V, thefruit of an enduring liaison with Margaret Erskine, whobelonged to one of the best families in Scotland, heseemed, no less by his royal blood than by his iron energy,to be the most suitable heir to the throne. Nothing butthe political weakness of James V's position had forcedthat monarch to refrain from legal marriage with thewoman he deeply loved, and (that he might increase hispower and fill his purse) to contract a marriage with theFrench princess who became the mother of Mary Queenof Scots. Thus the stigma of illegitimacy debarred theambitious youth from the throne. Even though, at theurgent request of James V, the Pope had officiallyacknowledged James Stuart and five other love-childrenof his father to be of the blood royal, young James wasstill legally a bastard.Innumerable times have history and her greatestimaginative exponent, Shakespeare, disclosed the spiritualtragedy of the bastard who is a son and yet not ason, of one whom laws spiritual and laws temporal unfeelinglydeprive of a right which nature has stamped onhis character and countenance. Condemned by prejudice—theharshest, the most unbending of judges—are these illegitimates, those who have not been procreatedin the royal bed, who are treated as inferior to thelawful heirs, though the latter are as a rule weaklings in6i

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTScomparison, because engendered, not out of love, but outof political calculation. They are eternally rejected andthrust out, condemned to beg where they should commandand possess. But if the brand of inferiority isvisibly placed on a man, the permanent sense of inferioritywill either weaken or strengthen him decisively. Suchpressure can break a character or can consolidate itamazingly, those who are cowardly and half-heartedwill be rendered even more so by humiliations of thekind; they will become beggars and flatterers, acceptingfavours and employment from their officially acknowledgedrivals. But in the strong, enforced inferiority willarouse and liberate latent and leashed energies. Forthe very reason that the direct path to power is not freelyopened to them, they will learn to draw power fromwithin their own souls.James Stuart was a man of strong character. Thefierce resolution of his royal ancestors, their pride andtheir sense of mastery, were continually at work in thehidden recesses of his being. In shrewdness and determination,no less than in clarity of thought, he was headand shoulders above the rufflers who comprised thebulk of the Scottish nobility. His aims were far-reaching,his plans the fruit of profound political thought. Noless able than his sister, he a man of thirty, was enormouslyin advance of her, thanks to cool-headedness andmasculine experience. He looked down upon her as nomore than a sportive child, who might go on playing solong as her games did not disturb his circles. A man fullygrown, he was not, like Mary, a prey to violent, neurotic,or romantic impulses; he was not a heroic ruler, but hehad the vintue of patience, which gives better assuranceof success than can passionate impetus.Nothing bears stronger witness to a stateman's politicalability and clear-mindedness than his refusal to striveafter the unattainable. In Lord James Stuart's case the62

RETURN TO SCOTLANDunattainable was the 'kingly crown, since he had beenborn out of lawful wedlock. He knew only too well thatthe title "James VI" would never be his, and from theoutset he renounced any pretensions he might have toascending the throne of Scotland. But this initial abnegationmade his position, as effective ruler over therealm, all the more secure. Giving up any idea of beinginvested with the insignia of power or of assuming thetitle of king, he could henceforward wield real powerunmolested. As quite a young man he saw to it that he waswell furnished with that tangible form of power: wealth.His father had left him handsomely provided for, henever lost countenance when the question of a gift wasraised, he made good use of the wars to fill his pockets;and, when the monasteries were dissolved, he saw to itthat he was always present at the distribution of theprize morsels. Nor was he reluctant to accept subsidiesfrom Elizabeth. When Mary got back to Scotland it didnot take her long to discover that her half-brother wasthe wealthiest and most powerful man in the realm, sosecure that none could oust him from his position, somighty that he would constitute one of the most solidpillars of her dominion if she acquiesced in his remainingat the helm, and would be her most dangerous enemy ifshe ran counter to his will.Mary Stuart, in her wisdom and necessity, chose toplace him on a footing of friendship. Wishing above allto secure her own dominion, she was keen-sighted enoughto give him, for the time being, whatever he coveted,and feed his insatiable cupidity for riches and power.It was Mary's good fortune that her brother's hands wereboth strong and supple, for he knew when to hold firmand when to give way. True statesman that he was,James Stuart chose a middle course in his undertakings:a Protestant but no iconoclast, a Scottish patriot andyet keeping in Elizabeth's good graces, ostensibly a63

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSfriend of his peers but well aware of the exact minutewhen they needed to be threatened with the mailed fist,a cool-headed, clear-sighed, calculating individual, withno unruly nerves, incapable of being blinded by theglitter of power, and content only when wieldingpower.A personaffe of such outstanding qualities was aninestimable boon to Mary Stuart so long as he remainedin her faction, and a colossal danger so soon as he couldbecome her adversary. Bound to her by the ties of blood,our cheerfully egoistical Stuart had every reason tomaintain his sister's authority so long as it suited hispersonal interest, for were a Hamilton or a Gordon tostep into her shoes he would never be given such a freehand and unlimited influence over administrativeaffairs. He could look on calmly while she was ceremoniouslypresented with crown and sceptre, for realgovernment was in his safe-keeping. But if she shouldever try to rule in her own right, if she should everquestion his authority, then one form of Stuart pridewould rise in revolt against the other form of Stuartpride, and no enmity is more to be dreaded than whensimilar is confronted with similar, and when both makeuse of the same weapons against one another.Maitland of Lethington, Mary's secretary of State,next only to her half-brother in importance at her court,was also a Protestant. To begin with, nevertheless, hewas on her side. Maitland was extremely able, had asupple and cultivated mind, and was (as Elizabethcalled him) "the flower of the wits of Scotland." He hadnot, like James Stuart, a masterful pride, nor any keenlove for power. It was diplomacy that interested him;the confused and confusing intricacies of politics, theart of combination. He took artistic pleasure in these,which mattered more to him than rigid principles,creed and country, the Queen and the Scottish realm.64

RETURN TO SCOTLANDHe was personally attached to his sovereign, and MaryFleming, one of the four Maries, became his wife. ToMary Stuart herself he was neither positively loyal norpositively disloyal. He would serve her as long as chancefavoured her, and abandon her in times of peril. Fromhim, as from a weathercock, she could judge whether thewind was fair or foul. A typical politician, he would devotehimself not to her, but to bettering his own fortunes.Thus, on her return home, Mary Stuart could find nothoroughly dependable friend, whether she sought toright or to left, in the city, or among the members ofher own household. She had to be content with theservices of a James Stuart or a Maitland, to allow herselfto be guided by them, and to make the best terms withthem. On the other hand, from the moment of her landing,John Knox made no secret of his merciless antagonism.He was the great demagogic leader in religiousaffairs, the organiser and master of the Scottish Kirk,the most popular preacher in Edinburgh. The strugglewith him was one of life or death.For the shape Calvinism had assumed under JohnKnox's inspiration was no longer a purely reformativerenovation of the Church, but a brand-new doctrinalsystem, a kind of superlative Protestantism. Domineeringand authoritarian, Knox, the zealot, claimed that evenkings must slavishly obey his theocratic laws. MaryStuart, since she was of a mild and yielding disposition,might have come to a compromise with a High Church,with a Lutheran Church, or with any other less virulentform of Reformation. But Calvinism was so dictatoriala faith that from the outset it rendered any kind ofmutual understanding impracticable. Even Elizabeth,who favoured Knox because he was her rival's enemy,detested him for his arrogance. Much more vexatious, of65

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTScourse, were the zealot's bluster and harshness to Mary,who was in close contact with them, and had so recentlyreturned from the freedom and cheerfulness of France.Nothing could have been more revolting to Mary'sjoyous and voluptuous nature and to her delight in theMuses than the austere severity, the hatred of everythingthat made life pleasant, the iconoclastic antagonism tothe arts, the dislike of merriment and laughter, incorporatedin the Genevese doctrines; nothing more repulsivethan the stubborn treatment of jollity and beautyas sin, than the bigotry which aimed at overthrowing aUthat she held dear, which banned good spirits and urbanemanners and customs, music, poetry and dancing,and which cast a still gloomier mantle over a land alreadycondemned by nature to gloom and sadness.Under master John's aegis, the Kirk in Edinburghassumed a hard. Old Testament character, for Knoxwas one of the most iron-willed, most zealous, mostmercilessly fanatical of reformers, exceeding even hismaster, Calvin, in venom and intolerance. He had takenorders as a Roman Catholic priest, and had in the sequelhurled himself with the full ardour of his disputatioussoul into the ranks of the reformers, becoming a pupil ofGeorge Wishart who was burned alive for heresy duringthe regency of Mary of Guise, at the instigation ofCardinal Beaton. The flames which destroyed histeacher were henceforward to consume Knox's own heart.As one of the leaders in the rebellion against the Queen-Regent, he was made a prisoner of the French forces andconsigned to the galleys. For eighteen months he remainedchained to his forced labour, and some of theiron in his chains bit into his soul. On being releasedthrough the intervention of Edward VI, he sought outCalvin from whom he learned the power enchased in thespoken word, from whom he likewise learned to hateeverything that was bright, .cheerful, and Hellenic.66

RETURN TO SCOTLANDWithin a few years of his return to Scotland his geniusfor violence enabled him to force acceptance of theReformation upon lords and commons.John Knox is perhaps the most finished example ofthe religious fanatic. He was of harder metal thanLuther, who was not free from occasional gleams ofjovial humour; and he was yet more rigid than Savonarola,because he lacked the Italian's brilliancy andfaculty for mystically illuminated discourse. Though hewas fundamentally honest and straightforward, theblinkers that he wore made him one of those cruel andnarrow-minded persons for whom only their own truthis true, only their own virtue virtuous, only their ownChristianity Christian. To differ from him was criminal;to refuse compliance with every letter of his demandswas to show oneself to be Satan's spawn. Knox had thedour courage of the self-possessed (in the demoniacalsense of the word possession), the passion of the ecstaticbigot, and the detestable pride oF the self-righteous. Hisacerbity was also tinged by a dangerous pleasure in itsexercise, while his impatience manifested a gloomilyvoluptuous joy in his own infallibility. Jehovah-like,with flowing beard, Hebrew prophet in complete perfection,he took his stand Sunday after Sunday in thepulpit of St. Giles's, thundering invectives and maledictionsagainst those who differed from him in theminutest of details. A born kill-joy, he railed against the"Devil's brood" of the happy-go-lucky, of those who didnot serve God precisely in the way which seemed bestto him. This cold-hearted fanatic knew no other gratificationthan the triumph of his dogmas, no other justicethan the victory of his cause. He frankly rejoiced if aCatholic, or any other whom he regarded as a heretic,was slain or humiliated. Publicly would he thank Godwhen the assassin's dagger had swept an adversary of theKirk out of the way. To him it was self-evident that God67

THE Q^UEEN OFSCOTSmust have willed and furthered the deed. He vociferatedhis rejoicings from the pulpit when the news came thatpus 'had burst through one of poor httle Francis II'sear-drums, and that the French king was at the pomt ofdeath. When Mary of Guise died, he did not hesitate topray for the death of Mary Queen of Scots: "God, for hisgreat mercy's sake, rid us from the rest of the Guisianbrood. Amen; Amen." In his sermons there was notrace "of the suavity and divine goodness characteristicof the Gospels; his discourses swished like a scourge.His God was the vengeful, bloody, and inexorableYahveh of the Old Testament, which, with its barbarousthreats was for him the real Bible. References to Moab,Amalek all the enemies of the People of Israel, who mustbe annihilated with fire and sword, were continually inhis mouth, as he voiced threats against the enemies ofthe truth faith—by which he meant his own. When hevolleyed abuse at Queen Jezebel the congregation knewthat it was another queen he had in mind. Calvinism,with Knox as its chief exponent, loured over Scotlandlike a thunderstorm, which at any moment mightburst.No compromise is possible with a person thus impeccableand incorruptible, a man whose only thought isto command and who expects instant and unreflectingobedience. Attempts to placate him or smooth him downcould only intensify his exactions, make him harsherand more scornful. Always those who regard themselvesas God's doughtiest warriors are the unkindliest men inthe world. Believing themselves the vehicles of heavenlymessages, they have their ears closed to whatever ishumane.A bare week sufficed to make Mary Stuart aware ofthe presence of so fanatical an opponent. Before her68

RETURN TO SCOTLANDreturn she had promised her subjects absolute freedomof beUef—a promise which to a woman of her tolerantdisposition demanded no sacrifices on her part. Inaddition she had recognized the law which prohibitedany public celebration of Mass in Scotland. This was apainful concession to John Knox and his followers, butone they insisted upon winning, for, as the divine oncesaid, "one Mass is more fearful to me than if ten thousandarmed enemies were to land and suppress the wholereligion." But Mary was a devout Catholic, a daughterof the Guises, and she insisted upon practising her ownreligion in the privacy of her chapel whenever and howevershe pleased. Not stopping to reflect upon thepossible consequences, the Scottish parliament grantedher request. But on the first Sunday after her arrival,when the preparations for celebrating Mass in theChapel Royal at Holyrood had been made, an excitedcrowd gathered round the entries, and when the Queen'salmoner was carrying the candles to light upon thealtar he was waylaid, and the candles were wrenchedfrom his hands and smashed. A loud murmur arosewhich reduced itself to a demand that the "idolatrouspriest" should be slain; more and more excited grewthe cries against this "Satan worship"; at any momentit seemed that the queen's private chapel might bestormed by the mob. Lord James Stuart, however,saved the situation. Although himself a staunch championof the Kirk, he confronted the fanatic rout anddefended the main entry, while the Queen was engagedin her devotions. After saying Mass in fear and trembling,the unhappy priest was brought safely back to hisquarters. Open revolt was thus avoided, and the Queen'sauthority had been kept intact, though with difficulty.But the gay festivities that had been organized to greether arrival, the "Joyousities" as Knox mockingly calledthem, were broken off", much to his grim delight. The69

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSyoung and romantic Queen was made to feel how genuineand strong were the antagonisms extant in the realmshe had come over the seas to rule.Mary Stuart's reaction to the slight found vent in astorm of rage. Tears and harsh words welled up fromwithin her to express the depth of her mortification. Aclear ray of light was thus shed upon a character whichhitherto had lacked precision. The spoiled darling offate ever since birth, Mary had always shown the tenderand gentle aspects of her nature, for she was fundamentallyof a pliant and accommodating disposition. Allwho came in contact with her, from the highest courtofficial down to the humblest maid, extolled her friendliness,her lack of arrogance, her affectionate and endearingways. She won hearts because she never harshlyor haughtily reminded people of her majesty. But thisgentleness was counterbalanced by an insuperableconsciousness of what she really was, a consciousnessthat was latent so long as nothing came to disturb it, butwhich broke forth in violent storms of weeping and vituperationso soon as she met with contradiction or resistance.This vvonderful woman was often known to forgive apersonal affront, but, a belittling of her queenly estatenever.She was, therefore, determined not to pass over thisinitial outrage to her dignity as Scotland's ruler. Suchpresumption must, in her view, be stamped upon fromthe first. Only too well did she know with whom shehad to deal, never doubting for a moment that it wasthe bearded heretic preaching from his parochial pulpitwho had incited the rabble against her. She wouldtake the man personally to task, and that without delay.Mary Stuart, accustomed to instant obedience on thepart of the subjects of a French monarch, all-powerfulruler by divine grace, never imagined for a moment thatshe would meet with contradiction from one of her own70

RETURN TO SCOTLANDsubjects, an ordinary burgher living in the capital of herrealm. She was prepared for everything in the worldbut that any one should openly and boldly venture tooppose her will. John Knox, however, was not onlyprepared to do so, but eager and joyfully prepared."Why should the pleasing face of a gentlewoman frightenme? I have looked in the faces of many angry men, andyet have not been afraid above measure." His heartbounded within him as with rapid strides he made hisway to the palace for this private colloquy. A fight—and in Knox's opinion, such a fight was in God's behalf—is the greatest delight the soul of fanatic can experience.If God Almighty had given crowns to kings, he hadendowed his priests and representatives here belowwith the gift of uttering fiery words, and, in addition,the divine right of speaking them. His duty was to defendGod's reign upon earth; nor must he hesitate to use theflail of his wrath to chastise the insubordinate as of yoredid Samuel and the judges described in Holy Writ.The scene that ensued was like one taken out of the OldTestament: regal pride confronted sacerdotal pride.It was not one woman fighting one man to gain the upperhand, but two age-old ideas which were engaged for thethousand thousandth time in bitter strife.Mary Stuart endeavoured to retain her usually unruffledsweetness and to be forbearing. Sincerely wishfulto bring about an understanding, she concealed hermortification, for she had at heart to preserve peace inher realm. It was, therefore, with courteous wordsthat she opened the conversation. John Knox, for hispart, was resolved to be as implacable as he pleased andto show the "idolatress" that he was not inclined tobow down an inch before the mighty of this world.Silent and gloomy, not as accused but as accuser, helistened to the counts the queen had against him.Among other items "she charged me with my book"7^

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTS{The First Blast of the Trumpet against the Monstrous Regimentof Women) wherein he challenged a woman's rightto wield authority. This same work had got him intotrouble with EUzabeth, the Protestant sovereign, beforewhose reproaches he had bowed his head with duemeekness; now, in the encounter with his own "unpersuadedprincess," he obstinately maintained his privilegeto express such opinions as he honestly held. As hadbeen feared, his intolerance seemed bound to mar all, forgradually the conversation took a more caustic turn.Mary showed a "shrewdness beyond her years," andthere was no little acuteness in her reasoning. She askedhim point-blank: "Think you that subjects . . . shouldresist their princes?" Instead of giving the negativeanswer she had expected, Knox, a born tactician,evaded the crucial point by lapsing into parable: "Afather may be struck with a frenzy, in which he wouldslay his children. Now, Madam, if the children arise,join together, apprehend the fatlier, take the swordfrom him, bind his hands, and keep him in prison tillthe frenzy be over, think you. Madam, that the childrendo any harm? Even so is it with princes who wouldmurder the children of God that are subject untothem. . . ."The queen was nonplussed by so bold an answer,feeling that, by such provisos Knox, the theologian, wasfor countenancing a revolt against her just rights assovereign. "Well then," she retorted briskly, "I perceivethat my subjects shall obey you and not me, and willdo what they list, and not what I command, and so maunI be subject to them, and not they to me!" This wasprecisely what Knox had meant, but he was too cautiousto say so outright seeing that Lord James Stuart waspresent at the interview. Evasively he replied: "Godforbid, that ever I take upon me to command any toobey me or set subjects at liberty to do what pleaseth72

RETURN TO SCOTLANDthem. My travail is that both princes and subjects mayobey God. . . . He craves of kings that they be asfoster-father and queens as nursing-mothers to hisChurch." The Queen, sorely vexed by the reformer'spersistent ambiguity, made sharp rejoinder: "But ye arenot the Church that I will nourish. I will defend theChurch of Rome, for I think it is the true Church ofGod."Blow swiftly followed blow. The point had beenreached where understanding between a zealous Catholicand a fanatical Protestant, one who "ruleth theroost" and one of whom, "all men stand in fear," was impossible.With the rough manners begotten of unceasingcontroversy and polemic, he retorted: "Your will.Madam, is no reason, neither doth your thought makethat Roman harlot to be the true and immaculatespouse of Jesus Christ." And when Mary rebuked himfor the use of such words, and pleaded conscience, MasterJohn retaliated provocatively: "Conscience, Madam,requires knowledge, and I fear that right knowledge yehave none." Thus the first interview, instead of bringingreconciliation, only served to make the antagonism betweenthe two more pronounced. "In communicationwith her I espied such craft as I have not found in suchage. Since, hath the court been dead to me and I to it."Mary had been made to realize that there were limitsto her royal power. With head erect, Knox left theaudience chamber, proud and pleased at having defiedmajesty. The young queen, on the contrary, felt discomfited,knowing that her overtures had received arebuff. She recognized her own impotence, and gaveway to her bitterness of soul in a passion of tears.Nor were these the last she was to weep. Soon she wasforced to recognise that power was not a thing inheritedonce and for all, but had to be fought for in persistentstruggle and amid constantly renewed humiliations.73

Qkapter 5THE STONE BEGINS TO ROLL1561-1563r OR three years after assuming the reins of government,Mary's life was fairly quiet and uneventful.Fate had decreed from the outset that the great happeningsof her life were to be concentrated into swift, shortepisodes, and it is this peculiarity which has alwaysmade such appeal to the dramatic instincts of playwrights.Lord James Stuart, now Earl of Moray, andMaitland of Lethington were the real rulers, whilstMary acted as figure-head; and this division of forcesproved of the utmost advantage to all concerned. BothMoray and Lethington governed wisely and prudently.Mary, too, admirably played the part assigned her.Endowed by nature with beauty and charm, a mistressof the arts of chivalry, virile in her audacity, intrepidas a horsewoman, dextrous in archery and pall-mall, anardent lover of fowling and the chase, she won all heartsby the grace of her appearance. The commonalty ofEdinburgh gazed fondly and proudly on this daughterof the Stuarts when, of a morning, she rode forth with afalcon perched upon her uplifted wrist, surrounded byher gaily dressed court, and returning each salutationwith a friendly and joyous smile. Something limpid,.something cheerful, something touching and romantic, aray of youth and beauty had come like sunshine into thisaustere and gloomy land with the advent of its girlishqueen. A nation's love is quickly captured by a ruler74

THE STONE BEGINS TO ROLLwho is both young and handsome. The lords were morebeguiled by what was manly in her composition; shewould gallop for hours at a stretch without showing unduefatigue, far in advance of her followers. Just as hergentleness and her kind-hearted ways were backed bya latent and invincible pride, so did the lithe, slim, soft,thistle-down body, though feminine in its curves, maska frame of iron, incapable of weariness. No exerciseseemed too hard for her endurance; and once, as sherode in a foray, the swordsmen beside her overheard theirlady wishing she were a man "to know what like it wasto lie all night in the fields." When Moray marchedagainst the clan of Huntly in the north, she declared ither will to go with him, sword at her side and pistolsin her belt. She gloried in risk and adventure, andwhatever she undertook to do she entered into with herwhole soul and body, brought to it all the passion herresolute nature was capable of feeling. But in spite ofher manlike courage, her huntsman's simplicity, herwarlike valiancy and hardihood, when closeted in theapartments of her palace she showed herself a ruler bothastute and cool-headed; in the midst of her gay courtshe would be the gayest of the party, pleasant and familiarin her small world. In her juvenile person the idealsof her epoch seemed to be conjoined—courage withlight-heartedness, strength with gentleness. A last rayof the setting sun from the days of troubadour andknight illumined the misty chill of this northern climeas Mary moved sprightly and gay among shadows madeall the deeper by the gloomy teachings of the Reformation.Never had the romantic figure of this girl-wife andgirl-widow shone more radiantly than in the first yearsof her third decade; but here, likewise, her triumphscame too early, for she did not understand that theywere indeed triumphs, and she therefore failed to make75

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSthe best use of her advantage. Her inner life had notyet been fully awakened; the woman in her did notyet know what were the claims her blood might makeon her; her proper, her deepest self was still unformedand undeveloped. Not until roused by excitement andpassion would it reveal its true essence. But the firstyears of her sojourn in Scotland were a period of indifferenceand waiting, an aimless, happy-go-luckypassage of time, a preparation for eventualities, withoutthe inner will guessing what it was awaiting or forwhom. Resembling as it did the taking of a deep breathbefore great exertion, it was a moment of stagnation, adead-point in her life. For Mary Stuart, having as amaid experienced what it was to be queen of one of themightiest realms in Europe, was not concerned aboutremaining the ruler of so poor, so small, so out-of-thewaya land as Scotland. Not for this had she returned.Wider ambitions floated before her mind. The crownof Scotland was nothing better than a makeshift whichmight lead to the winning of a more dazzling one. Theyerr vastly who maintain that Mary Stuart's highest aimwas to rule over the heritage her father had left her, intranquillity and peace and wisdom. To equip her with sosmall an ambition is to minimise her spiritual and intellectualgreatness; for, young though she was, she wasalready dominated by an untamable and unbridledwill-to-power. She who at seventeen had been weddedto a king of France in the cathedral of Notre Dame inParis, who in the Louvre had been acclaimed as thesovereign lady of millions of subjects, could not restcontent with governing a few dozen unruly clodhoppersgoing by the titles of earl or laird, together with a fewhundred thousand worthy shepherds and fisher-folk. Itis fallacious to ascribe patriotic and nationalistic feelingsto a woman who had no such feelings at all. Indeed,these sentiments were only unearthed some centuries76

THE STONE BEGINS TO ROLLafter Mary's death! The princes of the fifteenth andsixteenth centuries—^with the possible exception ofMary's great rival Elizabeth—were not in the habit ofconsidering their peoples, but aimed solely at acquiringpersonal power. Kingdoms were stitched together andrent asunder as though they had been clothes; Stateswere formed by wars and marriages, and not by anyself-determination on the part of the nations concerned.No sentimental motive influenced the creation of suchrealms. Mary in her days was quite prepared to exchangeScotland's crown for a Spanish, an English, aFrench, or any other available one; no qualm wouldhave assailed her conscience as to the honourability ofher conduct in the matter, no tear would have dimmedher eye as she bade farewell to the woods and lakes androrriantic castles of her (homeland, for her impassionedambition had led her invariably to look upon her Scottishthrone as no more than a jumping-ofT place to higherand better awards. She knew that by inheritance shehad been called to the position of ruler, that her beautyand breeding and culture made her worthy to occupyany throne in Europe; and just as other women of hertender years are wont to dream of immeasurable love,so did she dream but one dream—the dream of immeasurablepower.It was for these reasons that she left the responsibilityof government in Moray's and in Lethington's hands,without feeling any jealousy or resentment, and withoutany interested participation. She allowed the two mento do what they thought wise and advantageous for thecountry, without let or hindrance from her. What didshe care about the destinies of this pitiful little realm, shewho had so long worn a crown and had so early learnedto expect the acknowledgment of her royal majesty?Among the hundreds of letters she left behind we hardlyfind a reference to the welfare of her subjects, nor a77

I\THE qUEEN OF SCOTSmention of Scotland's rise to a higher position among theworld powers. In this she differed notably from herneighbour Elizabeth, who was constantly and earnestlyoccupied with ways and means for raising her belovedEngland's status. The administration of her possessions,their aggrandisement, their improvement (one of themost important points in the sphere of politics), did notoccupy Mary Stuart's mind. She could defend what washers, but she could not make it secure. Only when herrights were threatened, when her pride was challenged,only when an alien will set itself up in opposition to herown, would she awaken, combative and irate. Only insupreme moments did this woman prove great anddangerous; at other times she remained an averagewoman, showing nothing but indifference to what wenton around her.During this comparatively peaceful time, the enmityof her English rival was in abeyance; for whenever theimpetuous heart of Mary Queen of Scots was beatingtranquilly for a space, Elizabeth, too, was quiescent.One of the most conspicuous political merits of thedaughter of the Tudors was her realism, her willingnessto face facts, her disinclination to resist the inevitable.She had done everything in her power to prevent thereturn of Mary Stuart to Scotland. Now, when thereturn had taken place, Elizabeth would not wasteenergy in fighting against actualities, preferring to liveon amicable terms so long as she could not sweep hercousin out of her path. One of the strongest positivequalities of Elizabeth's wayward and arbitrary characterwas that from motives of prudence and economy, shehad a dislike for war; was averse from forcible measuresand irrevocable decisions. Her calculating mind madeher seek to gain her ends by negotiation. As soon as it78

THE STONE BEGINS TO ROLLwas certain that Mary would return to Scotland, JamesStuart urged Elizabeth in moving terms, to enter intoan honest friendship with her cousin. "You be . . . bothQueens in the flower of your ages. . . . Your sex willnot permit you to advance your glory by war and bloodshed,but in that of a peaceful reign. Neither of you isignorant from what root the contrary affection proceeds.... I wish to God the Queen my sovereign lady hadnever by any advice taken in head to pretend interestor acclaim any title to your Majesty's realm, for thenI am fully persuaded you would have been and continuedas dear friends as you be tender cousins—butnow since on her part something hath been thought ofit ... I fear that unless the root may be removed, it •shall ever breed unkindness betwixt you. Your Majestycannot yield, and she may on the other part think of ithard, being so nigh of the blood of England, to be madea stranger from it! If any midway could be picked outto remove this difference to both your contentments,then it is like we could have a perpetual quietness. . . ."Elizabeth was not slow to take the hint. As nothingmore than Queen of Scotland, and under the guidanceof the Queen of England's pensioner James Stuart,Mary was for the time being less dangerous than shewould have been as Queen of both France and Scotland.Why not swear a truce although in her heart she remainedhostile? A brisk correspondence between thepair was soon in progress, in which each of the "dearsisters" expressed the most cordial sentiments undersheets of long-suffering paper. One who reads theseepistles to-day might well believe that nowhere in theworld can there have been more affectionate kinswomenthan the two cousins. Mary sent Elizabeth a diamondring; the English queen reciprocated with a still morevaluable trinket; before the world, and before theaudience of their own selves, they played the comedy of79 D

THE quEEN OF SCOTSfamily love. Mary wrote: "Above all things I desire tosee my good sister," and declared her determination tobreak the alliance with France, for she appreciatedElizabeth's good will "more than all the uncles in theworld." In response Elizabeth, in the large, formalhandwriting which she kept in reserve for importantoccasions, gave Mary extravagantly-worded assurancesof fondness and fidelity. But as soon as the question ofa binding agreement arose, and a personal meetinglooked nigh, both the correspondents grew cautiousand evasive. The negotiations which had been proceedingso long were still at a deadlock. Mary Stuart wouldnot sign the treaty of Edinburgh recognizing Elizabeth'sposition until Elizabeth had accorded the successionto Mary—but to Elizabeth, this would have beentantamount (so she thought) to signing her own deathwarrant.Neither would waive a particle of the rightsthey severally claimed; so, in the long run, the floweryphrases they interchanged barely' concealed the unbridgeablechasm. As Genghis Khan resolutely declared:"There cannot be two suns in the sky or twoKhans on the earth." One of the women must give way,Elizabeth Tudor or Mary Stuart. Both realized this,and both were awaiting the appointed hour. But sincethe hour had not yet struck, why should they not enjoya period of truce? The truce would be brief. Whenmistrust is ineradicable, a reason will soon be found forgiving it vent in action.In these years the young Queen had many minortroubles; she was often bored by affairs of State; moreand more did she feel out of her element among thesehard-fisted and quarrelsome nobles, and she was continuallyharassed by implacable churchmen and wilyintriguers. At such hours she took refuge, imagina-80

THE STONE BEGINS TO ROLLtively, in France, which she continued to regard as hertrue home. Since she could not leave Scotland she hadestablished a Little France for herself in the palace ofHolyrood, a tiny corner of the world where, withdrawnfrom inquisitive eyes, she could follow her most heartfeltinclinations. It was her pleasance. In the round towerof Holywood she had her rooms equipped after theFrench model, with Gobelins brought from Paris,Turkey carpets, ornate beds and other furnishings,pictures in gilt frames, her finely bound books—Erasmus,Rabelais, Ariosto, Ronsard. Here they talked Frenchand Hved French. In the evening, by the light of flickeringcandles, music was performed, round games wereplayed, verses were read aloud, and madrigals weresung. For the first time, at this miniature court, werestaged, on the western side of the North Sea and theChannel, those masques which were subsequently toattain their highest blossoming in the English theatre.Dancing would continue till long after midnight. Inone of the masques, The Purpose, Mary appeared as ayoung man, wearing black silk breeches, while Chastelardwore a woman's gown—a sight which would certainlyhave aroused the fury of John Knox!Puritans, zealots, and mutinous warriors, had not theentry to these scenes of merriment. Vainly did the Calvinistpreacher, his beard swinging like a pendulum,rail in St. Giles' pulpit against these "souparis" and"dansaris." Here is an extract from one of his sermons:"Princes are more exercised in fiddling and flinging thanin reading or hearing of God's most blessed Word. . . .Musicians and flatterers, these corrupters of youth, pleasethem better than do men old and wise". (of whom is ourself-righteous friend thinking?) "who desire with theirsalutary exhortations to tame some of that pride whichis our common and sinful heritage." But the members ofthis young and gay circle had little desire for the "salu-8i

THE gUEEN OF SCOTStary exhortations" of the "kill-joy." The four Maries,and a few noblemen whose tastes had been moulded inthe French court, found it agreeable, in rooms which(for those days) were well warmed and well lighted, toforget the gloom of this austere and tragical country.More than all was Queen Mary herself gladdened atbeing able to lay aside the cloak of majesty, and to becomea cheerful young woman among companions ofher own age and her own way of thinking.Her desire was natural enough. But it was alwaysdangerous for Mary Stuart to give way to indolence.Sham and hypocrisy crushed her; prudence, in the longrun, exasperated her. She herself once wrote: "Je nesais point deguiser mes sentiments." And it was preciselyan innate lack of reticence on her part which caused hermore political trouble and unpleasantness than if shehad been guilty of the vilest deceit and the most ruthlessseverity. For the familiarity the Queen permitted herselfamong this jocund company, the warmth withwhich she accepted their homage, the smile with whichall unconsciously she beguiled them, could not but arousein these unruly natures a spirit of camaraderie which forthose of a passionate disposition must have constituteda serious temptation. There must have been somethingin Mary, whose beauty is not shown to us on any of thecanvases that portray her, which made a sensual appeal.Maybe a few of the men who were brought into contactwith her and who came to their conclusions on thestrength of certain almost inperceptible signs, had apremonition that under the sensibility, the exquisitegrace of manner, and apparently perfect self-possessionof the maidenly woman, there lurked an infinite capacityfor amorous passion, hidden as might be a quiescentvolcano beneath a pleasant landscape. Did they not,82

THE STONE BEGINS TO ROLLperhaps discover her secret long before she herself wasaware of its existence, did not their virile instinct guessat the presence in her of a power to allure men'ssenses even more indubitable than true love with itshalo of romance? Her very innocence, her unawakenedcondition, may have led her to make use of those delicatephysical endearments—a touch of the hand, a gossamerlikekiss, an invitation of the eyes—which a woman ofexperience knows to be dangerous. Be this as it may, it isindisputable that Mary allowed the men in her circle ofintimates to forget that a queen must be kept unsulliedby any daring thought where the fleshly woman was concerned.Once a young Scottish captain named Hepburngot himself into trouble by delivering to Mary—in thepresence of the English ambassador—an obscene missive.Hepburn was probably no more than a feather-brainedintermediary, but he only escaped punishment throughflight. The incident had been quickly forgiven, and theQueen's forbearance encouraged another member of hersmall circle to make further advances.The affair was to remain in the realm of romance; and,like almost every episode which took place in this Scottishland, was more like a ballad, a beautiful poem, thana historical fact. Mary's first admirer at the Frenchcourt was Monsieur d'Anville, and he had confided hispassion to his friend, the poet Chastelard. D'Anville,together with a number of other gentlemen of France,had accompanied Mary on the journey to Scotland.Now he had to return to his country, his wife, and hisofficial duties. Chastelard, however, regarding himselfin some sort as the representative of foreign culture ina barbarous land, remained behind in Scotland. Heindited tender verses to his lovely mistress, for poemsare not in themselves dangerous things, though amoroussport may at any time change into reality. Unheedingwhat it might imply, Mary accepted the poetical homage83

THE QUEEN OF SCOTSpaid to her by the stripling, a Huguenot, versed inthe arts of chivalry. Indeed, she went so far as to answer,in verses of her own composition. How could a sensitiveand artistically endowed girl, forced to live in a roughand backward country, cut off from nearly all thoseshe had known and loved, how could she fail to sunherself in the flalttery that underlay such inspired strophesas the following?O Ddesse immortelleEscoute done ma voixToi qui tiens en tutelleMen pouvoir sous les loixAfin que si ma vieSe voit en bref ravieTa cruant6La confess periePar ta seule beauty.JImmortal goddessGive ear to my song(You who have me in thrall,To whom my will is subject)So that if my lifeBe cut short in the primeYour crueltyShall at least avowThat I died for love of your beauty.]Moreover, she was quite unaware that there was anythingserious behind the young man's protestations. Shemay have enjoyed the game, but she certainly did notreturn the passion. Chastelard himself mournfullyregretted her coldness when he wrote:Et ntenmoins la flameQui me brule et enflameDe passionNMmeut jamais ton ameD'aucune affection.'84

THE STONE BEGINS TO ROLL[And yet the flameWhich burns and enflames meWith passion,Never moves your heartTo any affection.]Mary Stuart probably looked upon these adulatoryscreeds as part of the complimentary exaggeration inseparablefrom court life. She herself, being a writerin the lyrical vein, knew very well that the Muse ofPoetry delighted in hyperboles of the sort,'and it was ina playful humour that she countenanced gallantrieswhich did not strike a false note in the romantic glamourwhich surrounded the court of a young and captivatingwoman. In her guileless way she jested and played withGhastelard, just as she was wont to do with her Maries.She would single him out by harmless acts of specialfavour and esteem, would (though her rank made suchapproaches on his part impossible) choose him as partnerfor a dance; once, during the fashionable Talking Danceor The Purpose, Mary leaned on Ghastelard's breast;she allowed him certain freedoms of speech which werelooked on askance in Scotland, and especially by JohnKnox whose pulpit was only a few streets distant fromthe "wanton orgies" of which he said that such fashionswere "more lyke to the bordell than to the comeliness ofhonest women"; at a masked ball or during a game offorfeits, Mary may even have permitted the youngFrenchman to snatch a kiss. Though these familiaritieswere not in themselves of any grave import, they weredire in their effect on a lad of his years and ardent disposition,so that, like Torquato Tasso his contemporary,he forgot the barriers separating a lady of high estatefrom her servitor, overstepped the limits that respectimposes upon comradeship, that decorum enforces upongallantry, that seriousness imposes upon jest, and, hotheaded,he followed the dictates of his own feelings.85

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSThis led to a most disastrous adventure. One eveningthe gentlewomen who were in attendance on MaryStuart discovered Chastelard hiding in the Queen'sbedchamber. They did not suspect him of improperdesigns, merely looking upon the escapade as a practicaljoke not in very good taste. Laughing merrily, and withthe pretence of being extremely angry, they chased thejackanapes from the room. Mary Stuart, too, took alenient view of his misbehaviour. The prank was sedulouslykept from the ears of Moray, however; and,though the enormity of the crime was not to be denied,'the question of meting out suitable punishment was soondropped. This consideration was unfortunately notappreciated at its full value by the delinquent. For eitherthe young spark was encouraged by such leniency tohave another try, or his love for Mary was so violent asto rob him of any capacity for self-discipline he mayhitherto have possessed. He secretly followed the Queenon her journey to Fife, and no one supected his presencein her vicinity until, at bedtime, when Mary was alreadyhalf-undressed, her attendants discovered him in herbedchamber. Considerably alarmed, Mary uttered sowild a cry that it was heard all over the house. Moray,hastening from a neighbouring room, rushed in to seewhat could be amiss. Now every chance of forgiving andforgetting was out of the question. Certain chroniclersmaintain that the Queen urged her brother forthwithto slay the presumptuous youth—but this does not seemlikely. Moray, whose cool-headedness contrasted greatlywith his sister's passionate nature, quickly foresaw andshrewdly calculated the consequences. He realized atonce that the slaying of a man in the Queen's apartmentwould besprinkle her with some of the blood. Circumstancessuch as these demanded the utmost publicity ifMary's character was to be cleared, and her virtue remainunsullied in the eyes of her people and of the world.86

THE STONE BEGINS TO ROLLA few days later Ghastelard was led to public execution.His audacity had been condemned as a crime, andhis frivolity was deemed an "evil design" by those whosat in judgment upon him. With one voice they allottedhim the severest penalty: execution. Even had shewished to deal clemently, the possibility of so doing hadbeen taken out of Mary Stuart's hands. The ambassadorshad already sent in their reports of the m.atter, andcensorious eyes at the French and English courts wouldwatch her behaviour. A word in favour of the offenderwould instantly be interpreted as meaning that she, too,was culpable. She had to put a harder face upon theaffair than she probably felt was demanded by theoccasion, and thus leave the companion of so manycheerful and amusing hours in the lurch, without hopeand without help in this his cruellest hour.As became one who had been an intinaate at the courtof a queen of faery and romance, Ghastelard perishedwith the radiance of romance about him. Refusing thecomforts of priest and religion, he went to his death handin hand with the poetic Muse, murmuring:Mon malheur deplorableSoil Sur moy immortel.[May my great misfortuneMake ttie immortal.]Straight as a wand the troubadour bravely mounted thescaffold, and, instead of singing psalms and sayingprayers, he intoned his friend Ronsard's celebratedHymn to Death:Je te salue, heureuse et profitable MortDes extremes douleurs m^decin et confort.[I welcome you, happy and profitable Death,Who art the healer and the comforter in great suffering.]87 D*

ITHE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSHis last words, uttered more as a sigh than as an accusation,were: "O cruelle dame." Then he quiedy submittedto the executioner's ministrations. His death waslike a ballad, like a beautiful poem.But this unhappy Ghastelard was no more than thefirst of the macabre procession of those who were to diefor Mary Stuart. Many, how many, of Mary's associatesand adherents were to perish on the scaffold,caught up in the eddies of her fate. They came fromall lands. As in Holbein's celebrated Alphabet of theDance of Death, they trailed along in the wake of a blackand bony drummer; step by step, year after year,monarchs and regents, earls and other men of birth andstation, priests and warriors, striplings and elders, allsacrificing themselves for her, all sacrificed for her who,though innocent, was yet guilty of their drear fate andhad to atone for it with her own. Seldom has it beendecreed that one woman should have so many deathswoven into the magic tapestry of her life. Like some darkmagnet she lured the men who came into contact withher to enter the spell-bound circle of her personal doom.He who crossed her path, whether as friend or foe, wascondemned to mischance and to violent death. No luckever blessed him who hated Mary Stuart, and thosewho loved her were consigned to an even more terribleend.Only to outward seeming, therefore, was the Ghastelardaffair a chance matter, an episode or an interlude.Though she did not yet realise as much, it discloseditself as the law of her being that she wouldalways have to pay when she allowed herself to be lighthearted,easy-going, and triistful. Destiny had willedthat, from the outset, she must be in the limelight, mustremain queen and never be anything more than queen, a88

THE STONE BEGINS TO ROLLpublic character, a pawn'in the world's great game ofchess. What at first had seemed a signal mark of favour,her early crowning, her birth into the highest rank, wasreally a curse. The Chastelard affair was merely aninitial warning. Having spent her childhood underconditions which deprived her of childhood, during thebrief interval before she gave her body to a second manor a third, before her life was, for purposes of State, tobecome coupled with that of another, she had tried for afew months to be young and care-free—to enjoy; onlyto enjoy. But harsh hands were speedily to pluck herout of this merry sport. Rendered uneasy by the incident,Moray, parliament, the Scottish lords, urged her to wedwithout delay. She must choose a husband; not theman after her heart, but the one whose acceptance asconsort would redound most to the power and safety ofher realm. Negotiations were opened or speeded up,for the responsible persons in her entourage had becomealarmed lest this heedless young woman might commitsome folly which would shatter her reputation. Chafferingin the marriage market was resumed; Mary Stuartwas forced back into the evil circle of politics withinwhich she was prisoned for almost the whole of her life.Whenever she tried to escape from the chill environment,to break down the barriers and relish for a moment,for a breathing-space, a warm life of her own, she woulddo irreparable harm to others and to her personal fortunes.89

Qkapter 6POLITICAL MARRIAGE MART1563-1565ELIZABETHofEngland and Mary of Scotland wereprobably the most courted damsels of their day. Whoever,in Europe, happened to be heir to a throne, or kingand unwedded, sent an official wooer to these unmatedqueens, the Houses of Habsburg and Bourbon, Philip IIof Spain, his son Don Carlos, the Archduke of Austria,together with the kings of Sweden and of Denmark,old men and young, dotards and striplings, becameaspirants for one or other of these two fair hands. Neverhad the political marriage market been so glutted withsuitors. The reason was a good one, for by wedding alady of royal birth and lineage, who was in additionqueen in her own right, a man might extend his powerand his lands in a perfectly legitimate manner. For,during the heyday of absolutist rule, it was easier tobuild up a nicely rounded-off kingdom by way ofmarriage than through war. By such means had Francebecome a united whole; Spain, a world-wide empire;the dominion of the Habsburgs, an enlarged and consolidatedrealm. Unexpectedly, now, England and Scotland,the last precious and unannexed crown-jewels ofEurope, offered themselves as alluring prizes. ElizabethTudor and Mary Stuart were unwedded. Whoevercould win either southern or northern Britain by alucky conjugal deal would become winner in the gameof world politics; and, concomitantly with success in90

POLITICAL MARRIAGE MARTthe Struggle of the nations, would gain a prize helpingto decide the great religious issues of the epoch.This was an important point at the time; for if eitherqueen were to wed a Catholic, the British Isles, influencedby the religious faith of such a royal consort, would loadthe scales in favour of Rome, so that the struggle ragingbetween Protestantism and the old belief might very wellbe settled to the advantage of the "ecclesia universalis."Thus, the mad chase that presently ensued was of farwider import than a mere pleasant opportunity forsecuring conjugal bliss; the future of the western worldwas at stake.For the two young queens, however, it was in additiona matter which concerned them personally to the end oftheir days, since a decision one way or the other wouldnecessarily seal their fate. Should one of the ladiesmake a better match than the other, the balance ofpower would turn in her favour and her rival's thronelose in value and prestige. An appearance of friendshipbetween Elizabeth and Mary was possible only so longas both were single: the former must remain Queen ofEngland and Ireland, whilst the latter must remainQueen of Scotland and the Isles, if an equable poisewere to be maintained. In the event of the scales beingloaded to the profit of one or the other, the successfulprincess would become the more powerful of the twain,and thus she would become the victor. The two queenspitted pride against pride, neither wishing to yieldground to the other. A life-or-death struggle, therefore,took place between them; and death alone was able tounravel the terrible entanglement.As stage-manager for this superb drama. Dame Historyselected herself, and she chose for her star performerstwo women of outstanding talent and personality. Both91

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSMary Stuart and Elizabeth Tudor were exceptionallygifted for the parts they were allotted. Their energy andvitality were in crass contrast with the ineptitude of theother reigning monarchs of the period: Philip of Spainwas monkish and bigoted; Charles IX of France was amere boy, extremely weak, and possessing queer tastes;Ferdinand of Austria was utterly insignificant: none ofthose kings attained the high stage of intellectual developmentwhich these women reached. Both were shrewd,though their shrewdness was often hampered by passionor by feminine caprice; both were inordinately ambitious; both, from earliest childhood, had been trainedand educated for the great roles they were destined toplay. Their outward decorum was exemplary; and theywere cultured ladies, their minds having absorbed all theHumanities of the day.In addition to the mother tongue they conversedfluently in Latin, French and Italian. Elizabeth, moreover,had a fair command of Greek. So far as the art ofletter-writing was concerned, their style greatly excelledthat of their best ministers in flexibility and freshness ofexpression, Elizabeth's being more full of colour andm.ore picturesque and metaphorical than that of Cecil,her secretary of State, whereas Mary's was more polishedand showed greater originality of thought and choice ofwords than that of Maitland of Lethington or Moray.The intelligent interest they took in the arts, the beautifulordering of their courtly lives, have stood the test ofcenturies; Elizabeth had her Shakespeare and Ben Jonson,while Mary encouraged and admired Ronsard anddu Bellay. But once having enumerated these manifoldoutward resemblances between the two women, wehave to realize that the list is exhausted. Inwardly theywere totally unlike. Their spiritual and temperamentalcontrast has at all times lured dramatic authors into theendeavour to portray them.92

POLITICAL MARRIAGE MARTThe aforesaid contrast made itself felt throughouttheir respective careers. It was one of circumstance aswell as of character. Here is a first and notable diflference:Elizabeth had a hard time of it at the opening ofher life, whereas Mary's closing years were heavy withdisaster and shrouded in gloom. Mary Stuart rose topower and good fortune lightly, brilliantly, and quicklylike the morning star in a clear sky; a queen already inthe cradle, when hardly more than a child she wasanointed a second time as aspirant to a second throne.But her fall was as precipitate as her ascent. Her destinybecame concentrated in three or four catastrophic happenings,genuine drama which has for ever made of herthe quintessential heroine of tragedy, Elizabeth Tudor, onthe other hand, rose to greatness slowly and with difficulty.Her career, therefore, takes, rather, an epic form.No spontaneous gifts were conceded her. As a child shewas declared a bastard, she was confined to the Towerby her sister's orders; she was threatened with execution;by cunning and precociously developed diplomaticarts, she succeeded in procuring a bare living for herselfand at least a tolerant outlook on her mere existenceas a human being. Whereas Mary had from the outsetdignities and honours showered upon her, Elizabethwas compelled to fight her way upward and to mouldher life for herself.Two such fundamentally diverse characters werefated to lead their possessors in the long run downutterly divergent paths. At times these paths mightintersect, might cross one another, but they could neverpursue the same direction, so that the two women wereprohibited from ever bearing one another company andbecoming true friends. The contrasts between thembored deep down into essentials: one was born with acrown as she was born with her own hair; the other hadslowly and patiently to work her way upward and was93

THE ^UEKN OF SCOTShard pressed to retain power when achieved. Fromthese contrasted origins the queens as they passed fromchildhood to girlhood and thence to womanhood werecompelled to cultivate their own individual strength andqualities. Mary Stuart had versatility, attained her goalwithout effort, possessed a certain light-hearted frivolityof mind, and almost an overplus of self-confidence, sothat she adventured much—and this made her greatthough it brought about her undoing. With head erectand proudly, she stepped forward to meet what lifehad to offer, feeling her position to be impregnable. •God Almighty had bestowed a throne upon her, and noone could snatch the gift out of her hands. She was bornto command, the rest of mankind had to obey; even ifthe whole world doubted her regal rights, she fetl thatthese were ineradicably planted in her blood and bone.Life meant, to dare much and to enjoy everything to thefull; to go forth in search of a unique and passionatehazard. She would allow herself to be suggested intoenthusiasms, thoughtlessly, quickly, and would makeup her mind with a fiery intensity of a man affrontedwho seizes .upon his sword. Just as, dauntless horsewomanas she was, she would urge her steed over hedgesand ditches risking life and limb, so in the sport of politicsshe imagined she could ride roughshod over everyobstacle and difficulty. What Elizabeth looked upon as acarefully thought-out game of chess, a diploinatic issuedemanding the utmost intellectual exertion, was forMary a delightful entertainment, an enhancement ofjoy in life, a chivalric tourney. The Pope once said ofher that she had a man's soul in a woman's body. Herdaring frivolity and egotism—characteristics which makeexcellent material for poesy, ballad, and feed thetragic muse—doomed the young sovereign to an earlyfall.Now Elizabeth was a practical realist through and94

POLITIGiAL MARRIAGE MARTthrough, her knowledge of what was feasible amountedalmost to genius. She won her victories by way of ashrewd utilization of thoughts she had long digested inher mind, and by turning the vagaries of her rival togood account. With her clear, sharp, and birdlike eyes—one needs but glance at her portraits to realize how brightand penetrating they were—she looked with mistrustupon the universe of men and things around her, for sherecognized the dangers which beset her and her heartwas filled with fear. Early in life she had passed throughthe school of adversity, and had learned caution and theart of moderation. Statesmanship could never be practisedextempore—that she had been taught well; itneeded prolonged calculation and immense patience.Nothing lay further from her purpose than the bold, theover-bold feeling of security which was a virtue in Mary,but a virtue that led to her ruin.As a child Elizabeth had witnessed the rise and fall ofFortune's ball, she had seen how short a step was neededto bear a queen from throne to scaffold, she had seenhow that one day a person might be languishing in theTower of London—that antechamber of so manydeaths—and the next would be making a royal progressto Westminster. Power seemed to her a fluid substancein the hands of a ruler; it might slip unawares throughthe fingers, and a position of security would thereby beendangered. The crown and sceptre appeared to hermade of fragile glass and she held them consequentlywith the utmost precaution and anxiously in her grasp.Her whole life was filled with care and irresoluteness.All the portraits of the Queen confirm the traditionaldescriptions of her aspect and character. None of themshow her to have been lucid, free, and proud, like aborn ruler of men. She always looks timid and anxious,with strained eyes, as if watching and waiting for some-95

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSthing untoward. We never see a smile of glad self-confidenceon her lips. Simultaneously shy and vain thewan countenance peeps forth from behind the make-upand from among the glittering jewels. We feel thatwhenever she was alone, having doffed her robes ofState and wiped the rouge from her wasted cheeks,there could have been no royal dignity left—nothingbut a poor, solitary, uneasy, prematurely aged woman;the tragical figure of one who, far from being competentto govern a world, was unable to master even her ownurgent distresses.The attitude she assumed lacked any vestige of theheroic, and her everlasting hesitation, postponement,and want of determination robbed her of much of herqueenly dignity. Nevertheless, Elizabeth's indubitablygreat capacity for statesmanship lifted her to a higherplane than that of romantic heroism. Her power resided,not in venturesome plans and decisions, but, rather, in atough and circumspect persistence for obtaining theutmost tha;t was compatible with security, with scrapingand pinching where State expenses were concerned, andin the cultivation of such virtues as are habituallyascribed to burgesses and housewives worthy of theirsalt. Her very faults—timidity, excess of caution—borefruit in the political field.Mary lived for herself; Elizabeth lived for her country,contemplating her position as ruler through the spectaclesof a realist and looking upon it as a profession;Mary's mind was stuffed with romance, and she acceptedher queenly estate as a gift from God and as exactingno duties on her part. Both women were strong andboth were weak; but their strength and their weaknessassumed different aspects. Whereas Mary's madlyheroic self-confidence led her to her doom, Elizabeth'sweakness, her lack of decision, led her in the end tovictory. For in the world of politics persistence invari-96

POLITICAL MARRIAGE MARTably gains the day over undisciplined strength, carefullypreparedplans triumph over improvisations; practicalrealism gets the better of unpractical romanticism.But the antithesis went even deeper. Elizabeth andMary were not only poles apart as queens; they wereequally different in feminine qualities. It was withthem as if Nature had set about deliberately to createtwo figures whose make-up was diametrically opposed,down to the smallest details.Mary Stuart as woman was wholly woman, first andlast and for always, so that the greatest decisions forcedupon her during her brief span took their shape fromthis deepest spring-head of her being. Yet it would befar from true to say that impulse invariably governedher reason, or that she allowed herself to be driven unresistinglyhither and thither by her passions. Qjiiteotherwise. In. early youth, Mary proved amazinglyreserved in all that appertained to the exercise of femininecharm. Year followed upon year, and the life offeeling still slumbered quietly within her. What portraitshave come down to us show a friendly, gentle,rather weak and indolent face, a slightly disdainful pairof eyes, an almost childishly smiling mouth. Indeed, thiscountenance is that of an undifferentiated being, animmature woman. Essentially sensitive, she wouldblush on the slightest provocation, or she would turnpale with emotion, and tears came readily to her eyes.Thus the abysses of her nature lay undisturbed until hertime was ripe; in a few words, she was a thoroughlynormal and genuine woman, and it was not until a laterdate that she herself, Mary Stuart, was to discover herreal depths, her real strength, in a passion of love thatwas to be the only true passion of a lifetime. But thismerely serves to prove how feminine was her character,97

THE ^UEEN OF SCOTShow much a thing of impulse and instinct, how firmly itwas chained to her sex. For in her brief moment ofecstasy all her higher cultural attainments seemed tovanish as a dream; all the dams of courtly training, ofmorals, and of royal dignity were broken down, andwhen she saw herself confronted by a choice betweenpassion and honour her queenship was set aside to giveplace to the woman who chanced to sit upon a throne.The regal mantle slipped easily from her shoulders, andshe stood naked and unashamed as do so many otherwomen who yield to the ardours of love, who allowthemselves to be swept off their feet and swallowed upin their desire. This it is, perhaps, which lends so muchsplendour to her story: for the sake of one rich momentof passionate accomplishment she was capable of riskingkingdom, power, and sovereign dignity.Elizabeth, however, was quite incapable of yieldingto such a complete abandonment of herself. The reasonfor this was a physiological one; she was "not like otherwomen." Not only had Nature debarred her frommotherhood, it had further deprived her of the possibilitiesfor enjoying the emotions and resulting acts of awoman in love. This secret organic inferiority lay at theroot of all the strange evolutions and spasmodicities ofher temperament. Not voluntarily, as she pretended, butperforce, did she remain a "virgin queen." Even thoughsome of the statements, such as Ben Jonson's, that havecome down to us regarding her physical malformationare open to question, there can be no doubt that passionatefruition was for her rendered impossible bybodily or mental hindrances. Obviously such circumstancesmust profoundly affect a woman's character.The scintillations, the vacillations, the moodiness of hernerves; her weathercock behaviour, which frequentlyassumed the aspect of hysteria; her lack of balance andthe incalculability of her resolves; her unceasing swing98

POLITICAL MARRIAGE MARTfrom hot to cold, from Yes to No; the comedies sheplayed, her finesse and her reserve, and (not least) thatcoquetry which wrought such tricks with her statesman^like dignity—one and all these things are hardly explicableexcept as the outcome of bodily defect. Woundedas she was by it to the core of her being as woman, shecould neither feel, nor think, nor act unambiguously andnaturally; no one could count upon her, and even lesscould she count upon herself. Nothing could be morewrong-headed, superficial, and commonplace than thecustomary view (to which Schiller gives the weight ofhis authority) that Elizabeth played a cat-and-mousegame with the gentle and defenceless Mary. Thoughmutilated in spirit because abnormal in body, thoughher nerves were always on edge, though an unscrupulousintriguer, Elizabeth was neither cruel, inhuman, cold,nor hard. One with insight can discern in this woman,freezing on her solitary throne, hidden sources of warmth.Though her relations with her half-lovers were a tormentto her, because to none of them could she give herselfwholly, we can see behind her whimsies and outburstsof temper an earnest wish to be magnanimous andkind. She detested bloodshed. The signing of a deathwarrantwas a misery to her. She took no pleasure in themurderous chances of war. One of her amiable vanitieswas a desire to be regarded by the world as the noblest,the most glorious, the humanest of monarchs, and toastonish her adversaries by unexpected clemency. Violencewas foreign to her timid disposition. She lovedthe petty, pinprick arts of diplomacy, and to act irresponsiblybehind the scenes. When she had to declarewar, she hesitated and shuddered. Any strenuous resolvecost her sleepless nights; and she devoted her best energiesto maintaining peace for her country. If she showedenmity to Mary Stuart, it was only because she felt thelatter's existence to be a menace to her own life and99

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSauthority; yet she avoided open conflict, being bynature a trickster rather than a fighter. Both the cousins,Mary Stuart from indifference, Ehzabeth Tudor fromtimidity, would have preferred the maintenance of aspurious peace. But the stars in their courses were setagainst the untroubled existence of this pair side byside in the same firmament. The stronger will of historyis regardless of the innermost longings of individuals,often involving persons and powers, despite themselves,in her murderous game.For behind these personal differences of character anddisposition there loured, like huge and menacing spectrescasting their shadows over the destiny of the Britishqueens, the gigantic opposing forces of the epoch. MaryStuart was the champion of the old Catholic faith;Elizabeth Tudor constituted herself the defender of theReformation. The two queens symbolised two antagonisticeras, two antagonistic outlooks upon the universe:Mary incorporating that which was dying out, theMiddle Ages, the days of chivalry; Elizabeth being theembodiment of the new, the coming time. Thus thebirth-pangs of a fresh turn in history came to be sufferedin the struggle that ensued between these cousins.What imparted so much picturesqueness and romanceto Mary Stuart was that she stood or fell with the past,that she was a last and dauntless paladin of a cause thatlay already in the death agony. She was merely obeyingthe directive will of history when she rallied to the sideof those who still had their gaze fixed upon the past,when she made political pacts with those powers whichhad already declined from the zenith of their influence,when she allied herself with Spain and the papacy.Elizabeth looked ahead, she was far-sighted, sending herenvoys into distant lands, into Russia and Persia for100

POLITICAL MARRIAGE MARTexample, encouraging her subjects to explore oceans andcontinents, just as if she foresaw that on a day to comethe foundations of the new world that was in the makingmust be laid in other continents than Europe. Mary wasperfectly happy to remain fixed in what had come to herby inheritance, and she could not disentangle her mindfrom the dynastic conception of sovereignty. God hadgiven power and dominion to potentates that theymight rein supreme at the apex of an earthly hierarchy.What could terrestrial justice do against so divine anordinance? There was no room for criticism, for resistance; a king's subjects and his territories were his privatepossessions. It is an actual fact that Mary Stuart twicetried to transfer her royal inheritance, once to Franceand the second time to Spain. She considered that theterritory of Scotland and the Isles belonged to her asruler; but she failed to recognise that such a relationshipis mutual—that a sovereign belongs to the country overwhich he or she rules. During all the years of her reign,Mary was nothing but Queen of Scotland, she neveracted as queen for Scotland's benefit. From the hundredsof letters which issued from her pen, we learn onlythat she desired to consolidate and extend her personalrights, never that she had the folk-wishes at heart, orenvisaged some betterment in commerce, in navigation,or even in the armed forces of the crown. Just as whenshe wrote poetry or entered into an interesting conversation,she invariably lapsed into a foreign idiom, thecourtly French she had been taught in childhood andyouth, so did her thoughts and feelings never clothethemselves in the Scottish, the national phraseology.She did not live and, ultimately, die for Scotland; all herthoughts were concentrated on remaining Queen ofScotland. Mary Stuart never gave anything creative tothe land of her birth except the saga of her life.So strong a sentiment of being above every one andlOI

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSeverything necessarily created a solitude around Mary.Though she far exceeded Elizabeth in courage anddetermination, her cousin gained daily in strengthduring the struggle because of wider vision and moredisciplined shrewdness. The English queen surroundedherself with quiet and clear-thinking personalities, a kindof General Staff of able advisers from whom she learnedthe arts of strategy and tactics, thus protecting herselffrom herself, where great decisions were concerned,against her own fitfulness and caprice. So splendid anorganisation did she create around her that even to thisday it is well nigh impossible to disentangle her personalachievements from those of the collectivity of statesmenwho served during the "Elizabethan epoch"; moreoverthe immeasurable renown which haloes her name includesthe lives of her helpers. Mary Stuart was MaryStuart and nothing more; whereas Elizabeth wasElizabeth plus Cecil, plus Leicester, plus Walsingham,plus the superlative energies of all her subjects. It is _hard to distinguish how far she was personally responsiblefor the rise of the English nation, and how far thenation itself worked its way to so vast a predominance,bearing the Virgin Queen aloft on its sturdy shoulders.England and Elizabeth formed one united whole. Elizabethset an example to the monarchs of her day and ofsubsequent epochs, in that she never arrogated to herselfthe position of ruler of England, but assumed the moremodest role of administrator, of carrier-out of the folkwill,of servitor to the national mission; she understoodthe trends of the epoch which was emerging from anautocratic regime into a constitutional regime. Honestlyand voluntarily she recognized the new forces that wereat work, transforming the estates of the realm, andwidening the world frontiers by far-flung geographicaldiscoveries; she knew how to encourage the guilds, themerchants, the financiers, and even the privateers and102

POLITICAL MARRIAGE MARTfilibusters of her day, to superhuman efforts on behalfof England, so that England might become Queen ofthe Seas. Repeatedly did she renounce her personalwishes (a thing Mary Stuart could never bring herselfto do) in order to serve the general desires of the nationshe was called to govern.To save herself from spiritual shipwreck, she had tofind an outlet in. creative endeavour. Because as awoman she was frustrated, she sublimated her feminineinferiority into the happiness and welfare of her people.Her egoism, her passionate desire for power, her realizationthat never could she become a mother or the dearlybeloved of a man, were transfigured into a national ambition,a longing to see her country great. Her lack ofpersonal triumph could be compensated for by England'svictory. The sublimest of her vanities was to be madegreat in the eyes of posterity through England's greatness,in which she would posthumously live. WhereasMarj' wouid have ghd}y exchanged her throi^e for abetter one, Elizabeth had no longing for any other crownthan that of England. Mary Stuart wanted to beresplendent here and now; Elizabeth Tudor, the thrifty,the far-sighted, devoted her best powers to the future ofher nation.It was natural, therefore, that the favour of warshould fall to the woman who was in advance of hertime, who possessed a talent for looking ahead, whilstMary Stuart, the queen who still believed in the moribunddays of chivalry and romance, was left in the lurch.In the person of Elizabeth, the will of history foundexpression, for the will of history is always straining forward,leaving the empty shells of outlived forms behind,and seeking renewed strength in other creative activities.The whole energy of a nation was incorporated inElizabeth's person, for the nation behind the Queenwished to become conqueror of the globe. With Mary103

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSStuart, the past died a chivalrous, a magnificent, aheroic death. Thus both women remained victors in thefield of their choice: Elizabeth, the realist, conqueredin the realm of history; whereas Mary, the romanticist,has conquered in the realm of poesy and legend.The choice of vedettes was indeed majestic both inspace and time; unfortunately, the manner in which thetragedy was fought to a finish was petty and mean. Inspite of their superlative traits, these two women re-.m.ained women throughout, and were unable to overcomethe weaknesses inherent in their sex. Thus, insteadof dealing honestly with one another, they entered,into paltry intrigues, and by their lack of frankness,fostered enmities. If, instead of Mary and Elizabeth, twokings had been faced by the same circumstances, theywould have come to a firmer decision, declared war,countered one dark threat by another, set courageagainst courage. The struggle between Mary andElizabeth, however, never came to a stout and clearissue; it was "catty", each lying in wait for the otherwith claws covered but ready for use; it was a thoroughlyunloyal and dishonest game.For a quarter of a century these two women consistentlylied to one another and betrayed one another,without for a moment either of them being effectivelyhumbugged. They had no illusions about one another.Their correspondence, in which each of the "dear sisters"bespatters the other with asseverations of inviolableaffection, makes one's gorge rise by its hypocrisy. Whilethe two sovereigns are smiling graciously at one anotherand exchanging congratulations, each is secretly sharpeninga knife to slit the other's weazand. They never lookone another candidly in the eyes, never engage in bold104

POLITICAL MARRIAGE MARTand open struggle. The story of the duel between ElizabethTudor and Mary Stuart contains no word aboutHomeric combats or glorious situations. We seem to bereading a chapter from Machiavelli, an account ofclever and even dazzling manoeuvres and countermanceuvres,psychologically most exciting, but morallyrepulsive because it was always malice confrontingmalice and never courage confronting courage.This mutual hanky-panky began with negotiations forMary's second marriage. Royal suitors appeared uponthe scene, and one was as good as another to Mary, forthe woman in her was not yet awakened and she was notfastidious. Don Carlos, a lad of fifteen, would do wellenough, although rumour described him as an illnaturedmadcap. Nothing amiss with Charles IX, anotherminor. Young or old, attractive or repulsive, theirpersonalities were of no moment to her provided themarriage would obviously give her a higher standingthan her Tudor cousin. Being thus dispassionate, Marywas content to leave the bargainings to James Stuart,who proved a selfishly zealous go-between, for if hishalf-sister could be married, and then dispatched towear a crown in Paris, Vienna, or Madrid, he would bequit of her, and once more become uncrowned king ofScotland.Elizabeth, however, being well served by her spiesacross the border, was promptly informed about thesevarious suitors, and hastened to interpose a veto. Shewrote in plain terms to her ambassador in Edinburgh tothe effect that should Mary accept a husband of royalblood from Austria, France, or Spain, she (Elizabeth)would regard this as an unfriendly act. Yet the samecourier carried the most affectionate letters to "my dearcousin," who is to trust Elizabeth alone, "'no matterwhat mountains of happiness and earthly splendourothers may promise you." Of course Elizabeth had not105

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSthe slightest objection to a Protestant prince, to the Kingof Denmark or the Duke of Ferrara. In plain English shehad no objection to a suitor who would be valueless, andtherefore not dangerous. The best thing would be, however,for Mary to look "at home" for a husband, towed some member of the Scottish or English aristocracy;in that case she could rely on Elizabeth's friendship, becertain of her help.Elizabeth was obviously playing foul. What the unwillingly"virgin queen" wanted was to spoil her rival'schances of a good match. Mary returned the ball no lessadroitly. Of course she did not admit for an instantElizabeth's overlordship, Elizabeth's right of veto inthis matter of marriage. But before saying as much inplain terms, she wanted to make sure of a bridegroom ofher own choice, and Don Carlos, the leading candidate,still hung in the wind. To gain time, Mary thereforefeigned heartfelt thanks for Elizabeth's kindly interest."Not for all the uncles in the world" would she risklosing the English queen's valuable friendship by precipitateand headstrong action. She was honestlydesirous of following her dear cousin's advice. Elizabethneed only tell her explicitly which suitors were to beregarded as "allowed." This pliability was most touching,but in the midst of declarations of confidence Maryinterspersed a timid inquiry as to how Elizabeth proposedto compensate her for being so docile. Well andgood, she writes (substantially), I shall be guided byyour wishes, and shall be careful not to marry any manof so high a rank, that my position, well-beloved sister,will overshadow yours. But, in return, please be goodenough to let me know how things stand with regard tomy right of succession to the English crown!Therewith the conflict had got back to the old deadpoint.As soon as Elizabeth was asked to say a plainword about the succession, no god was mighty enough to106

POLITICAL MARRIAGE MARTwring a plain word from her. She resorted to circumlocutions."Being wholly devoted to the interests" of herdear sister, she would work on behalf of Mary as on behalfof her own daughter. The mellifluous wordsstreamed on for page after page; but the one, the clear,the decisive utterance that was wanted was not forthcoming.Like two Levantine merchants, each waitedfor the other to make a move; neither wanted to be thefirst to open the hand. "Marry the suitor I propose toyou," said Elizabeth in effect, "and I shall appoint youmy successor."—"Appoint me your successor, and I willmarry whomsoever you please," rejoined Mary. Butbecause each of them wished to over-reach the other,neither would trust the other.The negotiations concerning the marriage, the suitors,and the right of succession, dragged on for two years.Strangely enough, these women who were both, so tosay, cheating at cards, unconsciously played into oneanother's hands. Elizabeth's supreme purpose was torestrain Mary from marriage; and Mary, unfortunately,was mainly bargaining with the most slow-moving ofthe monarchs of his day, Philip II Cunctator. Not untilthere seemed to be an insuperable hitch in the chafTeringswith Spain, and one of the other conjugal possibilitieshad to be seriously considered, did Mary deem it expedientto make an end of her own policy of procrastinationand to put a pistol to her dear sister's head. Shebluntly asked Elizabeth which member of the Englisharistocracy the latter had in mind for her as a husband.Elizabeth never liked a plain question demanding aplain answer, and such a proceeding was particularlyuncongenial in this instance. She had long been holdingcounsel within herself as to which among her nobleswould be best suited for Mary; and she had ambiguously107

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSdeclared her determination to give her cousin some onewhom none could expect. The Scottish court, however,said that these dark hints were incomprehensible, andpressed for a positive proposal, a specific name. Withher back against the wall, Elizabeth could no longerevade the issue by unintelligible allusions. Throughclenched teeth she allowed the name to escape her—Robert Dudley.Now the diplomatic comedy seemed, for a moment, tobe .degenerating into farce. Elizabeth's proposal must beregarded either as a monstrous affront or else as astupendous bluff. According to the notions of the day itwas almost an outrage to ask the Queen of Scotland,who was also queen-dowager of France, to wed the subjectof a sister queen, a man without a drop of royal bloodin his veins. Still more preposterous was the actual personalityof the chosen suitor, since it was common talkthroughout Europe that for years Robert Dudley hadbeen as near to becoming Elizabeth's lover as wasphysically possible, so that now the Queen of Englandwas suggesting as .consort for the Queen of Scotland aman who was tantamount to a cast-off article of clothingfor which Elizabeth had no further use. Earlier, nodoubt, in the days of her liveliest passion for him, shehad thought of marrying Dudley herself. She wasbound by extremely intimate ties, half of friendship andhalf of love, to him who had been the companion of heryouth during those fateful days in the Tower. Yearafter year she had irresolutely toyed with the notion (itwas her way to toy with notions); but when Dudley'swife. Amy Robsart, died by an accident under highlysuspicious circumstances, Elizabeth hastily withdrewfrom the scene in order to escape inculpation in theaffair. Thus Dudley was compromised, first by the inio8

POLITICAL MARRIAGE MARTexplicable strangeness of his wife's death, and secondlyby his notorious erotic relationship with Elizabeth,whose proposal of this cast-off lover as husband forMary was, perhaps, the most amazing of all the amazingdeeds of the English queen during her long reign.It is not likely that we shall ever know every thoughtin Elizabeth's mind when she brought forward thisperplexing scheme. Who can fathom the wish-dreamsof a woman of hysterical temperament, or formulatethem in logical terms? Was she still honestly in lovewith Dudley, and did she want (since she did not dareto marry him herself) to bestow upon him, as the mostprecious of possible gifts, the succession to her realm?Or did she merely hope to rid herself of a gallant whohad become a nuisance? Or did she fancy that by palmingoff a confidant on her ambitious rival she could keepMary's actions the better under control? Was she simplyputting Dudley's fidelity to the test? Did she entertaindreams of a persistent triangle, a menage a trois? Or wasthe absurd suggestion only made in the firm convictionthat Mary would refuse, and would, thereby, put herselfin the wrong? All these possibilities are conceivable;and it seems even more probable that this capriciouswoman did not herself know what she wanted. It islikely enough that she was toying with the idea, just asshe loved to toy with persons and with resolves. Futile todiscuss might-have-beens, or to inquire, in this instance,what would have happened if Mary had seriously consideredthe acceptance of Elizabeth's discarded lover.Perhaps, in that event, Elizabeth would have taken asharp curve, would have forbidden Robert Dudley tomarry the Queen of Scots, and thus would have heapedupon her rival the shame of a rejection following uponthe shame of such a proposal.To Mary the idea that she should wed any one whowas not of the blood-royal seemed little short of blas-109

THE QUEEN OF SCOTSphemous. In the first flush of anger she scornfully askedthe English ambassador whether his sovereign ladycould be in earnest when she put forward "Lord Robert"as suitor. Speedily, however, she mastered her indignationand assumed a friendly aspect, for it would be inexpedientto offend her dangerous adversary by a bluntrefusal. If she could secure the heir to the Spanish or tothe French throne as husband, this would be vengeanceenough for Elizabeth's insult. In Edinburgh, therefore,Dudley was not rejected as a possible suitor. Maryentered into the spirit of the farce, supplying to it anadmirable second act. Sir James Melville was thereuponsent to London, ostensibly to negotiate about theLeicester marriage, but really that he might involve thecomplicated issues in a further tangle of lies and misrepresentations.Melville, the most loyal and trustworthy of Mary'scourtiers, was a skilful diplomatist. He also weilded afacile and descriptive pen, for which posterity owes himthanks. His account of his visit to London has handeddown to us the most vivid picture we possess of Elizabeth'spersonality, and is, at the same time, an extraordinarilyamusing historical comedy. Elizabeth was well awarethat Sir James, a highly educated man, had lived foryears at French and German courts, and she thereforeset great store on making a good impression upon him,never suspecting that his infallible memory would enablehim to set on record all her weaknesses and coquetries.In the case of Elizabeth Tudor, feminine vanity oftenplayed havoc with her royal dignity. So was it nowwhen the Queen of England, instead of trying to producea political effect upon the Queen of Scots' ambassador,was mainly concerned to show off her airs and gracesbefore the man. She essayed one antic after another.no

-MARY STLARI IN \y^fb\' Fran^'ois C'loiiet)-.^i.

xMARY STUART AND FRANCIS II(from the Book of Hours of Catlicrine de' Medici)

POLITICAL MARRIAGE MARTFrom her extensive wardrobe (after her death it wasfound to contain three thousand dresses) she selected themost expensive gowns, attiring herself by turns in theEnglish, the Italian, and the French fashions of the day;some of these costumes were cut so low in the neck as toeffect an extremely liberal display; at the same time sheshowed off by turns her Latin, her French, and herItalian, luxuriating in the courteous admiration of theambassador. Still, none of his superlatives satisfied herconceit. It was not enough for Melville to assure herthat she was beautiful, clever, and well-informed. In thespirit of the question "Mirror, mirror on the wall, Whois loveliest of us all?" she was eager to hear from Melvillethat he found her more admirable than his own sovereignlady, handsomer, abler, more cultured than even MaryStuart. Pointing to her wealth of naturally curling redgoldhair, she asked him whether Mary's locks were assplendid—a thorny question to put to a queen's envoy!Sir James was equal to the occasion, declaring with thewisdom of Solomon that Elizabeth "was the fairest queenin England" and Mary "the fairest in Scotland." Butsuch praise was too half-hearted to gratify her foolishvanity. Again and again she paraded her charm.s, playingon the virginals and singing to the lute. At lengthMelville, whose business it was to lead his hostess by thenose in political matters, thought it expedient to admit"that the Queen of England was whiter," that he "gaveher the praise as the better performer on the lute andvirginals," and that his "queen danced not so high anddisposedly" as Elizabeth did.Amid this peacocking, Elizabeth had forgotten thematter in hand. When, at length, Melville broached thethorny topic, the queen now wholly the comedienne,took a miniature of Mary out of a drawer and kissed itaffectionately. With a thrill in her voice she assured himhow much she longed to become personally acquaintedIIIE

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSwith Mary, her beloved sister (although in reality shehad done everything in her power to hinder such anencounter); and any one who was swept off" his feet bythis bold actress could not fail to believe that Elizabeth'schief desire on earth was to make her Scottish neighbourhappy. But Melville had a cool head and a clear vision;he was not taken in by these languishings and prevarications,for, on his return to Edinburgh he reported:"Ther was neither plain dealing nor upricht meaning,but great dissimulation, and emulation, and fear."When Elizabeth asked him point-blank what Marythought of the Dudley proposition, the trained diplomatwas equally careful to avoid a decisive No or an irrevocableYes. He talked round the subject, saying that Maryhad not yet given full attention to the possibility. Themore evasive the envoy the more insistent the queen,who remarked that Melville "appeared to make smallaccount of my Lord Robert . . . but ere it were longshe would rnake him Earl of Leicester and Baron ofDenbigh," and that Melville "should see it done beforehis returning home; for she esteemed the Lord Robertas her brother and best friend, whom she would havemarried herself if she had been minded to take a husband; but being determined to end her days in virginity,she wished that the queen her sister should marry himas meetest of all other, and with whom she might ratherfind it in her heart to declare her next in succession toher realm than with any other person; for, being matchedwith him, she would not then fear any attempts at usurpationduring her own life."Actually, a few days later (third act of the farce), thepromotion of Dudley thus announced took place withgreat pomp and ceremony. Lord Robert, under theeyes of the court, knelt before his sovereign and ladyfriend,to be created Earl of Leicester. Once more,however, Elizabeth's feelings ran away with her, and112

POLITICAL MARRIAGE MARTthe woman in her played the queen a prank, for, saysMelville, while she was "herself helping to put on hisceremonials . . . she could not refrain from puttingher hand in his neck to kittle him, smilingly, the Frenchambassador and I standing beside her." What an amusingdetail to report when he returned from his embassy!Melville had not come to London in order to diverthimself as chronicler of a royal comedy; he played anindependent role. His diplomatic portfolio had somesecret compartments whose contents he was by no meansinclined to disclose to Elizabeth, and his civil chatterwith Her Majesty about the Earl of Leicester was onlyintended to camouflage the real objects of his journeysouth. The most important of these was to convince theSpanish ambassador that Mary Queen of Scots wouldnot wait any longer for a decision in the matter of DonCarlos' suit. Was it or was it not proposed that King-Philip's heir should marry her? Next, Melville was, withdue discretion, to get into touch with a candidate of thesecond class, with Henry Darnley.This stripling stood, for the moment, upon a loop-line.Mary wished to hold him in reserve in case her chancesof a better marriage should be frustrated. For Darnleywas neither king nor prince, while his father, the Earl ofLennox, had been banished from Scotland as an enemyof the Stuarts, and the family estates had been sequestrated.On the maternal side, however, this young manof eighteen was of high descent, for he was of Tudorstock. As great-grandson of Henry VH, he was thefirst "prince of the blood" at the English court, andtherefore of suitable rank to become consort of anyqueen in Christendom. As possible husband for Mary,he had the further advantage of being a Roman Catholic.Unquestionably, then, Darnley could be con-"3

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSsidered third, fourth, or fifth iron in the file; and Melvillehad a number of non-committal talks with MargaretCountess of Lennox, who was an extremely ambitiouswoman.Now it is an attribute of genuine comedy that, thoughall the participants must best one another, they shouldnot be wholly deceived, since from time to time each willget a momentary glimpse of one of the other player'scards. Elizabeth, being no fool, never imagined thatMelville had come to London solely in order to complimenther upon her hair and upon her touch on thevirginals. She knew that the suitorship of her own castofflover was not likely to commend itself to Mary; andshe was also acquainted with the ambitious designs ofher dear cousin. Lady Lennox. No doubt, as usual,there were spies at work. During the ceremony atWestminster when Robert Dudley was invested as Earlof Leicester, Elizabeth asked Melville what he thoughtof the newly-created earl.- Melville replied: "As he is aworthy subject, so he is happy in a princess that candiscern and reward merit." In his Memoirs, Melvillecontinues: " 'Yet,' said she, 'ye like better of yonderlong long lad,' pointing towards my Lord Darnley who,as nearest prince of the blood, bore the sword of honourthat day before her." Melville did not lose his nerve atthis sudden invasion of one of the secret compartmentsof his portfolio. He would have been unworthy of hisreputation as diplomatist had he not known how, onoccasion, to lie like a trooper. Wrinkling his brows,and glancing contemptuously at the man with whom theday before he had been bargaining as Mary's potentialhusband, he replied: "No woman of spirit would makechoice of such a man that was liker a woman than aman, for he was lovely, beardless, and lady-faced." SirJames adds as comment: "I had no will she shouldthink that I liked him, or had any eye that way."114

POLITICAL MARRIAGE MARTWas Elizabeth deceived by this feigned contempt?Did Melville's adroit parry lull her suspicions to sleep?Or was she, throughout, playing a double game whichto this day remains impenetrable? However this maybe, the improbable happened. First the Earl of Lennoxwas granted leave to go to Scotland; and then, in January1565, his son Henry Darnley. Strangely enough the gobetweenin securing these permits was no other than theEarl of Leicester, who had his own ends to serve, wishingto escape from the conjugal noose his royal mistress hadspun for him. Now the fourth act of the farce couldproceed merrily in Scotland, where, however, chancetook a leading hand in the sport. The threads of thetangle were abruptly snapped, so that the comedy of thesuitors was ended in a remarkable fashion which noneof those concerned had expected.For politics, a mortal and artificial power, was oyerridden,on this January day of 1565, by an eternal andelemental force. The suitor who had come to woo aqueen found, to his surprise, in Mary Stuart, a woman.After years of patient waiting, she at length becameaware of her own seU". Hitherto she had been no morethan a king's daughter, a king's wife, a queen, and aqueen dowager: the sport of alien wills, a pawn in thegame of diplomacy. At length, passion surged up fromwithin. Ambition was discarded like a constricting garment.The awakened woman found herself confrontedby a man. Therewith opened the history of her innerlife."5

Qkapter 7PASSIONDECIDES1565J\OW the unexpected happened, and yet, though unexpected,it was one of the most ordinary things on earth—a young woman fell in love with a young man. In thelong run, nature cannot be repressed. Mary, a womanwith warm blood and healthy senses, was, at this momentousperiod in her destiny, on the threshold of her twentythirdyear, the most appropriate age for an ardentpassion. She had been four years a widow, and fullyabstinent, for her conduct in sexual matters was irreproachable.The time had come when feeling was tohave its way with her, when the woman in the queenwas to demand her most sacred right, the right to loveand to be loved.The object of her first passion was, strangely enough,no other than the man who was a suitor for politicalreason; no other than Darnley, whom his mother hadsent to Scotland in this month of January, 1565. Mary hadalready made the young man's acquaintance. Four yearsearlier, when he was a lad of fifteen, he had come toFrance in order to bring his mother's condolences tothe widow of Francis II. At that time, however, Maryhad been in a mournful mood; and in any case shewould have been unlikely to regard this hobbledehoy asa possible future wooer. Since then Darnley hadgrown into a tall and vigorous young fellow. He was (asMelville has told us) fair-haired, beardless, with a pretty,116

PASSIONDECIDESwomanish face, from which two large, round eyes lookedforth somewhat uncertainly into the world. "II n'estpossible de voir un plus beau prince" was the descriptiongiven of him by the French ambassador Mauvissifere;and the young queen herself speaks of him as "the handsomestand best proportioned long man" she has everseen. Proneness to illusion was part of the fiery and impatienttemperament of Mary Stuart. As with all who areromantically inclined, she had little knowledge either ofthe world or of men. Day-dreamers such as she rarely seethings in their true light, facile enthusiasms makingthem discern, rather, what they want to discern.Sobriety is foreign to these unteachables, who vacillatebetween the extremes of delight and disappointment;and, on awakening from one illusion, they only do so tobecome victims of a new one—since illusion, not reality,is for them the real world! Thus it came to pass thatMary, in her quickly kindled liking for the tall, smoothchinnedyoung Darnley, failed to perceive that beneaththe comely surface there was no depth; that there wasno moral strength in this man of powerful muscles, nointellectual culture to back up his courtly manners.Unaffected by her puritan environment, she could seeno more than that the young prince had a good seat onhorseback, danced gracefully, was fond of music and ofcheerful conversation, and could, on occasion, writepretty verses. Such artistic accomplishments alwaysmade a strong appeal to her. She was delighted to findin Darnley an agreeable comrade in the ball-room, atthe chase, and in her other amusements. His comingwas a refreshment, since he brought an aroma of youthinto this tedious court. Others besides the queen took aliking to Darnley, who acting on his mother's shrewdadvice, behaved modestly. Soon he had become awelcome guest throughout Edinburgh; "well liked forhis personage," as Randolph, Elizabeth's spy, reported117

THE qUEEN O'F SCOTSto the latter. He played his part of wooer adroitly,courting the favour, not only of Mary Stuart, but of alland sundry. He struck up a close friendship with DavidRizzio, the queen's new private secretary and an iriitiateof the Counter-Reformation. Day after day, Darnleyand Rizzio played tennis together; at night they sleptin the same bed. But while Darnley thus got into closecontact with the Catholic party, at the same time hewanted to stand well with the Protestants. On Sundayshe accompanied Prime Minister James Stuart to Kirk,where he listened with well-simulated attention to thesermons of John Knox. To avert suspicion he often tookhis midday meals with the English ambassador, andwas careful to say soft things of Queen Elizabeth. In theevening he danced by turns with the five Maries. In aword, his obedience to his mother's instructions makingup for his lack of intelligence, he got on well at theScottish court, and, for the very reason that he was personallyinsignificant, it was easy for him. to avoid suspicion.Suddenly, however, a spark kindled in the Queen'sheart. Mary Stuart who had famous kings and princesas wooers, herself began to woo this foolish stripling ofnineteen. Passion flamed up in her, as it is apt to do inthose who have not prematurely frittered away theirfeelings in petty love-adventures. For Mary, Darnleywas the object of her first great passion. Her childmarriageto Francis II had made of her little more thanthe young king's playmate. Since Francis' death, thewoman in her had remained in abeyance. Now shehad come into- contact with a man upon whom heraffection could discharge itself like a torrent. Unreflectingly,in the happy intoxication of self-forgetfulness,she gave herself up to the rush of feeling, in thebelief that Darnley was all she could have dreamed of,was to be the one and only love of her life.ii8

PASSION DECIDESTo expect reasonableness from a young woman inlove is to look for the sun at midnight. It is of the essenceof the love-passion to be unanalysable and irrational.Always it is outside the range of mathematical calculations.Beyond question, Mary Stuart's choice of Darnleyconflicted sharply with the general excellence of herunderstanding. The young man was crude, vain, withnothing to commend him but good looks. Like countlessother men who have been passionately loved by womenof outstanding intelligence, Darnley's only merit, his_only magic, was that he chanced to be the man who,at the decisive hour, presented himself to a youngwoman whose will-to-love had long been pent up.Long, too long, had been the pause before the amatorypassions of this proud daughter of the Stuarts werearoused. Now, after this time of waiting, she was impatient,was twitching with eagerness. When MaryStuart wanted anything, she was not inclined to waitand to consider; as soon as she had made up her mind,her impulses urged her to action. The woman forgotthe queen; political considerations did not weigh withher for a moment. What mattered England or Franceor Spain, what mattered the future, as compared withthe entrancing present? She would no longer trifle withElizabeth's proposal of Leicester as husband, nor wouldshe await the slothful wooer from Madrid even thoughhe was to bring her the crown of two worlds. Here,ready to her hand, was the bright-visaged, gentle, andvoluptuous youth, with his full, red lips, his childlike,eyes, his cautious advances! A speedy alliance, that shecould give herself to him unrestrainedly—such was theunquestioning impulse of her happily awakened senses.At first, however, she confided her intention to only oneperson at court, David Rizzio, who did his utmost, like askilful smuggler, to guide the lovers' ship past all rocksinto the harbour of Gythera. A confidant of the Pope,119 E*

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSRizzio believed that Mary's marriage to the CatholicDarnley would ensure the re-establishment of the OldChurch in Scotland. His zeal for the union was the outcome,not so much of a desire for Mary's happiness or forHenry's, as of the political scheming of a champion ofthe Counter-Reformation. Before James Stuart orMaitland of Lethington, the effective rulers of Scotland,had any notion of Mary's intentions, the young Italianhad written to the Pope for the dispensation requisite tothe marriage, since Henry Stuart, Lord Darnley, wasMary's cousin. Foreseeing every possible difficulty,Rizzio likewise wrote to Philip II to ask whether Marycould count upon the King of Spain's help shouldElizabeth make trouble about the marriage. Both byday and by night this confidential agent was hard atwork, for Rizzio believed that the rising of the twostars would promote his own ascent in the courtly heavenas well as the triumph of Catholicism. But for all thathe drove his mines so busily, he worked too slowly andtoo cautiously for Mary's impatience. She would not bestayed for weeks and weeks while the letters took theirtedious course across seas and lands. There would notbe any hitch in the negotiations for the Holy Father'sdispensation. Why should she wait for a piece of parchmentbefore having her desires gratified? As if to cutoff the possibility of retreat (had she an inkling that herpassion would be inconstant?), she wanted to give herselfwholly to her lover without delay. Always in herresolves Mary showed this same blind disregard of consequences,this charming and foolish exaggeration. Thefaithful and adroit Rizzio soon found a way of gratifyingthe wishes of his royal mistress. He arranged for aCatholic priest to come to his room. Even though irrefutableevidence of a premature wedding be undiscoverable(as for all the details of Mary's life, there is aconflict of testimony here), some sort of formal betrothal120

PASSIONDECIDESmust have taken place. Why, otherwise, should thetrusty henchman have exclaimed: "Laudate sia Die"?Why should he have declared that no one could now"disturbare le nozze"? Long before any at court exceptRizzio had taken Darnley's wooing seriously, Mary'scousin had become lord of her life, and perhaps also ofher body.This "matrimonio segreto" remained secret for atime, because the pair chiefly concerned and also Rizzioand the priest knew how to hold their tongues. Still,the lovers' manner betrayed them, as the heat of ahidden fire can be felt. It was not long before the courtbegan to watch Mary Stuart and Darnley more closely.At this juncture the poor young fellow fell sick of measles—a distressingly childish ailment for a bridegroom.The anxious Mary watched day after day at his bedside,and when he was convalescent, continued to spend hertime with him. The first among Mary's statemen andadvisers to become seriously uneasy was James Stuart,Earl of Moray. Doubtless with a keen eye to his ownadvantage, he had honestly done his best to promote agood marriage for his sister; and although he was astrict Protestant, he had urged her to wed Don Carlos,scion of the Spanish Habsburgs, and therefore one of theleading figures in Catholic Christendom. But a weddingwith Darnley ran athwart his plans and interests.Moray was clear-sighted enough to know that shouldthe conceited, soft-headed Darnley become prince consorthe would at once wish to wrest the royal authorityinto his own hands, and would never be content to letJames Stuart rule. Besides, Moray had sufficient politicalflair to guess whither the intrigues of Rizzio, Itahansecretary and papal agent, were tending—namely,towards the re-establishment of Catholicism and the121

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSdownfall of the Reformation in Scotland. In his resolutemind, personal ambition joined forces with religiousconviction, the will-to-power with patriotic anxiety.He therefore urgently warned his sister against a marriagewhich would lead to disastrous conflict in a landthat was just beginning to quieten down. When he sawthat his warnings were unheeded, he abruptly left thecourt.Lethington, the other trustworthy adviser, likewiseoffered resistance. He, too, saw that his position and thereligious peace of Scotland were endangered. By degreesthere assembled round the two Protestant statesmen thewhole body of Scottish nobles that supported the ReformedChurch. At length even Randolph, he Englishambassador, began to notice what was going on atcourt. Afraid lest he should have been nodding at thedecisive hour, in his report to Elizabeth he describedhandsome young Darnley's influence with the Queenas the outcome of "witchcraft," and began to drumlustily for aid. But the discontent and murmurings ofthese lesser folk were as nothing in comparison with thefury of Elizabeth when she learned of Mary's choice ofhusband. Now, indeed, she was distressingly repaid forthe dubious game she had been playing; she had actuallybeen made a fool of While Mary was pretending tonegotiate with her for her favourite Leicester, the realwooer had been smuggled out of her hands and acrossthe border into Scotland; she was left stranded in Londonto reap the fruit of excess of diplomatic craft. Inthe first outburst of her anger, regarding Lady Lennox,Darnley's mother, as at the bottom of the whole business,she caused the Countess to be arrested and confined inthe Tower. Threateningly she corhmanded Darnley, asone of her "subjects," to return instantly to England;she alarmed his father with the threat of confiscating hisestates; she summoned the Privy Council, which, acting122

PASSION DECIDESon her instructions, declared the marriage of Mary toDarnley "unmeet, unprofitable, and perilous to the sincereamity between the queens and their realms"; sheuttered veiled menaces of war. Substantially, however,she was so greatly alarmed and perplexed that simultaneouslyshe tried chaffering. To save her own face sheplayed her last trump, the card which she had hithertobeen careful to keep out of sight.Now, when Elizabeth (though she does not yet knowit) is too late in the field, for the first time she makesMary an open and firm offer of succession to the Englishcrown. Being in a great hurry, she sends a special envoyto convey the following declaration: "If the Queen ofScots would accept Leicester, she would be accountedand allowed next heir to the crown as though she wereher own born daughter." Here we have a signal instanceof the futility of diplomacy. What Mary Stuart has foryears been striving to attain with skill, urgency, andcunning, that her rival should grant this right of successionto the English crown, is now put almost withinher reach—would have been within her reach, had shenot gone too. far—by the most foolish action of her life.It is part of the nature of political concessions, thatthey come too late. Yesterday Mary Queen of Scotswas still playing the political game; to-day she is only awoman, only a woman in love. Her leading anibitionwas, until a few weeks ago, to become acknowledgedheiress to the throne of England. Now this desire for anenhanced royal state has been forgotten because of thewoman's impulsive longing to surrender her body to theembraces of a handsome young man. Even if shewanted to draw back, to secure the coveted prize inEngland, the secret marriage has made withdrawalout of the question. She and Darnley are man and wife,123

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSor at least formally betrothed. Too late come Elizabeth'smenaces; too late her offer of the English succession;too late, likewise, are the warnings of sincere friends,such as the Duke of Lorraine, her uncle, who urgesMary to have nothing more to do with that "joli hutaudeau"—thatpopinjay. Intelligence and reasons ofState no longer weigh with the impetuous young woman.Sarcastically she replied to the angry Elizabeth, whohad been caught in her own net: "I am truly amazedat my good sister's dissatisfaction, for the choice whichshe now blames was made in accordance with herwishes. I have rejected all foreign suitors, and havechosen an Englishman who is of the royal blood of bothkingdoms, and, as far as England is concerned, is, on hismother's side, the eldest male descendant from the royalHouse of Tudor." Elizabeth could not say a word to thecontrary, for it was literally true that Mary had fulfilledher wishes, although after Mary's own fashion! Maryhad wedded an English nobleman, and one sent to her byElizabeth, although the latter had an ambiguous intent.Elizabeth Tudor, her nerves distraught, neverthelesscontinued to overwhelm Mary Stuart with offers andthreats. Thereupon, Mary grew blunt. She denied anyright on Elizabeth's part to exercise "overlordship";any grounds for interference. She herself, said Mary,had so long been "trayned with fayre speeches andbeguyled in her expectations," that she had at lengthmade her own choice, with the full consent of her estates.Regardless of missives from London, whether sweet orsour, in Edinburgh Mary made speedy arrangementsfor a public marriage. Darnley was knighted, made Earlof Ross, and granted other honours. The English envoy,who galloped up at the last minute carrying a pack ofprotests from England, arrived just in time to hear theproclamation that Henry Darnley was henceforward tobe "namit arid stylit king."124

PASSION DECIDESBeing already Henry, Duke of Albany, Darnley wasproclaimed king of Scotland by Mary's authority. OnJuly 29, 1565, the nuptials of the pair were publiclycelebrated in the Catholic chapel at Holyrood. To thegeneral surprise, Mary Stuart, who always had an inventiveturn where ceremonial was concerned, appeared inmourning dress, the robe she had worn at the intermentof her first husband the king of France. She designedto show that she had not frivolously forgotten her firstspouse, and now appeared a second time before thealtar as wife in order to fulfil the wishes of her country.Not until after she had heard Mass and had withdrawnto her room did she allow herself to be persuaded byDarnley (though really all had been prearranged, andthe festal robes were laid out ready) to doff her mourningand put on gay attire suitable to a bride. The palacewas surrounded by a jubilant crowd. Largesse wasfreely scattered, and the populace gave itself up torejoicing—^greatly to the annoyance of John Knox, whohad himself just married a girl of eighteen as his secondwife, but wished no one except himself to find enjoyment.In Knox's despite, the rejoicings went on forfour days and four nights, as though gloom was for everto be dispelled from Scotland, and that misty land wereto become a happy realm of youth.Measureless was Elizabeth's despair when she, unmarriedand never to marry, learned that Mary had forthe second time become a wife. Her most artfulmanoeuvres had only brought her slaps in the face. Shehad offered the queen of Scotland her own favourite ashusband, and Leicester had been publicly refused. Shehad vetoed the wedding with Darnley, and her vetohad been openly disregarded. She had dispatched aspecial envoy with a last warning, and he had been kept125

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSwaiting outside barred gates until the marriage ceremonywas over. It was essential for her now to dosomething to regain prestige. She must either break offdiplomatic relations, or else declare war. But whatpretext could she find for either step? Obviously MaryStuart had the right to choose a husband for herself;she had complied with Elizabeth's wish, since Elizabethhad disapproved of her wedding a foreign prince.There was no flaw in the marriage. Henry Darnley,great-grandson of Henry VH and chief male descendantof the House of Tudor, was worthy husband to aqueen. He was co-heir presumptive to the English crown,and Mary's marriage to him greatly strengthened herclaim to the English succession. Any further protest onElizabeth's part would only make her private spleenmanifest to the world.Throughout Elizabeth's life, however, ambiguityremained one of her chief characteristics. Although, inthis instance, its results had been'so unfortunate, shecould not desist from it. Naturally, she did not declarewar on Mary Stuart; she did not recall her ambassadorbut, by underground ways, she did everything she couldto make things uncomfortable for those whom she didnot wish to be a happy wedded pair. Too timid, toocautious, to come into the open against Darnley andMary Stuart, she intrigued against them behind thescenes. Rebels and malcontents were never difficult tofind in the Scotland of those days, when it was a questionof running counter to the established authorities; andon this occasion there was forthcoming a man who stoodhead and shoulders in energy and wrath above all thepetty rabble of the disgruntled. Moray had been conspicuousby his absence from his sister's wedding, and hisnon-attendance was regarded as an evil omen. ForMoray (this is what makes his figure so mysteriouslyattractive) had an extraordinary instinct for detecting126

PASSION DECIDESthe onset of changes in the political weather and anincredibly keen capacity at forecasting; he always knewwhere the danger-points were to be found and, on thisoccasion, he did the cleverest thing a politician of hisstamp can do—he vanished. Having dropped the helmof State, he became invisible and undiscoverable. Likethe drying-up of springs, the failure of rivers to flow,great natural catastrophes—the disappearance of Moray,as we shall see again and again in the history of MaryStuart, always foreboded political disaster. For thetime, however, he remained passive. During the dayswhen the wedding was being celebrated, he stayed at hiscastle, having quietly withdrawn from the court, wishingto show in a loyal and yet unmistakable manner that, asfirst minister of State and protector of Protestantism hedisapproved of the choice of Henry Darnley as king ofScotland. Elizabeth, however, wanted something morethan this passive protest against the new royal pair.She desired open rebellion; was eager that Mary Stuartshould pay for her private happiness with politicaltrouble; and, keeping this end in view, the queen ofEngland sought the favour of Moray and of the no-lessdiscontented Hamilton. She herself must, on no account,be compromised. "In the most secret way," therefore,she commissioned Bedford, one of her agents, to supportMoray and Hamilton with troops and* money "as iffrom himself," and with the implication that Elizabethknew nothing of the matter. The money fell into theclutching hands of the Scottish lords like dew upon aparched meadow; they rallied their courage, and thepledges of military aid soon brought about the rebellionEngland desired.It was, perhaps, the only mistake made by the shrewdand far-seeing Moray that he should rely upon the Englishqueen, who was so utterly unreliable, and shouldput himself at the head of this insurrection. Being127

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTScautious, indeed, he did not start proceedings at once,and was content for the time being to find secret confederates,for he really wanted to wait until Elizabethwould openly espouse the cause of the Protestant lords,so that he could take the field against his sister, not as anordinary rebel, but as defender of the threatened Church.Mary, on the other hand, disquieted by her brother'sambiguous conduct, and rightly unwilling to tolerate aholding aloof that was manifestly hostile, formallysummoned him to appear before parliament and justifyhis conduct. Moray, however, as proud as his sister,would not present himself in the character of an accusedperson. He haughtily refused to comply, with the resultthat he and his adherents were "put to the horn" inEdinburgh market-place, that is, they were publiclydeclared outlaws. Once more,, arms were to decideinstead of reason.On this occasion, however, the temperamental differencebetween Mary Stuart and Elizabeth Tudor wassignally disclosed once more. Mary showed herselfprompter to act and far more resolute, her couragebeing always impatient, swift, and impetuous. Elizabeth,on the other hand, acting timidly as was her wont, hesitatedtoo long. Before she had made up her mind toinstruct her treasurer to equip an army and openly tosupport the insurgents, Mary had taken action. Sheissued a proclamation in which she dealt roundly withthe rebels. "You are not satisfied to heap wealth uponwealth, honours upon honours, you want to have ourselvesand our kingdom altogether in your hands thatyou may deal with them as you will, and compel themto act wholly in accordance with your desire—in aword, you want to be kings yourselves, and leave usnothing more than the nominal title of ruler of the128

PASSION DECIDESkingdom." Without losing an hour the intrepid womanmounted her horse, and, armed with pistols, her younghusband wearing gilt armour riding by her side, surroundedby those of the nobles who had remained trueto her, she set forth against the rebels at the head of aquickly-assembled army. The wedding march had becomea war march. This resoluteness was justified bythe result. Most of the opposing barons were dauntedby the display of royal energy; all the more seeing thatthe promised aid from England was not forthcomingand Elizabeth continued to send dubious words insteadof an army. One after another, with hanging heads, theyreturned to pay allegiance to their rightful ruler. Morayalone remained stout-hearted; but before he, forsakenby his allies, could gather a new army, he was a defeatedman and had to flee. The victorious royal pairfollowed him hot-foot, so that it was only by the skin ofhis teeth that he saved himself on October 14, 1565,.taking refuge in England.Mary's victory was complete. All the peers of theScottish realm now formed a solid front round MaryStuart; once more Scotland was in the hands of a kingand a queen. For a moment Mary's confidence was sooverwhelming that she was minded to take the offensiveand cross the border into England, where she knew thatthe Catholic minority would welcome her as a deliverer.The more prudent among her advisers were able, withsome difficulty, to hold this impulse in check. In anycase, now that Elizabeth had put her cards on the table,the days of an exchange of courtesies between the cousinswere over. The independent choice of a husband hadbeen Mary's first triumph over Elizabeth; the crushingof the rebellion was the second; henceforward she couldlook freely and proudly across the border and stare her"good sister" out of countenance.129

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSBefore these troubles had arisen, Elizabeth's positionhad been far from enviable. Now, after the defeat of theScottish rebels whose movement she had fomented, thatposition became alarming. Doubtless it has at all timesbeen an international custom for rulers who havesecretly instigated revolts in neighbouring lands to disavowthe rebels when these are conquered. But, sincemisfortunes never come singly, one of Elizabeth's consignmentsof money to the Scottish lords had chancedto fall into the hands of Bothwell, Moray's deadlyenemy, when making a raid, so that plain proofs of thecomplicity of the queen of England had been secured.A second grave inconvenience was caused ^ by thefact that Moray, almost as a matter of course, had soughtasylum in the country which had given him both openand tacit support. Nay more, the defeated man actuallyput in an appearance in London. This was most embarrassingfor the English ruler, accustomed though shewas to play a double game! If she received Moray, the,rebel, at court, this would imply that she approved orat least condoned his rebellion against Mary. If, on theother hand, she were to shame her secret ally by refusinghim an audience, the affront might lead him to let thecat out of the bag, to explain to foreign courts that hehad been Elizabeth's pensioner. Scarcely on any otheroccasion did Elizabeth's habit of playing double put herin a tighter place than this.Fortunately, however, the sixteenth century was onewhen many notable comedies were composed. Elizabethhad the advantage of breathing the same strong andbold vital atmosphere as Shakespeare and Ben Jonson.A born actress, she could play her part as well as anyqueen of the stage; so that high comedy was as much invogue at Hampton Court and Westminster as in theGlobe or the Fortune theatre. Hardly had she beeninformed of the arrival of her inconvenient ally than she130

PASSION DECIDESarranged for Cecil, the same evening, to put Moraythrough a sort of dress-rehearsal of the part -it would beincumbent upon him to play in order to save QueenElizabeth's honour. It would be hard for a dramatist toimagine anything more impudent than the comedy thatwas staged next morning. The French ambassadorcame to pay his respects, talking of this, that, and theother, for how could he dream that he had been summonedto look on at an impudent farce? While he wasdiscussing the political situation a lackey entered andannounced the Earl of Moray. The Queen knitted herbrows. Who? Had she not misheard the name? Really,the Earl of Moray? How could this base rebel againsther "good sister" have made his way to London? Whatunheard-of insolence for him to demand audience ofher, whom all the world knew to be devoted to herScottish cousin! Poor Elizabeth! At first she couldhardly contain her astonishment and indignation. Still,after brief and gloomy reflection, she made up her mindto receive the "scoundrel"; but, God be praised, sheneed not see him alone! She begged the French ambassadorto be good enough to remain as witness of her"honest" indignation.Now it was Moray's turn to play up. He did so with alldue seriousness. His aspect as he entered was designedto show contrition and a sense of guilt. Humbly andtimidly, with a mien altogether different from his customarystride, did he enter the room. He was clad inblack, kneeled before Elizabeth, and began to addressher in his native Doric. The queen promptly interruptedhim, commanding him to speak French, so that theambassador could follow their conversation and no onewould be able to say she had talked secrets with soopprobrious a rebel. Moray stammered a little, inassumed embarrassment; but Elizabeth went on, takinga high tone. She could not understand how he, a refugee131

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSwho had been rebelling against her cousin and friend,dared to enter her court uninvited. There had, no doubt,been various misunderstandings between herself andMary Stuart, but none of them had been serious. She,Elizabeth, had always regarded the Queen of Scotlandas her good sister, and hoped that the pair of them wouldever remain upon such excellent terms. Unless Moraysatisfactorily proved that only in a moment of folly or inself-defence he had taken up arms against his lawfulsovereign, Elizabeth would have him arrested, and wouldcall him to account for his rebellious behaviour. Moraywould do well to excuse himself as best he could.Moray, having been carefully drilled by Cecil, knewthat now he might say anything in the world exceptthe truth. He knew that he must take all the blameupon himself, in order to exonerate Elizabeth in theambassador's eyes. Instead, therefore, of stating hisgrievances against Mary Stuart, he praised his halfsisterto the skies. She had bestowed upon him landtitles of honour, and other rewards far beyond his merits:he had, for that reason, served her faithfully; and nothingbut the dread of a conspiracy against his own person,nothing but the fear of assassination, had led him tobehave as foolishly, as recklessly, as he had done. He hadonly coifie to Elizabeth hoping for her gracious help to inducehis sovereign, the Queen of Scotland, to forgive him.This seemed already to exculpate very efficiently thewoman who had fomented the whole affair. But Elizabethneeded more. The comedy had been staged, notmerely that Moray, before the French ambassador,should take the blame on his own shoulders, but that, aswitness for the crown, he might declare that Elizabethhad had nothing whatever to do with the affair. Athumping lie never means any more to a politician thanempty breath, so Moray solemnly assured the ambassadorthat Queen Elizabeth "had known nothing what-132

PASSION DECIDESever about the conspiracy, and had never encouragedhim or his friends to disobey the orders of their lawfulsovereign."Now Elizabeth had got what she wanted. She hadbeen solemnly whitewashed, and was able with theatricalemotion, to rail at her fellow-conspirator in front of theambassador. "Now," she exclaimed, "Ye have told thetruth; for neither did I, nor any in my name, stir ye upagainst your queen, for your abominable treason mightserve for example to move my own subjects to rebelagainst me; therefore pack you out of my presence, yeare but an unworthy traitor." Moray bowed his head,perhaps to conceal a smile. He had not forgotten themany thousand pounds which, in the queen's name, hadbeen handed to Lady Moray for him, and to some of theother rebel lords; nor had he forgotten Randolph'simploring letters, nor yet the pledges of English militaryaid. He knew, moreover, that if, for the nonce, he wereprepared to accept the role of scapegoat, Elizabethwould not chase him forth into the desert. The Frenchambassador, meanwhile, stood respectfully listening andwatching, for, being a man of education, he could enjoy agood comedy. Not until he got back to the embassywould he allow himself to smile, when sitting alone at hisdesk and writing a report to his royal master. Elizabeth,one may suppose, was not altogether happy in her mind,for she can hardly have believed that any one could havetaken these assurances at their face value. Still, no onehad ventured to smile openly. Appearances had beenkept up, and what did truth matter? Without a wordmore, sustained by the dignity of her voluminous skirts,she rustled out of the room.Nothing can show better how great, for the time, hadbecome the power of Mary Stuart, than that her English133

THE Q_UEEN OF SCOTScousin and adversary should, after losing the battle, havebeen driven to such petty subterfuges in order to make aseemly retreat. The Queen of Scotland could raise herhead proudly, for everything had happened as she hadwilled. The man of her choice wore the Scottish crown;the barons who had risen against her had returned totheir allegiance or were outlawed in foreign lands. Allthe omens were favourable, and when she now bore a sonto her young husband the last and greatest of her dreamswas fulfilled. This Stuart boy would be king of theunited thrones of Scotland and England.The omens were favourable. Fortunate stars shed theirlight like a silent blessing over the land. Now, one mightsuppose, Mary Stuart could rest in the enjoyment of thehappiness she had harvested. But the law of her unrulynature was to suffer storm or to raise it. One whose heartis untamed, cannot rest content when the outer worldproffers happiness and peace. Impetuously this disorderlyheart continued, from within, to create fireshdisaster and new perils.134

Qkapter 8THE FATAL NIGHT INHOLYROODMARCH g, 15661T is part of the nature of every true passion neither tocount nor to save, neither to hesitate nor to question.When one of a royal type of character loves, this impliesunrestricted self-surrender and expenditure withoutthrift. During the first weeks of her marriage, Maryfound it impossible to do enough to show her fondnessfor her young husband. Every day she surprised Darnleywith some new gift: now a horse, now a suit of clothes; ahundred small and tender things, to follow up the bestowalof the greatest things in her power to bestow—theroyal title and the warmth of her heart. Reporting toLondon, Randolph, the English ambassador, wrote:"All honour that may be attributed unto any man bya wife, he hath it wholly and fully. All praise that maybe spoken of him, he lacketh not from herself. All dignitiesthat she can indue him with are already given andgranted. No man pleaseth her that contenteth not him;and what may I say more? She hath given over untohim her whole will, to be ruled and guided as himselfbest liketh." Mary Stuart was not one to do things byhalves; she gave with both hands. Now that she waspassionately in love, she was wholly obedient and ecstaticallyhumble.Great gifts, however, are advantageous only to onewho is worthy of them; for others, they are dangerous.Strong characters become yet stronger through a sudden135

THE ^UEEN OF SCOTSaccession of power, since power is their natural element;weak characters, on the other hand, are ruined by unmeritedgood fortune. Triumph, instead of teachingthem humility, makes them arrogant; and, childish intheir folly, they believe that the favour of fortune is atestimony to their own worth.It was not long before Mary's unrestrained and voluptuousdelight in giving proved disastrous to this narrowmindedand vain youth, who still stood in need of atutor instead of becoming the master and lord of agenerous and high-spirited queen. For as soon as Darnleyperceived what power he had gained, he becamepretentious and overbearing. He accepted his wife'sgifts as nothing more than tributes due to him and tookthe guerdon of her royal love as something that accruedto him by right as a man. Having become a master, hefelt entitled to treat his wife as a slave. A poor creature,with a "heart of wax" (to quote Mary's own contemptuouswords about him later), the "spoiled lad threw offall restraint, suffered from what would nowadays becalled "swelled head," and meddled autocratically inaffairs of State. The courtliness and modesty which hehad assumed in the days of his wooing were now discardedas superfluous. It was no longer necessary forhim to write verses to Mary, or to be gentle in his manner.At the council he assumed dictatorial airs, speakingrudely and loudly; he drank deep with his boon companions; and, on one occasion, when the queen tried towithdraw him from' unworthy associates, he beratedher so shamefully that the poor woman, thus publiclyhumiliated, burst into tears. Since his wife had grantedhim the title of king (the title and nothing more), hebelieved himself to be in very truth a king, and impetuouslydemanded the "crown matrimonial," that is tosay joint powers of rule. Indeed, this beardless lad ofnineteen was already dreaming of autocracy, of be-136

THE FATAL NIGHT IN HOLYROODcoming the sole and irresponsible head of the Scottishrealm. Yet every one knew that his presumption wasnot backed up by any effective will; that a conceitedboy was intoxicating himself with his own rodomontade,and that the braggart believed himself to be a man be-'cause he displayed the arrogance of an upstart. Inevitably,before long, Mary herself came to recognize,with shame, that her first and most devoted love hadbeen squandered upon a man who was both ungratefuland unworthy.Now, in a woman's life, there can be no worse humiliationthan to discover she has given herself to one whodoes not deserve or appreciate the gift; and never will atrue woman pardon either herself or the man for sogross a mistake. When the love passion has once flamedhigh between a man and a woman it would be unnaturalwere it to lapse into mere coolness and smooth civility;love, in cases of bitter disappointment, is speedily metamorphosedinto hatred and contempt. Thus MaryStuart, who was never one to show moderation in herfeelings, having recognized Darnley to be a pitifulspecimen of mankind, withdrew her favour from himmore suddenly and swiftly than a thoughtful and calculatingwoman would have done. She swung from oneextreme to the other. Piece by piece she took away fromDarnley what she had unreflectingly, uncalculatingly,given him in the first flush of passion. There was no moretalk of his being effective joint ruler, of the "crown matrimonial,"which in former days she had conceded to hersixteen-year-old husband Francis II. WrathfuUy, Darnleybecame aware that he was no longer summoned toimportant sittings of the council; and he was enragedwhen forbidden to include the royal emblem in his coatof arms. Instead of becoming the autocrat he had hopedto be, he found that he had been degraded to the positionof prince consort, and that, instead of, as he had dreamed,137

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSplaying the chief part, he was, at court, barely allowed aconsultative voice. Soon his wife's contemptuous treatmentof him was copied by the courtiers. Rizzio nolonger showed him State documents, and, without consultinghim, signed the Queen's letters with the "ironstamp." The English ambassador refused to addresshim as "Your Majesty." At Christmas, only six monthsafter the honeymoon, Randolph reported "strangealteration" at the Scottish court. "Until recently itwas the custom here to speak of the King and the Queen,but of late Darnley has only been spoken of as theQueen's husband. He had grown accustomed to see hisname put first beneath all edicts, but now it occupies thesecond place. Not long ago coins were struck bearing thejoint heads of 'Henricus et Maria'; but they have beenwithdrawn from circulation and new ones have beenissued. . . . Some private disorders there are amongthemselves, but because they may be but amantium iraeor household words as poor men speak, it maketh nomatter if it grow no farther."But it did grow farther. To the slights which the paperking had to suffer in his own court were now superaddedthe more grievous slights of a husband who believes himselfbetrayed. For years past, Mary, upright though shewas by nature, had had to learn that lying is needful inpolitics; but she remained unable to counterfeit whereher personal feelings were involved. As wife, she mustgive herself wholly or not at all. Lukewarm emotionsand half-heartedness were impossible to her. As soonas it had become clear to her that she had given thetreasure of her love to a worthless wight, directly thefancied Darnley of the honeymoon showed himself to bea foolish, vain, impudent, and ungrateful youth such asMary's husband actually was, physical attraction wasreplaced by physical repulsion. It was now intolerableto her to go on surrendering her body to this man from138

THE FATAL NIGHT IN HOLYROODwhom her heart had been estranged. The instant shewas aware of being with child, she began to shun Darnley'sembraces on any and every pretext. She was aiUng,she was tired; she could always find some such reasonfor refusing herself to him; and whereas during the firstrnonths of their married life (Darnley, in his anger,revealed these connubial privacies), Mary had been themore forthcoming of the two, she now shamed her husbandby frequently rejecting his advances. Even in thismost intimate sphere, where he had first won powerover her, Darnley, to his profound mortification, foundhimself deprived of the ordinary privileges of a husband.He lacked the moral strength to keep his frustration tohimself. He shouted it from the house-tops, chatteredabout it in every tavern, raged and threatened, talkedfatuously of revenge. But the more bombastic his languagethe more absurd an impression did he produce,until, within a few months, the royal title notwithstanding,he was regarded as nothing better than a tiresomeand capricious outsider to whom the courtiers showed thebroad of their backs. No longer did people incline theirheads reverentially, they merely smiled when Henricusrex Scotias voiced his demands. To one who is or wouldbe a ruler, however, universal contempt is more dangerousthan universal hatred.Mary's disappointment in Darnley was political aswell as the disappointment of a loving woman. She hadhoped that, with the aid of a husband who would bedevoted to her body and soul, she would at length beable to shake off the tutelage of Moray, Lethington, andthe Scottish lords in general; she had dreamed of rulingScotland jointly with her beloved. But these illusions,likewise, had vanished with the honeymoon. For Darn-139

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSley's sake, she had estranged Moray and Lethington,with the result that she was now utterly alone. But awoman of such a nature as hers, however profoundlyher hopes have been belied, cannot live without a confidant,so she was continually looking round her forsome one upon whom she could unconditionally rely.Better, she thought, that it should be a man of low rank,lacking the prestige of a Moray or a Lethington, buthaving, in place thereof, a virtue which was more essentialto her at the court of Scotland—absolute loyalty,the trustworthiness which is the most precious of talentsin a servitor.Chance brought such a man to the country. WhenMarchese Moreta, the Savoyard ambassador, visitedScotland, there came in his train a young Piedmontese,David Rizzio by name, "in visage very black," abouteight-and-twenty years of age, with round, alert eyes anda lively mouth—that of a good singer. ("Particolarmenteera buon musico.") Poets and mtisicans were alwayswelcome guests at Mary's court. Both her father and hermother had transmitted to her a passion for the finearts. Nothing could better relieve the gloom of her environmentthan the strains of the lute or the violin, asaccompaniment of a good voice. It happened at themoment that she was short of a basso, and since "SeigneurDavie" (as he came to be called by his intimates at theScottish court) was not only a competent bass, but afairly skilled composer, the Queen begged Moreta toallow the "buon musico" to remain behind in her personalservice. Moreta had no objection, so Rizzio was •appointed, at a salary of sixty-five pounds. In the palaceaccount-books is inscribed "David le Chantre," butamong the domestic staff he was known as "valet dechambre"—^groom of the chamber. In those days therewas nothing degrading in such a designation for amusician, seeing that, down till Beethoven's time, the140

THE FATAL NIGHT IN HOLYROODgreatest of musicians were at court accounted as nomore than members of the domestic staff. Even WolfgangAmadeus Mozart and the old white-haired Haydn,though famed throughout Europe, never sat at mealsamong the nobles and princes, but took their food in theservants' hall.Rizzio was not merely a young man with a fine voice.He had a shrewd intelligence, a lively wit, and an allroundartistic education. He spoke Latin and Frenchfluently, as well as his native Italian; he wrote a "fairhand" and in a good style; those of his sonnets whichhave been preserved are tasteful and correct. Soon anopportunity occurred for promoting him from the servilerarik. Paulet, Mary's private secretary, had not provedimmune to a malady that was endemic at the Scottishcourt, namely corruption by English gold. The Queenwas forced to dismiss him at short notice. The vacantplace in the Queen's study was promptly filled by DavidRizzio, who now rose rapidly at court. Soon he wassomething more than a secretary; he became HerMajesty's adviser. No longer did Mary Stuart dictateher letters to the Piedmontese secretary, for the latterdrafted the epistles as he thought best. The precise natureof the diplomatic negotiations in which he became engagedunder these circumstances, and whether he workedexclusively in the Scottish interest or also had an eye tothe advantage of foreign powers, will probably never beknown. This much is certain, that he came to play amore and more important part in State affairs. He hada good deal to do with promoting his royal mistress'sspeedy marriage to the Catholic prince consort Darnley;and Mary's stubborn refusal to pardon Moray and theother rebel lords was ascribed by the latter, probablywith good reason, to Rizzio's influence. Suspicion hadbeen rife that the young Piedmontese was a papal agentat the Scottish court. How much truth there may have141

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSbeen in this idea must remain uncertain. Beyond question,even if Rizzio was devoted to the papal and to theCatholic cause, he served Mary Stuart with a devotionand loyalty that had not been shown by any of herScottish subjects. When Mary was faithfully served, sheknew how to reward; and she was wont to give freely toanyone with whom she could converse frankly. Shemade her favour for Rizzio all too plain, giving himcostly apparel, entrusting him with the Great Seal ofScotland, and making him acquainted with Statesecrets. Before long David Rizzio, the sometime servant,rose to be a great gentleman, sitting down at tablewith the Queen and her ladies, helping as "maitre deplaisir" like Chastelard before him (an ominous parallel!),organising musical festivals and other court diversions,and becoming more and more the Queen's close friendinstead of merely her servitor. Until far on into thenight, envied by the domestic staff, this low-bornforeigner was closeted with the Queen in her privateapartment. In princely attire, arrogant and off-hand,the man who had arrived in Edinburgh as little betterthan a lackey and with nothing to recommend him buta fine voice, now exercised the highest functions in therealm. He had more influence in such matters thanDarnley the Queen's husband, more influence thanMoray when prime minister—the "buon musico" wasactual chief of the State. Nothing happened withouthis knowledge and consent; but this knowledge and thisconsent were honestly subservient to the Queen's interests.As a second sturdy pillar of her independence, themilitary power as well as the political was now in trustworthyhands. In the former domain, likewise, shehad found some one to serve her faithfully, the Earl ofBothwell, who years before, in early youth, had (thougha Protestant) espoused the cause of Mary of Guise142

MARY STUART IX WHITE MOURXING, i5(ic.(after Francois Clouet)\

HENRY STUART, LORD DARNLE^(artist unknown)

THE FATAL NIGHT IN HOLYROODagainst the Lords of the Congregation, and had thereforebeen driven from Scotland by the enmity of JamesStuart. Returning to his country after Moray's rebellionand downfall, Bothwell put his powers, which were farfrom inconsiderable, at the Queen's disposal. A boldsoldier, prepared for every hazard, a man of iron nature,passionate both in love and in hatred, Bothwell wasdevotedly served by the border clansmen whom he hadled in many a guerilla campaign against the English.His person alone was worth an army. Grateful for hissupport, Mary confirmed him in the hereditaryappointment of Lord Admiral of Scotland.With these two loyal assistants to rely upon, MaryStuart, at three-and-twenty, had at length both the chiefimplements of power, the political and the military,firmly grasped in her hands. For the first time she couldventure to rule alone, and she was never a woman toshrink from risk.Always, however, in Scotland, when the monarchendeavoured to become an effective ruler, the Scottishlords resisted his will. Nothing could be more distastefulto these insurrectionary-minded nobles than a queenwho neither wooed their favour nor was afraid of them.From England, Moray and the other outlaws wereclamouring for permission to return. They explored allpossible mines, those of silver and gold as well as theothers. The discontent of the nobility was concentratedupon Rizzio, and soon their castles were full of the murmurof scandalous tongues. The Protestants in Holyroodwere convinced that the Italian was spinningMachiavellian webs. They suspected rather than knewthat Scotland was about to be dragged into the secretschemes of the Counter-Reformation; and it is, indeed,possible that Mary had given some such pledge to her143 F

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSrelatives the Guises who, a few years later, were tofound the Catholic League.Rizzio, having no longer a friend at the Scottish court,was held responsible for these plots. The shrewdest ofmortals often act most imprudently. Rizzio made theusual mistakes of upstarts. Instead of modestly concealinghis power, he boastfully displayed it. He woresplendid attire, bestowed costly gifts, made those withwhom he had as a newcomer sat in the servants' hall feel,how high he had risen above them, and he does notseem to have been himself exempt from corruption bypresents. What, in any case could be more insufferableto the Scottish nobles' pride than that an ex-servant, astrolling musician of dubious origin, should spend hourafter hour in the Queen's private apartments, adjoiningher bedchamber, in the most intimate companionshipwhich was denied to them, the bearers of ancient names?Stronger and stronger grew their suspicions that thesesecret conversations must concern an attempt to makean end of the Protestant power in the country; and, tobe beforehand with the Queen, a number of the nobleswho were devoted to the Reformed religion joined in aconspiracy.For centuries the Scottish aristocracy had been accustomedto employ one method, and one only, for dealingwith their adversaries—murder. Not until the spiderwhich was spinning these secret threads had beencrushed, not until the subtle and inscrutable Italianadventurer had been swept out of their path, would theway be opened for rendering Mary Stuart more amenable.The plan for making a violent end of Rizzio musthave been conceived some months in advance, at thetime when Randolph reported to Elizabeth that theItalian might expect at God's hand either a speedy endor an intolerable life. It was long, however, before themalcontents could summon up courage to begin a144

THE FATAL NIGHT IN HOLYROODdefinite rising. The speed and firmness with which Maryhad suppressed the last rebelUon were still fi-esh intheir memories, and they had little inclination to sharethe fate of Moray and the other exiles. They also dreadedthe iron hand of Bothwell, who loved to strike hard, andwhose pride, they knew, would keep him from joiningin their plot. They could only murmur among themselves,and clench their fists, until at length one of themthought of the brilliant but devilish plan of transformingRizzio's murder from a rebellious act into a legal andpatriotic deed by making Darnley, the titular king ofScotland, head and front and protector of the conspiracy.At the first glance, the notion seems absurd. Involve theking of a country in a conspiracy against his own wife,the king against the queen? But the scheme provedpsychologically sound, for in Darnley's case, as in thatof all weaklings, the mainspring of his activities was hismeasureless vanity. Since the "iron stamp," the facsimileof the Queen's signature, had been confided toRizzio's charge, the friendship between the two menhad been broken, for the right to sign documents inMary's name gave Rizzio powers which Darnley covetedon his own account. Was this beggar on horseback toconduct diplomatic negotiations about which Darnley,Henricus Scotiae, was not informed? The secretary waswont to stay in the Queen's room until one or two in themorning—to spend there the midnight hours when ahusband had the right to demand his wife's company;and the Italian's power grew from day to day as, in thesight of the whole court, Darnley's diminished. It mustbe Rizzio's fault that the crown matrimonial had beenrefused him, and that alone would have sufficed to explainthe hatred of a man who was no less mean-spiritedthan mortified. But the Scottish nobles instilled a yetmore virulent poison into the open wound of Darnley's145

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSvanity, stimulating him. where he was most sensitive, inhis virile jealousy. By numberless hints they encouragedhis suspicion that Rizzio shared, not only the Queen'sboard, but also her bed. Though there was no proof ofany such misconduct, Darnley was the readier to believethe tale because his wife had of late refused conjugalembraces. It was a hateful thought that Mary's aloofnessmust be due to a preference for this black-haired musician.A man whose feelings have been wounded is easyto enrage, and one who does not trust himself is apt todistrust others. Ere long Darnley was convinced "thathe had suffered the greatest dishonour which can beinflicted on a man." The incredible became fact; theKing assumed the leadership of the conspiracy againstthe Queen.It has never been proved, nor is it ever likely to beproved, that this swarthy little musician David Rizziowas really the Queen's lover. The very fact that Maryshowed open favour for her private secretary in face ofthe whole court speaks against the supposition. Even ifwe admit that there is but a narrow line separatingspiritual intimacy between a man and a woman fromcarnal relationship—a line which can be crossed in anyincautious moment or as the outcome of an unconsciousgesture—still, as regards Rizzio, Mary Queen of Scots,a woman with child, showed her royal friendship withsuch confidence and carelessness as would have neverbeen shown in such circumstances by an adulteress.Had the pair really crossed the aforesaid line to becomelovers, Mary's first and most natural thought wouldhave been to avoid giving tokens of manifest intimacy;she would not have made music or played cards withher lover until the small hours in her private apartment;nor would she have secluded herself with him in her146

THE FATAL NIGHT IN HOLYROODStudy when diplomatic correspondence was being indited.But, as had already been shown in the case ofChastelard, one of her most gracious qualities vas adanger to her; her absolute self-confidence when sheknew herself to be blameless, her contempt for what"they say," her sovereign disregard of gossip^ heramiable nonchalance. Almost always incautioA andcourage go together, as virtue and danger, like the obverseand reverse of a coin; it is only cowards and those•who are unsure of themselves that dread the semblanceof guilt.But when rumour has once charged a woman withmisconduct, however malicious and nonsensical therumour may be, it continues to spread, being perpetuallynourished by malicious curiosity. Forty years later,Henry IV of France was to keep the ball of calumny rolling,for he said mockingly of his fellow-sovereign James I(whom, as a babe, Mary was now bearing in her womb),thai he weU deserved the name of "SDJOJUDXI" because,like King Solomon of old, he was a son of David. For thesecond time, Mary's reputation was gravely damaged,not by any fault she had committed, but by her hick ofcaution.At the Scottish court, no one took this fable seriously;for afterwards, when the nobles were publicly accusingMary Stuart of all possible crimes, they simultaneouslydeclared her son James to be the rightful king of Scotland.Hate her though they did, they knew the truth ofthis matter. Only in Darnley, irritated beyond endurance,his judgment confused by an inferiority complex,did the suspicion take root and grow rankly. Likefire it coursed through his veins; like a bull he chargedthe red cloth waved in front of his eyes, and enteredblindly into the plot. Without stopping to reflect, heallowed himself to be entangled in a conspiracy againsthis own wife, so that within a few days no one thirsted147

THE Q_UEEN OF SCOTSmore ragingly than he for the blood of Rizzio, who hadbeen his close friend, who had shared bed and boardwith him—the insignificant musician from Italy whohad helped Henry Stuart, Lord Darnley, to a crown.Among the Scottish nobles of those days, politicalassassination was a solemn affair. Those who had determinedon it did not rush hastily upon their victim in thefirst blast of anger. The conspirators entered into aformal bargain. Word of honour was not security enoughfor them, for they knew one another too well. This queer"gentlemen's agreement" had to be contracted for withseal and charter, as if it had been a legal undertaking.When the Scots had determined on violence, the details,were clearly stipulated on parchment, upon one of theso-called "covenants" or "bonds" in which the princelybandits pledged themselves to abide by one anotherthrough weal or woe—for only as a- troop, as a clan, didthey feel courageous enough to rise against their sovereignlady. This time, as a novelty in Scottish history, theconspirators were honoured by having a king's signatureupon their covenant. Between Darnley and the conspiratorstwo bonds were entered into and duly signed,bonds in which the king who had been cold-shoulderedand the lords who had been banished, reciprocallypledged themselves to overthrow the authority of MaryStuart. In the first bond, Darnley promised to hold theconspirators "shaithless" (unharmed), and to protectand defend them even in the palace and in the presenceof the Queen. He further agreed to recall the banishedlords from outlawry and to overlook their "faults," oncondition "that they would procure for him the crownmatrimonial of Scotla*nd and that, in the event of QueenMary's death, he should be declared her rightful successor,and his father the next heir after himself; and that148

THE FATAL NIGHT IN HOLYROODthe lords would pursue, slay and extirpate all whoopposed this resolution." He also promised to defendthe Kirk against any diminution of its rights. In thesecond bond, the conspiring lords pledged themselves toprocure for Darnley the crown matrimonial, and even(we shall see why this possibility was considered) in theevent of the Queen's premature death to leave Darnleyin possession of the royal rights. These words, seeminglyplain, implied more than Darnley realized. But Randolph,who saw the text of the bonds, understood wellenough, reporting to London: "If persuasion to causethe Queen to yield to these matters" (the resignation ofthe crown), "do no good, they purpose to proceed weknow not in what sort." This is a broad hint of theintention of the conspirators to rid themselves of Maryduring the chance medley of which Rizzio's assassinationwas the avowed object.Hardly was the ink dry upon the signatures to thisiniquitous bargain than messengers galloped off toinform Moray, who was at Newcastle awaiting the issueof the plot, that he might make ready for his return toScotland, while Randolph, who was likewise across theborder, at Berwick, and was actively participating in theconspiracy, hastened to inform Elizabeth of the bloodysurprise which was preparing for her royal sister. OnFebruary 13, 1566, several weeks before the murder, hewrote to London: "I now know for certain that theQueen regrets her marriage, and hates her husbandand all his kin. I know also that he believes he will havea partaker in his play and game, and that certain intrigueshave been going on between father and son toseize the crown against her will. I know that if thesecome to fruition, David, with the King's assent, will havehis throat cut within the next ten days." The spy wenton to convey fuller knowledge of that at which he hadalready hinted. "Even worse things than these have149

THE QUEEN OF SCOTScome to my ears, actually proposals for attacking herown person."There can, then, be no doubt that the conspiracy hadmore extensive aims than those disclosed to the foolishDarnley; that the blow which was ostensibly directedagainst Rizzio alone, was intended to destroy Mary aswell, so that her life was just as much in peril as hersecretary's. Darnley, however, being cruel as cowardsalways are when they win to power, was blindly longingfor vengeance upon the man who had wormed his wayinto Mary's confidence, and who signed documents inher name. He insisted, therefore, wishing to debase hiswife as much as possible, that the murder must take placein her presence; being moved by the illusion of a weakling,who hopes that "punishment" will make a strongnature pliable, and believing that a brutal exhibition offorce would render once more submissive the wife whohad come to despise him. Such crude and vengefulnatures as his are capable of the last extremity of baseness.The conspirators acceded to the wretched creature'sdesire that the slaughter should take place in Mary'sapartment, and in her presence, with child though shewas. March gth was chosen for the deed, whose performancewas to prove even more abominable than itsplanning had been.While Elizabeth and her ministers in London had forweeks been fully informed of the details (though theEnglish queen had no thought of conveying a friendlywarning to her cousin and "good sister"), and whileMoray was waiting across the border ready to spring intothe saddle, and John Knox had already prepared thesermon in which he was to extol the murder as "a deedmost worthy of all praise"—Mary Stuart, betrayed onevery hand, was utterly without forebodings and void150

THE FATAL NIGHT IN HOLYROODof suspicion. During the last few days Darnley, makingtreachery more hideous by simulated affection, hadbeen kindlier than usual, so that there was nothing toshow, at sunset on the appointed day, what a night ofhorror was awaiting her with its promise of doom thatwould overshadow her for years to come. Rizzio hadreceived an anonymous warning, to which he paid noheed, for in the afternoon -when Darrvley came to ask himto play a game of tennis, the musician cheerfully acceptedthe invitation of his former comrade.Now it was dark. Mary, following her usual customat this period, had commanded that supper be servedin the turret chamber adjoining her bedroom on thefirst storey of the tower. It was a little cabinet, fitted onlyfor the entertainment of a small company— a few noblesand Mary's half-sister were seated round the heavyoaken table, which was lighted by wax candles in silvercandelabra. Opposite the Queen sat David Rizzio, hishead covered (the French fashion in those days), andwearing a coat trimmed with damask and fur. He wasin a cheerful conversational vein, probably expectingthat there would be music after supper, or that in someother way the time would be passed pleasantly. Therewas no sign of anything unusual—until the tapestrywhich veiled the Queen's bedroom was drawn aside,and Darnley, the King, the husband, entered. Everyone rose to greet him; place was made for the distinguishedguest at the crowded table, beside his wife,round whom he put his arm affectionately, kissing herwith a Judas kiss. Lively talk was resumed; platesrattled and glasses clinked; then there was some agreeablemusic.But again the hangings were drawn aside. Now allwere amazed, angered and startled, for this time thenewcomer, looking like a black angel in full armour,naked sword in hand, was one of the conspirators,151 F*

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSPatrick, Lord Ruthven, generally dreaded, and believedto be a sorcerer. His face was ghastly pale, for he wasdangerously ill, in a high fever, and had only left his bedin order to participate in the night's fell work. His fieryeyes disclosed a fierce determination. The Queen, bodingtrouble—for no one except her husband was entitledto use the private spiral staircase, the "limanga," leadingfrom Darnley's ground-floor apartment into her bedroom—askedRuthven by what right he forced himselfunannounced into her presence. Cold-bloodedly andcontemptuously he answered: "There is no harm intendedto Your Grace, nor to any one, but yonder poltroon,David; it is he with whom I have to speak."Rizzio turned pale beneath his plumed cap, and claspedhis hands together beneath the table. He instantlyrealised what was coming. None but his sovereign, nonebut Mary, could now protect him, since Darnley madeno move to rebuke the presumptuous Ruthven, but satlooking on unconcerned. Now Mary spoke in answer tothe intruder:"What hath he done?" she inquired.Ruthven shrugged his shoulders and answered:"Ask the King your husband. Madam."Mary involuntarily turned to Darnley. But in thisdecisive hour the weakling, who had for so long beenurging others to the deed of rriurder, lost heart. He hadnot the courage to take his place by Ruthven's side.Feigning ignorance, he said;"I know nothing of the matter."Shiftily he turned his eyes away.Now more heavy footfalls and the clash of weaponswere heard behind the tapestry. One after another, theconspirators mounted the spiral staircase, and formeda wall of armed men blocking Rizzio's retreat. Escapethis way being impossible, Mary tried to save her faithfulservant by a parley. If David had committed any wrong,152

THE FATAL NIGHT IN HOLYROODshe said, "I promise to exhibit him before the lords ofparliament, that he may be dealt with according to theusual forms of justice." Meanwhile let Ruthven and theothers withdraw from her apartment.Rebellion, however, does not know the meaning ofobedience. Ruthven had already advanced towards thetrembling Rizzio; another of the conspirators threw anoose over the Italian's shoulders and began to draghim away. Tumult ensued, during which the suppertablewas upset and the lights were extinguished. Rizzio,unarmed and a weakling, neither warrior nor hero,clung to the Queen's robe, uttering crieis of terror. Hehad caught Mary's last word "justice" and screamed:"Madonna, io sono morto, giustizia, giustizia!" A memberof the band pressed the muzzle of a loaded pistolagainst Mary's side, and would, as the conspirators hadintended, have shot her, had not another pulled back hisarm, while Darnley himself intervened, holding his wifefast, partly (beyond question) to protect her, while themurderers hurried the shrieking and resisting Rizzioout of the supper-room. As they dragged him throughthe bedroom, he clung to the bedclothes, still crying tothe Queen for help; but the ruthless assassins clubbed hisfingers to make him let go, and forced him on into theState apartment, where they flung themselves on himwith their swords and daggers. Apparently they hadintended only to arrest the Italian, and next day to hanghim in due form in the market-place; but their excitementand blood-lust carried them away. So madly andso carelessly did they stab him, that in their savagerythey wounded one another. The floor became a pool ofblood. Not until their victim had bled to death fromfifty wounds did they desist from, their brutality. Thenthe mutilated body of Mary Stuart's most loyal friendwas flung through the open casement into the courtyardbelow.153

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSCrazed with grief, Mary listened to the death-shrieksof her devoted servant. Ailing and pregnant as she wasshe lacked strength to drag herself from Darnley's grasp,but with all the energy of her passionate soul she revoltedagainst the humiliation put upon her by thesebandits in her own palace. Darnley could press herhand, but not her lips; and she railed at him wildly toshow her contempt for the coward. She termed himtraitor and son of a traitor; she blamed herself for havingraised him from being a nonentity to sit upon a throne.What had, up to now, been nothing more than a wife'sdislike for her husbafad, hardened in this memorablehour to inextinguishable hatred. Vainly did Darnleytry to excuse his conduct, reminding her that for somemonths she had refused to accept his embraces, andthat she had long been accustomed to give more time toRizzio than to himself, her lawful husband. Now Ruthvenreturned, and, exhausted by what he had done, sankinto a chair. Mary overwhelmed him with threats andinvectives. As a wild beast in a cage will, when infuriated,fling itself against the bars, so did she rage againstthe pair of them. If Darnley had been able to read themeaning of her looks, he would have shrunk back inhorror from the murderous feelings which flamed upagainst him. Had his mind been more alert, he wouldhave realized the deadly menace of her saying that sheno longer regarded herself as his wife, and would neverrest "until he had a sorer heart than she had then."Darnley, who was only capable of brief and petty passion,did not realize that she was unconsciously passing adeath-sentence upon him. When, worn out by what shehad witnessed, she mutely allowed herself to be led toher room, he believed her energy to be broken, and thatshe would once more become his obedient wife. He wasto learn, however that hatred which knows how to besilent is more dangerous than.open threats; and that

THE FATAL NIGHT IN HOLYROODone who offered a deadly affront to this woman, sumrnoneddeath to touch his own shoulder.Rizzio's screams, the clash of arms in the royal apartment,had aroused the palace. Sword in hand, those who•were faithful to the Queen, Bothwell above all andHuntly, rushed out of their rooms. The conspirators,however, had guarded against every possibility. Holyroodwas surrounded by armed men, the exits werebarred, lest the town should send help to the Queen.Bothwell and Huntly, in order to fetch help and savethe Queen's life, had to jump out of the windows. Hearingfrom them what had happened and was like to happen,the provost of Edinburgh sounded the tocsin. Fivehundred burgesses assembled round Holyrood, demandingsight of the Queen and to have speech withher. Instead, however, they were received by Darnley,who falsely declared that nothing serious had happened;only "that the Italian secretary is slain, because he hasbeen detected in an intrigue with the Pope, the King ofSpain, and other foreign potentates, for the purpose ofdestroying the true evangile, and introducing poperyagain into Scotland." The good people had better gohome to their beds. Naturally the provost did not ventureto doubt a king's word; the burgesses went home,and Mary, who had vainly tried to get word with hersubjects, was kept under guard in her apartment. Thecourt ladies and the servants were debarred from entry;a triple guard was posted at the gates and doors of thepalace. This night, for the first time in her life, the Queenof Scotland and the Isles became a prisoner. The conspiracyhad been completely successful. In the courtyardlay the mangled corpse of her most trusty henchman; atthe head of her enemies was her own husband; his wereto be the royal rights, while she herself was not even

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSallowed to leave her room. At one blow she had beendragged down from her high position, was powerless,forsaken, without friends or helpers, an object of scorn.In this dreadful night she seemed to have lost everything; but a strong heart is hardened beneath the hammerof destiny. Always when her liberty, her honour,her queenship were at stake, Mary Stuart found morevitality within herself than in all her assistants or servitors.156

Qkapter 9TRAITORSBETRAYEDMARCH TO JUNE 1566DANGER was beneficial to Mary Stuart. Only indecisive moments, when she had to stake everything upona last hazard, did it become plain what remarkablecapacities were hidden away within her; iron resolution,all-embracing insight, fierce and heroic courage. Butbefore the innermost energies could come into action,she needed a hard knock on one of her most sensitivepoints. Not until then did these otherwise dispersedforces become concentrated. One who tried to humiliateher, produced so vigorous a reaction that, as aforesaid,every severe testing by destiny was advantageous to her.During this night of her first great humiliation hercharacter became transformed once and for all. In thefiery forge of a most terrible experience, when she sawthat her unduly ready confidence in her husband, herbrother, her friends, and her subjects, had been misplaced,this otherwise extremely feminine and softheartedwoman grew as hard as steel, acquiring theresilience and tenacity of metal that has been properlytreated in the fire. But, being double-edged like a rapier,her character became ambiguous after that dreadfulnight, which was the beginning of her disasters. Thecurtain had risen on the bloody tragedy of her life.Thoughts of vengeance filled her mind, now she waslocked up in her own room, the prisoner of traitoroussubjects, as she restlessly paced to and fro, pondering one157

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSway and another of breaking the circle of foes who environedher, meditating how she could make them atonefor shedding the blood of her faithful servant (the bloodwhich still stood in pools upon the floor)—how she couldmake them abase themselves before her, or bring tothe block those who had so impudently forced themselvesinto her presence and had even laid hands uponher, their anointed sovereign. To her, who had hithertoalways been a chivalrous fighter, any means now seemedjustifiable in view of the outrage she had suffered. Aspart of the change which occurred in her, she, who hadhitherto been impetuous and incautious, became cautiousand reserved; she, who had been too honourable to tellfalsehoods, learned how to dissemble; she, whose theoryand practice of life had been "fair play," was now preparedto devote her exceptional capacities to the catchingof traitors in their own snares.There are occasions when more can be learned in aday than, at ordinary times, in months or years. Such adecisive lesson had now been taught to Mary Stuart,and would influence her for the rest of her life. Theconspirators who, almost under her very eyes, hadthrust their daggers into her trusty Rizzio, had alsostabbed deep into the confidingness and nonchalance ofher nature. Henceforward she would not make themistake of being ready to believe traitors, of being truthfulto liars, of frankly disclosing her heart to the heartless!No, henceforward she would be crafty, would wear amask over her feelings, would conceal her hatred, wouldseem friendly to her enemies, awaiting with hiddenhatred the hour when she could avenge her favourite'smurder! She would devote her powers to the concealmentof her true thoughts, would cajole her adversarieswhile they remained drunken with the triumph of theirsuccess, would, for a day or two, seem humble in thepresence of miscreants, that thereafter she might humi-158

TRAITORS BETRAYEDliate them for ever! Such infamous treason could onlybe avenged by one who was herself ready to play thetraitor more daundessly and more cynically than thetraitors themselves.Mary Stuart formed her plans with one of those lightningflashes of genius which, when the danger of deaththreatens, will often come to persons of a dull and indifferenttemperament. Her situation, as she instantlyperceived, was hopeless so long as Darnley and the conspiratorshung together. Only one thing could save her—to sow discord among her enemies. Since she could notbreak her chains by sudden violence, she must cunninglysearch for the weakest links; she must make one of thetraitors betray the others. She knew well enough whowas the weakling among these harsh men—^had goodreason to know. It was Darnley, the man with the"heart of wax" on which every finger could make adint.Mary's first artifice was a psychological masterpiece."She declared that she had been seized by the pains oflabour. Since she was in the fifth month of pregnancy,the excitement of the preceding night, and the draggingaway of her favourite to do him to death in a neighbouringroom, were shocks that made a miscarriagelikely enough. She feigned violent abdominal cramps,took to her bed, and, in her supposed cirumstances, itwould have been incredible cruelty to forbid the accessof her tire-women and her doctor. That was all shewanted for the moment, since therewith her strict seclusionwould be broken. Now she had the chance of communicatingwith Bothwell and Huntly, and of concertingwith them means for her escape. Furthermore, by thisassumed illness, she put the conspirators (her husband,above all) in a quandary. For the child in her womb159

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSwas heir to the throne of Scotland and to the throne ofEngland as well, and an overwhelming responsibilitywas thrust upon the father before the eyes of the world,since his action overnight had endangered the child'slife. Full of concern, Darnley appeared in his wife'sapartment.Now began a dramatic scene, perhaps, in its crowningimprobability, only comjparable to that scene in Shakespearewhen Richard III, before the coffin of a man hehas murdered, woos and wins the dead man's widow.At Holyrood, likewise, the murdered man was still unburied;there, likewise, the murderer or one of the confederateswas confronted by a person whom he hadheinously betrayed; there, likewise, the art of misrepresentationacquired daimonic skill. There was no witnessto the scene. We are acquainted only with its openingand its end. Darnley entered his wife's room, the roomof the woman on whom, the night before, he had inflictedso gross a humiliation; the womantwho, in the first outburstof righteous wrath, had announced her determinationto be revenged. Like Kreimhild beside Siegfried'scorpse, she had yesterday still clenched her fists againstthe assassin. But, also like Kriemhild, she had, for thesake of her vengeance, learned during the night to concealher hatred. Darnley found, not the Mary of yestereve,the fierce and proud spirit of vengeance personified,but an unhappy, a broken-hearted woman, weary untodeath, yielding, ill; a woman who looked submissivelyand tenderly at the strong, the tyrannical man who hadshown himself to be her master. The conceited foolwas able to enjoy the triumph that he had dreamed of theday before. At length Mary was wooing him once more.Since she had felt the weight of his iron hand, she, hithertoso arrogant, had become mild and gentle. Now thathe had got the Italian rascal out of the way, she wasonce more ready to serve her true lord and master.160

TRAITORS BETRAYEDTo a man of outstanding intelligence, so rapid achange of front would have appeared suspicious. Hewould have recalled her outcry of the night before, when,with flashing eyes, she had screamed that he was atraitor and the son of a traitor. He would have borne inmind that, as a daughter of the House of Stuart, shewould be most unlikely to forgive a humiliation or toforget an affront. But Darnley was, like most emptyheadedpersons, exceedingly vain. Like stupids ingeneral, he was blinded by flattery. Then, as a furtherand remarkable complication, of all the men with whomshe had come into contact, this hot-headed youth wasthe one whose senses had been most effectually rousedby Mary Stuart. He craved for the possession of herbody, was in this respect her thrall; and nothing hadembittered him more than her refusal of late, to accepthis embraces. Now, wonder of wonders, the covetedwoman declared herself whoUy his, asked him to spendthe night with her, no longer held aloof. Instantly hisforces were undermined; he became once more heraflfectionate lover, her slave, her servant. No one cantell by what subtle arts of deception Mary effected thisconversion which was as wondrous as that of Saul on theroad to Damascus. Actually, within four-and-twentyhours of the murder of Rizzio, Darnley, who had justbefore betrayed Mary to the Scottish lords, had becomeher bondsman, willing to fulfil her slightest wish, andprepared to do his utmost to cheat his confederates ofyesterday. More easily even than they had won himaway from her, did the wife recover the allegiance of herserf. He disclosed to her the names of the conspirators;was ready and willing to flee with Mary; and was weakenough to become her instrument of vengeance in a waywhich would, in the end, make him betray the traitors.It was as a pliable tool that he left the room he hadentered in so masterful a spirit. A few hours after heri6i

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSdeepest abasement, Mary thus succeeded in breakingthe front of her enemies. Without the conspirators beingaware of it, the chief figure among them had entered intoa conspiracy against them. Crude betrayal had beenvanquished by the treason of genius.Half the work of liberation had already been achievedwhen Moray and the other outlawed nobles rode intoEdinburgh. In conformity with his temperament as acalculating tactician, the man who had been the soul ofthe conspiracy had stayed away from its execution, andhad been careful to avoid participating in the deed ofslaughter. Never would this man of tricks and wiles befound walking along a dangerous path. But, as ever,when others had borne the burden of the day, he turnedup with clean hands, tranquil, proud, self-confident, togarner the fruits. On this eleventh day of April, in accordancewith his half-sister's original plans, he was to havebeen publicly declared a traitor by parliament. But, loand behold, his prisoned sister seemed, all in a moment,to have forgotten her hatred. Despair having made heran admirable actress, she flung herself into his arms,to give him the Judas kiss which yesterday she had receivedfrom her husband. Urgently but tenderly shebegged the brotherly advice and help of the man whomso recently she had outlawed.Moray, being a keen psychologist, understood thesituation fairly well. Yet his sister outwitted him. Therecan be no doubt that, in planning and approving theassassination of Rizzio, his aim had been to frustrateMary's secret aim to restore Catholicism in Scotland.From his point of view the swarthy Italian intriguer hadbeen a grievous danger to the Protestant, to the Scottishcause, and, furthermore, a serious obstacle in the way ofMoray's own will-to-power...Now that Rizzio was dead162

TRAITORSBETRAYEDbones, Moray would have liked the whole unsavouryaffair to be speedily forgotten, and he therefore proposeda compromise. The degrading watch kept over theQueen by the rebellious lords was to come to an endimmediately, and Mary's supreme authority was to bere-established. On her side, she was to let bygones bebygones, and to pardon the patriotic homicides.It need hardly be said that Mary, who, meanwhile,had planned every detail of her flight with her treacherousspouse, had no intention of forgiving the murderers.Since, however, her supreme object was to lull therebels' watchfulness to sleep, she declared herself in fullagreement with the aforesaid terms. So admirably hadshe, during that one night of terror, learned the art ofdeception that her brother, who had known her fromearliest childhood, cheerfully believed in her good intentions.Eight-and-forty hours after Rizzio's assassination,with the burial of his mutilated corpse the incidentseemed to have been shovelled away underground.Affairs must go on as if nothing had happened. A strollingmusician, a man of no account, had been put out ofthe way, and that was all that had happened. A strollingmusician! The conceited and beggarly fellow wouldsoon be forgotten, and peace would reign once more overScotland.The pact was signed. But, strangely enough, the conspiratorsdid not fulfil their side of the bargain and withdrawtheir sentries from the gates of Holyrood. For onereason or another they were uneasy. They were too wellacquainted with Stuart pride to believe that Mary wouldforgive, and look upon the levelling of a pistol againstherself and the murder of her favourite as mere trifles.They thought it would be safer for them to keep theunruly woman under watch and ward, and to deprive163

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSher of any possibility of taking vengeance. She would bedangerous, they felt, so long as she was left at liberty.Another circumstance that disquieted them was thatDarnley was once more on excellent terms with hiswife, went often to her apartment, and there held longand private conversations with her. Their own experiencehad taught them how little pressure was needed toinfluence this weakling, and they began to openly expresstheir suspicion that Mary was trying to detach him fromtheir cause to her own. They expressly warned Darnleynot to trust any of her promises and to keep faith withthem, for otherwise, as they said (a true prophecy) "bothyou and we will have cause to repent." Although, ofcourse, the liar pledged himself to be faithful to them,they thought it would be better to keep their sentriesposted round the Queen's rooms until she had giventhem a written promise of impunity. Just as these strangefriends of legality had wanted a charter before committingtheir crime, so now they wanted a charter of absolution.We see that these tried and trained perjurers knew theemptiness and valuelessness of the spoken word, andwould therefore only be satisfied with documentarypledges. Mary, however, was at once too proud and toocautious to fetter herself to assassins by a signature. Notone of the rascals should boast of holding her "bond" inhis hand. But precisely because she was determined notto give the conspirators their charter of impunity, shepretended to be perfectly willing to comply with theirdemand. All she wanted was to gain time until theevening! To Darnley, now thoroughly tamed, she gavethe shameful commission (seven times unworthy of aking) of holding his yesterday's comrades in check byfictitious cordiality and of hurribugging them about thesignature. She sent him as her negotiator to the rebelsand in conjunction with them he drafted a formal164

TRAITORS BETRAYEDcharter of impunity to which, then, nothing was lackingbut Mary Stuart's signature. Well, it was now too latein the evening to get that. The Queen was very tired,and had gone to sleep. He promised, however, since onelie more did not matter, to bring back the document tothem next morning early, signed and sealed. When aking has given his word, doubt would be a grievousaffront. The conspirators, therefore, to fulfil their sideof the bargain, withdrew the sentries posted outside theQueen's bedchamber. That was what she wanted. Thepath to flight was open.Hardly had her doors been freed from the watchersthan Mary rose hastily from what she had pretended tobe her sick-bed, and energetically began her preparations.Bothwell and her other friends outside the palacehad long since been notified. At midnight, saddledhorses were waiting in the shadow of the churchyardwall. All that was necessary was to lull the watchfulnessof the conspirators; and once more there was assignedto the man whom Mary most despised and whom shenow made use of for the last time—to Darnley—theshameful role of numbing their senses with wine andjollity. Such contemptible business was all he was fit forin her estimation. Obedient as a marionette, he askedthose who so recently had been his confederates to amighty carouse. Wine flowed freely, and the boon companionsdrank to the coming reconciliation. When, atlength, with swimming heads and unsteady feet, themembers of the company betook themselves to bed,Darnley, wishing to avoid giving rise to suspicion, carefullyrefrained from betaking himself to the Queen'sroom. But his cronies were no longer troubled aboutsuch a trifle. The Queen had promised to pardon them,the King had guaranteed their impunity. Rizzio hadbeen buried, and Moray was back in Edinburgh. Whatfurther need was there to think or to spy? They returned165

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSto their couches, and slept soundly after so arduous aday of drunkenness and triumph.At midnight, when silence had long prevailed in thepassages of the sleeping palace, a gate was gently opened.Through the servants' quarters and down the stairs,Mary groped her way into the cellarage, thence, by asubterranean passage, she went to the churchyard—agloomy route which led through burial vaults lighted byflickering torches, which fitfully revealed cofHns and thebones of the dead in the crypts of the damp and chillywalls. Upstairs, now, to reach, at length the open air!She had only to cross the churchyard and join her friends,waiting outside with horses. Of a sudden Darnley •stumbled over a new-made grave; the Queen joinedhim, and recognized with horror that it was the place ofDavid Rizzio's interment, a little mound over hisgrievously slashed corpse. •^This was a last proof of the hammer of destiny, toharden yet further the injured woman's already hardenedheart. She knew what tasks awaited her; to reinstate herroyal honour by this fling, and to bring an heir to thethrone safely into the world; then to take vengeanceupon all who had combined to humiliate her. Vengeanceon him, too, who now had become her helper!Without hesitating a moment, the wife who was welladvanced in pregnancy flung herself astride on horsebackbehind Arthur Erskine, the faithful captain of thebodyguard. She felt safer with her arms round him thanshe would have if she had been clasping her husband,who indeed, without waiting for her, wishing to makesure of his own skin, had already galloped off. Thusclinging to Erskine, the Queen rnade all possible speedfor one-and-twenty miles to Seton House, where LordSeton was waiting her with an escort of two hundred166

TRAITORS BETRAYEDriders. Now, mounted on her own horse and with herattendant train, by daylight the fugitive had oncemore become the sovereign. Before noon she reachedDunbar. Here, instead of seeking repose, she instantlyset to work. It was not enough to call herself queen, forat such times she must fight for the reality of queenship.She wrote dispatches to be sent in every direction, sumrnoningher loyal nobles to form an army against therebels who held Holyrood. Her life was saved; nowshe had to save her crown and her honour. Always thiswoman when she became inspired with a thirst forvengeance, or when any of her other passions werestrongly aroused, knew how to conquer weakness, toget the better of fatigue. It was in these great anddecisive moments that she became equal to her task.A great shock to the conspirators to discover at Holyroodon the morrow that the royal apartnaents wereempty; that the Queen had fled; that Darnley, theirconfederate and protector, had also disappeared! In thefirst moments, however, they did not realize the fullextent of the disaster. Relying upon Darnley's royalword, they continued to believe in the general amnestywhich, in conjunction with him, they had drafted overnight.This, they thought, would hold good, and theycould hardly believe that such treachery as his waspossible. They refused to accept the notion that theyhad been humbugged. As envoy, they sent Lord Sempillto Dunbar, with a humble supplication to Her Majestyto sign their securities, and perform the other articles,according to her promise. For three days, however, theenvoy was kept waiting outside the gates, as EmperorHenry IV was kept waiting by Gregory in the snow atGanossa. She would not treat with rebels—all the lessnow that Bothwell had assembled his troops. The con-167

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSspirators became greatly alarmed, and their ranks beganto thin. One after another they made their way to Dunbarto sue for pardon; but the ringleaders, such asRuthven, who had been the'first to attack Rizzio, andAndrew Ker of Faudonside, who had threatened theQueen with a pistol, knew that for them there could beno pardon. With speed they fled from the country; andeven John Knox, who had been too swift and too loudin his approval of the murder, thought it expedient todisappear for a time.Moved by her desire for revenge, Mary would nowhave liked to make a signal example of these rebelliousnobles, and to show them and the world that no onecould conspire against her with impunity. But the situationwas already dangerous enough to teach them cautionfor the future. Moray, though he had certainly beenprivy to the conspiracy (as was shown by his promptarrival in Edinburgh after Rizzio's murder), had takenno active part in the affair. Mary perceived that shewould be more prudent not to proceed to extremitiesagainst this half-brother of hers, who was a man of wideinfluence. "Not venturing to have so many at once ather hand," as she herself said, "she thought better toclose her eyes against some of the offenders." Besides, ifshe proposed to take extreme measures, was not Darnley,her own husband, the first to be dealt with, since he hadled the assassins into her bedroom, and had held herhands while the murder was going on? But since herreputation had previously been injured by the Chastelardscandal, it suited Mary's book better not to showforth Darnley in the light of the suspicious and jealousavenger of his honour. "Throw plenty of mud, for someof it will stick." It would be safer for both Mary andDarnley if the tale of recent events were bruited abroadin such a fashion as to show that Darnley, although hehad been one of the prime instigators of the disastrous168

TRAITORS BETRAYEDaffair, had had neither part nor lot in the murder. Thiswas hard to prove in the case of a man who had signedtwo bonds guaranteeing in advance impunity to theassassins; and whose own dirk, which he had lent to oneof them, Ijad been found sticking in Rizzio's body.Puppets, however, have neither will nor honour, soDarnley danced obediently when Mary pulled thestrings. Ceremoniously, staking his "honour" and his"word as a prince," he had the most impudent falsehoodof the century announced in Edinburgh market-place,declaring he had had nothing to do with the late"treasonable conspiracy"; that it was calumny to accusehim of anything of the kind; that he had neither "counselled,commanded, consented, or assisted"—thougheveryone in the capital and throughout the countryknew that he had not only done all these things, buthad "approved" the murder with seal and charter. If itwas possible for a man to act more contemptibly thanDarnley during the assassination of his sometime friend,he did so now by having this perjury publicly proclaimed.On all those upon whom she had sworn to beavenged, perhaps Mary Stuart took no more terriblevengeance than that which she took on Darnley whenshe forced the man who had long since made himselfcontemptible, to intensify his disgrace by this outrageouslie.A white pall of falsehood had now been spread overthe murder. The strangly reconciled royal pair made a-triumphant entry into Edinburgh. All seemed quietthere. To maintain the semblance of justice withoutstirring deep waters, a few poor devils were hanged,underlings, clansmen, and private soldiers, who, at thecommand of their lords, had guarded the doors while thesewere engaged in the cruel work upstairs; but those ofblue blood went unpunished. Rizzio's remains weresumptuously interred in the royal cemetery—as if this169

THE qUEEN OF SCOTScould have been any consolation to the dead man! Hisbrother Joseph suceeded David as secretary. Withthese events, the tragical episode seemed to have beenforgotten and forgiven. But the dead are not silent; theirblood crieth from the ground against those who haveconsigned them to it. Persons who have been violentlyput to rest, leave the guilty neither rest nor quiet.After the dangers and excitement she had traversed,there was one thing essential to Mary if she was to consolidatea position which had been gravely shaken; shemust successfully give birth to a healthy heir to thethrone. Only as mother of a prospective king would shebe safe, with a safety impossible to her as merely thewife of such a king as Darnley, a king of shreds andpatches. Uneasily she awaited the difficult hours thatlay before her. Gloom and depression overshadowed herduring the last weeks before the -birth. Was it thatRizzio's death had left a scar in her mind? Was it thatwith her fortified energies she had an enhanced forebodingof imminent disaster? However that may be,she now made a will in which she bequeathed to Darnleya ring he had given her, "a diamond ring enamelledred." Nor were Joseph Rizzio, Bothwell, or the fourMaries forgotten. For the first time in her life thiswoman, in general so care-free and bold, seemed to bedreading death or peril. Quitting Holyrood, which, asthe tragical night of David Rizzio's murder had shown,was not a safe place of residence, she removed to the.less comfortable but impregnable Edinburgh Castle toawait there the birth of the heir to the Scottish andEnglish crowns.On the morning of June 19, 1566, a royal salute fromthe guns of the fortress at length announced to the townthe joyful news that a son had-been born, a new Stuart170

TRAITORS BETRAYEDking of Scotland. There would be an end to the dangerous"regiment of women." The mother's mostardent wish and the strong desire of the country for amale heir to the House of Stuart had been fulfilled. Buthardly had the child been born, than Mary felt it incumbentupon her to safeguard his honour. No doubtrumour had brought to her news of the poisonous suspicionwhich the conspirators had instilled into Darnley'sears, to the effect that she had had adulterous relationswith Rizzio. She knew how glad would be her"dear sister" Elizabeth in London to find any pretext forcontesting the paternity of her son, and perhaps subsequently,on that ground, refusing to him the right ofsuccession to the English crown. She therefore determinedforthwith and most publicly to nail this lie to thecounter. Having summoned Darnley to the lying-inchamber, she presented to him the child before thoseassembled, saying: "My Lord, God has given you andme a son whose paternity is of none but you."Darnley was embarrassed, for no one had done morethan he, with his jealous loquacity, to spread dishonouringreports about Mary. How was he to respond to hiswife's solemn announcement? To hide his shame, hebent over the infant and kissed it.Mary, fondly taking the baby boy in her arms anduncovering his face, presented him once more to herhusband with the words: "My Lord, here I protest toGod, and as I shall answer to Him at the great day ofjudgment, this is your son, and no other man's son; andI am desirous that all here, both ladies and others, bearwitness, for he is so much your son that I fear it may beworse for him hereafter."This was a great and solemn asseveration, and at thesame time a strange dread to utter. Even in so weightyan hour, the mortified wife could not conceal her mistrustof Darnley. She could not forget how much he had dis-171

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSappointed and wounded her. After these remarkablewords, the Queen turned to Sir William Standen, saying:"This is the Prince who I hope shall first unite the twokingdoms of England and Scotland."With some surprise, Sir William answered: "Why,Madam, shall he succeed before Your Majesty and hisfather?""Alas!" said Mary with a sigh, "his father has brokento me."Darnley, thus openly shamed, tried to console his wife,and inquired uneasily: "Sweet Madam, is this yourpromise that you made to forgive and forget all?""I have forgiven all," rejoined Mary, "but can neverforget."After a pause she went on: "What if Faudonside'spistol had shot?—What would have become of him andme both? Or what estate would you have been in? Godonly knows, but we may suspect.""Madam," answered Darnley, "these things are allpast.""Then," said Mary, "let them go."That was the end of the conversation, in which wordslike lightning-flashes showed that a storm was brewing.Mary had said no more than half the truth when shedeclared that she had forgiven though she could notforget. She was not the woman to forgive such an outrage.There would never again be peace in this casde orin this country until blood had atoned for blood, andviolence had been requited with violence.Hardly had the mother been delivered of her babe,between nine and ten in the morning, than Sir JamesMelville, always the Queen's most faithful emissary, setforth to convey the tidings to London. He received instructions,as he relates in his memoirs: "to post with172

TRAITORS BETRAYEDdiligence the 19th day of June, in the year 1566, betweenten and eleven before noon. It struck twelve when Itook my horse, and I was at Berwick the same iiight.v"This was riding post-haste indeed, to cover two days'journey in half a day, for the customary first halt on theway to London was at Dunbar. He continued with thesame express speed. "The fourth day after, I was inLondon." There he was informed that the Queen wasdancing at Greenwich, so, calling for a fresh horse, hehastened thither in order to convey his great news thesame night.Elizabeth, convalescent from a long and dangerousillness, was rejoicing in the recovery of her strength.Lively, animated, raddled and powdered, she looked, inher bell-shaped skirt, like a great tulip amid the circleof her admiring courtiers. Secretary Cecil, with Melvilleat his heels, made his way through the throng of dancersto the Queen, and whispered in her ear that MaryStuart had given birth to a son.In general, as sovereign, Elizabeth was a skilful diplomatist,self-controlled, practised in the art of hiding hertrue feelings. But this news struck at the woman in her,pierced her like a dagger. For a moment, she lost themastery over her rebellious nerves. So overwhelmingwas her consternation, that her angry eyes and hertight-pressed lips forgot to dissemble. Her facegrew rigid; she flushed beneath her make-up; herhands closed convulsively. She ordered the musiciansto cease playing; the dance was suddenly stopped; theQueen hurried out of the ball-room. Having reachedher bed-chamber, where she was surrounded by heragitated ladies-in-waiting, she broke down completely,bursting into tears, collapsing on to a chair, and sobbingout: "The Queen of Scotland is mother of a fair son,whereas I am but a barren stock."At no moment during the seventy years of her life was173

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSthe profound tragedy of her unhappy career more'plainly revealed; never did she disclose more openly howstricken to the heart she was by her incapacity for love'sfruition. The bitter awareness of her infertility foundvent in the exclamation that burst from the depths of herheart. One feels that she would have given all the kingdomsof this world for a simple, clear and natural happiness—forthe happiness of being wholly woman, whollybeloved, wife and mother. Despite Elizabeth's jealousy,she could have forgiven Mary everything but this. Toher, who could be neither wife nor mother, it was unpardonablethat Mary should be both.Next morning, however, she was once more wholly theQueen, the politician, the diplomatist. Splendidly didshe apply the art in which she was practised, the art ofconcealing discontent and sorrow behind cold andmajestic phrases. When Sir James returned to Greenwhichby boat next morning to pay his respects to HerMajesty, he was received by a woman who "had got toshow a glad countenance, was clad in her best apparel,and said 'that the joyful news of the Queen her sister'sdelivery of a fair son, which I had sent unto her by Mr.Cecil, had delivered her out of a heavy sickness whichhad holden her fifteen days.' Therefore she welcomedme with a merry volt, and thanked me for the diligenceI had used." She begged the Scottish envoy to conveyher most heartfelt congratulations to Mary, renewed herpledge to become the child's godmother, and, if possible,to be present at the baptism. For the very reason thatElizabeth grudged Mary her good fortune, she wished—always the play-actress eager ,to convince the audienceof her own greatness—to appear before the world as amagnanimous patroness.Everything seemed to have been admirably settled,and the omens pointed to peace and friendship. On theone hand, it would be impossible for Ehzabeth to contest174

TRAITORS BETRAYEDthis male heir's twofold claim to the English succession;and, on the other hand, the certainty that her little sonwould, in due time, become King of England, wouldbridle Mary Stuart's impatience for the English crown.Once more the clouds which had from the first hoveredover Mary Stuart's destiny seemed to have been happilydispelled; but, as had happened again and again, whenlife was prepared to give her peace and happiness, herown inmost nature drove her to fashion unrest for herself.A destiny does not acquire meaning and form fromthe chance happenings of the outer world; "character isdestiny"; it is invariably the innate and primal laws ofbeing that shape a life to high issues or destroy it.175

Qkapter 10A TERRIBLEENTANGLEMENTJULY TO CHRISTMAS 15661N the tragedy of Mary Stuart, the birth of her sonsignified the close of the first act. Only with the openingof the second act did the situation assume a thoroughlydramatic character, awake with internal dissensionsand uncertainties. New characters appeared on thestage; the play was performed in a changed theatre; thetragedy became personal instead of political. HithertoMary had had to contend, somewhat ineffectively,against the rebels in her own coun1:ry and against herenemies across the border; but now new powers hadaccrued to her, which made her mightier than all theScottish lords put together. Simultaneously, however,her own senses rose in revolt, so that the woman in herwarred against the Queen. For the first time, the fervourof her blood gained precedence over the will-to-power.With the levity of passion, the awakened woman destroyedwhat the monarch had sedulously preserved. Inan ecstasy of love scarcely paralleled in history, forgettingevery other claim, she flung herself recklessly into anabyss, dragging down with her honour, law, morals,crown, and country—displaying characteristics whichno one had suspected in her, whether in the diligentand worthy princess or in the woman who (Queen-Dowager of France as well as Queen of Scotland and theIsles) seemed to be indifferently awaiting the course ofevents. During the year that ensued, Mary increased176

A TERRIBLEENTANGLEMENTthe dramatic intensity of her life a thousandfold, and inthis one year she shipwrecked her existence.At the opening of the second act, Darnley appearedonce more on the scene, likewise modified, and in tragicallineaments. He was alone, uncompanloned, for no onecould have confidence in the man who had so shamelesslybetrayed his confederates. The ambitious youth was embittered,and full of impotent wrath. Having done theutmost a man can do for a woman, he expected, in return,on Mary's part, gratitude, self-sacrifice, and perhapseven love. Instead, his wife, who no longer neededhim, showed him nothing but repulsion. She was inexorable.The alarmed conspirators, wishing to take Vengeanceon Darnley, had, on the sly, confided to Mary thebond he had signed with them before Rizzio's murder.This proof of her husband's complicity did not disclose toMary anything she had not already guessed; but it confirmedher in her disdain for Darnley's treachery andcowardice, so that she found it hard to forgive herselfbecause her fancy had been ensnared by a man who wasas worthless as he was handsome. Her detestation ofhim was, in part, a detestation of her own mistake.Darnley had become as loathsome to her as some horridand venomous creature which one cannot beat- totouch, and, least of all, admit to the familiarities of conjugalintimacy. She could not endure breathing thesame air as her husband; his proximity was as oppressiveto her as a nightmare. One thought monopolized herby day and by night; how to get rid of him, how to freeherself from a position which had become intolerable.This notion of freeing herself from Darnley was not,to begin with, overshadowed by the wish-dream of a cieedof violence. Mary Stuart's trouble was not peculiar toherself. Like thousands of other women, after a brief177

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSperiod of marriage she felt profoundly disappointed inher husband; so gravely disappointed that the man wasnow a stranger to her, with the result that the thought ofhis embraces and even of less intimate association withhim had become insufferable. In such instances, divorceseems the obvious and logical way out of the difficulty,and Mary discussed the possibility with Moray andLethington. They pointed out to her that a divorce sosoon after the birth of her child would be likely to leadto widespread gossip about her relations with Rizzio,so that ill-natured tongues innumerable would proclaimher child a bastard. It would, they declared,damage James's title to the throne if his name werespotted by scandal, and therefore the Queen, at all coststo herself, must refrain from trying to divorce her husband.Well, there was another possibility. While continuingto refuse herself to Darnley as a wife in the full sense ofthe term. Mary might keep up appearances. The paircould live together in the eyes of the world as king andqueen, leaving one another free as far as their privatelives were concerned. Evidence that Mary consideredthis way out is furnished by the report of a conversationwith Darnley in which she suggested his taking a mistress—ifpossible the Countess of Moray, wife of Darnley'schief enemy. Although the proposal was madejestingly, it was seriously intended by Mary to show herhusband that she would not be mortified by his seekingsexual gratification elsewhere. Unfortunately for herscheme, however, Darnley was in thrall, and wished forno other woman in the world than his proud andstrong wife. He was crazy to possess her once more,perpetually demanding the restoration of his conjugalrights; and the more ardently he wooed her, the morescornfully and decisively did she repel his advances.Her coldness, her aversion, served only to increase his178

A TERRIBLEENTANGLEMENTardour. Again and again he returned to the charge,giving her ever fresh reason to deplore the haste withwhich in the eyes of law and religion she had concededa husband's privileges to this graceless young man,whom she now abhorred, and to whom she was irrevocablybound.In this cruel situation, Mary Stuart did what humanbeings are so apt to do in such circumstances. Sheevaded decision, refrained from open combat, and tookrefuge in flight. Almost all her biographers havedeclared it incomprehensible that she did not take alonger rest after giving birth to her child,- but in fourweeks forsook both castle and baby in order to take aboat to Alloa, one of the estates of the Earl of Mar. Inreality, this flight is perfectly explicable. By the timeher little James was four weeks old, an end had come tothe period during which, without some special pretext,she could refuse to give herself to her unloved husband.Darnley would, without any breach of ordinary conventions,become more and more importunate. Dayafter day, night after night, he would clamour to possessher, and she could not endure to accept as a lover thehusband whom she had ceased to love. What could bemore natural, then, than that she should run away fromhim, to place between herself and him a distance whichwould free her mind while freeing her body? Throughthe ensuing weeks and months, during the whole of thesummer and far on into autumn, she saved herself byrenewed flight, wandering from castle to castle, fromhunting-lodge to hunting-lodge. If, in these circumstances,she did her best to amuse herself, if, in Alloaand elsewhere, Mary Stuart, who was not yet four-andtwentyyears of age, thoroughly enjoyed herself whenevershe could, reviving the masked balls and other enter-179

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTStainments of Chastelard's and Rizzio's days; if, unteachableas ever, she killed time merrily—this only showswith what rash nonchalance she could thrust the memoryof unhappy experiences away from her. Once Darnleymade a timid attempt to assert his position. He rodeover to Alloa, but was brusquely received, and was notinvited to stay the night. Mary had done with him. Herfeeling for him had burned up and died down again likea straw fire. He had been no more than one of thoseblunders which one wants to forget as soon as possible •that was what Henry Darnley had become for Mary whoin the folly of her love, had made him lord of Scotlandand lord of her own body.Darnley no longer counted with her. Even in Morayher half-brother, although she had been outwardlyreconciled to him, her confidence had not been fullyrestored; and never again would she wholly trustLethington. Yet she needed some one in whom shecould put her trust. Alike as queen and as woman,throughout her life Mary Stuart was consciously andunconsciously in search of the steadfast antipode to herown restless and inconstant nature.Since Rizzio's death, Bothwell had become the onlyman on whom she could rely. Strong though he was,life had ruthlessly driven him hither and thither. Inyouth, during the rebellion of the Scottish lords, hewas exiled because he refused to make common causewith them. Though he was a Protestant, he was loyal toMary of Guise, defending her against the Lords of theCongregation, and continuing to resist them when thecause of the Catholic Stuarts seemed lost. In the end,however, he had had to flee the country. In France hewas appointed commanding officer of the Scottish lifeguards,and, holding this honourable position at court,180

A TERRIBLEENTANGLEMENTsome of his asperities were smoothed off without anydiminution in the elemental energy of his nature. Bothwellwas too much the warrior to be content with asinecure. As soon as James Stuart, his deadly enemy,turned against the Queen, he sailed across the sea tobattle for the daughter of the House of Stuart. Whenever,thereafter, Mary needed a stout helper against her intriguingsubjects, Bothwell was ready to man the breach.On the night of Rizzio's murder, he jumped out of afirst-storey window in order to fetch help; his boldnessand circuinspection rendered the Queen's flight possible;his military renown was so alarming to the conspiratorsthat they hastened to capitulate. No one in Scotlandhad hitherto done Mary such excellent service as thissturdy soldier, who was now about thirty years of age.Bothwell produces the impression of a figure hewn outof black marble. Like GoUeoni, the great condottiere,his Italian prototype of a century before, he lookedcoolly and challengingly athwart the times in which helived, a man through and through, with all the harshnessand brutality of overpowering virility. His familyname of Hepburn had for centuries been honoured inScotland, but one might rather have thought him ofViking or Norman stock, sprung from those untamablesea-reivers. Though a man of fair education, who couldspeak excellent French and had a taste for collectingbooks, he was full of the swashbuckling spirit of a bornrebel against peaceful civic order, retaining the adventurousnessof all outlaws, of such men as Byron's Corsair.Tall, broad-shouldered, of exceptional bodily strengh,equally skilled with the broadsword and the rapier, andable to steer a ship through a storm at sea, his confidencein his own powers gave him great moral (or rather unmoral)valour. He was afraid of nothing, and the lawof the stronger was the only law by which he wouldabide j the law that would enable him to seize ruthlesslyi8i

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSand to defend what he had grasped. But this predatorinessof his had nothing in common with the pettybrawls and calculations of the other Scottish lords, whomhe, ever heedless, despised, because they alwaysassembled in large numbers for their raids, and carriedthese out under cover of darkness. He would leaguehimself with no man, taking his course arrogantly aridchallengingly in defiance of laws and customs, strikingdown with the mailed fist any who got in his way. Unconcernedlyhe did whatever he liked, permissible or unpermissible,in broad daylight. Yet for all his violence,for all his disregard of established standards (such asthere were, in those days), and though he was so completelyamoral, Bothwell had the merit of straightforwardness.Amid his peers, whose characters were sountrustworthy and whose actions were so ambiguous, hestands out like a beast of prey, fierce and yet royal, apanther or a lion amid slinking wolves and hyenas.Not a moral, not a humane figurCj'-but at least a man,such as man was in the prime.For this reason, other men hated and feared him, buthis frank brutality gave him extraordinary power over^women. We hardly know whether this ravager ofwomen was handsome. Such portraits of him as havecome down to us are unsatisfactory. But from these, andfrom such descriptions as we have of him we cannot butthink of him as he might have been painted by FranzHals, and of that Dutch artist's Laughing Cavalier—ayoung and bold warrior, with his hat jauntily cockedover one eye, and ready to stare every one out of countenance.Some describe James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell,as ill-favoured. But a man need not be handsomein order to win the favour of women. The aura of virilitythat radiates from these forcible personalities, theirarrogant savagery, their ruthless violence, their atmosphereof war and victory, radiate sensual seduction.18a

A TERRIBLEENTANGLEMENTWomen are apt to fall passionately in love with a manwhom they simultaneously fear and admire, one whoarouses in them a sense of horror and peril which exertsa mysterious lure. When such a being is not merely ultramasculine,a bull-like and savage male animal, but isalso, as was Bothwell, courtly and cultured, shrewd andadroit, he becomes irresistible. Wherever he went, thisadventurer, seemingly without effort, made conquestsamong the fair sex. At the French court, his amourswere notorious; in Mary Stuart's own circle, he enjoyedthe favour of one of her ladies-in-waiting; in Denmark,for his sake, a woman left her husband and her property.Yet, these triumphs notwithstanding, Bothwell was farfrom being a typical seducer, a Don Juan, a womanhunter,for he did not seriously hunt women. Since hewas a man of fighting temperament, his victories in thisfield came too easily and with too little risk. Bothwelltook possession of women as his Viking ancestors haddone; they were but casual booty, which came his wayin the intervals between carousing and gaming, betweenriding and fighting; and he accepted the conquestswillingly enough as earnest of his powers in the manliestof all manly sports. He took women, but he did notgive himself to them. He took them because forcibleseizure was the most natural expression of his will-topower.At first Mary Stuart paid no heed to the man inBothwell, who was for her but one among her moretrusty vassals. Just as little did Bothwell see in the Queena young and desirable woman. With his usual bluntnessand unrestraint he had openly commented on her appearancein an unseemly manner, saying; "She and Elizabethrolled together would not suffice to make oneproper woman." They showed no erotic leaning towardsone another. At one time, indeed, the Queen had beeninclined to forbid Bothwell's return to Scotland, having183 G*

THE QUEEN OF SCOTSheard that he had spread impudent rurnours about herwhile in France; but as soon as she had had experienceof his valour and skill as a soldier, she was glad to rely onhim. One mark of favour followed another. He wasappointed Lieutenant of the Border, and, as previouslysaid, was confirmed in his hereditary position as LordAdmiral of Scotland. He also became commander-inchiefof the forces in the event of war or rebellion. Theescheated lands of the outlawed rebels were transferredto him; and, as a special mark of friendliness, the Queenherself chose a wife for him, Lady Jane Gordon, sisterof Mary's faithful counsellor, the Earl of Huntly. Therecould not be a better proof of the fact that at this juncturethere was no love affair between Bothwell andQueen Mary.A man of so commanding a nature as Bothwell isgiven power or wrests it to himself Soon Bothwell hadbecome the Queen's chief adviser, the real ruler of theScottish realm. The English ambassador reportedwith annoyance: "His influence with the Queen excelsthat of all others." This time Mary had made a soundchoice. At length she had discovered a viceroy orchief minister who was too proud to accept bribes fromElizabeth or to traffic with the other Scottish lords tosecure trifling advantages. Having this doughty soldieras her loyal servant, she could maintain the upper handin her own country. Ere long the nobles realized howmuch the Queen's authority had been strengthenedthrough Bothwell's military dictatorship. They complained:"His arrogance is so great that he is hatedmore than David ever was." They would have beenglad to clear him out of the way. But Bothwell was not aRizzio to allow himself to be butchered unresistingly nora Darnley who could simply be thrust aside. Familiarwith the amiable little ways of the Scottish lords, he wasalways attended by a strong body-guard, and at a nod184

A TERRIBLEENTANGLEMENTfrom him the borderers would have risen to supporthim. Little did he care whether court intriguers lovedhim or hated him. Enough that they should fear himand that, so long as his sword was ready to his hand,the unruly rabble of his peers would not dare to lay ahand on the Queen. At Mary's express desire, his bitterestenemy, Moray, had been reconciled to him;therewith the ring of power had been closed, the weightsduly balanced. Mary Stuart, now that her position wassafeguarded by Bothwell, was contented with a purelyrepresentative position; Moray continued to preside overthe conduct of home affairs, while Lethington had diplomaticmatters in charge. For the first time since Maryhad been Queen, order and peace were re-establishedin Scotland. One man worthy of the name had workedthis miracle.The more power became concentrated in Bothwell'shard hands, the less remained to wield for him to whomauthority rightly accrued, to the King. By degrees thislittle shrank to a mere name, to nothing at all. No morethan a year had passed, but how distant seemed thedays of the young Queen's passion for Darnley, when hehad been acclaimed king, and, in glittering harness, hadridden forth to do battle against the rebels. Now, afterthe birth of his son, when he had done his duty by hiswife and the kingdom, the unhappy man found himselfthrust into the background and despised. He mightspeak, but no one listened; he might go whithersoever hepleased, but unaccompanied. He was not summoned tothe council nor invited to festivities, and he grew desperatelylonely. In all directions he sensed scorn andhatred. A stranger, a foe, he stood among foes in hisown country, in his own house.This complete eclipse of Darnley, this sudden change185

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSfrom hot to cold, may have been expHcable on theground of the spiritual change that had occurred in hiswife; but her open manifestation of contempt for himwas a political move, and a political folly. Reasonshould have taught Mary to leave this vain and ambitiousyoung man at least a semblance of power andprestige, and not to expose him as cruelly as she did tothe ruthless disdain of the Scottish lords. Such mortificationsmay make even a weakling strong and hard.Darnley, who had hitherto been a mere fool, grew bydegrees malicious and dangerous. He could no longerrestrain his wrath. When, attended by armed guards(he had learned caution since Rizzio's murder), herode forth on prolonged hunting expeditions, his guestswould hear him utter open threats against Moray andmany other Scottish lords. On his own initiative hewrote diplomatic dispatches to foreign potentatescensuring his wife as "unsteadfast in the faith," anddescribing himself to Philip II as thd true defender ofCatholicism. He considered that, as great-grandson ofHenry VII, he was entitled to his share of royal power.However soft and yielding his youthful spirit, from timeto time a determination to assert his honour flickered inthe depths. In truth we are not entitled to term thisunhappy man dishonourable, but only to speak of himas a weakling; and it seems probable that Darnley wasled into despicable paths by perverted ambition, by anirritable self-assertive impulse. At length, the bowhaving been stretched too tightly, he formed a desperateresolve. At the end of September he rode from Holyroodto Glasgow, having openly proclaimed his intentionto leave Scotland for foreign parts. He would nolonger fritter away his time in the northern realm. Hehad been refused the powers which rightly belonged tohim as king. So be it; he cared nothing for the emptytitle. He was given no task worth performing in thei86

A TERRIBLEENTANGLEMENTScottish kingdom, so he would go elsewhere. At hiscommand a ship was made ready on the Clyde, andpreparations were pushed forward for departure.What did Darnley mean by this singular threat? Hadsome warning already reached his ears? Had he beengiven a hint that a plot against him was in the wind; andhad he decided, feeling incapable of defending himselfagainst his enemies, to flee to some region where hfewould be beyond the reach of poison or dirk? Was hetortured by suspicion or hunted by dread? Or was hemerely showing off, making a diplomatic gesture ofdefiance, in order to alarm Mary Stuart? Betweenthese various possibilities it is impossible to decide, aUthe more seeing that mixed feelings are usually at workin every resolve, so that each of the hypotheses may bepartially true. For here, when we have to penetratethe shadowy depths of the heart, historical lights growdim. Only with caution, groping one's way, guided bysuppositions, can one venture farther into the labyrinth.This much is certain, that Mary was greatly alarmedby the tidings of Darnley's intended departure. A deadlyblow would be inflicted on her reputation if the father ofher child were to quit the kingdom before the formalcelebration of little James's baptism. It would be particularlydangerous now, so soon after the Rizzioscandal. The stupid young fellow might work her infinitemischief by giving his tongue free rein at the courtof Catherine de' Medici or at that of Elizabeth Tudor.What a triumph it would be for her two rivals, how itwould hold her up to the mockery of the world, if thehusband she had so passionately loved were thus todivorce himself from her bed and board! Hastily shesummoned her Council of State; and, to get ahead ofDarnley, she penned a diplomatic dispatch to Catherinede' Medici declaring herself innocent of any wrongdoingagainst the fugitive. "II veult estre tout et comi87

THE Q_UEEN OF SCOTSmander partout, a la fin il se mest en ung chemin pourestre rien."But the alarm was premature, for Darnley did not setsail. He could find strength for a bold gesture, but notfor a bold deed. On December 29, 1566, the very dayon which the lords of the council sent their warningmissive to Paris, Darnley turned up in Edinburgh, atten o'clock in the evening, in front of the palace ofHolyrood. Yet he refused to enter the building so longas any of the lords of the council remained there; anotherinstance of childish and scarcely explicable behaviour.Did he dread sharing the fate of Rizzio? Was it onlyfrom caution that he refused to enter the palace so longas he knew his enemies to be there? Or did the humiliatedman wish to be publicly begged by Mary to comehome again? Had he perhaps only paid this visit inorder to discover what effect his threat of flight fromScotland had produced? Here we are faced by a mystery,as almost always where Darnley's behaviour andfate are concerned.Mary speedily made up her mind. She had learnedthe use of a special technique in her dealings with herhusband when he wanted to play the lord and masteror the rebel. She knew that, just as on the night afterRizzio's murder, she must quickly undermine his willpowerbefore, in his youthful stubbornness, he couldwork mischief. Away, then, with moral considerations,with prudery or other niceties of feeling! Once more sheplayed the yielding wife. To mould him to her will, shedid not shun extreme measures. Dismissing the lordsof the council, she went out to Darnley, who wasdefiantly waiting outside the door, and led him, notonly into the palace, but, presumably, into Circe'sIsland, into her own bedroom. And lo! the charmworked, as it had done before, and would always workwith this youth who was a slave to his passion for her.188

A TERRIBLEENTANGLEMENTNext morning he had been tamed, and was once morein leading-strings.But, just as on the night after Rizzio's murder, theman thus befooled had to pay the price for his folly.Darnley, again believing himself lord and master, unexpectedlyencountered in the reception-room theFrench ambassador and the lords of the council. Mary,like her "dear sister" Elizabeth in the matter of theMoray comedy, had provided timely v^ritnesses. Intheir presence she loudly and urgently inquired ofDarnley, "for God's sake," to tell her why he wanted toleave Scotland, and whether anything in her conduct hadgiven occasion for such a step. This was an unpleasantsurprise for Darnley, who had a moment before believedhimself lover and beloved, and now had to appear as anaccused person before the lords of the council and theFrench ambassador, du Croc. He stood there moodily,this tall young fellow, with his pale, beardless boyishcountenance. Had he been a true man, had he had anygrit in him, now would have been the moment to showit. Masterfully he should have stated his grievances,presenting himself before his subjects and his wife, notas accused, but as accuser and king. But one who has a"heart of wax" does not venture to resist. Like a criminalcaught in the act, like a schoolboy who is being scoldedand is afraid of bursting into tears, Darnley stood in thegreat hall, biting his lips, and maintaining an impenetrablesilence. He gave no answer. He made no accusation,but neither did he excuse himself. The lords of thecouncil, who found this silence of his embarrassing,addressed him courteously, asking him how he couldforsake "so beautiful a queen and so noble a realm."In vain! Darnley would not answer. This defiant andmenacing silence grew more and more oppressive to theassembly. Obviously the unfortunate wight was findingit hard to restrain himself, and it would have been a189

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSterrible scene for Mary Stuart if he had found energy topersist in his accusatory silence. But now Darnley grewweak. When du Croc and the lords plied him persistently"avec beaucoup de propos," he.at length reluctantlyacknowledged that nothing in his wife's conducthad given him occasion for the intended journey.This admission, which put Darnley in the wrong, wasall that Mary wished. Her reputation had been establishedbefore the French ^ ambassador. She couldsmile once more, and, with a final wave of her hand,show herself thoroughly satisfied with Darnley's declaration("qu'elle se contentait"). .But Darnley was by no means satisfied. His gorge rosebecause he had again been outwitted by this Delilah,because he had been lured from the bulwarks of hissilence. Immeasurable must have been the torment ofthe man thus befooled when, with a magnanimousgesture, the great actress "forgave" her husband theking before the foreign envoys, whereas he probablyhad ground for playing the accuser. Too late did herecover his poise. Abruptly he broke off the conversation.Without a courtly farewell to the lords of thecouncil, without embracing his wife, stiff as a herald whohad issued a declaration of war, he quitted the room.His only words as he departed were: "Madam, you arenot likely to see me again for a long time." But the lordsand Mary Stuart smiled, and drew a deep breath ofrelief, when the "proud fool" who had come full ofbrazen impudence, went away with hanging head. Histhreats no longer alarmed anybody. Let him stay awayas long as he liked, and the farther away the better, bothfor him and for others.Nevertheless, the man whom no one seemed to wantwas needed after all. He was urgently summoned home.190

A TERRIBLEENTANGLEMENTAfter a long postponement, the formal baptism of theyoung prince had been fixed for December 17, 1566, atStirling Castle. Imposing preparations had been made.Elizabeth, who was to be godmother, would not indeedbe present. Throughout life she carefully avoided meetingMary Stuart. The EngUsh queen, however, overcomingher notorious avarice, had sent a costly giftby the Earl of Bedford, a massive silver font, richly gilt.The French, Spam'sh, and Savoyard ambassadors werealso on hand; nor would any member of the Scottishnobility who was of note absent himself from the ceremony.On so representative an occasion, it would havebeen most unseemly to exclude Henry Darnley who,however unimportant personally, was the father of thechild and the nominal king of the country. But Darnley,who knew that this was the last occasion on which he•would be needed, was not so readily to be snared. Hehad had his fill of public life; had been informed that theEnglish ambassador was instructed to refuse him thetitle of "Your Majesty"; while the French ambassador,on whom he called, sent down an amazingly presumptuousmessage announcing his intention of walking outof one door of the room when Darnley entered the other.At length the worm turned, although even now, whenhis vanity had been pricked, he could manage nothingbetter than a childishly malicious gesture. Still, thegesture was effective. Darnley came to StirUng Castle,but kept in retirement there. He made his demonstrationby confining himself to his apartments, neitherparticipating at the baptism of his son nor attendingdances and masques. Instead of Darnley, Bothwell, thenew favourite, splendidly attired, received the guests.From time to time murmurs of impatience were heardamong them, and Mary had to outdo herself in friendlinessand cheerfulness lest the skeleton in the householdshould become too obvious; lest the lord and master, the191

THE 2UEEN OF SCOTSfather and the husband, in his barred chamber on theupper storey, should succeed in completely spoiling thefestal mood of his wife and her friends. Once more hehad shown—by keeping out of the way—that he wasstill on hand, thus reminding people effectively of hisexistence.But the rod was already in pickle to punish him for hisboylike mutiny. A few days later, at Christmas Eve, itstruck. The unexpected happened. Mary Stuart, whohad been so unconciliatory, decided, upon Moray's andBothwell's advice, to pardon the murderers of Rizzio.Therewith Darnley's worst enemies, the conspiratorswhom he had betrayed, were recalled to Scotland. Darnley,however stupid he might be, could not fail to recognisethat this put him in mortal danger. If the cliqueof Moray, Lethington, Bothwell, and Morton should bere-formed, the hunt would be up, so far as he was concerned,a hunt of which he would be the quarry. Theremust be some hidden significance when his wife came toterms with the assassins, at a price which he by no meanswanted to pay.Like a beast with bloodhounds on its trail, Darnley fledfrom Stirling Castle to join his father in Glasgow. Notten months had yet elapsed since Rizzio's death andburial, but already his murderers were fraternising, andsomething sinister was imminent. The dead do not like tosleep alone; they always demand companions in thetomb, and always they send fear and horror as heralds.In truth, something dark and heavy and ominousseemed to have been brooding over Holyrood for thelast. few weeks; something chill and depressing as anorth-east wind. That evening of the baptism at Stirling,when hundreds of candles were lighted to show thestrangers the splendours of the Scottish court, and to192

A TERRIBLEENTANGLEMENTwelcome the friends who had come from afar, MaryStuart, who for brief spaces of time could master her will,had summoned all her energies. Her eyes flashed withsimulated happiness; she charmed the guests by hermerriment and cordiality; but hardly had the lightsbeen extinguished than her feigned cheerfulness came toan end. Now, at Holyrood, it was cruelly quiet, and yetmore cruelly quiet in the depths of her soul. The Queenwas seized by an inscrutable melancholy foreign to hertemperament. Her face was shadowed, and she seemedprofoundly disturbed. She no longer danced, no longercalled for music. She complained of pains in the side,stayed day after day in bed, and shunned all scenes ofmerriment. She would not stay long at Holyrood, butmoved on week after week, for brief sojourns at onecastle after another, driven by a terrible unrest. Somedisturbing element was at work in her, and she seemedto be listening with tense curiosity to the working of thatwhich was painfully burrowing within her. Somethingnew, something hostile, had gained ascendancy overher usually sunny temperament. Once the Frenchambassador found her lying on her bed, sobbing bitterly.The experienced old man was not deceived when,ashamed at being detected in tears, she began to talk ofthe pain in her left side which had made her weep. Herecognized at once that her troubles were spiritual andnot bodily; the troubles, not of a queen, but of an unhappywoman. "The Queen is not well," reported duCroc to Paris, "but I think the real cause of her illness isa sorrow which she cannot forget. Again and again shesays: 'Oh that I could die!' "Moray, Lethington, and the Scottish lords in generaldid not fail to see that their sovereign was in a gloomymood. Still, being better trained in the art of war thanin the science of psychology, they could see no cause forher trouble but the obvious one of her connubial dis-193

THE Q,U.EEN OF SCOTSappointment. "She finds it intolerable," wrote Lethington,"that he should be her husband, and that there isno way in which she could be rid of him." Du Croc,however, old and wise, had spoken truth when he referredto "a sorrow which she cannot forget." An inwardand invisible wound of the spirit was torturing her.The sorrow she could not forget was sorrow that she hadforgotten-herself and her honour. Sorrow that she haddisobeyed law and custom^, that a passion had suddenlyseized her like a beast of prey, and was now gnawingat her entrails, an immeasurable, unquenchable passion,beginning as a crime and from which she could only befreed by further and yet further crimes. Now, in heralarm, filled with shame and self-torment, she was strivingto hide this terrible secret from herself and the world,though she could not fail to know that to hide it wasimpossible. Already she was subject to a stronger willthan her conscious will; she no longer belonged to herself,but only to her passion.194

Cnapter 11THE TRAGEDY OF APASSION1566-1567MARY STUART'S passion for Bothwell was one ofthe most notable in history. Those devouring loves ofclassical antiquity, which have become proverbial,hardly excel it in frantic intensity. It shot skywardlike a sheet of flame into ecstasy; its ardours spewedthemselves forth into crime. When mental states arethus intensified, it is foolish to scrutinize, for logic andrationality, the actions of those in whom they rage, sinceit is of the essence of uncontrollable impulses to be irrational.Passions, like illnesses, can neither be accused norexcused; they can only be described with ever renewedastonishment not untinged with horror in face of theelemental forces which disclose themselves from time totime in nature and not infrequently in human beings,violent discharges of energy which are not amenable tothe measuring rod of customary human laws. Theirexpression does not belong to the realm of the consciousbut to the subconscious impulses of man, and is quiteoutside the circle of his personal responsibility. It isjust as senseless to sit in judgment upon an individualwho happens, momentarily, to be a prey to an overwhelmingpassion, as it would be to call a thunderstormto account or wish to hold an assize upon the eruption ofa volcano. So Mary Stuart, a product of her epoch bothin the mental and the moral sphere, must not be condemnedput of hand, seeing that her actions were tem-195

THE QUEEN OF SCOTSporarily governed by something irrespective of her normaland hitherto moderate and sedate outlook on, life.With eyes closed and ears stopped, drawn as it were by amagnet, she moved along her path towards disaster andcrime. No advice could influence her, no call couldawaken her. Not until the fires had burned themselvesout would she come to her senses, consumed and distraught.In one who has passed through such a furnace,life itself has been incinerated.So massive a feeling cannot take hold of a person twicein the same lifetime. Just as an accumulated store of gunpowdergoes up in one huge explosion, so in such anoverwhelming passion are the reserves of emotion completelyexpended. Mary Stuart's voluptuousness glowedat white heat for no more than half a year. Nevertheless,during this brief space, her heart knew such an ecstasythat all subsequent feelings appeared to her as wraithsin a mist. Certain writers, such as Rimbaud, and certainmusicians such as Mascagni, spend»themselves in asingle work, and when this work is finished they lie exhaustedand impotent for evermore: thus is it, too, withcertain women who give their all in one access of passion,instead of spreading their love, as do more moderatenatures, economically over decade after decade. Suchwomen's love and passion is a concentrated extract, theirardours are compressed into one convulsive episode,they drink the cup to the dregs, and for them thereexists no salvation and no way back. Mary Stuart wasa supreme example of this kind of love, of love that isspendthrift because it despises contumely and death, oflove that is truly heroic, that allows passion to have itsfullest range, and to exhaust the emotions even shouldthis lead to self-destruction.At a first glance one may well be puzzled to account196

THE TRAGEDY OF A PASSIONfor SO speedy a transformation of her affection for Darnleyinto her elemental passion for Bothwell. Yet such adevelopment was both logical and natural; for, likeevery other art, love needs to be learned, tested, andpractised. Never, or rarely—as with the arts—is thefirst essay in love a perfect success; and Shakespeare,the profoundest psychologist of all time, knew this well,showing that calf-love is merely a tentative and initialstage to the real passion which may flame up on a day tocome. One of the most admirable touches in his immortaltragedy of love, is that he did not, as any lesser artist orexpert judge of the human soul might have done, allowRomeo's infatuation for Juliet to begin without a prelude,but that he made it arise as a sequel to an earlieramour for some Rosalind or the other. A fugitive andstray feeling is swept away by genuine passion, there is aprentice introduction, half unwitting, to the consciousartistry of the artist in love. Shakespeare shows in thissplendid instance that there can be no full knowledgewithout foreboding, no wholehearted pleasure withouta preliminary sojourn in the ante-rooms of pleasure, andthat if feeling is to soar into the infinite, it must first havebeen kindled in a narrow and finite realm. Only becauseRomeo is already in a state of inward tension,because his strong and passionate spirit craves for fullerexperience of passion, does his will-to-love, havingdirected itself haphazard and blindly towards Rosalindthe first-comer, then, becoming sighted and fully awareof the difference, direct itself anew and swiftly towardsa supreme object, exchanging Rosalind for Juliet."When half-gods go, the gods arrive."In like manner Mary Stuart, awakening from the longtwilight of her youth, was carried away by a blindaffection for Darnley, precisely because he was comelyand young and made his entry into her orbit at a propitioushour. But the lad's dull breath was too weak to197

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSfan her inward glow. He could not lift her into the paradiseof ecstasy, where the glow would have burned itselfout. It continued, therefore, like a smoored fire, to exciteher senses and nevertheless disappoint them—a distressingcondition in which the fires struck inwardbecause their outward expression had been stifled. Assoon, however, as he came who had the power to relieveher from this torment, he who gave air and fuel to thisstifled glow, the repressed flames rushed up to heavenand down to hell. Just as Romeo's feeling for Rosalindvanished without a trace when his genuine passion forJuliet was aroused, so did Mary Stuart completely forgether sensual inclination for Darnley in the unresting andvoluptuous feeling for Bothwell. It is characteristic ofthe form and meaning of ultimate passion that it shouldbe nourished and intensified by earlier passions. Invariably,whatever a human being has previously experienced,first finds its full expression in the sterlingqualities of true love.We possess two sources of information relating to thestory of Mary's love for Bothwell. In the first place thereare the State papers and other contemporary officialdocuments; and there are the chronicles and the annalsof the time. As second source, we have a number ofletters and poems ascribed to her. The recorded factsand the self-revelation of the letters and verses dovetailinto one another with the utmost precision. But thegenuineness of the letters and poems is denied by thosechampions of Mary Stuart who, in the name of their ownmoral codes, believe that they must defend her against apassion she herself was quite capable of coping with.There is, of course, some ground for doubt as to theauthenticity of letters and sonnets which have onlycome down to us in transcribed, translated, and perhaps198

THE TRAGEDY OF A PASSIONmutilated texts. The holograph versions, which wouldhave been irrefutable evidence, were destroyed—weknow when and by whom. James, her son, had butshortly succeeded to power when, as a measure of protectionfor his mother's honour as a woman, he consignedthe original papers to the flames. Ever since thenan embittered fight has been raging as to the authenticityof these "Casket Letters," a party strife wherein religiousmotives and national' have served as foundation forcharge and countercharge in the assize upon MaryStuart. For one who is above party it is all the moreessential that he should go warily in his judgments. Inany case his conclusions can never be anything more thanpersonal ones, since the original letters have long sincebeen destroyed and, in the last resort therefore, he hasto depend upon his individual deductions.Nevertheless, if a true portrait of Mary is to be drawn,if her real character is to be depicted, an author is boundto decide one way or the other; he must make up hismind to accept these letters and poems as authentic orto declare them spurious. He cannot be allowed merelyto shrug his shoulders and mutter "maybe they'regenuine—and, then again, maybe they're not." Forthese writings, if authentic, are a pivot whereon thewhole subsequent psychical development of the womanturned. If we cast the die in favour of their genuineness,then it behoves us to prove and make perfectly clear thereasons for such an assumption.As will be subsequently related in fuller detail, theletters and sonnets in question were found in a silvercasket after Bothwell's flight from Carberry Hill. Itgoes without saying that such missives as Mary actuallywrote to her lover must have been incautious and compromising.She had always been venturesome, not tosay foolhardy, and had never learned to hide her feelingswhen she spoke or wrote. Next, the huge delight of her199

THE (^UEEN OF SCOTSadversaries at the discovery of the originals, shows thatthese must have contained revelations injurious orshameful to the queen.However, those who describe the Casket Letters asforgeries do not go so far as to deny that some suchgenuine letters may have existed. Their contention isthat, during the brief interval between the discovery ofthe casket and the official examination of the letterssome of the Scottish lords had substituted malicious falsificationsfor the originals, so that the documents laidbefore parliament were by no manner of means thosediscovered in the casket. Who was responsible for thisaccusation? Nobody in particular. The Scottish Lordsof Council in Edinburgh, immediately the booty hadbeen handed over to Morton, assembled on the selfsameday and solemnly swore to the authenticity of the documentsas soon as the casket was opened. Parliament, too,at a later date (and among the members were personalfriends of the Queen), examined the script carefully anduttered no word of doubt. Subsequently, at the YorkConference, they were again overhauled; and for afourth time, at Hampton Court, they underwent close,scrutiny. Each time they were compared with Mary'swriting, and each time they were declared authentic andcoming from Mary's own hand. More convincing still isthat Elizabeth had the texts printed and circulatedamong the courts of Europe. Now, although we havemany reasons to distrust the actions of the Queen ofEngland, we can hardly credit the assumption that shewould compromise her high position by going to thelength of forgery, since at any moment discovery waspossible. Elizabeth was an able politician, and as suchtoo careful to let herself be caught in a pretty snare. Theonly person who, for repute's sake, should have protestedvehemently if the letters and sonnets were forgeries,namely Mary Stuart herself, was content to utter200

THE TRAGEDY OF A PASSIONa feeble and quite unconvincing protest. Furthermore,she tried by underground means, to hinder their productionat the Conference of York. One cannot but ask"why?" if, indeed, the documents were forgeries, seeingthat this would haye greatly strengthened her position.An additional reason for believing that Mary suspectedthat her enemies had got hold of the originals is that shecommanded her representatives to repudiate wholesaleher authorship of everything alleged to be written by herhand, and this before any inquiry had been held. Ofcourse, this is not of very great evidential value, for,in poUtical matters Mary was never a stickler wheretruth was concerned. Moreover she held that her"parole de prince" was of far greater worth than anyamount of proof against her. Even when Buchananpublished the letters in his Detection, and they wereeagerly read at all the courts, Mary raised no cry ofprotest; she did not then declare them to be "false andfeigned, forged and invented" to her "dishonour andslander." She was content to call her sometime Latinmaster a "defamatory atheist." When writing to thePope or to the King of France and her other relatives,she never mentioned a word about forgery of her lettersand love-verses. Nor was any suggestion of forgerymade by the French court, to which transcripts of theletters were sent immediately after their disclosure.Among her contemporaries none cast the shadow of adoubt upon their authenticity, or raised a voice to confuteso spiteful an accusation, or mooted the suggestionthat fraudulent papers had been slipped into a batch oforiginal ones. It was not till a century or so after Jameshad rid the world of his mother's love letters and poemsthat the hypothesis as to their falsification was first propounded,and this in a well-meant endeavour to describea spirited and impulsive woman as an innocent creatureincapable of doing wrong or committing a crime if such201

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSa course seemed to her necessary. These kindly soulswish us to believe that Mary was the hapless victim of abase conspiracy.Unquestionably, the attitude of Mary's contemporariesseems to prove the authenticity of both lettersand love-ballads; and in my opinion, when consideredfrom the stylistic and psychological standpoint, theevidence is no less forcible. Take the verses alone. Whowas there in the Scotland of that day capable of producinga whole cycle of poems in the French tongue andat such short notice? Did any living person in sixteenthcenturyScotland possess such a genius for poesy as notonly to reproduce the literary style of the queen but toshow so intimate an acquaintance with her hiddenthoughts and feelings? No doubt there have been manyremarkable forgeries of historical documents and importantletters; and in the realm of literature we areacquainted with a number of apocryphal poems andother imaginative compositions: but whether we thinkhere of Macpherson's Ossian or of the Koniginhof Manuscript,and the like, we are concerned with skilful reproductionsof the style of long-past epochs. There is,however, no record of any attempt to palm off a wholesonnet-cycle upon a living author. How absurd to supposethat rough Scottish lairds, barons, and earls, towhom poesy was the most alien thing on earth, wouldbe able, animated by the desire of compromising theirqueen, to produce eleven sonnets in French. Again, Iask, who was this nameless genius, this magician, whopossessed the gift of composing in a foreign tongue asequence of love verses so precisely in the style of theQueen that the work could be attributed to her pen withoutraising a doubt in the minds of any of her relatives,her friends, or her contemporaries? Not one of herchampions has so far answered this question. Not evenRonsard, not even du Bellay, could have done as much.202

THE TRAGEDY OF A PASSIONHow ridiculous, then, to ascribe such a talent to theMortons, the Argylls, the Hamiltons, or the Gordons,who could wield the sword well enough, but did notknow French sufficiently to carry on a dinner-table talk.No unprejudiced person can doubt the genuineness ofthe poems; and since the style of these sonnets is in perfectharmony with that of the letters, we have to admitthat the latter are authentic and were written by Maryherself. Maybe in the course of the translation into Latinand into Scots certain details were doctored, or tamperedwith, and it is obvious that a few interpolations weremade. A final consideration, a psychological one, hasto be adduced in favour of the letters being Mary's. If asupposititious "gang of criminals" inspired by hatredand malice had set to work forging letters, would notthe forgers have produced documents showing beyondquestion that the alleged author was a contemptiblecreature, a lascivious and spiteful wanton? They wouldhave been wasting their pains if, in their desire to injureMary, they had produced as forgeries the extant GasketLetters, which exculpate her rather than incriminateher, exhibiting as they do Mary's horror at her foreknowledgeof and complicity in the intended crimeagainst young Darnley. For what these documentsshow forth is not the voluptuousness of passion but itsbitter distress. The letters are Uke the muffled cries ofone who is being burned alive.Although, as already said, the letters are in Mary'sstyle, they are rough-hewn. They manifest a wild andconfused flow of thought and feeling; were evidentlywritten in haste and disorder by a hand which (onefeels) was tremulous with excitement. All these thingsare fully accordant with what we know from othersources regarding the queen's overstrained m.ental conditionduring the days from which they date; and theycorrespond to the writer's actions at the same period.203

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSNone but the most skilful of psychologists could haveimagined so perfect a spiritual background for theknown facts. Moray, Lethington, and Buchanan, whoby turns and haphazard, have been mentioned as theforger by professional champions of Mary's honour,were neither Shakespeares nor Balzacs nor Dostoeffskys,but little souls, able to finesse and to cheat when trickerywould serve their turn, but utterly incompetent, puttingpen to paper, to produce word-pictures so admirablyrepresenting Mary Stuart for all time. First let thegenius who forged these letters be produced! We, whoknow that Mary in times of stress always poured herheart out in verse, can have no doubt that she composedboth letters and poems. This granted, we can have nobetter testimony than her own as to her state of mind atthis juncture.passion. Three or four lines disclose that Mary's lovefor Bothwell did not arise by a slow process of crystallization,but seized an unsuspecting woman as its prey. Theimmediate occasion was, apparently, a crude act ofbodily possession, an onslaught by Bothwell, which washalf or wholly rape. In her sonnet, the darkness is dispelledby a lightning flash:Pour ]uy aussi, ie gete mainte larme.Premier quand il se fit dc ce corps possesseur,Du quel alors il n'auoyt pas le coeur.[Full many a tear have I wept because of him.The first was shed when he took possession of my body,Whose heart did not then belong to him.]Instantly we are made to feel the situation. For weeksMary had been thrown into close companionship withBothwell. As chief adviser, and as commander of herarmed forces, he had accompanied her from castle to204

THE TRAGEDY OF A PASSIONcastle. Since she had so recently chosen a beautifuland high-born lady as his wife, and had graced thewedding with her royal presence, it never occurred toher to think of him as a suitor; she was a queen, he, avassal; her position was inviolable. She could, therefore,travel about her realm with him unconcerned. Butsome of Mary's most charming qualities, her lack ofcaution and her sense of security, had always been adanger to her. One can picture the scene. Presumablyshe had allowed him some trifling liberties, showingtowards him that coquetry which twice already hadled to disaster, in the cases of Chastelard and of Rizzio.He was alone with her for hours; she talked with himmore confidentially than was customary; jested andsported with him. But Bothwell was no Chastelard, noromantic lute-player and languishing troubadour;Bothwell was not a Rizzio, an upstart with a flatteringtongue; Bothwell was a man with hot senses and hardmuscles, a creature of impulse and instinct, who wouldnot shrink from any audacity. Such a rhan does notlightly allow himself to be led on and stimulated.Abruptly he must have seized her, this woman who hadlong been in a vacillating and irritable state of mind,whose passionate nature had been aroused by her foolishfondness for Darnley—aroused but not assuaged. "II sefit ce corps possesseur"; he took her by storm or violatedher. Who, at such times, can distinguish betweenthe two? They are moments of intoxication when awoman's longing to give herself and desire to defendherself interlace. On Bothwell's side, the act of possessionwas probably just as little premeditated as it hadbeen on Mary's. The embrace was not the fulfilment ofa tender inclination which had been growing in ardourover a lengthy period of time, but an impulsive act oflust devoid of spiritual tone, a purely physical capture.The effect on Mary Stuart was overwhelming. Some-205

THE Q_UEEN OF SCOTSthing wholly new invaded her life like a thunder-clap.In taking possession of her body, Bothwell had alsoraped her soul. Both of her husbands, the fifteen-yearoldboy Francis II and the beardless Darnley, had lackedvirility; they had been weaklings. In her experience ofsexual relations, Mary had hitherto bestowed herselfmagnanimously, to confer pleasure on her partner, remainingmistress and queen even in this intimatesphere; she had never played the passive role, had neverbeen possessed by force. In this encounter with Bothwell,which left her amazed senses tingling with surprise, shecame for the first time into close contact with the primitivemale; one who trampled upon her femininity, hermodesty, her pride, her sense of security; and, therewith,he caused a voluptuous uprush from a universewithin herself hitherto unsuspected.Before she realized the danger and before she eventhought of warding it off, she had already been conquered.This taking of her body by storm gave vent to ageyser of feeling—of feeling which, in the first moment ofalarm, may have been dominated by wrath, by fiercehatred of the ruffian who had thus brutally ravaged herwomanly pride. But it is one of the profoundest mysteriesof our composite souls, as we find in external nature,that extremes meet, and especially in the realm of feeling.The skin cannot distinguish between intense heatand intense cold; frost can burn like fire. A woman maypass in one moment from hatred into love, from mortifiedpride to uttermost humility; she may desire andaffirm with all the wealth of her body that which, amoment before, she has repudiated and regarded withloathing.The upshot in the present case was that henceforward,a woman who had been tolerably reflective, was consumedby an inner fire. What had hitherto been thepillars sustaining her life (honour, dignity, repute, pride,206

THE TRAGEDY OF A PASSIONself-confidence, and reason) collapsed. Having onceplunged into deep waters, she wished for nothing betterthan to sink in them. A new and strange voluptuousnessseized upon her. Avid and intoxicated, Mary wished toenjoy so novel a sensation at the cost of self-destruction.Humbly she kissed the hand of the man who had annihilatedher womanly pride, and had taught her theecstasy of self-surrender.This passion was something immeasurably vaster thanher fondness for Darnley. With Darnley, she had playedat self-surrender; now it had become deadly earnest.With Darnley, she had merely wanted to share the crown,her sovereign authority, her life. To Bothwell she wishedto give, not this, that, or the other, but all that she hadon earth, impoverishing herself to enrich him, lustfullydebasing herself from her high estate in order to uplifthim to the skies. With an unwonted thrill Mary flungaside restraints, that she might seize and hold him whohad become for her the only man in the world. Sheknew that her friends would forsake her, that people ingeneral would revile her and look upon her with contempt.But these realities gave her another pride inplace of that which had been shattered, and she enthusiastically proclaimed the fact:Pour lui depuis iay mesprisc I'honncurCe qui nous peut seul prouoir de bonheur.Pour luy iay hasarde grandeur et conscience.Pour luy tous mes parents i'ay qviiste, et amys,Et tous aultres respects sont apart mis. . . .Pour luy tous mes amys i'estime moins que rien. . . .le veux pour ley au monde renoncer:le veux mourire pour luy faire auancer. . . .Pour luy ie veux rechercher la grandeure,Et faire tant qu'en vray connoistra,Que ie n'ay bien, heur, ni contentement,Qu'a I'obeyr et servir loyammant.Pour luy i'attendz toute bonne fortune.Pour luy ie veux guarder sant6 et vie. . . .207 H

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTS[For him since then I have despised honour,Which alone can provide us with happiness.For him I have risked dignity and conscience.For him I have forsaken all my relatives and friends.And all other considerations have been put aside. . . .For his sake I have come to regard my friends as less than nothing....For his sake I would fain renounce the world,I would gladly die that he might rise. . . .For him alone I wish to be great.And I shall so behave that he will recognizeThat I have neither wellbeing nor luck nor contentmentSave in obeying and serving him ioyaiJy.I hope for him nothing but good fortune.For his sake I wish to retain health and life,For his sake I should like to have every virtue. . . .]Unduly tensed feelings affect the mind profoundly.Storms of passion liberate unfamiliar and unique energiesin women such as Mary, who had hitherto beenreserved and indifferent. During these weeks her mentaland bodily life seemed multiplied tenfold, and sheshowed capabilities she had never shown before nor wasever to show again. She spent eighteen hours in thesaddle, and then sat up nearly all night writing letters.Though as poetess she had hitherto composed no morethan brief epigrams and casual fragments of verse, underthe stimulus of fresh inspiration she penned the sonnetcycle in which her pleasures and her pains were manifestedwith wonderful command of language. Ordinarilyincautious, at this time she concealed her sentimentsmost effectively, with the result that for months nonesuspected her intimacy with Bothwell. His lightesttouch made her senses reel, yet before the eyes of theworld she addressed him as calmly as any other subordinate; she preserved a cheerful mien while her nerveswere twitching and her mind was filled with despair. Ademoniac super-ego took possession of her, lending her astrength which far transcended her natural powers.208

THE TRAGEDY OF A PASSIONBut these achievements had to be paid for by a terriblecollapse. When this ensued, day after day she remainedin bed, utterly exhausted; or else she wandered for hoursfrom room to room in a state of partial stupefactionsobbing and groaning, exclaiming "je voudrais etremorte," clamouring for a knife with which to stab herself.Thus her vitality would wane as strangely as itcame to her rescue again.Nothing can show more plainly than does the famousJedburgh episode how much her body had been exhaustedby the frenzy of passion. On October 7, 1566,in an affray with a border brigand, Bothwell was dangerouslywounded. The news reached Mary on her wayto the town, where she was about to hold an assize.Though her first impulse was to ride forthwith to Hermitage,five-and-twenty miles away, she restrained theimpulse, lest such behaviour should arouse remark.There can be no doubt, however, that she was profoundlydistressed by the tidings, for du Croc, the Frenchambassador (who was the most dispassionate observerin her entourage, and who could not as yet have had aninkling of her liaison with Bothwell) reported to Paris:"Ce ne luy eust este peu de perte de le perdre." Lethington,too, noticed how absent-minded she was; but, beingequally ignorant of the true state of affairs, he opined thather "thought and displeasure had their root in the King."Not until a week had elapsed and the assize was overdid the queen ride over to Hermitage Castle accompaniedby Moray and others of her lords. She spent twohours by the wounded man's bedside, and rode back toJedburgh the same afternoon. On dismounting, shefell into a faint which lasted two hours. Thereafter shewas feverish and delirious. Then her body suddenlystiffened; she neither saw nor felt anything. Her courtiersand the doctor stood round, contemplating her withalarm. Messengers were sent in all directions to fetch209

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSthe King and the bishop—the latter to administer extremeunction. For a week Mary hovered between lifeand death, since seemingly her secret wish to die hadsapped her vital forces. What shows, however, that thecollapse was mental rather than physical, that it was,indeed, a characteristic hysterical attack, is the factthat as soon as Bothwell, now regaining health andstrength, was brought to Jedburgh in a horse-litter, thequeen took a turn for the better and, a fortnight after hersuite had supposed her to be dying, she was well enoughto be in the saddle once more. Danger had threatenedher from within, and from within it had been overcome.Though restored in body, for the next few weeks theQueen was much distraught in mind. Comparativestrangers noticed that she had become "a differentperson.'' Something in her aspect and her manner underwentmodification; her usual levity and self-confidencevanished. Her demeanour was that of one sorely aflBicted.She shut herself up in her room, and through theclosed door her ladies could hear her sobbing. Butthough it was her custom to be frank and outspoken, onthis occasion she confided in no one. Her lips remainedclosed, and none guessed the secret which burdened hermind by day and by night.A terrible feature of Mary's infatuation for Bothwell,that which made it at once splendid and gruesome, wasthat from the first the Queen must have known her loveto be sinful, and disastrous to the plans she had most atheart. Her awakening from the first embrace must havebeen like that of Tristan and Iseult from the effects of thelove-potion, when they recalled that they were not livingby themselves in the infinite realm of love, but werebound to this world by numerous ties and duties. SoMary probably realised her situation. She who had210

THE TRAGEDY OF A PASSIONgiven herself to Bothwell was another man's wife; andBothwell another woman's husband. This was a twofoldadultery into which the turmoil of the senses hadled her. How long was it—two weeks, or three, or four—since she herself, Mary Queen of Scotland and the Isles,had signed and issued an edict declaring adultery andevery form of illicit lust to be capital offences? From theoutset her insane passion was, therefore, branded as acrime. Having committed a crime, she could save herselffrom punishment only by further criminal offences.If ever she and Bothwell were to be wedded, she wouldhave forcibly to rid herself of her husband, and Bothwellto divorce his wife. This love-plant could bear none butpoisoned fruit. In so desperate a plight Mary's couragerallied, though she realized that she would never againenjoy peace of mind and knew that henceforward shewas past saving. As always, her intrepid nature cameto her aid, were it no more than an endeavour to tryvain hazards and to challenge fate. She refused to drawback like a coward; she would not draw back; she would,with head erect, march forward to the abyss. Thoughshe should lose all, there would be joy in her torment,since she would lose all for her lover's sake.Entre ses mains et en son plein pouuoir,le metz mon filz, mon honneur, et ma vie,Mon pais, mes subjects, mon ame assubiectieEst tout i luy, et n'ay autre vouloirPour mon obiect que sens le disseuoirSuiure ie veux malgr6 toute I'enuieQu'issir en peult. . . .[Into his hands and into his full powerI put my son, my honour, and my life.My country, and my subjects; my subjugated heartIs his alone; and I have no other wishIn life than, without deceiving him,To follow him, despite all the troublesThat may result. . . .]211

THE qUEEN OF SCOTS"Whatever happens!" Though it be a thousand times acrime she means to follow the path which leads nowhither.Having given herself wholly, body, soul, anddestiny, to the man she loved so abjectly, the only thingthat remains to be dreaded is that she may lose him.The most obnoxious feature of her situation, the utmostextremity of her torment, remains to be told. Mad•folly notwithstanding, Mary Stuart was too shrewd notto recognize that she had once more given herself invain, that the man towards whom her whole beingturned did not really love her. Bothwell had possessedher, as he had possessed many another wench, sensually,swiftly, and brutally. He was as ready to leave her ashe had been ready to leave other women when the hotfit was over. For him, the rape of Mary Stuart had beenno more than a passing adventure. In her despairingverses she discloses her knowledge that the man who hadworshipped her body for a fleeting moment did not loveher mind.Vous m'estimes legier je le voy,Et si n'avez en moy nul asseurance,Et soub9onnes mon coeur sans apparance,Vous deffiant k trop grande tort de moy.Vous ignores I'amour que ie vous porte;Vous soubfonnex qu'autre amour me transporte,Vous estimes mes paroUes du vent,Vous depeignes de cire mon las coeurVous me penses femme sans iugement;• Et tout cela augmente mon ardeur.[I see that you esteem me inconstant,And have no faith in me,And suspect my heart without just cause,Suspecting me to my own detriment.You do not realise the love I bear you;You suspect that another love is carrying me away,212

THE TRAGEDY OF A PASSIONMy words you look upon as light as wind,You picture my tired heart as though of wax,You think me a woman lacking in judgment.And all this does but intensify my love.]Instead of turning away proudly from her unappreciativelover, instead of exercising a modicum of selfcontrol,Mary, transported as she was by passion, flungherself on her knees before the indifferent Bothwell, inthe hope of retaining him. Painful was the way in whichher previous arrogance was now replaced by selfabasement.She implored, she supplicated, she extolledher own merits, offering herself to her lover, to the manwho would not love her, after the manner of a salesmanmaking the most of his goods. So completely had shelostall sense of personal dignity that she who had once beenqueenly and self-reliant, retailed to him like a chafferingmarket-woman the sacrifices she had made for him, andwent on to emphasize her submissiveness.Car c'est le seul desir de vostre chere amye,De vous seruir et loyaument aymer,Et tous malheurs moins que riens estimer,Et vostre volunte de la mien suiure.Vous conoistres avecques obeissanceDe mon loyal deuoir n'omettant la scienceA quoy i'estudiray pour tousiours vous complaireSans aymer rien que vous, soubs la suiectionDe qui ie veux sens nuUe fictionViure et mourir. . . .[For it is your beloved's sole desire,To serve you and love you faithfully,And to count all misfortunes as less than nothing.And to place your will before mine own.You will know how obedientlyNever forgetting my dutyI shall study to please you alwaysLoving none but you, under whose guidanceI wish, without any reservesTo live and die. . . .]213

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSWith consternation we recognize the disappearanceof the self-assertive impulse in a young woman who hashitherto been afraid of no sovereign ruler in the worldand of no earthly peril, and who now debases herself byexhibiting a most shameful and spiteful jealousy. Bothwellmust have given Mary cause to believe that he wasmore attached to the wife whom she had provided forhim than he was to herself, and that he had no inclinationto desert his wife for the queen. Now, therefore (isit not horrible that a great love can make a woman sopaltry?), she proceeded to disparage Lady Bothwell inthe most ignoble and malicious way. She tried to stimulatehis erotic masculine vanity by telling him that hiswife did not show enough ardour when in his embraces.The gossip must have been passed on to her by someintimate of the Bothwell household. "Quant vousI'ayinez elle vsoit de froideur," she writes, implying thatLady Bothwell surrendered herself hesitatingly, frigidly,instead of with the warmth of true passion. In contemptibleself-praise, she tells him how much she, the adulteress,is sacrificing for Bothwell, whereas his wife reapsadvantages and pleasure from his greatness. Let himstay then with herself alone, not allowing himself to behumbugged by the letters and tears and conjurations ofthat "false" woman.Et maintenant elle commence a voireQu'elle estoit bien de mauuais iugementDe n'estimer 1'amour d'vn tel amantEt vouldroit bien mon amy desseuoir,Par les escripts tout fardes de scauoir. . . .Et toutesfois ses paroUes fardez,Ses pleurs, ses plaints remplis de fictions,Et ses hautes cris et lamentationsOnt tant guagn6 que par vous sont guardesSes lettres escriptes ausquells vous donnez foyEt si I'aymes et croyez plus que moy.214

THE TRAGEDY OF A PASSION[Now she begins to seeThat she has made a great mistakeIn not valuing the love of such a loverAnd would gladly deceive you, my beloved.By writing letters stuffed with knowledge. . . .Nevertheless, her inflated words.Her tears, her fictitious plaints.Her loud cries and lamentations,Have so won you over that you have keptHer letters, in which you believe,And thus you love her and trust her more than me.]More and more despairing do her cries jDccome. Sheis the only woman worthy of his love; he must not forsakeher for an unworthy wife. He must put away thiscreature and unite his lot with that of his queen andlover who is ready to walk beside him whatsoever maybefall, through life and into the very jaws of death. Maryimplores Bothwell to ask what proof he will of her everlastingdevotion, for she is prepared to sacrifice all—house, home, possessions, crown, honour, and child. Lethim take everything from her, so long as he keeps herwho has wholly given herself to him, body, soul, anddestiny.For the first time a lambent ray was shed upon thebackground of this tragical landscape; the scene wasflooded with light by Mary's frenzied avowals. Bothwellhad possessed her in a casual way as he had possessed somany others; and, so far as he was concerned, thatwould have sufficed. Queen Mary, however, a thrall tohim both with her soul and her senses, all fire andecstasy, wanted to bind him to her for ever. Now, forthis ambitious man, happy in his recent marriage, amere liaison had no charm. At most, Bothwell mighthave thought it advantageous to remain, for a while, onterms of intimacy with the woman in whose gift were215 H*

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSthe supreme honours and dignities of Scotland; to haveMary as concubine without disturbing his relations towardshis legal wife. This did not suffice the queen, whowas of a regal disposition; nor the woman, who cared notto share a lover, but wanted him for herself alone. Yethow could she bind him to her side, this wild and unbridledadventurer? Her promises of fidelity, herasseverations of humility, could not be particularlyalluring to Bothwell. They were more likely to borehim, for he must have heard them too-often from otherfeminine lips. Only one prize was calculated to attractso greedy and ambitious a man; the highest, which somany had coveted—the crown. However disinclinedBothwell may have been to go on playing the part oflover to a woman whom he did not love, he could notbut find it a seductive thought that this woman was aqueen, and that by her will he might become king ofScotland.Ax the first glance such a uotiotv Ttiust have seem.edpreposterous. Mary Stuart's lawful spouse, HenryDarnley, was alive, and bore the title of king. There wasno room for another bearing that title. Yet this preposterousthought was the only link that could keepMary and Bothwell together, the former yearning forlove and the latter for power. He was a strong man,craving for freedom and independence; she was completelyunder his spell; nothing could permanently bindhim to her but the crown. In her infatuation, forgettinghonour, prestige, dignity, and law, she was ready to paythe price. Even though she could bestow the crown onBothwell only through committing a crime, she wouldnot shrink from crime.Just as Macbeth could only fulfil the witches' demoniacalprophecy, could only become king, by theslaughter of a whole royal kinship, so Bothwell's path tothe throne must lead him over Darnley's corpse. Blood2i6

THK TRAGEDY OF A PASSIONmust be spilled before his blood and Mary's couldmingle.Moral scruples never troubled Bothwell. We cannotdoubt that so bold a man as he must have been readyenough to slay a king in order to wear a crown. Even ifthe written promise, said to have been found among thepapers in the casket, the letter in which Mary avers in somany words that she will marry Bothwell in defiance ofobjections that might be raised by her relatives andothers, were ultimately proved to be a forgery, yet theEarl was so sure of his ground that he needed no signedand sealed document to force the Queen to carry outany plan that might mature in his mind. Often hadshe complained to him, as to all and sundry, that thethought of her irreparable union with Darnley oppressedand mortified her; over and over again, in her loveverses (and we may well surmise in private interviewstoo), she assured Bothwell that her one and only desirewas to bind herself to him for ever; why, then, should hehesitate to risk the most foolhardy deeds when he knewhimself to be backed up by such plain-spoken assurances?He knew, likewise (though nothing was openly saidin the matter), that he could count upon the support ofthe Scottish lords, since they were unanimous in theirhatred for their tiresome and vicious young master whohad not kept faith with them but had shamelessly betrayedthem in the Rizzio and in other affairs. Nothingwould please them better than that by some means theKing could be got out of the country. Bothwell waspresent, too, at Craigmillar Castle during the famousconference, attended by the Queen, when all conceivableways of freeing Mary and Scotland from Darnley werediscussed. The highest dignitaries of the realm, Moray,217

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSLethington, Argyll, Huntly, and Bothwell, were agreedin trying to strike a bargain with their sovereign lady.If she would recall Morton, Lindsay, and Ruthven, whohad been banished on account of their complicity inRizzio's murder, they, for their part, would "find themeans that Your Majesty shall be quit of him." At thetime, they merely spoke of getting "quit of him" bylegal measures, such as a divorce. Mary herself made theriddance conditional on its not bringing any slur uponher son. Lethington hinted that she could leave waysand means to her faithful servants, and that they shouldso act as to bring no "prejudice to your son." Moray,too, who as a Protestant was even less scrupulous in suchmatters, is reported as saying that he would "lookthrough his fingers and will behold our doings, sayingnothing of the same." The proposals, however, madeMary uneasy, so that she insisted: "I will that ye donothing through which any spot may be laid upon myhonour or conscience." Behind these dark sayings therelurked a sinister meaning, which Bothwell was the lastman in the world to misconstrue. This point comes outperfectly clear: Mary Stuart, Moray, Lethington, andBothwell, the star performers of the tragedy, were determinedto rid themselves of Darnley. One problem aloneremained to be solved: how was the deed to be executed?Was it to be done by gentle means or by force?Bothwell, since he was the boldest and the most impatientmember of the Scottish aristocracy, preferredforce. He could not and would not wait, since he wasnot, like the others, moved merely by the wish to sweepthe troublesome youngster out of the path, but by thedetermination to succeed to crown and realm. Thoughthe others might be satisfied to wish, while watching theprogress of events, he had to act resolutely. There isreason to suppose that, on the quiet, at this juncture,he was already on the look-out for confederates among218

THE TRAGEDY OF A PASSIONthe Scottish lords. Once more', however, the lights ofhistory burned low, since the preparations for a crimeare naturally made in dark places. We shall neverknow how many, of the lords were implicated in thismatter, whether as confederates or acquiescent onlookers.It seems possible that Moray knew of thescheme, but refrained from active participation. Lethington,on the other hand, appears to have behaved lesscautiously. The most trustworthy information is derivedfrom Morton's dying confession. He had just returnedfrom outlawry full of hatred for Darnley, the traitor.Knowing this, Bothwell bluntly proposed that theyshould co-operate in the murder of Darnley. Morton'sexperience after the assassination of Rizzio, when hisassociates left him in the lurch, made him cautious. Heinsisted upon safeguards. Was the Queen privy to theaffair? Bothwell, eager for Morton's aid, did not hesitateto answer in the affirmative. But Morton knew thatverbal assurances were apt to be repudiated when aplot such as this had achieved its goal, so he refused tomove in the matter without the Queen's written approval.He demanded one of those famous bonds, wherewithhe could exonerate himself in case of need. Bothwellpromised that a bond should be forthcoming.Manifestly, however, the pledge was futile, for theQueen would only be able to marry him after the murderif she remained in the background and could affectsurprise when the deed was done.Once more, then, Bothwell was thrust back on hisown resources, and proved equal to the occasion. Still,the way in which Morton, Moray, and Lethington hadreceived his approaches, showed him that they were nowiseopposed to the scheme, and that he might considerhimself to have a free hand. If not by their signatures to adocument, they had at least declared their assent by asilence full of meaning and by a friendly aloofness. Now219

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSthat Mary and Bothwell and the Scottish lords were ofone mind, Darnley's fate was sealed.Everything was prepared. Bothwell made arrangementswith a few hardy caitiffs, agreeing with them asto the place and method of the murder. One thing waslacking—the victim. Darnley, however much of anincompoop, must have had an inkling of what awaitedhim. For several weeks he refused to go to Holyrood solong as the Scottish lords were there. He did not feel safeat Stirling Castle, now that Rizzio's assassins, thosemen with whom he had broken troth, had been readmittedto Scotland by Mary's act of clemency. Refusinginvitations and firmly resisting lures, he stayed in Glasgow.His father, the Earl of Lennox, was there withother trusty friends and allies. Here he had a stronghold.On the Clyde was a vessel, and in case of need he couldembark and make his escape by sea. 'Then, as if at themost dangerous hour fate wanted to protect him, duringthe early days of January, 1567, he fell ill of smallpox,this providing him with a welcome pretext for stayingweeks longer in safe harbourage at Glasgow.The King's illness interfered with the plans made byBothwell. He was waiting impatiently in Edinburgh.For some unknown reason the Earl was now in a hurry.Perhaps he was eager for the crown; perhaps he thoughtthere were too many initiates, so that the scheme wouldsoon be blown upon; anyhow he wished to bring mattersspeedily to a head. Yet how could Darnley, alreadysuspicious and now ill in bed, be attracted to the placeof slaughter? An open summons would warn him.Neither Moray nor Lethington nor a;ny one else atcourt was in the young monarch's good graces, or likelyto be able to persuade him to return. One person in theworld had power over the poor weakling, one to whom220

THE TRAGEDY OF A PASSIONhe was devoted, and who had twice succeeded, ere this,in making him subservient to her will. Mary, if shefeigned affection for the man who wanted nothing buther love, might perhaps lull his suspicions to sleep.None other could achieve this colossal deception. Sinceshe herself was no longer mistress of her will, but blindlyobeyed the orders of him to whom she had given herheart, Bothwell had merely to issue his commands, andthe incredible happened, or that happened which ourmodern feelings make incredible. On January 22nd,Mary Stuart, who for weeks had avoided any contactwith her husband, rode to Glasgow, ostensibly to visitthe young fellow, but really to entice him back to Edinburgh,where death awaited him.221

Sfiapter 12THE PATH TOMURDERJANUARY 22 TO FEBRUARY 9, 1567i HE curtain now rises on the most sinister act in thetragedy of Mary Stuart. The most sinister and the mostobscure. Yet there is no conflict of testimony as to thejourney she made to Glasgow to visit her aiUng husbandwhen the conspiracy to murder him was in full swing.It is one of the most incontestable actions of her life.Here, as so often, arises the question whether MaryQueen of Scots was really an Atrides figure, was, likeClytemnestra, able with well-feigned wifely care tomake ready the bath for her husband on his return fromTroy, while ^gisthus, her paramour, with whom shehad planned the murder of Agamemnon, was waitingin the shadow with the sharpened axe? Was she asecond Lady Macbeth, who with gentle and flatteringwords leads King Duncan to the bedroom in which Macbethis to slay him? Was she one of those fiendish criminalswhom the unruly passion of love will often produceout of women who have been devoted wives? Or wasshe a mere tool in the hands of the brutal bully Bothwell,unconsciously (in a trance, as it were) obeying an irresistiblecommand; a puppet, unaware of the preparationsthat were being made for the dreadful deed? Modernsentiment rises in revolt against the theory that she wasa deliberate criminal, that a woman who had previouslyshown herself animated with humane sentiments couldhave been party to the butchering of her husband. Re-222

THE PATH TO MURDERpeated attempts have been made, and will still be made,to put another, a kindlier interpretation upon her journeyto Glasgow. Again and again one tries to regard asuntrustworthy the utterances and documents which incriminateher. One scrutinizes the Casket Letters, theverses, the sworn testimony, in the honest hope of convincingoneself that the exculpations devised by Mary'sdefenders are satisfactory. In vain! With the best will inthe world to believe them, we find that these specialpleadings have no convincing force. The more closelywe scrutinize the exonerations, the more futile do theyseem when confronted with the iron chain of fact.How can any one imagine that loving care impelledMary to seek out her husband on his sick-bed that shemight withdraw him from a safe refuge in order to havehim better tended at home? For months the weddedcouple had lived apart. Darnley had been "in a mannerexiled from her presence . . ." though "with all humilitiehe requiryth hir favour, to be admitted to hir bedas hir husband." She bluntly refused to allow him hisconjugal rights; and there is ample evidence that suchconversations as she had of late had with Darnley, weredisfigured by hatred and contentions. The Spanish, theEnglish, and the French ambassadors write at greatlength in their reports about the estrangement as insuperable,unalterable, a thing which must be taken as amatter of course. The Scottish lords had publiclyadvocated a divorce, and yet more forcible means ofsolving the difficulty. So indifferent had the pair becometo one another that, when Darnley received tidings thatMary lay dangerously ill in Jedburgh, and that the lastsacrament had been administered, he made no immediatemove to visit her. Not even with a microscope canthe observer find any intact filaments of love in thismarriage at the stage the rupture had now reached.Tenderness was over and done with. Preposterous,223

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTStherefore, is the assumption that loving care instigatedMary's journey to Glasgow.Still, we have to consider the last argument of thosewho wish to defend the Queen through thick and thin.Perhaps her journey was designed to put an end to thebreach between herself and her husband. Perhaps shevisited him in order to become reconciled to him? Unfortunatelyeven this last straw breaks in the hands of heruncompromising defenders; or, rather, it is broken bya document in her own writing. Only one day before sheset out for Glasgow, in a missive to Archbishop Beaton,she unreflectingly (for Mary Stuart never dreamed thather letters would continue to testify against her longafter she was dead) gave vent to the most acrimoniousutterances concerning Darnley. "And for the King ourhusband, God knows always our past towards him, andhis behaviour and thankfulness to us is likewise wellknown to God and the world. Always we perceive himoccupied and busy enough to have inquisition of ourdoings which, God willing, shall aye be such as noneshall have occasion to be offended with .them, or toreport of us in any ways but honourably, howsoever he,his father, and their abettors, seek, which we know wasno good will to make us have ado, if their power wereequivalent to their mind: but God moderates theirforces well enough, and takes the means of executionfrom them; for, as we believe, they shall find none, orvery few, approvers of their counsels or devices imaginedto our displeasure." Is that the voice of reconciliation?Are those the sentiments of a loving wife who, full of distress,is hastening to her sick husband's bedside? Buthere is another incriminating circumstance. Mary undertookthe journey, not simply to visit Darnley and comehome again, but with the fixed intent of having him conveyedforthwith to Edinburgh. Surely this was excess ofzeal? Was it not contrary to the rules of medical art224

THE PATH TO MURDERand the prescriptions of reason to take a man not yetconvalescent from smallpox out of his bed in mid-winter,and to convey him on a two-days' journey in a litter? Inher "loving care" for him, she intended to carry him offin this way, as is shown by her having brought a litteralong with her, that Darnley might have no cause forobjection to the removal, and could be transferred assoon as possible to Edinburgh, where the conspiracy toget rid of him was in active progress.Still, lest we should unjustly accuse a fellow-mortal ofmurder, let us ask whether there can be found any justificationfor her defenders' contention that she was notprivy to the conspiracy. Unfortunately there is extant aletter sent by Archibald Douglas which effectually disposesof this hypothesis. Unless she had forcibly closedher eyes to what was going on, she could not fail to beaware of it. She knew that the pardoned lords weredeadly enemies of Darnley and that they had swornvengeance against him. They had shown her the bondin which Darnley pledged himself to join them in Rizzio'smurder. Furthermore, Lethington told her that m.eanswould be found, without tarnishing her honour, to freeher from the "proud fool and bloody tiranne." Theaforesaid letter shows that Archibald Douglas, the chiefagent of the conspirators, sought Mary out on herjourney to secure her plain assent to the plot for Darnley'sassassination. Even if we may suppose that she refusedsuch assent, and declined to be a party to the affair,what are we to think of a wife who keeps silent when shehas been informed that her husba:nd's murder is beingplanned? Why did she not warn Darnley? Why, aboveall, though she must now have been convinced that hisenemies intended to slay him, did she bring him backinto the region where his murder would be comparativelyeasy? In such circumstances, silence is somethingmore than mere complicity; it is the tendering of secret225

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSaid, for one who is informed of a, conspiracy and does nottry to prevent its being carried out is at least guilty offailure to intervene.No unprejudiced investigator can fail to recognizeMary's complicity in her husband's murder. However,if this complicity was a crime, it was a "crime passionnel"—one of those terrible actions for which not the individualbut his passion is responsible, at a time whenpassion has full sway.One who wishes to plead extenuating circumstances,can only do so on the ground of "diminished responsibility"through passion, and not on the ground that sheknew nothing of the matter. She was not acting boldly,joyfully, in full awareness, and under the promptingsof her own will, but at the instigation of an alien will.I do not think it can be justly said that Mary went toGlasgow in a spirit of cold calculation in order to bringback Darnley into the danger zone; for, in the decisivehour (as the Caskets Letters prove), she was filled with repulsionand horror at the thought of the role which was imposedon her. Doubtless she had beforehand talked overwith Bothwell the plan of removing Darnley to Edinburgh;but one of her letters shows with remarkable clearnesshow, as soon as she was a day's journey away from hercontroller, and thus partially freed from the hypnoticinfluence he exercised upon her, the slumbering conscienceof this magna peccatrix began to stir. We mustdraw a clear distinction between her, as one of those whoare driven into crime by mysterious forces, and thosewho are criminals through and through; for at themoment when Mary began the actual carrying out ofthe plan, when she found herself face to face with thevictim whom she was to lead to the slaughter, she wasno longer inspired by hatred or by vengeful sentiments,226

THE PATH TO MURDERand her innate humanity struggled desperately againstthe inhumanity of her commission. At the moment ofthe crime, and even when she was engaged in removingDarnley to the place of assassination, the true womanlinessof her nature surged up. But this revulsion offeeling came too late. In the Kirk o' Field affair, Marywas not only the huntress cunningly seeking her prey;she herself was also the quarry. Behind her she couldhear the crack of the huntsman's whip. She trembledat the thought of the bullying wrath of her lover Bothwellshould she fail to lead the victim to the sacrifice; andshe trembled, likewise, lest, through weakness, she shouldforfeit the Earl's love. Only on the ground that Marywas suffering from a paralysis of the will, and did not atthe bottom of her soul will her own deed, only when werecognize that she was inwardly in revolt against theactions that were forced upon her, can we at least sympatheticallyunderstand a deed which, from the outlookof abstract justice, was unpardonable.We can only understand the gruesome story of thosehours in the light of the famous letter which she wrote toBothwell from the ailing Darnley's bedside; nothing butthis missive gives the repulsive deed a reconciling glimmerof humanity. The letter, as it were, breaks down awall to give a glimpse into the dreadful hours in Glasgow.It is long past midnight. Mary Stuart is seated atthe writing-table in a strange room. A fire flickers onthe hearth, throwing shadows on the lofty walls. Thisfire does not warm either the lonely room or the woman'sfreezing soul. Again and again a shudder runs down herback. She is tired, would gladly sleep, but cannot do soowing to the way her mind is worked up. She has livedthrough too much during these last weeks, during theselast hours. Her nerves are still tingling with excitement.227

THE (JUEEN OF SCOTSHorrified at the thought of the deed about to be committed,but blindly obedient to the behests of the manwho has mastered her will, as Bothwell's slave she hasundertaken this evil journey in order to remove herhusband from safety to certain death.She had not found her task easy, so far. At the doorof the house she was stopped by a messenger from Lennox,Darnley's father. The old man had had his suspicionsaroused. Why should his son's wife, who hadsedulously avoided her husband for months, and hadobviously come to hate him, hasten in this way to hisbeside now that he had fallen sick? Old men are readyto forebode evil; and perhaps Lennox called to mindthat whenever Mary Stuart, since Rizzio's murder, hadshown any kindliness towards her husband, it had beenin pursuit of personal advantage. However, she managedto satisfy the emissary, and was admitted to Darnley'sbedroom. Like Lennox, the young man was mistrustful,remembering how often she had played tricks on him.The first thing he w'anted to know was, why she hadbrought a litter along. In face of such questions, itneeded all her presence of mind lest, by a stammer, by ablush, or by pallor, she should betray herself. Still,dread of Bothwell quickened her powers in the art ofdeception. With fondling hands, with consoling words,she at length put Darnley's suspicions to sleep. Thus sheundermined his will, made him her pliant tool. Already,on the first afternoon, half the work had been done.Now she was alone with him in the small hours. Thecandles flickered in ghostly fashion, and so silent wasthe room that she was afraid her thoughts would becomeaudible as the sighs of her uneasy conscience.She could not sleep; she could not rest; she felt an irresistiblelonging to confide to someone the troubles thatburdened her spirit, to pour out in words the anguish ofher soul. But Bothwell, the only man on earth to whom228

THE PATH TO MURDERshe could speak about these things, was far away. Sosecret were they that she was afraid to admit them evento herself. Still, as a relief, she began to commit herthoughts to paper, in a letter to her lover, a long, ramblingletter. She would not finish it that night, nor yet thenext day, nor yet the night following; for it was really adialogue with herself. In the act of committing a crime,the criminal was wrestling with her conscience. It wasthe expression of intense fatigue, of the uttermost confusion.Words of folly and words of profound significance,laments and idle chatter and despairing complaints,succeed one another pell-mell. We have a vision ofblack thoughts fluttering through the darkness like bats.Hatred flames up between the lines; compassion overcomesit for a moment; but the dominant note is one ofardent love for him who has mastered her will and whosehand has thrust her into this abyss. Her letter-paper hascome to an end, so she goes on writing on the back of thepages of a memorial—on, on, on, for ghe feels that horrorwill choke her unless she continues to pour out words tothe man now Hnked to her in the bonds of crime as wellas in the bonds of love.But while the pen between her trembling fingersseemed to move of its own volition over the paper, shenoticed that she lacked power to say what she wanted tosay, to bridle, to arrange her thoughts. What she inscribedon these sheets seemed to her to well up fromunknown depths of her mind, so that she excused herselffor incoherence, and begged Bothwell to read the lettertwice over. This is what makes the epistle of threethousand words so unique a human document, that it isnot written alertly and clearly, but confusedly andstumblingly. It is not Mary's conscious mind that isspeaking so much as an inner self, the voice of trance andfatigue and fever—the subconsciousness with which it isso hard to get into touch, the realm of feeling that knows229

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSno shame. Overtones and undertones, clear ideas andsuch as would never be expressed by one with full awareness,are mingled in this document written by one whohad temporarily lost the power of self-concentration.She repeats herself, contradicts herself; gives vent to aflow of jumbled thoughts in the extremity of her passion.Very few documents have been preserved that revealso admirably as this the hyperexcitability of one whois in the course of committing a crime. No Buchanan andno Lethington, no one with an ordinary though shrewdintelligence, could, for all his culture and ability, haveimagined with such magical faithfulness the hallucinatedmonologue of a profoundly troubled heart; could haveimagined the desperate situation of the woman who,while the deed is in full progress, finds no other escapefrom pricks of conscience than in writing to her lover;who writes in search of forgetfulness, of self-exculpation;who takes refuge in writing that she may dull, in thequiet of the night, the monitory beating of her ownheart. Once more we cannot but think of Lady Macbeth,wandering by night through the dark corridors of DunsinaneCastle, assailed by dreadful memories, and, in themonologue of a sleep-walker, recounting the incidents ofher crime. None but a Shakespeare or a DostoefTskycould have imagined such a scene; none but they, ortheir master. Reality.[The French original having been destroyed, thequotations from the second letter to Bothwell that followare taken from the English translation at the RecordOffice; State Papers relating to Mary Queen of Scots, Vol. II,number 65.]"I am weary, and am a sleepe, and yet I cannot for-230

THE PATH TO MURDERbeare scribbling so long as ther is any paper. . . . Excuseit, yf I write yll; you must gesse the one halfe; but I amglad to write unto you when other folkes be a sleepe,seeing that I cannot doo as they doo, according to mydesyre, that is betwene your armes my dear lyfe." Withoverwhelming impressiveness she describes how delightedDarnley has been by her unexpected coming.One can fancy oneself looking at the poor youth, his faceflushed with fever, and still disfigured by the eruption.He has been alone, languishing for a sight of his fair,young wife. Now, of a sudden, he finds her sitting by hisbedside. "He said that he did dreme, and that he was soglad to see me that he thought he shuld dye." Againand again, indeed, the old suspicions flame up in him.Her coming seems incredible, but he has been too soreat heart, and is now too glad to see her, to dwell on thepossibility of further deception, often though she hasdeceived him. It is sweet for a man who is weak and illto believe in loving assurances, so easy to persuade a vainman that he is loved. Ere long Darnley was once moreher slave, just as he had become during the night afterRizzio's murder, and he begged her forgiveness foreverything he might have done to displease her. "Iavowe that I have done amisse, . . . and so have manyother of your subjects don, and you have well pardonedthem. I am young. You will saye that you have alsopardoned me many tymes and that I returne to myfault. May not a man of my age, for want of counsell,fayle twise or thrise and mysse of promes and at the lastrepent and rebuke him selfe by his experience? Yf I mayobtayn this pardon I protest I will neuer make faulteagayne. And I ask nothing but that we may be at bedand table togiether as husband and wife; and if you willnot I will never rise from this bed. . . . God knoweththat I am punished to have made my God of you andhad no other mynd but of you."231

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSOnce more we look through this letter into theshadowy room that is so distant both in time and space.We picture Mary Stuart sitting by the sick man's bedand listening to this outburst of love and humility. Nowshe ought to rejoice, for her scheme has been successful;she has once more made the simple-minded lad soft andyielding. But she is too much ashamed of her deceit torejoice. At the climax of her success, she is overcomewith loathing as she contemplates her own deed.Gloomily, with averted eyes, with disordered senses, shesits beside her husband, so that even Darnley is at lengthstruck by something obscure, something incomprehensible,in this beloved woman. The poor dupe tries toconsole the deceiver! He wants to help her, to cheer herup, to make her happy. He implores her to stay thenight in his room, dreaming, poor fool, once more of loveand tenderness. It is heart-breaking to a reader of thisletter to note how the weakling again clung trustfully tohis wife, again felt sure of her. He could not turn awayhis eyes from her, or cease from enjoying the delight ofrenewed confidential association from which he had solong been debarred. He begged her to cut up his meatfor him. In his folly he blurted out secret after secret,revealing the names of those whom he had been employingto spy upon her. Not knowing of her passion forBothwell, he told her of his own fierce hatred of Bothwelland Lethington.Naturally enough, the more he gave himself away, theharder he made it for his wife to betray him, unsuspectingand helpless. Despite herself, she was touched by thecredulity of her victim. She found it difficult to go onplaying this despicable comedy. "You have never heardhim speake better nor more humbly; and if I had notproofe of his hart to be as waxe andif myne were not as adyamant, no stroke but comming from your hands couldmake me but to have pitie of him." We see that she no232

THE PATH TO MURDERlonger hated Darnley; that she had forgotten all the illthe poor deceitful creature had done her. At the bottomof her soul she would gladly have spared him. She shiftedthe burden of vengeance on to Bothwell's shoulders."You are the cause thereof. For, my own revenge, Iwold not do it." It is Bothwell's command, which shemust obey in defiance of her conscience. For love's sake,and for no other reason, she must do this horriblething, must turn the childlike trust of her husband toaccount. She burst out angrily: "You make me dissembleso much that I am afrayde thereof with horrour,and you make me almost to play the part of a traitor.Remember that if it weare not for obeyeng I had ratherbe dead. My heart bleedith for yt."But a thrall cannot defy orders. He can but groanwhen the lash drives him forward. Once more she insiststhat what she does is done by Bothwell's will and not herown: "Alas! and I never deceived any body; but Iremitt myself wholly to your will. And send me wordwhat I shall doo, and whatsoever happen to me, I willobey you. Think also yf you will not fynd som inventionmore secret by physick, for he is to take physick at Cragmillarand the bathes also."We see that she" would at any rate be glad to secure aneasier death for her unhappy husband, and to avoid thegross act of violence that had been planned. Had shenot become so completely subordinate to Bothwell, hadthere still remained in her a spark of moral independence,she would, even at this late hour, one feels, havesaved Darnley. But she will not venture on disobedience,being afraid that this will cost her Bothwell, whosewishes she has pledged herself to carry out; and alsoafraid (this is a brilliant flash of psychological insight,which no forger could have imagined) that Bothwellwould, in the end, despise her for having shown compassion."I shall never be willing to beguile one that233

THE QUEEN OF SCOTSputtith his trust in me. Nevertheless you may doo all,and doo not estyme me the lesse therfor, for you are thecause thereof." She flings herself, figuratively, on herknees before him in a last despairing appeal that he willreward by his love the torment that she is now sufferingfor his sake."Now if to please you, my deere lyfe, I spare neitherhonor, conscience, nor hazard, nor greatnes, take it ingood part, and not according to the interpretation ofyour false brother-in-law, to whom I pray you, give nocredit against the most faythfuU lover that ever you hador shall have. See not also her [the Countess of Bothwell]whose faynid teares you ought not more to regardethan the true travails which I endure to deserve herplace, for obteyning of which, against my own nature,I doo betray those that could lett me. God forgive me,and give you, my only frend, the good luck and prosperitiethat your humble and faythfuU lover doth wisshe vntoyou, who hopeth shortly to be an other thing vnto you,for the reward of my paynes."One who listens to the unhappy woman's torturedheart speaking out of this letter, will not term her amurderess, although throughout these days and nightsshe was serving the cause of murder. We feel, as weread, that her reluctance is really stronger than her will.We feel that her honest spirit has been besmirched bythese deceptions; perhaps during many of these hoursshe was much nearer suicide than murder. But hereinlies the disaster of such subjection as hers. One who hassurrendered his will to another's keeping can no longerchoose his own path; he can only serve and obey. Shetherefore stumbled onward, bond-maid of her passion,unwitting and yet at the same time cruelly aware, towardsthe abyss of her deed.234

THE PATH TO MURDEROn the second day, Mary Stuart made the prescribedarrangements; the more subtle, the m.ore dangerous partof the scheme had been carried through. She had allayedthe suspicions in Darnley's mind, so that the ailing,stupid youth was now "the merriest that ever you saw."Though still feeble, still disfigured by the marks of therecent smallpox, he ventured on little endearments. Hetried to kiss her, to put his arms round her, and shefound it hard to conceal her disgust and impatience.Obedient to Mary's wishes, as obedient as she was toBothwell's commands, this thrall of a thrall declaredhimself ready to return with her to Edinburgh. Trustfullyhe allowed himself to be carried out of his saferetreat and installed in the litter, his face wrapped in alinen cloth, to hide its disfigurement. Now the victimwas on the way to the slaughter-house, and Mary hadfulfilled her cruel task. The rough and bloody deed wasto be Bothwell's affair, and that harsh borderer wouldfind it a thousand times easier than Mary Stuart hadfound the preceding acts of deception.The litter advanced slowly, accompanied by a guardof riders, along the wintry road. The royal pair, seeminglyreconciled after months of severance and dissension,were returning to Edinburgh. Edinburgh? Yes,but where in Edinburgh? To Holyrood Palace, onemight suppose, the royal residence, a comfortable abode.No. Bothwell, the all-powerful, had made other arrangements.The King should not return to his own home atHolyrood, for there might still be danger of his spreadingthe infection. Why not, then, send him to Stirling, orto Edinburgh Castle, an impregnable fortress, or househim as guest in some other princely dwelling, or perhapsin the episcopal palace? No, and yet again no! Strangelyenough there was chosen for his residence a modest andisolated building that no one would have dreamed of;not a princely habitation at all, but a house "in a solitar235

THE Q.UEEN OF SCOTSplace at the outmost part of ye town, separat from allcompanie—ane maist rewynous hous quhair no manhad dwelt seven zearis of befoir"—a house hard - towatch and to protect. One cannot but ask who hadchosen for the King this suspiciously remote house inKirk o' Field, to which the approach, was by an alleybearing the ominous name of Thieves' Row. Bothwellhad chosen it, Bothwell, who was now "all in all."Again and again one comes across the same red threadin the labyrinth. Again and again, in letters, documents,and utterances, the trace of blood leads us back to thissinister figure.A small habitation, unworthy of a king, it lay amonguntilled fields, the nearest adjoining residence beingthat of one of Bothwell's henchmen. It contained nomore than an ante-room and four rooms. On the groundfloora bedroom was made ready for the Queen, whonow expressed a strong desire to care tenderly for thehusband she had of late neglected. One of the rooms onthe upper stprey was set in order for the King, and theother of the two first-floor rooms was allotted to histhree serving-men. Certainly the place was richly furnishedfor the occasion, carpets and tapestries beingbrought from Holyrood, and one of the fine beds whichMary of Guise had imported from France. Anotherof these beds was supplied for the Queen to sleep in onthe ground-floor.Now Mary could not do enough to display her affectionfor Darnley. Though she slept only two nights inthe Kirk o' Field house, she came over frequently to companionhim, attended by her train—and we must notforget that for months before this she had sedulouslyavoided him. The nights she slept in the room underDarnley's were probably the 5th and 7th of February.Every one in Edinburgh was to know that the King andthe Queen were once more a loving couple, the recon-236

THE PATH TO MURDERciliation being thus advertised to the world. Thischange of mood must have produced a strange impressionupon the Scottish lords who, only a few days before, haddiscussed with the Queen the removal of Darnley by allpossible means. Now had come this over-emphasisedaffection! The ablest of the nobles, Moray, was quickto draw his conclusions. He did not doubt for a momentthat, in the sequestered house, evil was to befall theKing of Scotland, and diplomatically he made his preparations.Perhaps there was only one person in Scotland whohonestly believed in Mary's change of heart—-Darnleyhimself, the unhappy husband. His vanity was tickledby the attention she paid him; he was proud to find thatthe Scottish lords, who for so long had treated him withcontempt, now visited him in his sick-bed making lowobeisances and showing concern in their faces. In aletter to his father, dated February 7th, he assured Lennoxhow rapidly his health was improving under "theloving care of m.y love the Queen, who doth use herselflike a natural and loving wife." Within a few days, thelast traces of the dreaded and usually disfiguring diseasehad disappeared. His doctors had assured him of this,and that he would be able to remove to his palace. Thehorses had been ordered for next Monday. Another day,and he would be back in Holyrood, to share bed andboard with his wife, and, once more, to be king in hisown country and lord of his wife's heart.But before this Monday, February loth, came Sunday,February 9, 1567, and that evening high festivalwas to be held in Holyrood. Two of Queen Mary'smost faithful servants were to be married; there wasto be a banquet and a dance, at which the Queen hadpromised to appear with her ladies. But this m.anifest237

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSaffair was not to be the main event of the day. Therewas something else in the wind, as time would show.On Sunday morning, the Earl of Moray took leave ofhis sister for several days, ostensibly to visit his wife,who was lying ill at one of his castles. This departurewas a bad sign. Whenever Moray suddenly withdrewfrom the political scene, he had good reason for the step.Always his disappearance foreshadowed a rising or someother misfortune; and always on his return he was ableto produce an alibi, to show that he had had nothingto do with the affair, although he would not fail to reapany advantages that were derivablc'from it. Not a yearhad elapsed since, on the rnorning after the murder ofRizzio, he had ridden into Edinburgh as innocently ashe was now riding away from it the morning before astill more horrible crime was to be perpetrated, leavingto others the deed and the danger, while intending togarner the honour and the profit.Something else happened which^ might have givenreason for thought. We learn that Mary had alreadyissued orders for the removal of her costly bed with itsfur covering from her bedroom in Kirk o' Field back toHolyrood. This seemed natural enough, since she purposedto sleep in Holyrood that night, and not in Kirk o'Field; the next day there would be an end to the separation.Yes, that is a natural way of accounting for theorder; but subsequent events were to throw an ominouslight upon the removal of the costly bed on this particularday. At the time, however, neither in the afternoon norin the evening of Sunday were there signs that anythingwas amiss, and the Queen's behaviour was as ordinaryas possible. During the day, accompanied by her friends,she visited her husband, now almost recovered. In theevening, she sat with Bothwell, Huntly, and Argyllamong the wedding company, and made merry withthem. Still, once again, after night had fallen, though it238

THE PATH TO MURDERwas cold and wintry, she visited the forsaken house inKirk o' Field, to see Darnley. What a touching demonstration! She bade farewell to the festal party at Holyrood,merely that she might sit a little longer with herhusband and converse with him. She stayed at Kirk o'Field until eleven. Let the reader carefully note thehour. Then she returned to Holyrood on horseback,well attended, the little procession being made conspicuousby the torches that were carried to light it onits way. The doors of the palace were opened wide,for Edinburgh was to see that the Queen had returnedfrom her loving visit to her husband, was to hear theskirl of the bagpipes to which the wedding company wasdancing. Conversing in the most friendly way with alland sundry, the Queen moved among the conapany.Not till after midnight did she retire to her sleepingapartment.At two o'clock in the morning there came a thunderouscrash, a frightful explosion "as if flve-and-twenty cannonhad been fired simultaneously." Immediately thereafter,suspicious-looking figures were seen rushing away fromthe house where the King'lodged. A wave of terrorswept throughout the awakened city. The gates wereopened, and messengers hasted to Holyrood to reportthe terrible news that the lonely house in Kirk o' Fieldhad been blown up, together with the King and hisservants. Bothwell, who had been present at the weddingfestivities (wishing, like Moray, to have an alibi) whilehis henchmen were preparing for the deed, was awakenedfrom sleep, or at any rate was roused from, the bed wherehe was pretending to sleep. Hastily donning his clothes,accompanied by armed men he made his way to thescene of the crime. The corpse of Darnley and that of theservant who slept in his room were found in the garden,239 I

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSclad only in their shirts. The house had been completelydestroyed by an explosion of gunpowder. Bothwell contentedhimself with ascertaining these details, making asif he was greatly surprised at what had happened. Sincehe knew the real undercurrent of the affair better thananyone else, he did not try to elucidate the truth. Hemerely commanded that the corpses should be laid outon a bier, and after an hour returned to the palace. Therehe told the Queen, likewise, as it seemed, just arousedfrom sleep, the bare fact that her husband the King,Henry of Scotland, had been murdered by unknownmalefactors in an incomprehensible way.240

Cfiapte ter 13Q,UEM DEUS VULTPERDEREFEBRUARY TO APRIL 1567X A S SIO N can work wonders. It can awaken superhumanenergy. By its irresistible pressure, it can evoketitanic forces from a previously tranquil soul, and candrive a hitherto well regulated and law-abiding personto crime. The nature of passion is, however, such that,after intense ebullitions and wild outbreaks, a phase ofexhaustion ensues. That is what distinguishes one whobecomes a criminal through passion from a born or ahabitual criminal. The ca.sual and passionate criminalis, as a rule, only equal to the occasion as regards thecommission of the crime, but proves unable to deal withits consequences. Acting under stress of impulse, withhis mind concentrated on the deed that is to be done, hisenergies are tensed upon this one and only aim. Thereafter,as soon as the deed is done, his impetus fails, hisresolution subsides, at the very time when a cool andcalculating criminal devotes himself to a purposivestruggle against the representatives of law and morality.The energies of the habitual criminal are held in storefor dealing with what will come after the crime.Mary Stuart (and we think the better of her for this)was unfitted to cope with the situation into which herthraldom to Bothwell had brought her. Though she wasa criminal, she had only become one through irresponsiblepassion, under the promptings of another will thanher own. She had lacked the strength to forbid her241

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTShusband's murder, and after it she was in a state ofcollapse. Two possibilities were open to her. She mightbreak off all relations with Bothwell, who had donemore than, at the bottom of her soul, she had desired.Or, on the other hand, she might help to conceal thecrime, feigning sorrow in order to avert suspicion fromhim and from herself. Instead, Mary did the stupidestthing anyone in so suspicious a situation could possiblydo. She did nothing. She betrayed herself through dullinaction. Like a mechanical toy, having been woundup by the influence of a stronger nature than her own,she had, as if in a trance, automatically done whateverBothwell wanted. She had gone to Glasgow, beguiledDarnley, brought him back with her to Kirk o' Field.Now the clockwork mechanism had run down, and shemade no further move. At the very time when skilful playactingwas needed to convince the world of her own andher lover's innocence, she dropped the mask. As ifpetrified, she displayed a horrible" rigidity and nonchalancewhich could not fail to concentrate suspicionupon her.Such spiritual numbness, such passivity and indifference,at the very time when active misrepresentation,vigorous defensive, and extreme presence of mind areessential, are by no means uncommon. Inertia of thissort is a reaction from excess of tension, the outcome of arevenge taken by nature on those who have unreasonablyovertaxed their forces. On the evening after Waterloo,Napoleon's diamonic energy of will was in abeyance.He was mute and passive, could give no instructionsto any one, although, in that hour of catastrophe, itwas essential for him to take active measures to avert thecrowning disaster. Strength seemed to have run out ofhim as wine runs out of a barrel when the spigot hasbeen removed. In like manner, Oscar Wilde collapsedin the hours before his arrest. Friends had warned him;242

Q,UEM DEUS VULT PERDERE . . .there was still time for him to escape; he had funds, couldhave taken train to Dover, and crossed the Channel.But, frozen stiff, he sat in his room waiting and waiting—as if for a miracle or for annihilation. Only by suchanalogies, which could be multiplied a thousandfold bystudents of history and biography, can we explain MaryStuart's foolish passivity which concentrated suspicionupon her during the weeks following her husband'smurder. Before the murder, no one had suspected herintimacy with Bothwell, and her visist to Darnley atGlasgow might easily have been supposed to be theoutcome of a desire for reconciliation. After the crime,however, the widow became the centre of interest. It wasincumbent upon her to make her innocence plain bybrilliant misrepresentation. Yet the unhappy womanwould appear to have been seized with loathing at thethought of such hypocrisy. Instead of doing her best toavert natural suspicion, she made herself seem moreculpable than she actually was by manifesting the mostcallous indifference to her husband's death. Like awoman who has determined to drown herself, she closedher eyes while flinging herself into the water, that shemight see nothing more, feel nothing more, hoping onlyfor the oblivion of non-existence. Criminology canhardly find a more signal example of the person who hasbecome a criminal through passion, and in whom, afterthe crime, complete paralysis ensues. Quem deus vultperdere . . . Whom the gods wish to destroy, theyfirst drive crazy.What would an innocent, an honest, a loving woman,be she queen or commoner, do, when, at dead of night,tidings are brought that her husband, has been murderedby unknown miscreants? Would she not rage andstorm? Would she not scream for the immediate arrest243

THE QUEEN OF SCOTSof the guilty? If a queen, she would instantly cast intoprison those upon whom a glimmer of suspicion rested.She would appeal to her subjects to help her; she wouldask neighbouring sovereigns to seize any that attemptedto cross her frontiers. As in France, when her boy-husbandFrancis II had died, she would have gone intoseclusion, showing no inclination for social amusementsuntil weeks, months, or years had elapsed; and, aboveall, never resting until every participant in the crime hadbeen brought to justice.Such would have been the behaviour, in these circumstancesof an affectionate widow, innocent of herhusband's murder. Logically, therefore, such alsoshould have been the behaviour of a guilty widow. Fromcalculation she would have played the innocent, forwhat can safeguard a criminal better than to act as ifhe had neither part nor lot in the crime? Instead, afterDarnley's murder, Mary Stuart displayed a callousnessthat could not fail to arouse dark suspicions in the mindseven of her well-wishers. She showed neither thegloomy wrath she had shown after the assassination ofRizzio, nor yet the seemly melancholy prescribed for herby French court etiquette after the premature death ofFrancis II. She had penned a touching elegy on Francis,but she did not consecrate her poetic talent to enshriningthe memory of Darnley. Instead, during the firsthours after the crime, she calmly signed lengthy andconfused dispatches to the courts of Europe—an accountof the murder so worded as to avert suspicion from herself.In this remarkable tale, the facts were so distortedas to imply that the crime had not been primarilydirected against Darnley but against Mary. Accordingto the official version of the story, the conspirators hadintended the nocturnal explosion at Kirk o' Field todestroy both the wedded pair, and nothing but thechance that she had left the house in order to participate244

Q,UEM DEUS VULT PERDERE . . .in the wedding festival at Holyrood had saved the Qjueenfrom perishing with the King. Her hand did nottremble as she signed the following statement: "Thematter is horrible and strange, as we believe the likewas never, heard in any country. ... By whom it wasdone, or in what manner, appears not yet. We doubtnot but, according to the diligence which our Councilhas begun already to use, the certainty of all shall beknown shortly and the same discovered, which we wotGod will never suffer to lie hid; we hope to punish thesame with such rigour as shall serve as an example , . .for all ages to come."This distortion of the facts was, of course, too great tomislead public opinion. For, in reality, as all Edinburghknew, the Queen had left Kirk o' Field at 11 p.m.,attended by a great train and numerous torch-bearers,while Darnley remained in the lonely house. Every onein the capital was aware that she was not spending thenight with her husband, and therefore the murderers,hiding in the darkness, could not possibly have had anydesigns upon her life when, three hours later, they blewup the house. Besides, the explosion was nothing morethan a smoke-screen, intended to hide the fact thatDarnley was strangled or smothered (probably beforethe explosion). Thus the stupidity of the official accountserved only to intensify the conviction of Mary's complicity.Strangely enough, little hubbub was raised about thematter in Scotland; and the indifference of her subjects,as well as Mary's own, served, during these days, tointensify the animus of the foreign world. For this muchis true in the above-mentioned report, that the affairwas horrible and strange, so that the like had never beenrecorded in the blood-stained annals of history. TheKing of Scotland had been murdered in his own capital;his house had been blown up. What happened? Did245

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSthe town quiver with excitement and indignation? Didthe Scottish lords hurry from their castles to Edinburghin order to defend the Queen, who was also declaredto have been endangered by the plot? Did priests denouncethe crime from their pulpits? Did the law courtsdo their utmost to discover and condemn the criminals?Were the gates of the city closed? Were hundreds ofsuspects arrested and racked? Was the border guarded?Were the ports watched? Was the corpse of the slainking carried through the streets, attended by a mournfulprocession of the nobles of the land? Was a catafalqueerected in one of the public squares, surrounded byguards and torch-bearers, so that the deceased monarchcould lie in State? Was parliament summoned, to beinformed about the crime, and to take the necessarysteps to avenge it? Did the Scottish lords, the defendersof the throne, solemnly swear to punish the assassins?Nothing of the kind happened. Nothing happened,An incomprehensible silence followed the thunder-clap.The Queen secluded herself in her apartment, insteadof making a public utterance. The Scottish lords weresilent. Neither Moray nor Lethington raised a finger;not one of those who had bowed the knee before theirking. They neither blamed the deed nor extolled it.With dour quietude, they waited upon events. ^ It wasplain that open discussion of the king's murder would beinconvenient, since nearly all of them had been accessoriesbefore the fact. The burghers, in their turn, stayedquietly at home, not venturing to do more than muttertheir suspicions. They knew it was inexpedient for suchas they to meddle in the affairs of the great.To begin with, therefore, what happened was preciselywhat the assassins had hoped. No one seemed to lookupon the murder as anything more than a petty andundesirable incident. Perhaps there has been no otheroccasion in European history when a court, a nobility,246

qUEM DEUS VULT PERDERK . . .the population of a capital, has made so little stir aboutthe killing of a king. Even the most obvious and simplemeasures for the elucidation of the crime were conspicuouslyneglected. There was no official or legalinquiry at the site of the murder. No report was calledfor. No proclamation was issued. Everything, as ifdesignedly, was left shrouded in darkness. No postmortemexamination was made by such experts as thenexisted. Even to-day we do not know whether Darnleywas strangled, smothered, stabbed, or poisoned, beforethe house was blown up in order to hide the traces ofthe crime? This much only is certain, that his corpse,with a blackened face, was found at some distance fromthe house. By Bothwell's orders, the body was interredwith unseemly haste, lest too many people should havea chance of examining it. Let the earth quickly coverthe remains of Henry Darnley. Let the dark affair bespeedily shufHed out of sight, before it stank to heaven.The world became convinced, therefore, that personsof high standing must have been responsible for themurder. Such was the reason why Henry Darnley,King of Scotland had not been vouchsafed a burialworthy of a king. Not with pomp and circumstancewas the coffin borne through the streets of the city,followed by a mournful widow, by earls and other personsof rank and station. No royal salutes were fired norwere the bells tolled in the church towers. Secretly,and by night, the entombment in the chapel took place.Dishonourably and hastily was the body of HenryDarnley, King of Scotland, lowered into the grave, asif he himself had been a murderer, instead of the victimof hate and greed. Read one Mass over him, and thatwill suffice! His tormented soul will no longer disturbthe peace of Scotland! . . . Quem deus vult perdere . . .247

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSMary Stuart, Bothwell and the other Scottish lords,hoped that, with the nailing-on of the coffin-Kd, thewhole matter would be hushed up. Lest, however,inquisitive folk should make trouble, lest Queen Elizabethshould complain that nothing had been done tothrow light upon the crime, it was decided to show asemblance of activity. To obviate a serious inquiry,Bothwell commanded a spurious one. A bogus searchwas to be made for the "unknown assassins." True, thewhole city knew their names. Too many confederateshad been needed to surround the house, to buy largequantities of gunpowder, and to store it in sacks at thesite of the explosion, for them to pass unobserved. Thesentries at the gates knew only too well who had madetheir way back into Edinburgh that night after theexplosion. Since, however, the Queen's Council was nowpractically reduced to Bothwell and Lethington, theprime actor and the chief confederate, who needed onlyto look in the mirror to see the guilty parties, theCouncil sedulously maintained the pretence that thecrime had been the work of "unknown miscreants,"and issued a proclamation offering a reward of twothousand pounds Scots to any one who would put theauthorities upon the track of the guilty. Two thousandpounds Scots, equivalent to £165 English, was a respectablesum in those days, and a fortune for any poorcitizen of Edinburgh; but every one knew that if heshould blab he would be more likely to have a dirkbetween his ribs than the two thousand pounds in hispouch. Bothwell established a military dictatorship.His retainers, the borderers, masterfully patrolled thestreets, armed to the teeth, a plain menace to whomsoevermight think of trying to earn the reward by indiscreetrevelations.When attempts are made to repress truth by force, itseeks an outlet by cunning. What could not be said in248

qUEM DEUS VULT PERDERE . . .the open and by day could be posted on the walls duringthe night. The morning after the issue of the proclamation,placards were posted in the market-place andeven on the gates of the royal palace at Holyrood. Theseplacards denounced as the murderers Bothwell, hisaccom.plice Sir James Balfour, together with the Queen'sservants Bastien and Joseph Rizzio. Other names werementioned in other lists. Two names, however, werefound in them all, Bothwell and Balfour, Balfour andBothwell.Had she not been, as it were, under a spell, had not herreason been completely overmastered by passion, hadnot her will been in thrall, there is one thing whichMary Stuart would certainly have now decided upon,when the popular voice was speaking so plainly; shewould have broken oiT all connection with Bothwell.Had even a gleam of reasonableness persisted in herdarkened mind, she would have had nothing more to dowith him. At any rate, she would have avoided conversewith him until, by some clever scheming, she hadsecured "official" proof of his innocence. Meanwhile,under one pretext or another, she would have dismissedhim from the court. The one thing which she shouldhave avoided was allowing this man, whom current talkdeclared to have been the murderer of her husband theKing of Scotland, to continue to hold sway in the lateking's house. Above all, since public opinion unanimouslyregarded him as the chief of the assassins, sheshould have avoided making him chief of the inquirywhich ostensibly aimed at the discovery of the "unknownmiscreants."But this was not the limit of her folly. On the illicitproclamations, besides Bothwell and Balfour, her twoservants Bastien and Joseph Rizzio had been denounced249

THE QUEEN OF SCOTSas confederates. What, then, should Mary have instantlydone? Common sense demanded that she should handover this pair of under-strappers to the court for trial.Instead of doing so, committing a blunder v^rhich wastantamount to self-incrimination, she privately dismissedthe two men from her service. They were furnishedwith passports, and hastily smuggled across theborder. It was the very opposite of what she should havedone to safeguard her own honour. Even crazier washer conduct in another respect. Prudence demandedthat she could mourn more conspicuously for her assassinatedspouse than she had mourned for Francis II. Instead,after a bare week in retreat, she left Holyrood tovisit Lord Seton in his castle. She could not even bringherself to make the requisite gesture of court mourning;and, as if to flaunt her folly in the face of the world, shereceived as visitor at Seton House—^whom? James Bothwell,the man whose portrait was being hawked in thestreets of Edinburgh with the legend' "This is the King'smurderer."But Scotland is not the world. Although the conscience-strickenlords and the intimidated burgesses heldtheir peace, making as if, with the King's interment, allinterest in his murder had come to an end—at the courtsof London, Paris, and Madrid the dreadful deed was byno means regarded with the same equanimity. For Scotland,Darnley had been nothing more than a tiresomeforeigner, of whom the world could be rid in the usualway as soon as he became too much of a nuisance. Forthe courts of Europe Darnley was a crowned andanointed king, scion of an illustrious family, a man ofthe highest rank; his cause was theirs. It need hardlybe said that no one believed the official report for amoment. From the first, throughout Europe, it was250

Q,UEM DEUS VULT PERDERE . , .universally held that Bothwell had been the murdererin-chiefand that Mary had been his confidant. Eventhe Pope and the papal legate denounced the unhappywoman in the strongest terms. But what chiefly disturbedthe minds of foreign princes was not so much themurder itself. The sixteenth century was not greatlytroubled &bout moral questions, or likely to be squeamishabout a bagatelle such as a political assassination. Itwas but a couple of generations since Machiavelli hadpublished The Prince, and ever since (as indeed before!)murder for "reasons of State" had been regarded as atrifling matter, or at most a venial sin. There wasscarcely a royal house in Europe without s^ome suchskeleton in its cupboard. Henry VIII had made nobones about the execution of wives he wanted to get ridof. Philip II would not have liked to be pressed withquestions about the murder of his son Don Carlos. TheBorgias (Pope Alexanderlll and his son Cesare) havean evil reputation as poisoners. Still, there is a distinctionto be drawn. The aforesaid princes did their darkdeeds by proxy, and liked to keep their own hands"clean." What her fellow-sovereigns expected fromMary Stuart was a strenuous and'personable attempt atself-exculpation; and what they took amiss was her ostentatiousindifference. Coldly, at first, and then withrising indignation, they watched their imprudent sister,who did nothing to avert suspicion; she refrained fromhaving a few commoners hanged and quartered; shewent on amusing herself by playing pall-mall, and hadas her chosen companion the man who was unquestionablythe chief instigator of the murder. With honestanger, Mary's trusty ambassador in Paris reported thather impassivity was making a very bad impression."You yourself have become the object of calumny here,being regarded as having planned and commanded thiscrime." With a frankness which will for ever redound251

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSto the credit of this churchman, he told the Queen thatunless she atoned for the murder in the most explicit anduncompromising manner, it would be better for her tohave lost her life and her all.Here were plain words from a friend. Had there beena spark of reason left in her mind, had she still possessedany will of her own, this exhortation would ha^re stirredher. Queen Elizabeth's letters of condolence convey aneven plainer message. For, by a remarkable coincidence,no one in the world was better fitted to understand MaryStuart in this terrible crisis than the woman who,throughout life, was her harshest adversary. Elizabeth,contemplating Mary's crime, seemed to be watchingherself in a mirror; for Mary was in the same situation,exposed to universal and probably justified suspicion, asEUzabeth herself had been in the days of her most ardentpassion for Robert Dudley. Just as in Mary's case anunwanted husband, so in Elizabeth's case an inconvenientwife, had to be swept out of the path to clear theway to a fresh marriage. With or without Elizabeth'sknowledge (the mystery of that matter will never besolved), murder had been committed, when, one morning.Amy Robsart, Robert Dudley's wife, had been slainby "unknown miscreants." As, now, all glances weresuspiciously directed at Mary Stuart, so, then, they hadbeen directed at Elizabeth Tudor. Why, Mary Stuartherself, at that time still Queen of France, had mademock of the cousin who, wishing to marry her Master ofthe Horse, had connived at his making an end of hisown wife. With the same confidence as now the worldregarded Bothwell as the murderer, so then it had regardedDudley as a murderer and the Queen of Englandas his confederate. Thus the memory of her ownformer troubles made Elizabeth" the best, the most skilfuladviser of her sister in misfortune. With much shrewdnessand force of character, Elizabeth had saved her honour252

Q,UEM DEUS VULT PERDERE . . .by prompdy commanding an inquiry—fruitless, ofcourse, but nevertheless an inquiry. In the end she hadstilled gossip and scandal by renouncing her dearestwish, that of marrying the gravely compromised Leicester.This renunciation made the world believe that theQueen of England could have had no part in the murder.Elizabeth wanted a like renunciation on the part of theQueen of Scotland.Elizabeth's letter under date February 24, 1567, isfurther remarkable in its sincerity as a missive from onehuman being to another. It really has the human touch."Madam," she writes, in genuine concern, "my earshave been so much shocked by my distress, and my heartappalled, at hearing the horrible report of the abominablemurder of your husband, my slaughtered cousin,that I have scarcely as yet spirit to write about it: butalthough nature constrains me to lament his death, sonear to me in blood as he was, I must tell you boldlythat I am far more concerned for you than I am for him.Oh, madam! I should neither perform the oflSce of afaithful nor that of an affectionate friend, if I studiedrather to please your ears than to p'reserve your honour:therefore I will not conceal from you that people,'for themost part, say 'that you will look through your fingersat this deed, instead of revenging it,' and that you havenot cared to touch those who have done you this pleasure,as if the deed had not been without the murderers havinghad that assurance. I implore you to believe me that Imyself would not for. all the gold in the world cherishsuch a thought in my heart. I would never allow so evila guest to harbour in my heart by having so bad anopinion of any sovereign, and still less of one to whom Iwish as much good as my heart can conceive or as youyourself could desire. Therefore I exhort you, counselyou, and implore you to take this affair so much to heartthat you will not be afraid to wreak vengeance even on253

THE qUEEN OF SCOTShim who stands nearest to you, should he be guilty; andthat no consideration whatever will withhold you fromgiving the world a proof that you are as noble a ruler asyou are a righteous woman."Elizabeth, apt to be so double-faced, probably neverwrote a more sincere or kindly epistle than this. ToQueen Mary, despite her numbed senses, it must havecome like a pistol-shot, and at length awakened her torealities. Here was another accusing finger directedagainst Bothwell. Again she was assured that any considerationfor him would be taken as evidence of complicityin her husband's murder. But, let me reiterate,Mary Stuart's condition during these weeks was one ofcomplete enslavement. She was so "shamefully enamoured,"wrote one of Elizabeth's spies in his report toLondon, "that she had been heard to say she would gowith him to the world's end in a white petticoat, leavingall rather than forsake him." Appeals were uttered todeaf ears; reason could make no headway against thestir in her blood. Because she had forgotten herself, shebelieved that the world would forget her and her crime.For a while, throughout the month of March 1567,Mary might well believe that her passivity was havingthe right effect. Scotland was silent, the legal authoritieswere blind and deaf, and Bothwell (strangely enough!)with the best will in the world, was unable to lay hishands upon the "unknown miscreants"—although thename of the murderer-in-chief was being whispered inevery house. All knew who was the guilty man, but allwere afraid to claim the promised reward and utterthe dreaded name out loud. At length a voice wasraised in denunciation. The murdered king's father, theEarl of Lennox, was in high repute among the Scottishnobles, and the authorities had to pay heed to him when254

Q,UEM DEUS VULT PERDERE . . ,he complained that weeks had elapsed without bringingthe murderers of his son to justice. Mary Stuart, sincethe leader of the assassins was her paramour, and sinceLethington, who had been a confederate, guided herwith his counsels, gave an evasive answer, saying thatshe would do her best, and would bring the affair beforeparliament. But Lennox knew that these words meantnothing, and reiterated his demands. It was essential, hesaid, to arrest forthwith those whose names had beenanonymously placarded in Edinburgh.So specific a demand was not easy to elude. Again,however, Mary shuffled. She would be glad to do whatLennox asked, but so many names had been placarded,most of them of persons who, obviously, had nothingto do with the murder. Let her father-in-law himselfdeclare the names of those whom he regarded as guilty.She hoped, doubtless, that fear of Bothwell, the dictator,would prevent Lennox from mentioning the latter'sname. Meanwhile, however, Lennox took steps tosecure his own safety and to strengthen his position. Hegot into touch with Elizabeth, and placed himself underher protection. Meticulously, therefore, he named thepersons against whom he demanded an investigation.First came Bothwell, then Balfour, then David Chalmers,and some of Mary Stuart's and Bothwell's serving-men,who had long since been spirited across the border lesttheir tongues should be loosened by the rack. Now, toher consternation, Mary began to realize that thecomedy of "looking through her fingers" had come to anend. Lennox's persistence, she felt, must be backed upby the energy and authority of Queen Elizabeth. Bythis time, too, Catherine de' Medici had plainly intimatedthat she regarded Mary Stuart as "dishonoured,"and that Scotland need expect no friendship fromFrance so long as the murder had not been properly investigatedin the law courts. There was a swift change of255

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSscene, replacing the contention that inquiry was "futile"by another comedy, that of a pubUc legal inquiry. Marywas compelled to agree that Bothwell (small folk wouldbe dealt with later) should defend himself before acourt of his peers. On March 28, 1567, a summons wassent to the Earl of Lennox, commanding him to appearin Edinburgh on April 12, and formulate his chargesagainst Bothwell.Bothwell was by no means the man to present himselfin a penitent's robe and humbly bow before his judges.If he was ready for a trial by his peers, it was onlybecause he was determined that there should be a"cleansing"—not a sentence, but an acquittal. Hemade his preparations with his customary energy. Firstof all, he induced the Queen to put him in command ofall the fortresses in Scotland, thus gaining control of theavailable weapons and ammunition throughout thecountry. He knew that might was right, so he summonedhis borderers to Edinburgh and equipped themas if for battle. Shamelessly, with the audacity andlawlessness characteristic of the man, he established|areign of terror in Edinburgh. He publicly announcedthat if he could discover by whom the "treasonablepainted tickets" were designed and posted, he wouldwash his hands in their blood—this threat being intendedas a warning to Lennox. He swaggered aboutwith his hand on his sword-hilt, while his followers hadtheir dirks ready, openly declaring that they had nomind to allow the lord of their clan to be arrested as acriminal. Let Lennox dare to come and accuse him!Let the judges try to condemn the dictator of Scotland!Such preparations were too unambiguous to leave adoubt in Lennox's mind as to what awaited him. Hemight go to Edinburgh to accuse Bothwell, but there waslittle chance that Bothwell would allow him to leave thecity alive. Once more he turned to his patroness Eliza-256

Q,UEM DEUS VULT PERDERE . . .beth, who thereupon sent an urgent letter to Marywarning her for the last time that any open breach of thepeace would expose her to suspicion of complicity,"Madame," wrote the English queen to the Scottish,"I should not be so unfeeling as to trouble you with thisletter were it not that we are commanded to love theafflicted and that the cry of the unfortunate impels me.I learn, Madam, that you have issued a proclamationto the effect that the judicial proceedings against thosesuspected of participation in the murder of your latehusband and my deceased cousin will take place on thetwelfth of the present month. It is of extreme importancethat matters should not be obscured, as they very wellmight be, by secrecy or cunning. The father and thefriends of the deceased have humbly begged me to askyou to postpone the inquiry, because they have noticedthat these scoundrelly persons are trying to achieve byforce what they cannot achieve by law. In my love foryou, therefore, I cannot act otherwise than I now do,since you are the person most concerned, and I wish totranquillize those who are innocent of so unspeakable acrime. Were you yourself not guiltless, this would bereason enough to rob you of your dignity as a princessand to expose you to the contempt of the multitude.Rather than such a thing should happen to you, Ishould wish for you an honourable tomb instead of adishonourable life."This new appeal to Mary's conscience could not failto arouse her benumbed senses. We cannot be certain,however, that the exhortation reached the Queen ofScotland in time. Bothwell was on guard, fearing neitherdeath nor the devil, and least of all the English queen.The special messenger to whom the letter had been entrustedfor delivery was detained at the gates of the257

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSpalace by Bothwell's underlings. He was told that theQueen was asleep and could not receive him.The special messenger, bearing a missive from onequeen to another, wandered disconsolately about thestreets. At length he obtained audience of Bothwell, whoimpudently opened the letter directed to Mary Stuart,read it, and thrust it into his pocket. We do not knowwhether he ever showed it to Mary, nor is the matter ofimportance. She was his bondslave, who dared to donothing opposed to his will. It is even recorded that shewas foolish enough to wave her hand to him from thewindow when, surrounded by his riders, he set forth tothe Tolbooth. Thus she wished success to the notoriousmurderer on his way to participate in the comedy ofjustice.Even if Mary Stuart never received Elizabeth's lastwarning, she was not less unwarned. Three days before,her half-brother Moray took leave of her. He was, hetold her, seized with a desire to travel through France toItaly, for he wanted "to see Venice and Milan." Maryhad had ample experience to show her that the suddendisappearance of Moray from the political theatre forebodedstormy weather, and that his determination tobe absent from the comedy of justice was intended tosignify disapproval. On this occasion, indeed, Moraywas plain-spoken enough, and did not conceal the truereason for his journey. He told every one who cared tolisten to him that he had tried to arrest Sir James Balfouras one of the chief participants in the murder, and thatBothwell, wishing to protect a confederate, had preventedhis doing so. A week later, in London, he candidlyinformed the Spanish ambassador de Silva that hefelt it would be dishonourable to stay any longer in theScottish kingdom while so strange and terrible a crimeremained unpunished. We may assume then, thatJames spoke candidly to his sister before taking leave.258

Q,UEM DEUS VULT PERDERE . . .We know for a fact that Mary was in tears when hequitted her apartment. But she could not restrain himfrom going. Her energy had departed since she hadbecome Bothwell's slave. She could only let things takethe course prescribed by a stronger will than hers. Thequeen in her was subjugated, and she was nothing but anamorous woman.On April 12, the comedy of justice, which beganchallengingly, ended in like manner. Bothwell rode tothe Tolbooth, sword strapped to his side, dagger in hisbelt, surrounded by a train of armed followers, in thespirit of a warrior setting forth to storm a fortress. Thenumber of the clansmen has perhaps been exaggerated,but according to current reports it was four thousand.Lennox, on the strength of an ancient edict, had been,forbidden to bring more than six men with him if heentered the city. Lennox felt in no mind to face "justice"thus backed by overwhelming force. He knew thatElizabeth's letter asking for a postponement of the proceedingshad been sent to Mary, and that moral forcewas on his side. He was content, therefore, to send oneof his feudatories to the Tolbooth, to read a written protest.The chief accuser being absent, the judges, someof whom had been intimidated, and others bribed bylands or money or titles, found it convenient to avoidexhaustive inquiry. They were freed from a burden.After deliberating among themselves upon a matterwhich had been decided beforehand, they unanimouslyexonerated Bothwell from "any art and part of the saidslauchter of the King" on the ground that "no accusationhad been brought against him." This exculpationmight have seemed insufficient to a man of honour, butBothwell held it as a triumph. Harness clinking, herode through the city, brandishing his drawn sword, and259

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSpublicly challenging to a duel any one who might ventureto declare him guilty or in part guilty of the lateking's murder.The burgesses, however, murmured among themselvesthat the law had been brought into contempt. Mary'sfriends looked askance, with "sore hearts." "It was pitiful,"writes Melville, her most loyal friend, "to watch thisexcellent princess hastening to destruction without anyone calling her attention to the danger she was running."But Mary refused to listen, and would accept no warning.A rnorbid delight in preposterous hazards drove herfarther and farther. Circumspection became impossibleto her; she would not ask and would not hearken; butcould only rush to her doom, the slave of her feelings.The day after Bothwell flaunted his freedom in the streetsof Edinburgh, she inflicted a humiliation on the wholecountry by conferring upon this notorious criminal thehighest honour Scotland could offer. At the opening ofparliament, Bothwell bore the insignia of the nation, thecrown and the sceptre. Who could doubt that this manwho now carried the crown in his hands would tomorrowbe wearing it. Bothwell, indeed, was not a manto hide his light under a bushel, and his boldness wasone of his least unamiable characteristics. Impudently,energetically, and frankly, he demanded his reward.Without shame, "for his great and manifold gud service"he asked for the gift of the strongest castle in the country,Dunbar. Then, since the Scottish lords complied withhis will, he determined to force from them their consentto his marriage with Mary Stuart. On the evening whenthe sittings of parliament closed, as dictator he invitedthe whole company of them to supper in Ainslie'sTaverne. The wine flowed freely, and when most ofthose present were already half-seas-over (we recall the260

Q_UEM DEUS VULT PERDERE . . .famous scene in Wallenstein) he laid before the lords abond which not only made them pledge themselves todefend him against every calumniator but also to approvehim, "noble puissant lord," as a worthy husband for thequeen. The bond ran as follows: "That James Earl ofBothwell, Lord of Hailes, Crichton, and Liddesdale,Great Admiral of Scotland, and Lieutenant of all theMarches, being calumniated by malicious report anddivers placards, privily affixed on the Kirk of Edinburghand other places, by evil-willers and privy enemies, asart and part in the heinous murder of the King, latehusband to the Queen's Majesty, and also by specialletters sent to her Highness by the Earl of Lennoxaccused of the said crime, had submitted to an assize,and been found innocent of the same by certain noblemenhis peers, and other barons of good reputation; theundersigned united to defend and bear him harmlessagainst his privy or public calumniators bypast or tocome." The signatories to this instrument, includingeight earls among whom were the Earls of Morton,Huntly, and Argyll (Justice-General), Glencairn, Cassilis,and Rothes, together with eleven barons, peers ofparliament, united to declare that they considered Bothwella proper person to recommend the widowed queento accept as husband, pledging themselves "on theirhonour and fidelity ... to further, advance, and setforward such marriage betwixt her Highness and the saidrioble lord." In pursuit thereof they would "spend andbestow" their "lives and goods, against all that Hve ordie," as they might "answer to God" upon their own"fidelities and conscience."Only one of the company, the Earl of Eglinton, mislikingthe bond, slipped away from the tavern before itwas signed. The others obediently subscribed theirnames, for Bothwell's stalwarts surrounded the house—though many of the signatories were perhaps deter-261

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSmined, when occasion offered, to break their pledgedword. They knew that what is written in ink can bewashed out with blood. Anyhow, no one entered a protestagainst signing. After this formality, the companywent on carousing gaily, and the merriest among themmay well have been Bothwell, for now he had gained hisends. A few weeks later, and the Queen of Scotland andthe Isles would wed the murderer of her husband asheedlessly as did Hamlet's mother wed Claudius. Querndeus vult perdere . . .263

Lyfiapte ter 14A BLINDALLEYAPRIL TO JUNE 1567As the Bothwell tragedy advances towards its climax,we are again and again reminded of Shakespeare. Theresemblance of the situation to that of Hamlet is obviouson the face of it. In both cases we have a king who hasbeen murdered by his wife's lover; in both cases thewidowed queen shows unseemly haste in marrying herhusband's murderer; alike in the tragedy of real lifeand in the tragedy conceived by the playwright, we notethe enduring consequences of a murder whose concealmentand repudiation demand more effort than wasrequisite for the performance of the crime. Even stronger,even more striking, are the analogies between manyscenes of Shakespeare's Scottish tragedy and those of thehistorical tragedy in sixteenth-century Scotland. Whetherwittingly or unwittingly, Macbeth was created in theatmosphere of the Mary Stuart drama; the happeningsstaged by Shakespeare's imagination in DunsinaneCastle had previously been staged in fact at HolyroodPalace. In both cases, after the murder had taken place,there was the same isolation, the same oppressivespiritual gloom, the same ghastly festivals in which nonedared to take pleasure and from which one after anotherslipped away because the ravens of black disaster werealready circling round the house. Often we find it hardto distinguish whether it is Mary Stuart we are watchingas she wandered by night through the apartments, sleep-263

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSless, confused, tormented by pangs of conscience, orwhether it is Lady Macbeth asking, "Will all great Neptune'socean wash this blood clean from my hand?" Isit Bothwell, or is it Macbeth, who becomes harsher andmore resolute after he has committed his crime; whomore and more boldly challenges the enmity of Scotland—though he knows well enough that his courage isfutile, and that ghosts are stronger than a living man?In both cases alike, a woman's passion is the motivepower, but the man is appointed to do the deed; as extraordinarilysimilar are the atmospheres, the oppressionthat lours over the tormented spirits, husband and wifechained together by the crime, each dragging the otherdown into the same dark abyss. Never in history or inliterature have the psychology of assassination and themysterious power exerted after death by a victim upon amurderer been more magnificently depicted than inthese two Scottish tragedies, one in the realm of fableand the other in that of real life. 'Are such remarkable similarities the product ofchance? Have we not good ground for assuming that, inMacbeth', Shakespeare was dramatising and sublimatingthe tragedy of Mary Stuart? The dramatist was threeyears old wheri the tragedy of Bothwell and MaryStuart was played; he was a man of forty when he wroteMacbeth. The impressions of childhood exert an ineffaceableinfluence upon a poet's mind, genius transmutingstimuli that have acted in childhood into imperishablerealities. We cannot doubt that Shakespeare had beeninformed about the happenings in the palace at Holyrood.In his youth at Stratford he must have heard manydetails and legends about the Scottish queen, who hadthrown away her kingdom and her crown in pursuit ofa frenzied passion, and who, in punishment, had beenimprisoned in one English castle after another. In 1587Shakespeare had already been in London for a year, a264

A BLIND ALLEYplay-actor, and probably trying his prentice hand asplaywright, when the bells in the London churchespealed to announce that at length the head of ElizabethTudor's chief adversary had been cut off, and thatHenry Darnley had dragged his unfaithful wife down tojoin him in the tomb. When, in HoUinshed's Chroniclesof England, Scotland, and Ireland, the dramatist came toread the story of the Thane of Cawdor who slew Duncanand usurped the crown of Scotland, may we not supposethat he interwove his memories of the tragical fate ofMary, Queen of Scotland and the Isles, into the substanceof his drama? We cannot, indeed, either affirm or denythat Shakespeare, in writing his tragedy, was influencedby his knowledge of the life and death of Mary Stuart.This much, however, is certain, that only those who havestudied and understood the psychology of Lady Macbethafter the murder of Duncan will be able fully tounderstand the moods and the actions of Mary Stuartduring those dark days at Holyrood—to understandthe torments of a woman strong of soul, who was yetnot strong enough to face up to the darkest of herdeeds.The most amazing part of the resemblance betweenthe two tragedies, that conceived by the playwright andthat recorded by historians and biographers, is theresem.blance in the changes which took place in MaryStuart and in Lady Macbeth after the crime had beencommitted. Before the murder. Lady Macbeth had beena loving, warm-hearted, energetic woman, strong of willand fired by ambition. Her supreme desire was to helpthe man she loved and lift him to greatness, and shemight have penned many of the lines from Mary Stuart'ssonnet: "Pour luy ie veux rechercher la grandeure. . . ."Ambition supplies her with abundant energy until the265

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSdeed. Lady Macbeth is crafty, shrewd, and resolute,while the crime is still only willed, proposed, andplanned, while the hot, red blood, has not yet flowed,over her hands and over her soul. With cajoling wordslike those used by Mary to lure Darnley to Kirk o'Field, she lures Duncan into the bedchamber where thedagger is awaiting him. But immediately after thecrime she becomes a different woman, losing bothstrength and courage. Conscience burns within her likea furnace. Delirious, with rigid gaze, she wandersthrough the rooms of the castle, a horror to her friendsand a terror to herself. Her brain is overwhelmed byone desire, the longing to forget, the morbid yearningfor surcease from thought, the craving for death. So wasit, likewise, with Mary Stuart after Darnley's murder.She had been completely transformed, not only in mind,but in aspect as well, so that Drury, one of Elizabeth'sspies, reported to his royal mistress that never, withouta severe illness, had a woman changed in outwardappearance in so brief a time and so remarkably as hadthe Queen.There was nothing now about her to recall the cheerful,talkative, self-confident woman she had been onlya few weeks before. She was silent, and shunned company.Perhaps, like Macbeth and Lady Macbeth, shecontinued to hope that the world would be silent if sheherself were silent, and that the black waves wouldrecede. But when questioning voices became urgent,when, at night, from the streets of Edinburgh, the namesof the murderers were shouted up at her windows;when Lennox, her slain husband's father, and Elizabeth,her enemy, and Seton, her friend, made common causewith the rest of the world in insisting that the criminalsmust be called to account, shelost her head. She knewthat she must do something to hide the crime, to exculpateherself. But she lacked the will for defence, and266

A BLIND ALLEYcould not find words that would be convincing thoughdeceptive. As if in a trance, she listened to the voicesfrom London, from Paris, from Madrid, and from Rome,exhorting her and warning her; but none of them couldawaken her from her stupor. She listened to them onlyas one buried alive might listen to the footsteps of thosewho passed by his grave—defenceless, impotent, anddespairing.She knew that it was incumbent upon her to play thesorrowful widow, to shed the tears that might makepeople believe her innocent. But her throat was dryas well as her eyes; she could not speak, and could notdissemble. Things went on in this way for week afterweek, until at length she could bear no more. As ahunted beast turns at bay, as Macbeth, seeking safety,added new murders to the murder which was alreadyclamouring for vengeance, so Mary Stuart at lengththrew off her intolerable inertia. No longer did shecare what the world thought of her, or whether heractions were wise or foolish. Movement had becomeessential to her, speedier and speedier movement, tooutrun the warning and the threatening voices. On!On! Anything, now, but stillness and reflection, forself-communings forced her to recognize that no skillcould save her. One of the m.ysteries of the hum.an mindis that, for a brief time, speed can overcome anxiety.Just as a coachman, who feels and hears the bridgebreaking down beneath his carriage, flogs his horses intothe gallop which can alone rescue him from the danger,so Mary Stuart spurred the black charger of her destinyonward in her despair, hoping to outrun her thoughts,to escape from her own criticism. Neither to think norto know nor to hear nor to see any more; only on andon into frenzy! Better a terrible end than terror withoutend. Just as a falling stone drops with a steadily acceleratingvelocity as it plunges deeper into the abyss, so do267

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSpeople act more hastily and more foolishly when theycan see no issue from their troubles.Mary Stuart's actions during the weeks after themurder cannot be explained on reasonable grounds, butonly as the outcome of unconquerable anxiety. Onewould have thought that even in her frenzy she mighthave told herself that she was flinging her honour to thewinds and exposing herself to universal condemnation;that all Scotland, all Europe, would regard her marriageto the murderer of her husband within a few weeks ofthe crime as an outrage. If she had spent a year, orbetter two years, in retirement, since memories areshort, the world might have forgotten. Then, by adroitdiplomatic manoeuvres, various reasons naight have beenfound for her choice of Bothwell as husband. But Marywas flying towards destruction when, without a decentinterval of mourning, she was in such haste to set hermurdered husband's crown on the murderer's head.Yet this was the crazy course she took.Only one explanation of such behaviour is possible inthe case of a woman who, in general, was shrewd andtolerably circumspect. Mary Stuart was under duress.Manifestly she could not wait, because waiting woulddisclose a shameful secret. To any one with insight intosuch matters it must have been obvious that the onlyexplanation of the way in which Mary rushed intomarriage with Bothwell was that the unhappy womanknew herself to be with child. She knew herself to bewith child, not with a posthumous son of King Henry,but with the fruit of an adulterous passion. A queen ofScotland must not give birth to an, illegitimate child;least of all under conditions likely to proclaim from thehouse-tops her complicity in her husband's murder.For in that case it would inevitably be disclosed how268

A BLIND ALLEYvoluptuously she had passed with her lover what shouldhave been the days of her mourning for her husband,and even a poor reckoner could have counted up thernonths to decide whether Mary had become Bothwell'sniistress shortly before or shortly after the murder ofDarnley. Either supposition would have been equally disgraceful.Nothing but a prompt legitimization throughmarriage could save her child's honour, and perhaps tosome extent her own. If she were already Bothwell'swife when the child came into the world, pre-conjugalrelations with him might seem excusable. In any casethe infant would bear Bothwell's name, and Bothwellwould know how to defend its rights. Not a month, not aweek, must be lost. It was a horrible choice by which shewas faced, but no doubt it seemed less shameful to her tomarry in haste the murderer of her husband than tobring a fatherless child into the world. Only on such asupposition does the apparent unnaturalness of Mary'sbehaviour during these weeks become comprehensible.Other interpretations serve merely to obscure the picture.At all times, women suffering from this particulardread have been driven by it to foolish and criminaldeeds. Mary, the queen, was but one among millionsof her sex rendered distraught by an unwelcome maternity.No other theory can explain the insensate, thetragical haste of her marriage to Bothwell.She was in a dreadful situation, and no demon couldhave imagined a crueller one. On the one hand, knowingherself to be with child, she was in a desperate hurry;but this hurry proclaimed her complicity in Darnley'smurder. As queen of Scotland, as widow, as a woman ofthe highest rank and station, watched closely by Edinburgh,by Scotland, by the whole European world,Mary must have known that so notorious a man as Both-269

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSwell, universally regarded as the murderer of Darnley,was the last whom she ought to marry; but, as a helplesswoman, she knew him to be her only saviour. Sheought not to marry him, and yet was compelled tomarry him. That the real cause for haste might not bedisclosed, some other reason for a speedy wedding mustbe invented. A pretext must be found which would outweighthe legal and moral objections to the proposedunion.But how can a queen be constrained to marry a manof lower degree? The code of honour of those daysrecognized only one possibility in such a case. If awoman had been forcibly robbed of her honour, it wasthe violator's duty to re-establish her honour. Only ifshe had been raped could Mary Stuart find the glimmerof an excuse for marrying Bothwell. Only in that casecould the illusion be diffused among the populace thatshe had not married Bothwell from free will, but undercompulsion of the inevitable. 'So fantastic a plan for escape could only occur to awoman in a blind alley. Nothing but madness couldengender such madness. Mary, who in general wascourageous and resolute at decisive moments, shrankback when Bothwell proposed this tragical path to her."I wish I were dead, for I see that all will turn out ill,"she wrote in her distress. But whatever moralists maythink about Bothwell, he always remained a splendidlybold desperado. Little did he care that before the eyesof Europe he had to parade himself as a shameless robber,the ravisher of a queen, a villain who heeded neither lawnor morals. Though the gates of hell should yawn in hispath, he was not the man to hesitate, when there was acrown to win. He was not appalled by any danger,resembling in this Mozart's Don Giovanni who jeeringlyinvites the statue of the murdered Commander to thedeath-feast. Beside him shuddered his Leporello, his270

A BLINDALLEYbrother-in-law Huntly, who, for a few sinecures, hadjust consented to his sister's divorce from Bothwell.Huntly, being less stalwart, soon took fright, hastenedto the Queen, and tried to dissuade her from the proposedventure. Bothwell, who was ready to defy a worldin arms, was not troubled by the defection of this confederate.Nor did it affright him that the plan for theabduction of Mary had probably been blown upon. (Inactual fact, one of Elizabeth's spies reported the schemeto London in a dispatch sent the day before it wascarried into effect.) Nor did it matter to the Earlwhether the abduction would be regarded as genuine orspurious, so long as it brought him to his goal, the kingship.His only law was his own will, though death andthe devil stood in the way; and he had power enoughover Mary to drag her whithersoever he pleased.Once more we learn from the Casket Letters that Marywas inwardly rebellious against the harsh will of her newlord and master. She had an inkling that this fresh deceptionwould not impose upon the world. Still, as before,she obeyed him to whom she had surrendered her will.As submissively as when she helped to lure Darnley toEdinburgh, so, though with a heavy heart, she lentherself to the proposed "abduction"; and, scene afterscene, the comedy of this collusive rape was carried out,strictly according to plan.On April 21, 1567, only nine days after the extortedacquittal of Bothwell, two days after, at the famoussupper-party in Ainslie's Taverne, Bothwell had compelledmost of the Scottish lords to consent to the proposedmarriage; exactly nine years and two days sinceM.ary's betrothal, or "handfasting," to the Dauphin inthe great hall of the Louvre—the Queen, who had hithertoshown little maternal affection, was seized with anurgent desire to visit her little son at Stirling. The Earlof Mar, guardian of Prince James, gave her a suspicious271 K

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSwelcome, for all sorts of rumours had come to his ears.Mary was not allowed to see her baby boy alone, sincethe Scottish lords were afraid of her kidnapping Jamesand handing him over to Bothwell. It had become plainthat she no longer possessed any will of her own, andwould, without demur, carry out the most criminalinstructions of her tyrant. If there had been anyidea of such a kidnapping it was frustrated by Mar'scaution.After seeing her son, Mary rode back towards Edinburgh,attended by only a few riders, among whom wereHuntly and Lethington, undoubtedly parties to theplot, for her "abduction." When the Queen and hertrain reached Almond Bridge, between Linlithgow andEdinburgh, six miles from- the capital, she found Bothwell,with eight hundred cavalrymen, blocking her way.This overwhelmingly superior force "attacked" theQueen's troops. Of course there was no fighting, forMary Stuart, "wishing to avoid bloodshed," forbade herattendants to resist. It was enough for Bothwell toseize the bridle of her palfrey for the Queen to "surren^der," and allow herself to be led off to the desired captivityat Dunbar. An over-zealous captain, who wishedto set out for reinforcements and try to "rescue" the"prisoner," was given a broad hint that Mary was aconsenting party to the capture. Huntly and Lethingtonwere dismissed unhurt. No one was to be injured in this"affray." The only thing necessary was that Maryherself should remain in the "custody" of her belovedravisher. For more than a week ensuing she shared hisbed at Dunbar, while simultaneously in Edinburgh,with great haste (and with wheels greased by corruption),Bothwell's divorce from his wife was carriedthrough the ecclesiastical courts, both Protestant andCatholic. As far as the former Were concerned, theshabby plea was put in that Bothwell had had adulterous272

A BLIND ALLEYrelations with a serving-maid. The Catholic court madethe belated discovery that his marriage with Lady JaneGordon was null and void because the pair were relatedin the fourth degree. At length this dark business wasover. Then the world could be informed that Bothwellhad carried off the unsuspecting Mary with the stronghand, and had raped her at Dunbar. Nothing butmarriage to the man who had possessed her against herwill could restore the honour of the Queen of Scotland.This "abduction" was too obviously accordant withthe wishes of those concerned for any one to believe thatthe Queen of Scotland had really been "carried off byforce and raped." Even the Spanish ambassador, whowas well affected towards Mary, reported to Madridthat the whole affair had been play-acting. Strangelyenough, however, it was those who were best in a positionto see through the pretence that now behaved as ifthe alleged abduction and rape had been genuine. TheScottish lords, though they had already signed a bondfor the removal of Bothwell, m.ade a grotesque pretenceof taking the comedy of the abduction seriously. With atouching display of fidelity they protested themselvesenraged because the queen of their country had beenseized and detained against her will, to the dishonour ofScotland. With unwonted unanimity, they declaredthemselves ready, as loyal subjects, to rescue the helplesslamb from the clutches of the wicked wolf Bothwell.Bothwell had at length given them a long-desired excusefor, under the mask of patriotism, attacking the militarydictator. They hastily got together to "rescue" Maryfrom his clutches, and thus prevent the marriage which,only a week earlier, they had agreed to promote.Nothing could have been more distressing to Marythan this sudden determination of her "loyal" nobles to273

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSprotect her against her "ravisher." They were pluckingfrom her hands the cards she had so carefully and deceitfullyarranged. Since she had no wish to be "liberated"from Bothwell, but desired to be bound to him for ever,she now found it necessary to make short work of .thelying statement that Bothwell had carried her off byforce. Whereas yesterday she had wanted to blackenhim, to-day it was incumbent on her to whitewash him,and thus to destroy the whole effect of the farce she hadbeen playing. To prevent any serious charge beingbrought against Bothwell, she became the most zealousdefender of the ravisher. His behaviour had, indeed,"been rather strange at first; but since then he had givenher no grounds for complaint." As no one had assistedher to resist the abduction, she had been "compelled tomodify her first disinclination and to give serious attentionto his proposal." More and more deplorable grewthe situation of this unhappy woman, entangled in thethorny thicket of her passion. The last veils werestripped froiti her, so that she stood naked before thescorn of the world.It was with consternation that Mary's friends watchedher return to Edinburgh in the beginning of May. Bothwellwas leading her horse by the bridle; ^nd, to showthat she came with him of her own free will, his spearmenwere ostentatiously unarmed. Vainly did thosewho honestly wished well to Mary Stuart and to Scotlandwarn the Queen of the error of her present courses.Du Croc, the French ambassador, told her that if shemarried Bothwell, this would put an end to the friendshipwith France. One of her most trusty adherents.Lord Herries, threw himself at her feet, imploring herto think better of what she was doing; while Sir JamesMelville, as ever a loyal and sagacious adviser, had toflee from the wrath of Bothwell when, at the last moment,he tried to hinder this unhappy marriage. All her274

A BLIND ALLEYadherents were heavy-hearted because this splendidwoman was in thrall to a dastardly adventurer; and theyforesaw that the mad haste with which she was weddingthe murderer of her husband would lose her both hercrown and her honour. Good days had dawned for heropponents. The gloomy prophecy of John Knox wasbeing disastrously fulfilled. ' John Craig, who had succeededKnox as minister at St. Giles's, refused at firstto have the banns published in the kirk. He openlystigmatized the marriage as "odious and slanderousbefore the world." Not until Bothwell threatened himwith the gallows did he lend himself to promoting tnemarriage.Mary, however, had to bow her neck lower and lowerbeneath the yoke. For now, when every one knew howurgently the Queen needed this marriage, she wasshamelessly blackmailed by those whose help andapproval was requisite. Huntly demanded and securedthe return of the estates that had been escheated to thecrown, this being his payment for consenting to hissister's divorce from Bothwell. The Catholic bishopreceived manifold offices and dignities; but the highestprice was demanded by the Protestant minister, whoinsisted upon the Queen's public humiliation. Since theurgency of her need was well known, she was compelledto declare that she, a Catholic princess, on the maternalside a descendant of the Guises, would have her marriagecelebrated in accordance with the Reformed, that is tosay heretical, rites. By acceding to this demand, MaryStuart flung away the last card which might haveenabled her to secure the support of Catholic Europeand to retain the favour of the Pope, the sympathies ofSpain and France. Henceforward, united Catholicismwould be against her. Terribly true had become thewords of the sonnet:275

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSPour luy depuis mesprise I'honneurCe qui nous peut seul prouoir de bonheur.Pour luy iay hasarde grandeur et conscience.Pour luy tous mes parents i'ay quisle et amys.[For him since then I have despised honour,Which alone can provide us with happiness.For him I have risked dignity and conscience,For him I have forsaken all my relatives and friends.]Nothing now could save her, since she had forsaken herself.The gods will not accept such foolish sacrifices ashers.It will be hard to find in the pages of history a morepainful description of a wedding than that of Mary'sthird marriage on May 15, 1567; the picture is one of theutter debasement of an unhappy queen. Her firstmarriage, to the Dauphin, afterwards Francis II ofFrance, had been a resplendent occasion. Tens ofthousands had acclaimed the young bride who wasQueen of Scotland and was to be Queen of France.From far and wide the nobility of France, the envoys ofall lands, had assembled to watch the Dauphiness repairto Notre Dame, attended by the royal family and theflower of French chivalry. The second marriage hadbeen a quieter affair. No longer at high noon, but betweenfive and six o'clock in the morning, the priest hadwedded her to the great-grandson of Henry VII. Still,the Scottish nobles had been on hand, and the foreignambassadors likewise, while the good people of Edinburghkept high festival throughout the day. But thisthird marriage, that to Bothwell—who, at the lastmoment, had been created Duke of Orkney—^was perpetratedas secretly as a crime. In the small hours(four o'clock), when the city was still asleep, a few per-276

A BLIND ALLEYsons assembled, almost furtively, in the old chapel ofHolyrood. It was not three months since Darnley'smurder, so his widow was married in her "dule-weed."The chapel was almost empty. Numerous guests hadbeen invited, but few of them wished to grace the occasionby their presence, or to see the Queen of Scotlandaccept a wedding-ring from the hand of him who hadslain Darnley. Almost all the Scottish lords had stayedaway, with or without excuse. Moray and Lennox hadleft the country; Lethington and Huntly, who were halfin the plot, absented themselves; and the only man towhom, as a devout Catholic, Mary had hitherto beenable to disclose her most secret thoughts, even herfather confessor, had taken leave of her for ever. Herspiritual director had sadly acknowledged that heregarded her henceforward as lost. No one in whomthere persisted a spark of honour wished to witness themarriage of Darnley's murderer to Darnley's widow, orthe alleged consecration of this crime by religious rites.Fruitlessly had Mary implored the French ambassador tobe present so as to give the wedding a semblance ofrespectability. Du Croc, her good friend, steadfastlyrefused to attend. His presence would have signified theassent of France. "Had I gone, one might have believedthat my King had had a hand in these affairs." Besides,he did not wish to recognize Bothwell as the Queen'sconsort. The marriage service was read by Adam Bothwell,Bishop of Orkney, assisted by the Reverend JohnCraig. No Mass was said, no organ sounded, short workwas made of the ceremony. No arrangements weremade for a dance or a banquet that evening. Nor, aswhen Mary had wedded Darnley, was money scatteredamong a rejoicing crowd, with cries of "Largesse, largesse!" The capital was as cold as empty, and as chill asa new-made grave; and the few witnesses of this strangewedding were as mournful and silent as mutes at a277

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSfuneral. There was no procession through the streets.The wedded pair hastened from the doleful chapel tolock themselves up in the privacy of their own apartments.For, at the very moment when, after blindly strainingforward to her goal, Mary had achieved her purpose,she underwent a spiritual collapse. She had fulfilledher wish of making Bothwell her.own. Up to the hourof the wedding she had persisted in the illusion that aunion with him, the formal sanctification of their love,would rid her of her anxieties. But now, when she nolonger had a purpose to fulfil, no object on which to fixher gaze, her eyes were opened, and she stared roundher—^into vacancy. Discord between the pair seems tohave begun directly after the wedding. As invariablyhappens when two persons have dragged one anotherdown towards destruction, each was inclined to blamethe other for what had gone awry. On the afternoon ofthe wedding-day, du Croc, who visited Mary at herrequest, found her in despair. Night had not yet fallen,but a chill spectre had arisen to separate Mary fromBothwell. "Repentance has already begun," reportedthe French ambassador to Paris. "When I went to seeHer Majesty on Thursday afternoon, I noticed somethingstrange in the manner of her and her husband, which shesought to excuse; saying that if she was sad, it was becauseshe wished to be so, and she never wished to rejoiceagain. All that she wished for was death. Yesterday,while she and her husband were together, shut upin their cabinet, she cried out aloud for a knife withwhich to kill herself. Those who were in the outer chamberheard her. They fear that unless God comes to heraid she will, in her despair, do herself a mischief." Soonthere were other reports of dissension between the newlywedded pair. Bothwell is said to have declared thedivorce from his pretty young wife. Lady Jane Gordon,278

A BLIND ALLEYto be invalid, and to have spent nights with her insteadof with Mary. "From the day of the wedding," writes duCroc, "there was no end to the fears and the plaints ofMary Stuart." Now that the blinded woman had forcedthe hand of fate, she knew that all was lost, and thatdeath would be better than the life of torment she hadbrought upon herself.This ghastly honeymoon endured for three weeks, andwas a time of agony throughout. Whatever the pairtried to do in the hope of holding together and ofsaving themselves proved futile. When in the publiceye, indeed, Bothwell made a parade of respect andaffection for the Queen, feigning love and humility: buthis words and gestures counted for nothing in view ofhis dreadful record. The populace was gloomy, andlooked askance at the pair of criminals. Vainly did thedictator, since the nobles held aloof, woo the favour ofthe commonalty, playing the liberal, the kindly, thepious ruler. He attended the services of the ReformedChurch, only to find that the Protestant clergy were ashostile to him as the Catholic. He wrote humblywordedletters to Elizabeth, which she left unanswered.He wrote to Paris, but his epistles were ignored. Marysummoned the Scottish lords, but they held aloof inStirling. She demanded the custody of her child, butthe Earl of Mar refused to surrender little James to hercare. A horrible silence surrounded the Queen andBothwell. To give the semblance of security and cheerfulness,Bothwell hastily improvised a masque and a regatta.This water-pageant was held at Leith, and Marygraced it with her presence, to watch her consort rideat the ring and review the troops. Wanly she smiled ather spouse. The common folk, always ready for a show,assembled in great numbers, but did not rejoice. The279 K*

THE qUEEN OF SCOTScountry seemed paralysed with fear, which was Hkely,in a moment, to blaze up into wrath.Bothwell was not the man to be carried away bysentiment. An experienced seaman, he could read thesigns of a coming storm. With inveterate resolution, heprepared to meet all hazards. He knew that his enemiesaimed at his life, and tfiat matters would soon be decidedby an appeal to arms. Hastily, therefore, hesharked up what riders and foot-soldiers he could, inorder to be prepared to resist attacks. Mary sacrificedeverything left to her in order to aid him in paying hismercenaries; she sold her jewels, borrowed such moneysas she could, and at length (though this was a grievousaffront to the English queen) decided that the silver-giltfont Elizabeth had sent her for little James's christeningshould be committed to the melting-pot in the hope ofprolonging the agony of her own rule. In threateningsilence, however, the Scottish lords gathered together,enveloping the palace like a thunderstorm which mightat any moment shoot forth its lightnings against theroyal pair. Bothwell was too familiar with the cunningof his erstwhile associates to trust the semblance oftranquillity. He knew well enough that they were planningto strike him out of the darkness, and he would notawait their onslaught in unfortified Holyrood. On June5, barely three weeks after the wedding, he and Maryrode from Edinburgh to the castle of Borthwick, a fewmiles south of the capital, in the direction of the border,where his principal strength lay. There, Mary, as alast hope, issued a summons for June ,12, addressed toher "subjects, noblemen, knights, esquires, gentlemen,and yeomen," who were to assemble under arms, providedwith a week's supply of food. Obviously Bothwelldesigned, by a sudden attack, to "strike down his enemiesbefore they had gathered their own forces.But this flight from Holyrood gave the Scottish lords280

A BLIND ALLEYcourage. Hastily they moved upon Edinburghj occupyingthe capital without resistance. Sir James Balfour,who had been Bothwell's chief assistant in the murder,was ready and willing to betray his confederate, so thata couple of thousand riders were able to gallop off toBorthwick to seize Bothwell before he could get histroops together and equip them for battle. Bothwell,however, would not allow himself to be taken like a wildbeast in a snare. He jumped out of a window before themain body of his enemies under Morton and Humearrived on the scene, and spurred away, leaving Marybehind. The Scottish lords did not, at this juncture,venture to use arms against their queen, being contentwith the attempt to persuade her to detach herself fromBothwell. She, however, was still in thrall to her ravisher.During the night, hastily dressing herself as a boy, shemounted her horse and, soon joined by her husband,rode with him to Dunbar, leaving all else in order tolive or die with Bothwell.One little sign ought to have convinced the Queenthat her cause was lost. For, on the day of her flightfrom Edinburgh to Borthwick Castle there suddenly disappeared,"without leave-taking," her last adviser,Maitland of Lethington, the only man who, duringthese weeks when she had been distraught by passion,had continued to show some degree of loyalty. Lethingtonhad followed his mistress a long way on the gloomydescent to ruin, and perhaps—^Bothwell apart—no onehad done more than he to weave the net of murderaround Darnley. But now he felt that the wind hadchanged and was blowing in full force against the Queen.A typical diplomatist, one of those who always trim theirsails to the breeze of power, he would no longer help ina cause he knew to be lost. While the ride to Borthwick281

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSwas in progress, he quietly turned his horse and rodeback to join the other side. The last rat had deserted thesinking ship.Mary was unteachable; she could be neither intimidatednor warned. In this astonishing woman, dangerserved only to intensify the courage that gave her greatestfollies a romantic glamour. Reaching Dunbar on horseback,in male attire, she found there no royal robes, noharness, no equipment. What matter? This was not thetime for courtly state, now that war had been declared.From a woman of the people she borrowed a peasant'sdress—a feminine outfit—"a red petticoat, with sleevestied with points, a partlet, a black velvet hat andmuffler." Little did she care if her appearance were unqueenly,so long as she could ride beside the man whowas all that remained to her on earth, and for whomshe had sacrificed everything. Bothwell quickly musteredwhat forces he could. The "subjects, noblemen,knights, esquires, gentlemen, and yeomen" had failedto assemble. Scotland was no longer loyal to its queen.With two hundred mercenary harquebusiers as shocktroopsand a rabble of poorly-armed peasants and borderers(not more than about twelve hundred men in all)on June 14 the Queen and Bothwell rashly abandonedDunbar and set forth to attack Edinburgh. The insignificantarmy was driven onward by the sturdy will ofthe Earl, who hoped to take the Scottish lords by surprise.He knew that foolhardiness can sometimes save asituation in defiance of reasonable calculation.At Carberry Hill, six miles from Edinburgh, on Sunday,June 15, the two rabbles (they were not worthy thename of armies) came face to face. The Queen's troops,now swelled by reinforcements to three thousand fivehundred, outnumbered those of her enemies. But few282

A BLIND ALLEYof the lords of the realm, few of the nobility and gentry,were fighting under the royal banner of the Scottishlion. Except for the before-mentioned harquebusiers(mercenaries) the Queen's main supporters were Bothwell'smoss-troopers, whose lust for battle was almostwholly in abeyance. Less than half a league away,on the other side of the stream, were the forces of heradversaries, well-mounted gentlefolk, adequately armedand trained for combat. The standard under which theywere prepared to fight was a strange one for those whohad been accomplices in the late king's murder. It was ofwhite silk, and upon it was painted the dead body ofDarnley, with the infant James praying before it, in thewords: "Judge and avenge my caus, O Lord!" Thusthe very men who had participated in the slaying ofDarnley now wished to represent themselves as Darnley'savengers, and to proclaim themselves as only havingtaken up arms against his murderer, not in rebellionagainst the Queen.The two banners fluttered bravely in the wind. Butthere was no bravery in the hearts of those who formedeither body of combatants. Neither force would advanceto the attack across the burn. Both parties stood watchingone another warily. Bothwell's borderers had no mindto let themselves be slaughtered for a cause beyondtheir understanding. The Scottish lords, on their side,had certain scruples which rendered them unwilling touse spears and swords against their rightful queen. Tobring a monarch to his death by a cleverly devised holeand-cornerconspiracy, thereafter to hang a few poordevils of the lower orders and solemnly proclaim theirown innocence—little matters of that sort did not occasionthem any pricks of conscience. But in open day toassail a sovereign ruler conflicted with the feudalistnotions which still swayed their minds.Du Croc, the French ambassador, present on the283

THE QUEEN OF SCOTSbattlefield, as a neutral observer, did not fail to noticethat neither side was eager for the fray, and thereforehastened to offer his services as mediator. Under a flag oftruce, with an escort of fifty horse, the Frenchmancrossed the brook to parley with Bothwell and theQueen.It was a strange audience. Mary, who had beenaccustomed to receive the French ambassador beneatha royal canojsy, and robed in court attire, was sitting onthe stones, clad as aforesaid, with a short kilt whichbarely covered her knees. But she was no less dignified,no less proud, than if she had been in full panoply ofState. She could not master her wrath. As if she werestill queen of the situation as she was still virtually queenof the country, she demanded that the Scottish lordsshould immediately make their submission. The lords,she said, had formally acquitted Bothwell, but now theywere accusing him of the murder. They had asked herto marry Bothwell, and then dared to make a crime ofher having done so. No doubt, in these respects, Mary'sindignation was justified; but the hour of right hadpassed, and the hour of might had come. While Marywas parleying with du Croc, Bothwell rode up. Theambassador saluted him, but did not shake hands. NowBothwell had his words to say. He spoke clearly, andwithout reservations. Not a shade of fear troubled hisaudacious countenance. Du Croc himself had, unwillingly,to admit the unshaken courage of the desperado."I must acknowledge," wrote the ambassadorin his report to the King of France, under date June 17,1567, "that I saw in him a great warrior, who spokewith self-confidence, and was well able to lead hisfollowers boldly and skilfully. I could not but admirehim, because he was well aware that his enemies wereresolute, and that he could not count upon the fidelityof a bare half of his own forces. Nevertheless he was284

A BLIND ALLEYundismayed." Bothwell proposed that the issue shouldbe decided by single combat between himself and anyone of equal rank whom his enemies chose to appoint.His cause was just, and God would be on his side.Banteringly he told the Frenchman to watch the proposedduel from a neighouring hillock. That would begood sport. The Queen, however, would hear nothingof the proposal. "No, no," she interposed, "I will notsuffer that; I will fight out the quarrel by his side," Shestill hoped that her enemies would submit to her authority.A born romanticist, she was, as ever, lacking in thesense of actuality. Du Croc speedily realized that hismission was fruitless. The fine old fellow would gladlyhave helped the Queen if he could, and the tears cameto his eyes, but so long as she stood by Bothwell there wasno hope for her. Farewell, then. He bowed courteously,turned his horse, and rode slowly back to the Scottishlords.The parley was finished. It was time for the battle tobegin. But the rank and file had better sense than theirleaders. They saw that the great men had been conversingamicably. Why should poor wretches shoot oneanother or cut one another down on such a fine afternoon?Bothwell's soldiers idled about, and when QueenMary, as a last hope, ordered them to attack, they refusedto advance. They had been loafing on the hillsidefor six or seven hours, and now the little force began tocrumble away. As soon as the lords perceived this theydispatched two hundred cavalrymen to cut off Bothwell'sand the Queen's retreat. Mary saw the danger^and being still a woman in love, she thought, not of herown peril, but of Bothwell's. She knew that none of hersubjects would lay a hand on herself, but that his enemieswould not spare him, for Bothwell left alive might betray285

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSthings which these belated avengers of Darnley wouldnot like to have made public. For the first time in herlife, therefore, she mastered her pride. She sent amessenger under a flag of truce to Kirkcaldy of Grange,asking him to come alone for a parley.Reverence for the sacred command of a monarch hada magic effect, Kirkcaldy of Grange halted his riders.He went alone to Mary Stuart, and before saying a wordhe knelt to pay homage. Then he stated his conditions.The Queen must leave Bothwell and return with theScottish lords to Edinburgh. Bothwell could ridewhithersoever he pleased. No one would pursue him.Bothwell (a wonderful scene and a wonderfulman!) stood looking on without a word. He said nothingto Kirkcaldy nor yet anything to the Queen toinfluence her decision. One cannot but feel he wasready to ride alone against the two hundred who werewaiting at the foot of the hill, prepared, at a wave ofKirkcaldy's hand, to charge the hostile lines. Onlywhen he heard that the Queen had agreed to Kirkcaldy'sproposal, did Bothwell step up to her, and embraceher—for the last time, though neither of themknew this. Thereupon he mounted his horse and gallopedoff, followed only by a couple of servants. Thedream was over, and the time of awakening had come.The awakening came, dreadful, inexorable. TheScottish lords promised to conduct Mary back to Edinburghwith all due honour, and it is probable that suchhad been their intention. But hardly did she, seated onher jennet, and wearing lowly attire, begin to ridethrough the ranks of the common soldiers, than, firedwith scorn, they venomously reviled her. So long as theiron hand of Bothwell had protected the Queen, thehatred of the populace had been kept in restraint. Now,286

A BLIND ALLEYwhen she was no longer thus safeguarded, contemptbroke forth. A queen that had capitulated was no longera queen to these rebel soldiers. They thronged roundher more and more closely, inquisitively at first, thenchallengingly, with shouts of "Burn the whore! Burn themurderess!"Kirkcaldy laid about him with the flat of his sword, butin vain. More and more of the rebels closed around her,and held aloft, full in her sight, the banner demandingGod's vengeance upon Darnley's murderer. This unroyalprogress, this running of the gauntlet from CarberryHill to Edinburgh, lasted from six in the eveninguntil ten. The populace thronged from the villages andfrom all the houses of the city to enjoy the spectacle of acaptured queen. Again and again the press became sogreat that the ranks of the soldiers were broken. Neverdid Mary Stuart suffer a more profound humiliationthan on that day.But this proud woman might be humiliated; shewould not bend. As a wound does not burn fiercelyuntil it is cleansed, so Mary did not really feel her defeatuntil she was faced by this poison of scorn. Her hotblood, the blood of the Stuarts, the blood of the Guises,boiled. Instead of behaving prudently, she railed at thelords, holding them responsible for her contumelioustreatment by the people. Like an angry lioness sheroared at her enemies; she would hang them, wouldhave them crucified; and suddenly she seized the Earlof Lindsay's hand, saying: "I swear, by this hand whichis now in yours, that I will have your head." As always,in times of danger, her excess of courage led her intofolly. Although the Scottish lords now had her safein their hands, she openly used the most abusive languageagainst them, expressing the utmost contempt fortheir misbehaviour, instead of maintaining a prudentsilence or trying to win her subjects over by cajolery.287

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSProbably her rage made the lords harsher than theyhad at first intended to be. At any rate, now that theyfelt she would never forgive them, they did their utmostto make the unruly woman feel her defencelessness.Instead of installing their queen in the palace of Holyrood,which lay without the city walls, they compelledher to ride past Kirk o' Field into Edinburgh where thestreets were filled with the rabble. There, through HighStreet, she was led to the provost's house, as if to thepillory. The door was locked upon her. Not one of hernoblewomen or servant-maids was admitted. A night ofdespair followed. For days she had not changed herclothes. Since the morning she had not had a morsel offood. Terrible had been her sufferings from sunrise tosunset—a period in which she had lost her kingdom andher lover. Outside in the street there assembled, asbefore a wildbeast's cage, a foul-tongued mob, to shoutwords of the coarsest opprobrium. Not until now, whenthe lords believed that her spirit was'broken, did theytry to negotiate with her. They did not ask much. Theironly demand was that she should break away from Bothwellfor ever. But the defiant woman could fight moreboldly for a lost cause than for a hopeful one. Contemptuouslyshe rejected their proposal, and one of heradversaries admitted later: "Never have I seen a morevaliant woman than was the Queen on this occasion."Since the Scottish lords could not by any threat, induceMary to forsake Bothwell, the cunningest amongthem tried to gain the same end by craft. Maitland ofLethington, her old and at one time her faithful adviser,used finer means. His appeal was to her jealousy, forhe told her (perhaps it was true, perhaps false; whoknows, since the words were uttered by a diplomatist?)that Bothwell had been unfaithful to her, that, duringthe few weeks of their marriage, he had resumed intimaterelationships with his divorced wife, had told288

A BLIND ALLEYLady Jane Gordon that he regarded her as his lawfulspouse and the Queen as no more than a concubine. ButMary knew that she was surrounded by cheats, none ofwhose words were to be trusted. The information servedonly to drive her into a frenzy, with the result that Edinburghsaw the degrading sight of the Queen of Scotlandbehind barred windows with her dress torn, her breastsexposed, her hair hanging down, raging like a maniac,sobbing and shrieking, while she declared to the populace,touched in spite of venomous hate, that it was theirduty to free her, since she was being kept in duress byher own subjects.The situation had become impossible. The Scottishlords would have been glad to yield a step or two. Theyfelt, however, that they had now gone too far to retreat.It had become impossible for them to dream of reinstallingMary Stuart in Holyrood as queen. Yet she couldnot be left in the provost's house, surrounded by a ragingmob, without incurring formidable responsibilities, andarousing the anger of Elizabeth and all other foreignprinces. The "only man among them who had bothcourage and authority, Moray, was across the border.In his default, the other lords did not venture to come toa decision. The best they could do was to remove theQueen to some safer retreat, and for this purpose theyselected Lochleven Castle. That stronghold was on anisland in the lake of the same name. It belonged toMargaret Douglas, Moray's mother, who wouldnaturally not be too well disposed towards the daughterof that Mary of Guise for whom her lover James V hadforsaken her.The ominous word "imprisonment" was carefullyavoided in the lords' proclamation. The Queen wasonly "secluded" that "the person of Her Majesty mightbe kept from any communication with the foresaidEarl Bothwell, and that she might not get into touch289

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSwith those who wished to safeguard him from the justpunishment of his crime." The measure they adoptedwas a half-measure, a provisional measure, dictated byfear, and prompted by an uneasy conscience. The risingagainst Queen Mary did not yet venture to declare itselfa rebellion. All the blame was still laid upon the fugitiveBothwell. The secret determination to dethrone Marywas hidden away under cowardly though courteouswords. To humbug the populace, which was still clamouringfor judgment and execution of the "whore," onthe evening of June 17 Mary Stuart was conveyed toHolyrood under a guard of three hundred men. But assoon as the citizens had gone to bed, a little processionwas formed to conduct the monarch to Lochleven. Thisgloomy ride lasted until dawn. At peep of day, when thewaters of the lake were beginning to show themselvesmore clearly, she approached the soUtary, inaccessiblefortress where she was to stay, who knew how long?She was rowed thither, and the gates clashed to behindher. The passionate and gloomy ballad of Darnley andBothwell was finished. Now began the melancholy envoy,the chronicle of perpetual imprisonment.290

Cnapter 15DEPOSITIONSUMMER 1567r ROM this day, June 17, 1567, when the Scottishlords imprisoned their queen in Lochleven Castle, Marydidnot cease, until the day of her death, to be a focus ofEuropean unrest. She incorporated a new-fangledproblem, a revolutionary problem of far-reaching import.What was to be done with a monarch who was insharp conflict with the people, and had proved unworthyto wear a crown? In this instance, there can be nodoubt that the sovereign lady had been to blame. Byyielding to passion, Mary had brought about an impossible,an intolerable situation. Against the will of thenobility, the commonalty, and the clergy, she had chosenfor husband a man wedded to another woman, and aman universally regarded as the murderer of her latehusband, the King of Scotland. She had disregardedlaw and defied morality. She still stubbornly refused toadmit that her foolish marriage was invalid. Even herbest friends were agreed that she could not continue torule Scotland with this assassin by her side.What means were there of compelling the Queen toabandon Bothwell, or, as an alternative, to abdicate infavour of her son? There were none. In those dayssubjects had no constitutional rights against a monarch.Public opinion counted for nothing where a king or aqueen was concerned. The people were not entitled toblame his or her actions. Jurisdiction came to an end291

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSbefore the steps of a throne. The king was not, as to-day,the chief citizen of the State over which he ruled, but washimself the State, or stood above the State. Once he hadbeen crowned and anointed, he could neither lay downhis office nor make it over to another. No one could robthe Anointed of the Lord of his dignity, so that, from theabsolutist outlook, it was easier to deprive a ruler of hislife than of his crown. He could be murdered, but couldnot be deposed, for to use force against him signified aninfraction of the hierarchical ordering of the cosmos. Byher criminal marriage Mary had put the world in thisdilemma. Her fate would decide, not an isolated conflict,but a philosophical principle.That was why the Scottish lords, although the ceremonieswere respected, were in so feverish a hurry tofind a satisfactory solution. Looking back across thecenturies we can see that they felt uneasy at their ownrevolutionary deed, at having imprisoned their sovereign;and the fact is that they were prepared-to make thingseasy for Mary's reinstatement. It would be enough forher to admit her error by acknowledging her marriagewith Bothwell to have been illegal. Then, thoughweakened doubtless in her hold on popular affection andin her authority, she could still have effected an honourablereturn to Holyrood, and could have chosen aworthier husband. But Mary remained unyielding.Regarding herself as infallible, she could not recognizethat the rapid succession of scandals—that of Chastelard,of Rizzio, of Darnley, and of Bothwell—had led peopleto regard her as incorrigibly light-minded. She wouldnot make the slightest concession. In the face of Scotland,in the face of the world, she defended Bothwell theassassin, maintaining that she could not separate herselffrom him for, if she did so, his child, which she bore inher womb, would be a bastard. She continued to live incloudland. A confirmed romanticist, she could not face292

DEPOSITION .realities; and, with a stubbornness which you may callfoolish or splendid as you please, defied those who hadmarshalled their forces against her in a way that wouldlead her to a violent death. Nor her alone, for hergrandson, Charles I, would in due time pay with his lifefor his claim to be an absolute ruler.Still, at the outset, she could count upon a certainamount of aid. So conspicuous a struggle between asovereign ruler and her people could not leave the othercrowned heads of Europe indifferent. Elizabeth, aboveall, was strongly on the side of the cousin she had sooften opposed. This change of front on the part of theQueen of England, her ardent espousal of the cause ofher rival, is usually regarded as one more sign of Elizabeth'sinconstancy. No doubt the Tudor monarch wasfickle, was a weathercock in petticoats, but in this instanceher behaviour was consistent. If she now stoodshoulder to shoulder with the Queen of Scotland and theIsles, this does not mean that she was siding with MaryStuart the woman, the woman whose recent behaviourhad naturally aroused so much suspicion. Elizabethwas a queen supporting another queen, supporting theprinciple that sovereign rights are inviolable, and thereforefighting for her own cause as well as Mary's. Shedid not feel sure enough of the loyalty of her nobles tolook on inert while rebellious subjects took up armsagainst the queen of a neighbouring kingdom and flungher into prison. In defiance of Cecil, whose inclinationwas to extend assistance to the Protestant Scottish lords,Elizabeth was determined to force these rebels to returnto their allegiance, thus defending herself while defendingher cousin. For once her words had the ring of truthwhen she said she was profoundly moved by what hadhappened. She hastened to promise her sisterly support293

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSto the imprisoned queen, while at the same time blamineMary's conduct as a woman. She drew a sharp distinctionbetween her private views and the position sheadopted as a crowned head.Probably in July 1567, Elizabeth wrote to Mary asfollows: "Madam, it hath been always held for a specialprinciple in friendship that prosperity provideth, butadversity proveth friends; whereof at this time findingoccasion to verify the same with our action, we havethought meet, both for our professions and your comfortin these few words to testify our friendship, not only byadmonishing you of the worst, but also to comfort youfor the best. . . . Madam, to be plain with you, ourgrief hath not been small, that in this your marriage soslender consideration hath been had, that as we perceivemanifestly, no good friend you have in the wholeworld can like thereof: and if we should otherwisewrite or say we should abuse you, for how could a worsechoice be made far you, than in gveat^haste ta marrysuch a subject, whom, besides other notorious lackspublic fame hath charged with the murder of your latehusband, besides the touching of yourself also in somepart, though we trust in that behalf falsely? And withwhat peril have you married him that hath another wifealive, whereby neither by God's law nor man's yourselfcan be his lawful wife, nor any children betwixt youlegitimate! Thus you see plainly what we think of themarriage, whereof we are heartily sorry that we canconceive no better, what colourable reason soever wehave heard of your servant to induce us thereto. Wewish, upon the death of your husband, the first care hadbeen to have searched out and punished the murderers;which having been done eflfectually—as easily it rnighthave been in a matter so notorious—^there might havebeen many more things tolerated better in your marriagethan that now can be suffered to- be spoken of. And294

DEPOSITIONsurely we cannot but for friendship to yourself, besidesthe natural instinct that we have of blood to your latehusband, profess ourselves earnestly bent to do anythingin our power to procure the due punishment of thatmurder against any subject that you have, how dearsoever you hold him."These are plain words, and cutting as a knife. Theyshow that Elizabeth, who had doubtless been kept wellinformed by her spies and Moray about all that happenedat Kirk o' Field, was convinced of Mary's complicityin the murder of Darnley. With very little periphrasis,she pointed to Bothwell as the actual murderer,and did not try to wrap up the unpalatable assurance incourtly or diplomatic words. The above-quoted missiveshows, beyond question, that Elizabeth Tudor was preparedto support Mary Stuart the queen, and not hercousin Mary the woman, because, in supporting thequeen she was fighting for her own hand. In this remarkableletter Elizabeth continues: "Now for your comfortin such adversity as we have heard you should be in—whereof we cannot tell what to think to be true—weassure you, that whatsoever we can imagine meet tobe for your honour and safety that shall lie in our power,we will perform the same; that it shall well appear youhave a good neighbour, a dear sister, a faithful friend;and so shall you undoubtedly always find us and proveus to be indeed towards you; for which purpose we aredetermined to send with all speed one of our trustyservants, not only to understand your state but also,there upon, so to deal with your nobility and people, asthey shall find you not to lack our friendship and powerfor the preservation of your honour and greatness."Elizabeth kept her word. She charged her specialmessenger to enter the strongest possible protest againstthe measures the rebels were taking against Mary, andto let the Scottish lords know that in the event of their295

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSusing any violence towards her cousin she was determinedto declare war. She fiercely reproved them fortheir presumptuousness in proposing to hold judgmentupon an anointed queen. There was nothing in HolyWrit to justify subjects in deposing their heaven-givenruler. In no Christian monarchy was there any lawauthorising subjects to touch the person of their prince,to prison him, or hale him before a court of assize. Elizabethhad been as much outraged as had been the Scottishlords by the murder of her cousin, the late King, andas much outraged as they by the Queen's marriage toBothwell. But she could neither tolerate nor condonetheir subsequent behaviour towards their Queen. ByGod's ordinance they were Mary's subjects and Marywas their ruler, and they therefore had no right to callher to account, since it was opposed to nature to makethe head subordinate to the feet.For the first time, however, Elizabeth encounteredopen resistance on the part of the Scottish lords, althoughmost of them had been for years in her pay. Since themurder of Rizzio, they had known well enough what theymight expect should Mary regain power. Neither theirthreats nor their cajoleries had induced her to forsakeBothwell; and they still had a lively memory of the invectivesand menaces of vengeance which she hadshrieked at them during the ride from Carberry Hill toEdinburgh. They had not got rid, first of Rizzio, thenof Darnley, and then of Bothwell, in order to becomeonce more the powerless subjects of so incalculable awoman. It would suit them enormously better to haveas monarch Mary Stuart's little son James, for a childcould not order them about, and during the long periodof his minority they would remain undisputed rulers ofthe country.296

DEPOSITIONNevertheless, the Scottish lords would not have foundcourage to defy Elizabeth had not chance put into theirhands an unexpected and deadly weapon against Mary.Six days after the affair at Garberry Hill, an act ofdespicable treachery to Bothwell on the part of his confederateSir James Balfour gave them what they wanted.Balfour, rendered uneasy by the change in the politicalweather, saw a chance of saving his skin by fresh rascality.He informed the Scottish lords that Bothwell,now a fugitive, had sent a valet, George Dalgleish, toEdinburgh, in search of a casket containing importantdocuments, which Dalgleish was to smuggle out of thecapital. The valet was promptly arrested, was put to thetorture, and revealed the hiding-place of the documents.Under a bed was thereupon found a silver casket whichhad been given to Mary by her first husband Francis,and which subsequently, with all her other treasures, shehad made over to her lover Bothwell. In this coffer orcasket, protected by cunningly devised locks, Bothwellhad been accustomed to keep his private documents,Mary's promise to marry him, her letters to him, andpresumably certain papers which were compromising tothe Scottish lords. One may suppose that he had thoughtit would be too dangerous to take this casket with himupon the flight to Borthwick. He had hidden it away inEdinburgh before leaving, intending to have it broughtto him in due course by a trustworthy servant. His bondwith the Scottish lords, the Queen's promise to marryhim, and her private letters, might serve him, some day,for blackmailing purposes or for self-exculpation. Withthe documents in his possession he could, on the onehand, bring pressure to bear on the Queen should sheprove fickle, and, on the other hand, guard himselfagainst the Scottish lords should they wish to accuse himof the murder of Darnley. His first thought when hefound himself in temporary security after his flight from297

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSCarberry Hill was to get these important pieces of evidenceonce more into his own keeping. It was an almostincredible piece of luck for the Scottish lords to be ableto seize them, since they were then in a position todestroy whatever might compromise themselves, whileruthlessly using against the Queen whatever was to herdetriment.For one night the Earl of Morton had charge of thisprecious find. Next day the other lords were summoned(it is important for the reader to note that among themwere CathoUcs and friends of Mary Stuart), and, intheir presence, the locked coffer was broken open. Itcontained the famous Casket Letters as well as the sonnetswritten or alleged to be written by Mary. Withouttroubling here to re-open the question whether thetranslations which have come down to us faithfullyrepresent the original text, as far as the letters are concerned,or whether the sonnets were genuine—this muchis certain that the documents found or'alleged to havebeen found in the casket had a disastrous influence uponthe fate of Queen Mary. Thence forward, theiScottishlords became far bolder, more self-assured. In theirjubilation, they hastened to spread the news far andwide. The very same day, before there could have beentime to copy the documents, and still less to falsify them,they sent a messenger to Moray in France giving him anoral summary of the most incriminating. They madethe French ambassador acquainted with their discovery;they arrested and examined all of Bothwell's servantsthey could lay hands upon, and took minutes of theirevidence. Their general line of conduct after the openingof the casket would be incomprehensible had not itscontents provided damnatory confirmation of MaryStuart's complicity with Bothwell. At one stroke theQueen's situation had grown far worse.For the discovery of the letters at this critical juncture298

DEPOSITIONcould not but enormously strengthen the position of therebels. It gave them, at last, the moral ground theyneeded to support them in their rebellion. Hitherto theyhad been content to talk of Bothwell as guilty of the lateking's murder, but had carefully avoided pressing himtoo hard lest the refugee should proclaim them to theViforld as confederates. The only grievance they hadbeen able to allege against the Queen, so far, had beenthat she had married her husband's murderer. Now,however, thanks to the opportune "discovery" of theletters and sonnets, they were able to convince the mostunsuspicious that Queen Mary had been privy to thecrime. Her (to say the least of it) extremely indiscreetwritten avowals gave the practised and cynical blackmailersthe very lever they wanted for putting pressureupon the Queen and breaking her obduracy. Now theycould compel her "of her own free will," to make overthe crown to her son; or, if she refused, could publiclyaccuse her of adultery and of being accessory to herhusband's murder.I should have written "arrange for her to be accused"rather than "accuse." The Scottish lords knew thatElizabeth would never allow them to claim jurisdictionover the Queen. They therefore remained prudently inthe background, pulling strings to secure that a formaltrial should be instigated by a third party. The requisiteinflaming of public opinion against Mary Stuart wasgladly undertaken by a man who hated her, JohnKnox. After the murder of Rizzio, this agitator andfanatic had thought it wise to quit the country. Now,when his gloomiest prophecies concerning the "bloodyJezebel" and the disasters her misconduct would bringabout had been fulfilled in every particular and evenoutdone, he returned to Edinburgh clad in the prophet'smantle. From his pulpit came demand after demandthat the sinful papist woman should be'put upon trial;299

THE Q_UEEN OF SCOTSin the uncompromising vernacular of the Old Testament,the priest clamoured for an assize upon the adulterousqueen. Nor was Knox's a solitary voice. Sundayafter Sunday the sermons of the preachers of the reformedreligion became more acrimonious. No more inthe case of a queen than in that of the lowliest woman inthe land were adultery and murder to be condoned.They went so far as to demand the execution of MaryStuart, and their perpetual incitation did not fail of itseffect. Hatred soon spread from the kirk into the street.Excited at the thought of seeing a woman of such exaltedposition led as a sinner to the scaffold, the mob, whichhitherto in Scotland had sung small, now began to insistupon the public trial of the Queen. "The women weremost furious and impudent against her, yet the men werebad enough." Every poor woman in Scotland knewthat the pillory and the scaflFold would have been herlot had she been proved guilty of adultery. Was this onewoman, because she was called a queen, -to lecher and tomurder unpunished, and to escape the fire? More andmore savage became the cries: "Burn the whore!" TheEnglish ambassador, honestly alarmed, reported toLondon his fear lest the tragedy which had begun withthe murder of David the ItaUan and with the slaying ofthe Queen's husband would end with the execution ofthe Queen.The Scottish lords had all that they wanted. Theycould bring up their heavy artillery to batter downMary Stuart's resistance to a "voluntary" abdication.The document had been already drawn up to fulfilJohn Knox's insistence upon a direct accusation of theQueen, for "a breach of the law" and for "incontinencewith Bothwell and others." If she still refused to abdicate,the letters found in the casket, the letters which proved300

DEPOSITIONher to have been privy to the murder, could be read inopen court, disclosing her shame. Therewith the rebelswould have justified them.selves before the world. Theydid not think that Elizabeth or any other monarch wouldin that case intervene on behalf of a woman whose ownletters showed her to be a murderess and an adulteress.Armed with this threat of a public trial. Sir RobertMelville and Lord Lindsay arrived at Lochleven Castleon July 25, 1567. They brought with them three parchmentsfor the Queen to sign if she wished to avoid beingput on her trial. In the first of them Mary was to declarethat she was weary of queenship and was content tolay aside the burden of the crown, a burden which shehad neither power nor inclination to sustain any longer.The second parchment announced her consent to thecoronation of her son; the third, her approval of Moray'sappointment as Regent.Melville was the chief spokesman. He, of all the rebelliousnobles, was most sympathetic to her. Twicehe had intervened to avert open conflict, and to urgeher to repudiate Bothwell. But, on both occasions, shehad refused, knowing that if she gave way to his demandsthe child she carried in her womb, Bothwell'schild, would be born a bastard. Now, however, after thediscovery of the Casket Letters, her position had becomemuch more difficult. At first she passionately refused tosign the parchments. She burst into tears, declaring thatshe would rather forfeit her life than her crown. Ruthlessly,and in the crudest colours, Melville explainedwhat awaited her if she persisted in her refusal: a publicreading of the letters, the interrogation of Bothwell'sservants, her own examination and condemnation. Withhorror Mary began to realize the result of her heedlessness,and how she had involved herself in shame anddisgrace. Her stubborn resistance was overcome by herfears. After prolonged hesitation and fierce outbursts of301

THE (^UEEN OF SCOTSindignation and despair, she gave way in the end andsigned the three documents.An agreement had been come to. But, as usual withthe Scottish "bonds," neither party to the contract hadany intention of being bound by it. The Scottish lordswould, nonetheless, read Mary Stuart's letters in parliament,and would trumpet to the world that she hadbeen privy to Darnley's murder, hoping thereby tomake her return to the throne impossible. Mary herselfdid not for a moment regard herself as discrownedmerely because she had affixed her signature to thepieces of parchment. To her the divine right of a queenwas as much a part of herself as the warm blood thatcoursed through her veins, oaths to the contrary notwithstanding.Her word of honour counted for nothingwith her as compared with the only thing which gave theworld reality to her.A few days later, the little King was crowned. Thepopulace had to put up with a less impressive spectaclethan an auto-da-fe in the public square. At the coronation,the Earl of Atholl carried the crown, Morton thesceptre, the Earl of Glencairn the sword, and the Earl ofMar bore in his arms the little boy who was henceforwardto be known as James VI of Scotland. Since JohnKnox preached the coronation sermon, the world wasgiven to understand that the new-made king had forever put away from him the errors and snares of papisticaldoctrines. There was great jubilation among thecrowd outside the gates; the church bells pealed; bonfireswere lighted throughout the country. For themoment, and only for the moment, joy and peace wererestored to Scotland.302

JAMES HEPBURN, EARl. OF BOTHWELL. IN 1566(artist unknown)

JAMES VI(artist unknown)

DEPOSITIONNow, when the burden and heat of the day had beenborne by others, Moray, the man of finesse, returnedhome in triumph. Once more his perfidious poUcy ofabsenting himself when danger was in the wind had beenjustified by results. He kept in the background duringthe murder of Rizzio, and again during the murder ofDarnley; he took no active part in the rebellion againsthis sister; his loyalty was unsullied and no blood besmirchedhis hands. Time had been working on his side.Since he knew how to wait and to hold aloof, thereaccrued to him without effort and without taint of dishonourwhat he had been artfully scheming for. Unanimouslythe Scottish lords offered him the regency.Moray, able to command others because he knew howto command himself did not show himself unduly eager.He was too clever to accept this position of dignity andpower as a gracious gift, since those who offered it tohim were men whom he intended to rule. He also wishedto present himself in the light of a loving and devotedbrother, who had no thought of claiming the authorityof which his sister had been forcibly bereft. It was apsychological master-stroke on his part so to arrangematters that the regency should be forced on him,through the insistence of both parties, the rebel lords andthe dethroned queen.The stagecraft of his visit to Lochleven was admirable.The unhappy woman, as soon as she caught sight ofhim, flung herself sobbing into her half-brother's arms.Now at length, she hoped, she would find consolation,support, and friendship; and, more than all, she expectedto receive the boon of the good counsel of whichshe had so long been deprived. Moray, however, insteadof responding cordially, assumed a harsh reserve.Leading her to her room, he told her plainly what hethought of her folly and misconduct, without saying aword to arouse in her any hope of considerate treatment.303 L

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSMuch perturbed by James's bitterness and coldness, theQueen wept once more, but tried to excuse herself andexplain or extenuate her behaviour. Moray listened toher in silence, with a gloomy countenance, his mainobject being to intimidate her.Then Moray left his sister to her own devices for thenight; a night of alarms, poisoned by the anxiety hehad aroused in her, which he wished to burn deeperand deeper. She, poor woman, was with child; she hadhad no tidings of what was going on in the outer world,for no one was allowed to visit her; she could not tellwhether a shameful trial and horrible death might notbe awaiting her. She did not sleep a wink, and nextmorning was utterly broken. When they met again,Moray thought fit to utter a few words of consolation.He hinted that if she made no attempt to escape or toget into communication with the foreign powers, andespecially if she would no longer seek reunion withBothwell, it was possible, just possible that he and herother well-wishers would try to save her honour beforethe world. This glimmer of hope sufficed to bring comfortto the despairing woman. She embraced herbrother, and implored him to assume the regency. Thenonly would she feel that her son was safe, the kingdomwell governed, and she herself freed from danger. Shebegged him again and again to become Regent, andMoray went on allowing her to beg him, before witnesses,for a long time, until at length he magnanimouslyagreed to accept from her hands the position he hadalready determined to hold. Having gained his end,now that his sister no less than the Scottish lords wantedhim to be Regent, he departed well satisfied; leavingMary likewise consoled, since she knew that the powerwould be held in her brother's strong hand, and shehoped that the famous letters would not be made public.But no one ha;s pity for the powerless. As soon as304

DEPOSITIONMoray was installed as Lord Regent, he naturally determinedto do that which would imake the restoration ofhis sister morally impossible. There was no further wordof her liberation from prison, and preparations weremade to keep her there for the rest of her life. Althoughhe had promised both Elizabeth and Mary to safeguardthe latter's honour, on December 15, 1567, he had thecompromising documents found in the silver casket, theletters and sonnets, read aloud in the Scottish parliament,examined by those assembled, and unanimouslydeclared to be in the dethroned queen's handwriting.Four bishops, fourteen abbots, twelve earls, and somewherenear fifty of the lesser lights of the nobility andgentry (among whom were not a few that were friendlyto the Queen), swore to the genuineness of the letters andthe sonnets.On this occasion not a single voice, not even that ofany of those friendly to the Queen (and this fact is ofgreat evidential value), expressed the slightest doubt as tothe authenticity of the documents. Thus the meeting ofthe Scottish parliament became a tribunal. Invisiblythe Queen was present at an assize held by her subjects.After the reading and examination of the letters, theillegal actions of the Scottish lords during late months,their rebellion, their taking prisoner of the Queen, andso on, were formally approved; and it was expresslydeclared that Mary had deserved her fate, since she hadhad "art and part" in the murder of her lawful husband.This was said to be "proven by the letters written with herown hand before and after the deed to James Bothwell,who had been mainly instrumental in the murder, andalso by her shameful marriage to Bothwell immediatelyafter the murder." In order that the world atlarge should be informed as to Mary's guilt, and shouldlearn that the worthy Scottish lords had only risen inrebellion under the stimulus of moral indignation, copies305

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSof the letters were sent to the foreign courts, that therebyQueen Mary might be publicly stigmatized as an adulteress.Moray, the Lord Regent, and the Scottish lordsin general, hoped that, with this red brand on her forehead,Mary would never again venture to claim thecrown of Scotland.But Mary was too strongly fortified by her sense ofdivine right to be shaken by public humiliation. Nobrand, she felt, could mark a forehead which had worna crown and been duly anointed. No judgment and nocommand would ever make her bow her head. Themore violent the attempt to cast her down from her highestate, the more resolutely would she resist. A will suchas hers cannot long be prisoned. It breaks through thestrongest walls, snaps the bars of any cage. If you putsuch a woman as Mary Stuart in chains, she will strainagainst her bonds so forcibly that stronghold and heartswill quake.306

Chapter 16FAREWELL TOFREEDOMSUMMER 1567 TO SUMMER 1568IN O imaginative writer but Shakespeare could haveadequately encompassed the Bothwell tragedy as adrama or a work of fiction; but a British writer of lessweight has, with considerable success, described theromantic and touching postlude at Lochleven Castle—Walter Scott. Yet any one who has read The Abbot inchildhood will continue, throughout life, to regard thishistorical "fiction" as more vivid and even more truthfulthan what is called historical "truth," for, when a giftedimaginative writer sets to work, the beautiful legend heconstructs v\^U often gain the victory over reality. Wehave all had our early emotions touched by these scenes,which have made a deep impress on our affective lifeand have permanently influenced our sympathies, forthe elements of romance were ready to the writer'spractised hand: there were the grim gaolers who keptwatch over the unhappy queen; the calumniators whoblotted her scutcheon; she herself, young, kindly, andbeautiful, able to transform her enemies' cruelty intoclemency, to inflame the hearts of the men with whomshe came into contact until they were filled with a spiritof chivalry and self-sacrifice. The setting, too, was noless romantic than the motif—the gloomy stronghold onan island in a lovely lake. From the dormer-window,Mary could catch glimpses of her beautiful Scottishrealm with its forests and mountains, its perpetual307

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTScharm. In the far distance she could discern the chillwaters of the North Sea. The poetic energies in thehearts of the Scottish people have been, so to say, embodiedin this romantic episode of Mary at Lochleven;and when once such a legend has been created, it comesto form a lasting element in the blood of a nation. Foreach successive generation it is re-creative, arousingfresh faith. Like an imperishable tree, it throws forthnew blossoms year after year, possessed of a higher truthbeside which the arid truths of documents wither. Whathas once been thus created by the immortal power ofimaginative genius, maintains itself in virtue of itsbeauty. Those who, in a later, maturer, and moresceptical epoch, try to elicit the facts that underlie soimpressive a Jegend, find that these facts are repellentlybald—like a prose paraphrase of a magnificent poem.The supreme danger of legend, however, is that thosewho give it currency tend to ignore that which isgenuinely tragical in favour of that which is merely sentimental.Thus the balladesque tale of Mary Stuart'simprisonment at Lochleven makes no mention of theinnermost, the most human of her distresses. Sir WalterScott stubbornly omits to relate that Queen Mary waswith child by the murderer of her previous husband, andthus leaves out of account the full horror of her positionduring those months of humiliation. For if the babe shebore in her womb were (as was likely enough in thecircumstances) to come prematurely into the world, thepitiless calendar of nature would disclose for all to readwhen she had first given herself to Bothwell. There islittle or no doubt that she had done so before the formalwedding; maybe at a time when surrender to his embracessignified adultery; maybe during the period ofmourning for Darnley, at Seton of in the time of herstrange wanderings from castle to castle; maybe (andprobably) while Darnley was still alive. No one can308

FAREWELL TO FREEDOMfully understand Mary's distressful state of mind atLochleven who fails to recall that the birth of Bothwell'schild would betray to a censorious world the date atwhich her fatal passion for the Earl had begun.What actually occurred in this respect remains amystery from which the veil has never been lifted. Wedo not know how many months Mary had been withchild when she was imprisoned at Lochleven; we donot know when she was freed from the burden of thisundesired pregnancy; we do not know whether the childcame into the world alive or was still-born; if the pregnancywas brought to a premature conclusion, we do notknow at what stage. Obscurity and suppositions envelopthe whole affair; the witnesses are contradictory;and only this much is certain that Mary had good reasonfor keeping the birth secret. It is suspicious enough thatin none of her letters does she say a word about the birthof Bothwell's child. According to the reports of ClaudNau, Sieur de Fontenay, who was her private secretaryat this time, she gave birth at Lochleven to twins, prematurely; and, since she had her apothecary with her inthe castle, we may guess that the prematurity wasassisted. According to another account, which equallylacks confirmation, the fruit of her union with Bothwellwas not twins born too early to be viable, but a livingdaughter, who was secretly shipped to France, to bebrought up there in a nunnery ignorant of her royaldescent. The key that might have unlocked these mysterieshas been sunk for ever in the waters of Lochleven.The fact that Queen Mary's guardians helped her tocover up the mystery of the birth of Bothwell's child atLochleven Castle shows that they were not the hardheartedgaolers of the legend. Lady Douglas of Lochleven,to whose care the Queen had been committed,309

THE qUEEN OF SCOTShad, more than thirty years before, been mistress of KingJames V, to whom she had borne six children, the eldestbeing now the Regent Moray. After King James'sdeath, she married Earl Douglas of Lochleven, and byhim had seven children. A woman who had thirteentimes experienced the pangs of labour and who hadsuffered the spiritual distress of bearing her first childrenout of wedlock, was well able to understand and sympathisewith Mary Stuart's pitiable plight. The stories ofher harshness towards the royal prisoner may be regardedas fabulous, and we cannot doubt that Mary,though a prisoner, was treated as an exalted guest. Thedethroned queen had a suite of rooms, her own cook,her own apothecary, four or five ladies-in-waiting orfemale domestics; she had the free run of the castle andthe island; and she seems even to have been allowed thepleasures of the chase. If we strip the story of her lifeat Lochleven from sentimental tramn:5ls, we shall cometo the conclusion that her treatment at'the castle wasextremely considerate. For, though the sentimentalistwould fain have us overlook the fact, Mary had (tosay the least of it) been somewhat remiss in her conduct,having married the murderer of her husband threemonths after the crime. As regards the question of hercomplicity in the murder, were she to be retried by amodern court of justice, the best plea that could be putin for her would be "extenuating circumstances" onthe ground of her spiritual thraldom to Bothwell. Ifthis woman whose behaviour had been a scandal toEurope and who had thrown the country over which sheruled into renewed disorder was kept in seclusion for awhile, this was to her own advantage as well as to thatof Scotland. During these months of retreat, she wasgiven a chance of calming her over-stimulated nerves, ofregaining command of her will which had been paralysedby her infatuation for Bothwell. In a word, im-310

FAREWELL TO FREEDOMprisonment at Lochleven saved her for a time from thedangers to which she would otherwise have been exposedby her own foolhardiness, unrest, and impatience;safeguarded her from'the opportunity of committingnumerous follies.In any case, Mary's detention at Lochleven must beregarded as mild punishment for what she had doneamiss, when compared with what befell her accompliceand lover, notwithstanding the solemn pledges thathad been given. Bothwell became a hunted outlaw, aprice of a thousand crowns had been set on his head, andhis best friends in Scodand would have betrayed andsold him for that sum. The Earl, however, was not soeasy to get hold of. Having vainly attempted to rally theborderers, he fled to the Orkneys, hoping thence tolevy war against the Scottish lords. Regent Moray,however, dispatched four warships against him, andBothwell only escaped capture by taking to sea in acockle-shell of a boat. This httle vessel was intendedmerely for coasting traffic among the islands, but in it,through stormy weather, the Earl made his way toNorway, arriving with torn sails, and being taken onboard a Danish warship. Bothwell hoped to remain unrecognized,and borrowed a suit of ordinary clothingfrom some of his shipmates. He thought he would farebetter if regarded as a pirate than if he were known to bethe outlawed consort of the Queen of Scotland and theIsles. He was recognized, however, carried hither andthither, and at length set at liberty in Denmark. Buteven there, when fortune seemed to favour him, thiswoman-hunter wrecked his chances by seducing a Danishgirl under promise of marriage. She brought a suitagainst him.Meanwhile, the authorities in Copenhagen had311 L*

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSlearned of what crimes Bothwell was accused in Scotland,so that the axe seemed ready for his neck. Diplomaticcouriers hastened hither and thither. Moraydemanded his extradition, and Queen Elizabeth wasyet more urgent in the matter, wanting him as witnessfor the crown against Mary Stuart. The latter's Frenchrelatives, however, were secretly working upon the Kingof Denmark, in order to prevent the surrender of onewhose testimony might have proved so defamatory tothe Queen of Scots. He was kept in rigorous confinement,and in prison he was safer than he would havebeen at large. Day after day, however, the man whoseboldness was notorious in a hundred fights and forayshad to dread lest he should be sent back to Scotland inchains, to perish under fearful tortures as a regicide. Hewas continually moved from one prison to another, keptbehind strong bars like a dangerous beast, and he knewwell that nothing but death would free him. Intolerablylonely and inactive, this vigorous man who had been theterror of his enemies and the darUng of the fair sex, now,week after week, month after month, year after year,had to endure the living death of perpetual imprisonment.Could there be conceived a more horrible torturefor one whose natural element was activity and freedom,one who loved the chase, who had ridden often to battlesurrounded by his faithful retainers, who had enjoyedthe favour of women wherever he went and had takendelight also in the things of the spirit. Now this paralyzinginactivity in one prison-cell after another! We learnfrom credible reports that he became frenzied in hissolitude, dashing himself against the bars and the walls,to die insane in 1578, at the age of forty-two, after tenyears of purgatory. Of the many who suffered death andmartyrdom for Mary Stuart, Bothwell, the man whomshe had most ardently loved, atoned longer and morehorribly than any other.312

FAREWELL TO FREEDOMDid Mary Stuart continue to think of Bothwell? Wasshe still in thrall to him, in spite of time and distance?Or was her glowing bondage gradually dissolved? Thelatter is true, for, as we shall learn, she entertainedvarious schemes for other marriages, and, to pave theway for these, begged the Pope to annul the "forced"wedding to Bothwell. She also sent a messenger toDenmark, and induced the Earl to sign a documentagreeing to the dissolution of their marriage. It is plainthat, as soon as she had risen from child-bed, she wasable once more to exercise the old lure, and becomeagain a centre of disturbance. She drew a young maninto her charmed circle, and involved his fate with hers.The biographer of Mary Queen of Scotland and theIsles finds reason again and again to complain that theportraits of her which have come down to us werelimned by mediocre artists, so that they give us no insightinto her true nature. They show nothing morethan a charming, tranquil, kindly, gentle face, making• no disclosure of the sex appeal this extraordinarywoman must have exerted. Wherever she went she wonfriends, even from among her foes. As bride and aswidow, on every throne and in every prison, she radiatedan aura which aroused sympathy and made the environingatmosphere warm with friendliness. Verysoon after her arrival at Lochleven, she awakened somuch interest in the young Earl of Ruthven (son of theman who had been among the leaders in the murder ofRizzio) that the Scottish lords thought it expedient toremove him from his position as gaoler. Thereupon sheexercised her witchery upon another stripling, GeorgeDouglas, youngest son of Lady Douglas of Lochleven, andtherefore Moray's half-brother, though not Mary's bloodrelation. Within a few weeks, George was ready to do anythingfor her, and became the chief assistant in her flight.Was he merely this? Was not George Douglas some-313

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSthing more during her months of imprisonment atLochleven? Did his Uking for her remain purelychivalrous and platonic? Ignorabimus. Anyhow, Maryturned the young fellow's fondness to practical account,using her customary arts of deception and cunning. Aqueen can always exert another lure in addition to personalcharm, for the man who wins her hand may win topower. We guess, though we do not know, that Marymade Lady Douglas of Lochleven more pliable bytalking of the possibility of a marriage to George. Anyhow,it was not long before the supervision over theimprisoned queen's movements was slackened, andMary forthwith concentrated her thoughts and activ'itiesupon plans for escape.The first attempt, on March 25, 1568, miscarried,although it had been carefully thought out. Every w^ek a•washerwom.an witifi som,e ot\ier g'lris came across to liieisland in a boat. Douglas had a talk with this laundress,who agreed to exchange clothes with the Queen. Safeguardedagainst recognition by the laundress's coarseclothing and by a thick muffler, Mary walked boldlypast the sentries at the castle gates. She was alreadybeing rowed across the lake, towards the shore whereGeorge Douglas was to await her with horses, when itoccurred to one of the oarsmen to dally with the slender,muffled woman, who was clad as a laundress. Waiitingto see whether her face was as pretty as her figur^j hetried to draw aside the muffler, which Mary stubbornlyheld with her slender and delicate white hands. Thesehands being well cared for, were obviously out of keepingwith her dress. The boatmen became alarmed, and,although the Queen angrily commanded them to continueon their course, they put about and took her backto prison.314

FAREWELL TO FREEDOMThe attempt at escape was promptly reported toEdinburgh, and thenceforward the prisoner was keptunder closer supervision. George Douglas was forbiddento re-enter the castle. From the neighbourhood,however, he managed to communicate with the Queen,and conveyed tidings from her to her supporters. Forby now, after a year of Moray's regency, although Maryhad been exposed to public opprobrium as a murderess,fresh supporters came to her aid. Some of the Scottishlords, especially the Huntlys and the Setons, being nofriends to the Regent, were faithful to her cause.Strangely enough, however, Mary found her mosttrusty adherents to be the Hamiltons, who had hithertoproved her fiercest adversaries. Of course there had beenan old feud between the Hamiltons and the Stuarts. TheHamiltons came next in power to the Stuarts among thegreat families, and had long hoped to secure the crownfor a member of their clan; now there had suddenlydawned the possibility of gaining their ambition bymarrying off one of their number to Queen Mary. Sincepolitics have no concern with morality, this fine schemeimmediately led them to espouse the cause of the womanfor whose execution as murderess they had been clamouringa few months before. We need hardly suppose thatMary seriously intended to marry one of the Hamiltons.Had she forgotten Bothwell so soon? More likely sheonly toyed with the proposal in order to escape fromLochleven. George Douglas, to whom (in the desperationof a prisoner) she had also promised her hand inmarriage, went on with the preparations of her escape.By May 2, 1568, everything was ready; and, as alwayswhen courage would serve her turn better than prudence,Mary was equal to the occasion.The flight from Lochleven was as romantically effected315

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSas was proper to the romantic life of this queen. MaryStuart or George Douglas had enlisted the services of alad of sixteen, Willie Douglas, who served as page in thecastle, which he had entered as a foundling in infancy.Willie was a bright youth, who played his role well.Under the strict regime that now prevailed at Lochlevenit was decreed that when the family supped in the greathall and the guards also came in to supper, the gatesshould be locked and the keys should be laid on thetable close to the hand of the castellan. Sir WilliamDouglas, Laird of Lochleven, who would keep themunder his pillow during the night. On the evening inquestion, the sharp-witted youngster, while serving attable, dropped a napkin over the keys, and then, whenthe company had been richly supplied with wine andwas carrying on a cheerful conversation, he made offwith the keys enveloped in the napkin. Thereaftereverything was carried out as had been pre-arranged.Mary Stuart put on the dress of one of her tire-women;the boy ran downstairs, unlocked the doors, and, whenthe disguised queen had made her exit, he locked themagain from the outside. On the way to the Kinrossshore, he dropped the bunch of keys into the lake, and,to increase the difficulty of pursuit, he towed all thecastle boats behind him as he rowed Mary to the shore,where George Douglas and Lord Seton were awaitingher with fifty riders. Now the little force, with theliberated queen in their midst, galloped off through thedarkness to Lord Seton's castle of West Niddry, wherethey halted for the night. With freedom, her couragereturned.Such is the picaresque story of the escape of MaryStuart from Lochleven Castle, an escape in which shewas aided by the devotion of two-Douglases, George,who was in love with her, and little Willie, who waslikewise devoted to her. The reader.whp wishes to study316

FAREWELL TO FREEDOMthe details as seen by a romantic writer may turn to thepages of Sir Walter Scott's The Abbot. Sober historiansdo not accept this legend at its face value. They inclineto believe that the lady of Lochleven and her son SirWilliam, the castellan, may have been less innocentthan they appeared, and that the pretty tale of themethod of escape was merely devised to excuse Mary'sguardians for deliberate negligence. Why shouldwe dispel this last romantic glow in the life of MaryQueen of Scotland and the Isles? Already clouds weregathering on the horizon; her most adventurous dayswere over, and for the last time in her life did this youngwoman inspire and feel the emotion of genuine love.Having been escorted by Lord Seton from WestNiddry to Hamilton Castle, which was to be the headquartersof her faction, by the end of a week Mary Stuartfound herself leader of an army of six thousand men. Itseemed, for a time, as if all might go well with her, andas if the stars in their courses were fighting for her. Notmerely had the Huntlys, the Setons, and the Hamiltonsrallied to her cause, but, in addition, large numbers ofthe Scottish nobility and gentry; eight earls, nine bishops,and more than a hundred lairds. This was strange, andyet not so strange as it might seem at first sight, for inScotland no one ever became an effective ruler withoutarousing rebellion against him among the nobility. TheLord Regent's strictness had had the customary result.The blue blood of Scotland would rather serve under atender queen, were she a hundred times a murderess,than under the severe and stubborn Moray. The foreignworld was hastening to congratulate the liberated queenon the re-establishment of her rights. Beaumont, theFrench ambassador, sought her out to pay his respectsto her as lawful ruler of Scotland. Elizabeth sent a317

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSspecial messenger to congratulate her cousin upon thejoyful news of the escape. During the year of imprisonmenther position would seem to have been greatlystrengthened.But, as if under stress of a premonition, Mary,generally courageous and eager for the fray, now shunnedhaving recourse to arms. She would prefer a reconciliationwith her half-brother; would be content with asemblance of monarchical power. If he would vouchsafeher that m.uch, she would confirm him in theregency. As events were soon to show, the strengthwith which she had been animated while subject to theiron will of Bothwell had been dissipated by her subsequenthardships. All that she now craved for was liberty,peace, and rest—these things, and, as aforesaid, thesemblance of majesty. But Moray was not inclined tomake terms with her, and to rule by his half-sister'sgrace. His ambition and Mary's were children of thesame father, and there were not wanting those whowould strengthen Moray in his determination to resist.At the very time when Elizabeth was sending congratulationsto Mary, Cecil was vigorously urging the LordRegent to make an end of Mary Stuart and of the Catholicparty in Scotland once and for ever. Moray did notdelay. He knew that so long as his sister was at largethere could be no peace in the realm. He wanted to dealroundly with the rebel lords and to make an example ofthem. With his usual energy, he hastily assembled anarmy, less numerous than Mary's, but better led andbetter disciplined. Without waiting for reinforcements,he marched from Glasgow. At the village of Langside,now a suburb of that great city, the issue between Stuartand Stuart, between Queen and Regent, between brotherand sister, was fought out on May 13, 1568.318

FAREWELL TO FREEDOMThe battle of Langside was brief but decisive. Therewas not, as there bad been at Carberry Hill, prolongedparleying, with hesitation on either side. Mary's ridersboldly attacked the enemy forthwith. Moray, however,had chosen his position with care; the hostile cavalrywas mowed down by a fierce fire before it could stormthe hill, and Mary's lines were broken by a savagecounter-thrust. In three-quarters of an hour all wasover. The Queen's last army fled precipitately, abandoningits artillery, and leaving three hundred dead on the •field.Mary was watching the fight from a neighbouringeminence. As soon as she saw that the day was lost, shemounted and galloped away, attended by a few riders.Seized with panic, she had no thought of further resistance.She rode many, many miles without pause, as welearn from her letter to her uncle, the Cardinal of Lorraine:"I have suffered injuries, calumnies, captivity,hunger, cold, heat, flying—^without knowing whither—fourscore and twelve miles across the country, withoutonce pausing to alight, and then lay on the hard ground,having only sour milk to drink, ancl oatmeal to eat,without bread, passing three nights with the owls."To-day, in Scotland, Mary's weaknesses and follieshave, in great measure, been forgotten by her people;they find excuses for her mad passion, and they rememberher chiefly by the sad story of these last days of freedomand flight. Either they think of her as the prisonerat Lochleven Castle, or else as a weary woman gallopingon and on through the darkness, braving all hazardsrather than that of surrender to her foes. Thrice beforehad she made night rides after this fashion: the first timewith Darnley, when she escaped from Holyrood; thesecond time, in male attire, from Borthwick Castle,being joined by Bothwell soon after she left, for theirescape to Dunbar; the third time with George Douglas,319

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSfrom Lochleven to West Niddry Castle. Thrice before, inthis manner, she had saved her freedom and her crown.On the present occasion she saved only her life.Three days after the rout at Langside, Mary reachedDundrennan Abbey, near the town of Kirkcudbright onSolway Firth. Here was the limit of her realm.; thusfar she fled like a hunted beast. For her, who hadyesterday been a queen, there was no safe spot left anywherein Scotland, no stronghold there to which shecould return. In Edinburgh was the pitiless John Knox;there she would have to face the scorn of the mob, thehatred of the clergy, and maybe the pillory and thestake. Her last army had been defeated, her last hopehad vanished. Now she must choose. Behind her lay thekingdom she had lost; in front of her, the sea, with itstrackless roads leading in every direction. She mightreturn to France; she might cross the firth to England;she might make her way to Spain. She had been educatedin France, had friends and relatives there, manywho were fond of her, poets who had sung her praises,noblemen who had been her companions; once before,that land had received her hospitably, had. given her asplendid coronation. But for the very reason that shehad been queen there, decked out with the glories of thisworld, the greatest lady in the land, she was unwilling toreturn thither as a beggar, as a petitioner, with tornclothing and tarnished honour. She could not endure tothink of the sneering countenance of Catherine de'Medici, of seeking alms, or of taking refuge in a convent.Nor was there anything more agreeable in the idea ofentrusting herself to the tender mercies of PhiUp ofSpain. Never would that bigot forgive her for havingmarried Bothwell in accordance with the rites of theProtestant Church and with the blessing of a heretical320

FAREWELL TO FREEDOMpriest. Thus only one possibility remained open to her,not a choice but a necessity. She would take refuge inEngland. During the most hopeless days of her imprisorunent,had not Elizabeth written to her encouragingly:"You can at any time count on the Queen ofEngland as a true friend?" Had not her cousin solemnlypromised to have her reinstated as queen? Had notElizabeth sent her a ring as a token, which Mary needonly produce to be sure of sisterly aid ?Too hastily, as always when she made importantdecisions, Mary now took one of the most momentousdecisions of her life. Without any preUminary demandfor safeguards, she wrote from Dundrennan Abbey toElizabeth: "You are not ignorant, my dearest sister, ofthe great part of my misfortunes; but those which induceme to write at present have happened too recently yetto have reached your ear. I must therefore acquaintyou as briefly as I can that some of my subjects whom Imost confided in, and had raised to the highest pitch ofhonour, have taken up arms against me, and treated mewith the utmost indignity. By unexpected means, theAlmighty Disposer of all things delivered me from thecruel imprisonment I underwent; but I have since lost abattle, in which most of those who preserved their loyalintegrity fell before my eyes. I am now forced out of mykingdom, and driven to such straits that, next to God,I have no hope but in your goodness. I beseech you,therefore, my dearest sister, that I rnay be conducted toyour presence, that I may acquaint you with all myaffairs. In the meantime, I beseech God to grant you allheavenly benedictions, and to me patience and consolation,which last I hope and pray to obtain by yourmeans. To remind you of the reasons I have to dependon England, I send back to its Queen this token of herpromised friendship and assistance. Your affectionatesister, M. R."321

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSThe die had been cast. On May i6, 1568, Mary embarkedin a fishing-smack, crossed the Solway Firth, andlanded at the Uttle port of Workington in Cumberland.When she reached this turning-point in her fate, she wasnot yet six-and-twenty years of age, and yet her life wasfinished. She had enjoyed all possible earthly splendours,climbed to all possible earthly altitudes, and plumbedlife's abysses. Within a brief space of time, amid fearfulmental tension, she had experienced extraordinarycontrasts, had buried two husbands, lost two kingdoms,undergone harsh imprisonment, and, by the pathway ofcrime, had with renewed pride remounted the steps ofthe throne. These weeks, these years, had been weeksand years of flame, whose reflex shines down to usthrough the ages. Now the fires were burning low andthe best of her had been consumed. What remained wasbut dross and ashes, poor vestiges of these magnificentardours. As a mere shadow of her former self, MaryStuart went forward into the twilight of her destiny.322

Qkapter 17WEAVING A NETMAY I6 TO JUNE 28,1568i HERE can be no doubt that Elizabeth Tudor wasgenuinely perturbed to learn of Mary Stuart's arrival inEngland. This uninvited guest was extremely embar-,rassing. For the last year, a sense of monarchical solidarityhad led Elizabeth to support Mary as far as laywithin her power against the rebellious Scottish lords.Polite diplomatic assurances were easy, so the Queen ofEngland frequently declared herself to be full of sympathyand love for her Scottish "sister." Such assuranceswere extravagantly worded. Not once, however, didElizabeth invite Mary to come to England; on thecontrary, she persisted in her long-standing policy ofdoing all in her power to avoid a personal encounterwith her cousin. Now the tiresome woman had unexpectedlylanded on English soil, was in the countryover which she had recently and arrogantly proclaimedher right of sovereignty. She came uninvited, and herfirst words after her arrival were a reminder of pledges offriendship which Elizabeth had meant to be taken nomore than metaphorically. In the letter dispatchedfrom Workington on May 17, to follow up the letterfrom Dundrennan, Mary did not trouble to inquirewhether Elizabeth would receive her as a guest, butassumed that such a reception was her unquestionedright: "I entreat you to send for me as soon as possible,for I am in a pitiable condition, not only for a queen,323

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSbut for a gentlewoman, having nothing in the world butthe clothes in which I escaped, travelling across countrythe first day, and not having since ever ventured to proceedexcept in the night, as I hope to declare before you,if it pleases you to have pity, as I trust you will, upon myextreme misfortune."Pity was, indeed, Elizabeth's first impulse. It musthave been gratifying to her pride, that Mary, whom shewould glady have dethroned, had lost the Scottish crownwithout Elizabeth herself having stirred a finger in thematter. What a spectacle for the world, could Elizabethraise from her knees and clasp in a sisterly embrace thewoman who had once been so proud a rival; if Elizabethcould pose as protectress and benefactor. She honestlydesired, therefore, to invite the fugitive to stay with her."I have learned," reported the French ambassador,"that, in the Privy Council, the Queen ardently espousedthe cause of the Queen of Scotland, giving every onepresent to understand that it was her intfiation to receiveMary with the honour appropriate to the latter's formerdignity and greatness, and not to her present fallen fortunes."Elizabeth was endowed with a strong sense ofhistorical responsibility; and had she acted on her firstimpulse to abide by her written assurances, she wouldhave saved Mary Stuart's life and her own honour.Elizabeth, however, did not stand alone. Her mainprop was Cecil, the man with cold, steel-blue eyes, whodispassionately moved piece after piece upon the politicalchess-board. Knowing herself to be a creature of impulse,sensitive to every change in atmospheric pressure, theEnglish queen had been shrewd enough to select as chiefadviser this sober-minded and prosaic calculator, whosePuritanism made him detest the passionate, unbridledMary, a man who, as a strict Protestant, hated her asCatholic^ and who—as his private papers prove—wasabsolutely convinced of her complicity in the murder324

WEAVING A NETof Darnley. He hastened to check Elizabeth's move tohelp her cousin. As a statesman, he was prompt torealise that any support given by the English governmentto the claims of the dethroned Queen of Scotland("the daughter of debate, who discord fell doth sow")would involve far-reaching complications. To receiveMary in London with royal honours would imply arecognition of the right to be restored to the Scottishthrone, and would pledge England to support her witharms and money against Moray and the Scottish lords.Cecil, who favoured the rebellion in Scotland wasnot in the least inclined for such a reversal of policy.He regarded Mary as the arch-enemy of Protestantismand as the most conspicuous peril to England. He foundit possible to persuade Elizabeth how dangerous itwould be to show friendliness to Mary. Elizabeth wasall the more disposed to listen to Cecil's counsel by thenews that some of her own leading nobles had paidhonour to the fugitive Mary. The mightiest of theCatholic peers, the Duke of Northumberland, invitedher to his castle; the Duke of Norfolk, premier peer ofEngland, visited her. Every one who came into contactwith the fugitive seems to have been captivated. Elizabeth,suspicious by nature, and preposterously vain, soonabandoned any thought of inviting to her court a princesswho might outshine her, and might become a rallyingcentrefor the malcontents of her realm.Within a few days, therefore, Elizabeth got the betterof her humane inclinations, and decided against solicitingMary's presence at the English court, while determinedto keep the fugitive on English soil. Elizabeth, however,would not have been Elizabeth had she acted unequivocally.She showed her usual ambiguity—a qualitywhich always confuses people's roinds and disturbs theworld. Now began the period in which ElizabethTudor undeniably sinned against Mary Stuart. Fortune325

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSgave her the victory she had dreamed of for years. Herrival, regarded as the exemplar of chivalric virtues, hadbeen publicly disgraced by her own misconduct; shewho had wished to usurp the crown of England had forfeitedthat of Scotland; she who had arrogantly proclaimedher rights, was now a petitioner for Elizabeth'said. Two possibilities were open to Elizabeth. She mightheap coals of fire on Mary's head by generously grantingthe right asylum. On the other hand, she rnight, forpolitical reasons, refuse Mary safe harbourage on Englishsoil. Either course would have been justified. A plea foraid may be granted or denied. Both by divine law andby human, however, it must be accounted base to refusethe petitioned help and yet detain a hapless fugitive.No excuse can be found for EKzabeth's rejection ofMary's plea for aid, and for then, under false pledges andby the secret use of force, detaining Mary on Englishground. It was this perfidious conduct on Elizabeth'spart, weaving a net round the abased.arid conqueredqueen of Scotland, which drove Mary farther and fartheralong the road of despair and crime.Elizabeth's behaviour at this juncture was a moregrievous offence, and blots the English queen's charactermore darkly than the subsequent sending of Mary tothe scaffold. There was not a shadow of pretext fordetention. When Napoleon, after taking refuge on theBellerophon, claimed British hospitality, Britain was entitledto reject his demand as farcical. For, at that juncture,France and Britain were at war; Napoleon wascommander of the enemy forces, and had for nigh upontwo decades been hounding the war-dogs at Britain'sthroat. But when Mary landed at Workington, Englandand Scotland were not at war. Elizabeth Tudor andMary Stuart had for years been affectionately addressingone another as friends, cousins, and sisters; and when,a day or two before, from Dundrennan, Mary dispatched326

WEAVING A NETthe ring, the "token of promised friendship and assistance,"she bore in mind Elizabeth's words that no otherperson on earth would give her so cordial a hearing. Shecould rely, moreover, on the knowledge that Elizabethhad granted the right of asylum to Moray and Morton,to the murderers of Rizzio and the murderers of Darnley,their crimes notwithstanding. Only, when Mary cameto England, it was not now with a claim to England'sthrone, but with the modest request to be allowed tolive at peace in England; or, failing this, to be givenfree passage to France.It need hardly be said that Elizabeth was well awareof a complete lack of excuse for taking Mary prisoner.So was Cecil, for there is a memorandum in his own 'handwriting. Pro Regina Scotorum, in which we read:"She must be helped, seeing that she came of her ownfree will into England, relying upon our Queen." Thusboth Elizabeth and her Lord High Treasurer knew perfectlywell, at the bottom of their hearts, that in weavinga net round Mary they were acting unjustly. But whatwould a statesman be worth if he could not, in ticklishcircumstances, fabricate pretexts and procedures, makesomething out of nothing or nothing out of something?If there was no solid ground for arresting the fugitive,one must be discovered; since Mary had done no wrongto Elizabeth, an offence must be faked up. Caution wasneeded, since the whole European world was on thewatch. The net must be carefully and inconspicuouslywoven, and then drawn tighter and tighter round thedefenceless victim, before she realized what was afoot.Matters must be so arranged that if, thereupon, sheendeavoured—too late—to escape, her ill-judged movementswould only ensnare her more hopelessly.The weaving of the net began with an exchange of327

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTScivilities. Two of Elizabeth's chief advisers, Lord Scrope,the warden of the Western Marches, and Sir FrancisKnollys, the vice-chamberlain, were sent post-haste toCarlisle, whither Mary had now removed. Their missionwas manifold and obscure. They were to convey to Maryassurances of their queen's distinguished consideration,to deplore the fugitive's misfortunes—and to allay theScottish queen's fears, lest she should prematurely appealto the foreign courts for help. The most important partof their mission was secret. They were to keep watchover the woman who was at this time already a prisoner ;were to bar the doors against inadvisable visitors; andwere to intercept letters. To sustain them in the use offorce, should force be needed, fifty halberdiers wereordered to Carlisle. Scrope and Knollys were also commissionedto report whatever Mary Stuart said. Forwhat Cecil and his royal mistress most eagerly awaitedwas some incautious utterance of Mary's which mightserve as an excuse for openly proclaiming the imprisonmentwhich, even in default of it, virtually existed.The two emissaries, discharged their mission to thebest of their ability, and it is to their report that we owesome of the most vivid of the extant characterisations ofMary. Again and again we find that she inspired respectand admiration in the most unlikely quarters. SirFrancis Knollys wrote to Cecil: "Surely she is a rarewoman, for as no flattery can abuse her, so no plainspeech seems to offend her, if she think the speaker anhonest man." Reporting to Queen Elizabeth, LordScrope and Sir Francis wrote: "We found her in heranswers to have an eloquent tongue and a discreet head,and it seemeth by her doings she hath stout courage anda liberal heart adjoined thereunto." But, they went onto say, she was extremely proud, that victory was whatshe had most at heart, and that, in comparison with this,wealth and everything else in the world were of little328

WEAVING A NETimportance to her. Such a description was hardly calculatedto placate the jealous and suspicious Elizabethwhose heart could only thereby be hardened against herrival.Mary Stuart, likewise, had quick apprehensions. Shespeedily realized that the condolences and courtesies ofthese envoys were empty words, and that their friendlyconversation was intended to mask some hidden purpose.Only by degrees, and sugared with compliments,did they administer the bitter medicine they had brought—the news that Elizabeth would not receive the fugitiveuntil she had purged herself of the murder charge. Thisformula had been excogitated in London to mask theblunt determination that Mary should be kept prisoner,and to provide a moral justification for her imprisonment.It may be that Mary took these perfidious assurancesat their face value, and failed to see the netthat was closing round her; or it may be that shethought it expedient to assume ignorance. Anyhow shedeclared that she would have no difficulty in exculpatingherself, but that of course she would only do so beforesome one of equal rank with herself, namely before theQueen of England. The sooner the better. She wouldlike to go to Elizabeth at once, and confidently flingherself into her sister's arms. She urgently desired tomake her way to London forthwith, in order to refutethe calumnies that were levelled against her honour. Shegladly offered to accept Elizabeth as arbiter—no oneelse in the world.The implications were sufficient for Elizabeth. Byadmitting that her guilt was open to discussion, Maryprovided Elizabeth with a pretext for involving therefugee in a tedious trial. Of course the proceedingsmust not be begun hastily, in such a way as to induce329

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSMary to alarm the world prematurely. Her senses mustbe lulled by honeyed assurances, so that she might unresistinglybare her throat to the knife. Elizabeth wrotein moving terms, concealing the fact that the PrivyCouncil had already decided upon Mary's imprisonment,and wrapping up in honeyed phrases the refusalto receive the Scottish queen at the English court."Madam," wrote Elizabeth, "I learn by your letter andby my Lord Herries your desire to justify yourself in mypresence of the things charged against you. Oh, Madam,there is no creature living more desirous to hear it thanI, or who will more readily lend her ears to such answeras shall acquit your honour. But, whatever my regardfor you, I can never be careless of my own reputation.I am held suspect for rather wishing to defend you herein,than opening my eyes to see the things these peoplecondemn you in." After this skilfully phrased repudiation,there comes a yet more refined allurement. EHzabethwent on (the wording should be-carefully noted):"And I promise on the word of a prince, that no persuasionof your subjects or advice of others shall everinduce me to move you to anything dangerous to you oryour honour." The letter grows more eloquent andmore urgent: "If you find it strange not to see me, youmust put yourself in my place, and then you will understandit would be difficult for me to receive you beforeyour justification. But once honourably acquitted of thiscrime, I swear to you before God, that among all worldlypleasures that will hold the first rank."These are gentle, consolatory, cordial words. Butthey are the wrappings of a hard kernel. Henry Middlemore,the envoy who brought the epistle, was furthercommissioned to make it clear to Mary that what wasin prospect for her was not an opportunity for a personaljustification to Elizabeth, but a judicial or quasi-judicialinvestigation into what had happened in Scotland,330

WEAVING A NETalthough the true nature of the proceedings was for thetime being, to be decorously veiled by styling them a"conference."At the words "trial," "investigation," "judicial inquiry,"Mary Stuart's anger found vent: "I have noneother judge than God!" she exclaimed. "Marry, Iknow mine own estate and degree, although, accordingto the good trust I have reposed in the Queen, my goodsister, I have oifered to make her the judge of my cause.But how can that be, when she will not suffer me tocome at her?" Threateningly she declared (a trueword!) that Elizabeth would gain no advantage byholding her fast in England. Then she took up her pen:"Prithee, Madam, abandon the thought that I camehither in order to save my life. Neither the world nor Scotlandhas repudiated me. I came hither to win back myhonour, and to find support that would enable me to chastisethose that have falsely accused me; but not in order toanswer them as if they were my equals. For among allprinces I chose you as my next of kin and my 'perfaite amye,'that before you I might accuse my accusers, because I believedyou would regard it as honour to yourself to be calledupon to help in re-establishing the honour of a queen unjustlyaccused." She had not fled from a prison in Scotlandin order to be confined "quasi en un autre" on English soil.In conclusion she demanded, what it was always futileto demand from Elizabeth, namely plain speaking andunambiguous behaviour; either to be helped, or else tobe set at liberty. She would "de bonne voglia" justifyherself before EHzabeth; but would not do so in the formof a trial by the mightiest of her subjects, unless these werebrought before her with bound hands; being fully awareof her position as a ruler by divine right, she would notmeet any subject on equal terms; she would rather die.331

THE ^UEEN OF SCOTSMary Stuart's attitude was legally incontestable. Thequeen of England could exercise no jurisdiction over thequeen of Scotland; Elizabeth had no right to institute aninquiry concerning a murder which had taken place inanother kingdom; she possessed no right to intervene in aconflict between a foreign princess and the latter'ssubjects. Of course Elizabeth was aware of this, andtherefore redoubled her cajoleries in order to lure MaryStuart out of an impregnable position on to the slipperyground of a quasi-judicial inquiry. It was not, she said,as a judge, but as a friend and sister that she desiredthese dark matters to be cleared up; the exculpation wasan indispensable preliminary to the gratification of herdearest wish to see Mary face to face and to enjoy theknowledge that Mary had been restored to queenship.In order to gain the end she had in view, Elizabethgave one important pledge after another, implying thatnever for a moment did she doubt the Scottish queen'sinnocence, that the proposed conferences had nothingwhatever to do with Mary Stuart, but were simplydirected against Moray and the other rebels. One liefollowed hard upon the heels of another. She gave abinding pledge (we shall see later how it was kept) thatnothing should be disclosed at the inquiry which couldtarnish Mary Stuart's honour. As a further deception,Elizabeth explained to those who were to hold the conferencesthat whatever the result of the inquiry MaryStuart's royal position would be unaffected.While Elizabeth was being thus prodigal of friendlyassurances and undertakings, Cecil was quietly pursuinga different path. To make Moray consent to the iiivestigation,the Regent was assured that there was not theremotest thought of his sister's reinstatement. (We seethat double tongues and double faces are not the inventionof latter-day statesmen!) Mary was not deceived bythe manoeuvres of her "dear sister and cousin." She332

WEAVING A NETStrenuously defended herself, writing letter after letter,sweet and bitter by turns. In London, however, the netwas drawn closer all the time. By degrees measures weretaken to intensify spiritual pressure upon the captive,to show her that if she persisted in her refusal, forcewould be used. Such amenities as she had been allowedwere withdrawn. She was no longer permitted to receivevisitors from Scotland. If she left Carlisle Castle to takethe air, she was accompanied (that is to say watched andguarded) by a hundred riders. Carlisle was too near thecoast, from which rescue by boat was possible. Thus, inthe middle of July, despite her protests, she was removedto Bolton Castle in the North Riding of Yorkshire—hernew prison being described as a "very strong, very fayre,and very stately house."Even now, the iron hand was velvet-gloved. Thequeen of Scotland was assured that the removal was onlydue to Elizabeth's kindness and consideration, thatcorrespondence between the pair might be accelerated.Mary would have more liberty at Bolton, and would bebetter protected from the risk of attack on the part of herenemies. What was possible to Mary beyond empty protest?She could not effectively resist. Return to Scotlandwas impossible; she could not make her way to France;and her position grew more sordid day by day. She livedupon the bread of charity, and the very clothing shewore was borrowed from Elizabeth. Utterly alone, cutoff from communication with her friends, surroundedby her adversary's subjects, she gradually became morepliable.At length, as Cecil had hoped and planned, she madethe great mistake for which he and Elizabeth had beenso impatiently waiting. In a moment of fatigue andweakness, she acquiesced in the scheme of an inquiry.This was the greatest blunder of her life. Her positionhad so far been invincible; as long as she insisted that333

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSElizabeth had no jurisdiction, had no right to deprive herof her freedom; that, as the Queen's and as England'sguest, no one could compel her to submit to alien jurisdiction,nothing could be undertaken against her.Mary's courage, however, great though it was, cameonly in flashes, and she lacked the stamina essential toa sovereign ruler. Having once consented, it was vainfor her to impose conditions. She felt that the groundhad been cut from under her feet. "There is nothing,"she wrote on June 28, "which I would not undertakeupon your word, for I have never doubted your honourand your royal good faith."But one who has surrendered unconditionally cannot,thereafter, attempt to make terms. The conquerorinsists upon his rights, while the conquered have no rightswhatever. V(B victis!334

MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS, AGED 36(by P. Oudry)

lapter 18THE NET CLOSES ROUND HERJULY 1568 TO JANUARY 1569As soon as Mary Stuart foolishly consented to an investigationby an "unbiased conference," the Englishgovernment devoted itself to ensuring that there shouldbe the bias it wanted. Whereas the Scottish lords wouldbe allowed to appear before the tribunal, equipped withall their proofs, Mary was only to be represented by twoconfidential agents. Solely from a distance and throughintermediaries could she levy her counter-accusationagainst the rebel lords, who, for their part, could speakfreely with their own voices, and could form cabalsamong thenaselves. By this perfidious arrangement, thecaptured queen was at one stroke reduced from theoffensive to the defensive. The fine pledges which werepreviously given her might now be ignored. Elizabeth,who had declared it incompatible with her honour toreceive Mary Stuart until the proceedings were over, didnot hesitate to admit the rebel Moray to her presence.This little matter did not trouble her "honour." Nodoubt the determination to force Mary into the dockwas still carefully veiled, for appearances must be keptup before the eyes of the foreign world. The Scottishlords, it was said, would have to "justify" their rebellion.But this justification, which Elizabeth sanctimoniouslydemanded, meant nothing more than that they wouldhave to state the reasons why they had taken up armsagainst their queen. That implied a request to them to335 M

THE aUEEN OF SCOTSdisclose "the whole truth" about Darnley's murder,giving them a weapon of which the point was to bedirected against Mary Stuart. If the Scottish lordswould be strenuous enough in their accusations, legalreasons could be excogitated in London for continuingto keep the Scottish queen in prison and a specious excusewould be provided for what was really an unwarrantabledetention.Conceived as a huge piece of humbug, this conference(which cannot be called a judicial procedure withoutlibelling justice) unexpectedly degenerated into acomedy of a very different character from that whichCecil and Elizabeth had designed. For hardly had theparties to the affair been brought together round a tablethat they might accuse one another, than it appearedthey had very little desire to produce documents andstate facts, and both sides knew perfectly well why. As aunique feature of this trial, accusers and accused hadbeen confederates in the same crime.* The murder ofDarnley was a thorny matter for them all. Both wouldprefer to maintain silence about it, since both had had"art and part" therein. If Morton, Lethington, andMoray should produce the Casket documents and maintain,on the strength of these, that Mary Stuart was aconfederate in the murder or at least an accessory beforethe fact, the honourable lords would no doubt have beenright in their deductions. Mary Stuart would also havebeen right in showing that those who accused her hadHkewise been accessories before the fact, and had atleast approved the m.urder by their silence. If theaccusers put the letters in as evidence, Mary, who hadlearned from Bothwell the names of the signatories tothe bond for murder, and perhaps had the document inher possession, could tear the mask' from the faces of theposthumous royalists. Nothing was more- natural, therefore,than the lukewarmness of both parties to the action;336

THE NET CLOSES ROUND HERnothing could be plainer than their common interest insettling the matter out of court, and allowing poorHenry Darnley to rest quietly in his tomb. "Requiescatin pace!" was the pious prayer of every one concerned.The upshot was a great surprise to Queen Elizabeth.When the Conference of York had been duly opened,Moray was content to put in a plaint against Bothwell,who happened to be hundreds of miles away, and notin a position to denounce his confederates. The Regentcarefully refrained from making any accusation againstMary Stuart, and seemed to have forgotten that, a yearbefore, she had been openly accused of the murder in theScottish parliament. These chivalrous knights did notenter the lists with the impetuosity Cecil had hoped for.They did not fling the incriminating letters on to thetable. Furthermore, it was a remarkable (and not theleast remarkable) feature of this ingenious comedy thatthe English commissioners, likewise, showed themselveslittle inclined to ask questions. The Duke of Northumberland,being a Roman Catholic, was perhaps betterdisposed towards Mary Stuart than towards Elizabeth,his own queen. The Duke of Norfolk, for reasons whichwill presently be disclosed, was also in favour of compromise.The grounds for an understanding were notdifficult to find. Mary's royal title and her liberty wereto be restored, while Moray was to retain the power,which was all he cared about. Though Elizabethwished for a thunderstorm which would annihilateher adversary—morally at least—the weather provedbalmy.Instead of openly hurling facts and documents at oneanother, the commissioners carried on conversations in afriendly spirit behind closed doors. Their mood grewmore and more genial. After a few days, instead ofholding a strict assize, accusers and accused, commissionersand judges, were collaborating to bring about a337

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSdecent burial of the conference which Elizabeth hadintended to be an imposing State trial of Mary Stuart.The heaven-born intermediary between the twoparties was the Scottish secretary of State, Maitland ofLethington. In the obscure business of Darnley's murder,he had played one of the most sinister parts; and,since he was an admirable diplomatist,' of course adouble one. When, at Craigmillar, the Scottish lordshad proposed to Mary that she should rid herself ofDarnley by divorce or in some other way, Maitland hadbeen their spokesman, and had conveyed the sinisterassurance that Moray would "look through his fingers."Lethington had also furthered Mary's marriage to Bothwell;had "chanced" to be on hand at the "abduction"of Queen Mary; and had only deserted her for the Scottishlords twenty-four hours before the end. If theQueen and the Scottish lords were to Shoot at one anotherin deadly earnest, he was likely to find himself betweentwo fires, so that he was eager, by fair means or foul, tobring about a compromise.His first step was an attempt to intimidate MaryStuart by telling her that if she proved unyielding theScottish lords would make a ruthless use of the evidenceagainst her, although it should put her to open shame.To convince her what deadly weapons her enemiespossessed, he had the Casket documents privately copiedby his wife (who had been Mary Fleming), and thensent the copies to Mary Stuart.It need hardly be said that in" disclosing this evidenceto Mary, Maitland was betraying his comrades, and wasinfringing the accepted rules of legal procedure. But hisfellow-peers capped his perfidy by (under the table, soto say) handing the Casket Letters to the Duke of Norfolkand the other English commissioners. This was to338

THE NET CLOSES ROUND HERload the dice against Mary, since it could not fail toprejudice against her those who were to act as her judgesbut who had thus been "nobbled." Norfolk, in particular,was dumbfounded by the reek which emergedfrom this open Pandora's box. Since right and justicewere far from being the chief concern of those who presidedover the Conference, the English commissionershastened to report to Elizabeth: "The said letters andballades do discover such inordinate love between herand Bothwell, her loothsomness and abhorringe of herhusband that was murdered, in such sorte as everie goodand godlie man can not but detest and abhorre the same."This report, so disastrous to Mary Stuart, was extremelywelcome to Elizabeth Tudor. She knew nowwhat incriminating material could be produced at theConference, and she determined not to rest until Morayhad been forced to produce it. The more Mary showedherself inclined for compromise, the more did Elizabethinsist upon a disclosure of all the facts. It seemed as ifthe Duke of Norfolk's "detestation and abhorrence,"now that he had had a private glimpse of the contents ofthe famous casket, would prove fatal to Mary.But gamesters and politicians must never give up thegame as lost so long as they still hold a card in theirhand. At this juncture, Lethington made a sharp curve.He called on Norfolk, and had a long private conversationwith the premier peer of England. Immediatelyafterwards, Norfolk himself made a sharp curve. Saulhad been converted into Paul. The man who had seemedprejudiced against the Queen of Scots as one of herjudges, became her most zealous assistant and partisan.Instead of guiding the Conference towards a public inquirysuch as Elizabeth wanted, he began to work inthe interests of the Scottish'queen. Nay more, he urged339

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSMary against renouncing the Scottish crown and againstabandoning her claim to the English succession; hestiffened her back, and steeled her hand. At the sametime he strongly advised Moray against producing theletters in open court, and Moray suddenly changedfront after his private conversation witb Norfolk. TheRegent became mild and conciliatory, fully agreeingwith Norfolk that Bothwell must be held solely responsiblefor Darnley's murder and that Mary Stuart shouldbe exonerated. A gentle thaw had begun. Within a fewdays, spring weather came, and friendship smiled overthis remarkable house.What had induced Norfolk to swing round in this way,so that he disregarded the instructions of his ownsovereign, and from being an adversary of Mary Stuartbecame one of the Scottish queen's closest friends? Wecan hardly suppose that Lethington had bribed himwith money. Norfolk was the wealthiest nobleman inEngland; his family was of hardly less importance thanthat of the Tudors; neither Lethington nor all Scotlandcould have furnished enough money to influence him.Nevertheless, Lethington had bribed him, though notwith dross. He had offered the young widower the onlybribe which could appeal to so powerful a man, namelymore power. Why should not the Duke of Norfolkmarry Queen Mary, and thus secure the right of sucsessionto the English crown? There is magic in thethought of wearing a kingly diadem which can make acoward brave, an indifferent man ambitious, and aphilosopher a fool. That was why Norfolk, who a fewdays before had been strongly advising Mary voluntarilyto renounce her royal rights, now urged her tocling to them. It was only because of her right of successionto the English throne that Norfolk wished to wedMary Stuart, for by this marriage he would rank withthe Tudors.340

THE NET CLOSES ROUND HERTo modern sentiment it cannot but seem extraordinarythat a man who had just been denouncing Mary toElizabeth as a murderess and an adulteress, who hadbeen so righteously indignant about the Scottish queen'sunsavoury love affairs, should almost in the same breathdecide upon making this woman his wife. Naturallyenough, therefore, the whole-hearted defenders of MaryStuart declare that, in the aforesaid private conversation,Lethington must have convinced Norfolk of Mary'sinnocence, and of the fact that the Casket Letters wereforgeries. There is, however, no documentary evidencein support of such a hypothesis; and some weeks laterNorfolk, in conversation with Elizabeth, was stilldescribing Mary Stuart as a murderess. Nothing canlead the historian more hopelessly astray than to applyto a long-past century the moral standards of a laterdate. The value of a human life is not an absolute value,but one which varies from time to time and from placeto place. We ourselves are much laxer in our judgmentof political assassinations than were our grandfathers inthe nineteenth century, though we may not havereverted without qualification to the sixteenth-centuryoutlook that such matters are trifles. In the days ofMary Stuart and Elizabeth Tudor, conscientious scrupleswere rare; morality was based not upon Holy Writ butupon Machiavelli's The Prince. One who aspired to athrone would wade through slaughter to reach it, undeterredby sentimental considerations. The scene inKing Richard III in which Anne Neville consents to giveher hand in marriage to the slayer of her husband ("Wasever woman in this humour wooed? Was ever woman inthis humour won?") was penned by a contemporary ofthe fourth Duke of Norfolk. It seemed nowise incredibleto the playgoers who witnessed its performance. Tobecome king, a man would poison his father or hisbrother; would involve thousands of innocent persons341

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSin a war, would sweep people ruthlessly out of his path.In the Europe of those days it would hardly be possibleto find a ruling house in which such crimes were not committed.When a crown was at stake, a boy of fourteenwould marry a woman of fifty, or a girl would wed a manold enough to be her grandfather. No one bothered, insuch cases, about virtue or good looks or dignity ormorals. The aspirant to a throne married without aqualm some one who was feeble-minded, crook-backed,or paralysed; a syphilitic, a cripple, or a criminal.Why, then, should it be supposed that the ambitiousNorfolk would have been troubled by moral scrupleswhen this young and beautiful, and hot-blooded queendeclared herself ready to become his wife? Norfolkwas not concerned with what Mary Stuart had done ormight have done to others, but with what she would orcould do for him. A man with more imagination thanintelligence, he already fancied himself at Westminsterin Elizabeth's place. Betwixt night aSid morning, therehad been a change of scene. Lethington's clever handhad drawn aside the net which was being woven roundMary Stuart, and he who was to have been a severejudge had been transformed into a wooer, and a helper.Elizabeth, however, had excellent tale-bearers, andher senses were kept alert by her suspicions. "Les princesont des oreilles grandes qui oyent loin et pres," she oncesaid triumphantly to the French ambassador. A hundredtrivial signs convinced her that in York potions werebeing brewed which would disagree with her. She sentfor Norfolk, and told him archly how a little bird hadinformed her that "he would a-wooing go." Norfolk wasno hero. His father had been attainted by Henry VIII,and only that monarch's death had saved the third Dukeof Norfolk from execution. Like Peter with his "I know342

THE NET CLOSES ROUND HERnot the man," Norfolk, who had so recently beenMary Stuart's suitor, repudiated the implication. Thosewho affirmed that he desired to wed an adulteress andmurderess were calumniators. "Madam.," said he,"that woman shall never be my wife who has been yourcompetitor, and whose husband cannot sleep in securityon his pillow."But Elizabeth knew what she knew, and afterwardswas able to say proudly: "lis m'ont cru si sotte, que jen'en sentirais rien." When, in one of her tantrums, sheseized an eavesdropper at her court to give him aviolent shaking, she soon shook all his secrets out of hissleeve. She took prompt and energetic measures. OnNovember 25, 1568, the proceedings were transferredfrom York to the Painted Chamber at Westminster.Here, a few paces from her own palace, and immediatelyunder her watching eyes, Lethington could notplay his double game as easily as he had played it atYork, two hundred miles away, and with fewer spiesaround him. Furthermore, Queen Elizabeth, now thatshe knew some of her commissioners to be untrustworthy,supplemented them by persons on whom shecould absolutely rely, above all appointing her favouriteLeicester. As soon as her hands were on the reins, theinquiry proceeded at a smart trot along the prescribedroad. Moray, her sometimes pensioner, was bluntlytold "to defend himself," this implying that he must notshrink from the "extremity of odious accusations," butmust produce his proofs of Mary's adultery with Bothwell,and must lay the Casket Letters on the table. Forgottennow was Elizabeth's solemn pledge that nothingshould be brought up "against the honour"of MaryStuart. Still, the Scottish lords remained uneasy. Theyshilly-shallied, hesitated to produce the letters, and restrictedthemselves to general charges. Since Elizabethwould have shown her bias too plainly by a flat command343 M*

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSthat they should produce the letters, she had recourse tohypocrisy. Professing herself to be convinced of Mary'sinnocence, she said that her one desire was to save her"good sister's" honour, and that, to this end, it wasessential for her to have evidence which would refutethe "calumny." She wanted the letters and the lovepoems to Bothwell to be exposed upon the conferencetable. It was necessary to her scheme that Mary Stuartshould be hopelessly compromised.Under this pressure, the Scottish lords at length gaveway. A little comedy of resistance was played, indeed, forMoray did not himself actually put the letters on thetable, but merely showed them in his hand, and thenallowed them to be "snatched" from his secretary.EHzabeth had triumphed. The documents were in opencourt. They were read aloud forthwith; and, next day,were read aloud once more before the full assembly.The Scottish lords had long since sworn that the documentswere genuine, but this previous oath did not sufficeElizabeth. As if foreseeing that in centuries to come theauthenticity of the letters and sonnets would be disputedby the defenders of Mary Stuart's honour, she insistedthat their handwriting must be closely compared withthat of the letters she had herself received from Mary.This comparison must be effected in full view of theConference. While it was taking place, Mary's commissionerswalked out of the room (is not this additionaland strong evidence of the genuineness of the letters?),declaring, truly enough that EHzabeth had broken herpledge to produce nothing which would be derogatory tothe honour of Mary.But what did law and right count for in these proceedings,where the person chiefly implicated was notallowed to participate, although" her enemy, Lennox,could act as her accuser? Hardly had Mary's commissionerswithdrawn, than the other commissioners un-344

THE NET CLOSES ROUND HERanimously agreed that Elizabeth could not receiveMary Stuart until the Scottish queen had been purgedfrom the charges against her. Elizabeth thus reached hergoal. At length she had been given the desired pretext forrepelling the advances of the fugitive. Henceforward itwould not be difficult to find an excuse for continuing tokeep the Queen of Scots "in honourable custody"—aeuphemism for imprisonment. One of those devotedto her cause, Archbishop Parker, could jubilantly exclaim: "Now our good Queen has the wolf by the ears 1"With this "temporary conclusion," the necessarypreliminaries had been achieved for the slaughter ofMary's reputation. Now the axe of judgment might bewielded. She could be declared a murderess, could behanded over to Scotland, where John Knox would haveno mercy on her. At this juncture, however, Elizabethrefrained, and the blow did not fall. Always when afinal resolve was needed, whether for good or for evil,this enigmatic woman lacked courage. Was she stirredby one of those generous and humane impulses whichwere common enough in her? Was she ashamed athaving broken her royal word to safeguard Mary Stuart'shonour? Was she moved by diplomatic considerations?Or are we to suppose, as was usually the case in her unfathomabletemperament, that she was prompted bymixed motives? Anyhow, Elizabeth refrained fromusing the opportunity of ridding herself of her adversaryonce and for all. Instead of having a speedy and severesentence passed, she postponed the final decision in orderto negotiate with Mary. Substantially, what Elizabethwanted was to be freed from the troubles caused her bythis defiant, ambitious, unyielding, self-reliant, andcourageous woman—to humiliate Mary, to draw herteeth and cut her claws. Elizabeth proposed, therefore,345

THE Q.UEEN OF SCOTSthat, before a final judgment was passed, Mary shouldbe given an opportunity for protesting against thedocuments; and, under the rose, the Queen of Scotlandwas informed that if she consented to abdicate, she wouldbe acquitted, could remain free in England, and besupplied with a pension. At the same time, since shemust hear the crack of the whip as well as be temptedby a lump of sugar, Mary was told there was considerablechance of a public condemnation, and Knollys, theconfidential agent of the English court, reported that hehad frightened her as much as he could. Elizabeth lovedto combine or alternate caresses with punishment.But Mary Stuart was not to be either intimidated ordecoyed. As soon as danger became imminent, sherallied her forces. She refused to examine the documents.Recognizing too late that she had been inveigled into atrap, she reiterated her old contention that it was notpossible for her to put herself upon the same footingwith her subjects. Her royal word that the accusationand the documents were false m.ust count for more thanany proof or contention. She refused to purchase byabdication any acquittal from a court whose jurisdictionshe did not recognize. Resolutely she declared that shewould not hear another word about the possibility ofrenouncing her crown. "I will die rather than agree;and the last words of my life shall be those of a queen ofScotland."The attempt at intimidation had miscarried; Elizabeth'shalf-heartedness was faced' by Mary's stalwartdetermination. Again the English queen hesitated, anddid not venture upon open condemnation. As so oftenhappened, Elizabeth shrank from the final upshot of herown will. When the definitive sentence came, it was notannihilating, as had been designed, but perfidious like346

THE NET CLOSES ROUND HERthe whole affair. On January lo, 1569, the WestminsterConference announced that nothing had been adducedagainst Moray and his faction which "might impairtheir honour or allegiance." These words explicitlycondoned the rebellion of the Scottish lords. As to Mary,the decision of the Conference was ambiguous. Thecommissioners announced that nothing had "beensufficiently proven or shown by the Scottish lords againstthe queen their sovereign, whereby the Queen of Englandshould conceive or take any. evil opinion of her goodsister for anything yet seen." Superficially considered,this might be regarded as an exculpation. The proofs ofMary's guilt were insufficient. But the last clause had asting in its tail. It implied that various things had beenadduced of a highly suspicious and injurious nature,but not enough to convince so good a queen as Elizabeth.The sting was more than Cecil needed for hispurposes. Henceforward a heavy cloud of suspicionwould rest over Mary Stuart, and a "sufficient" groundhad been discovered for keeping the defenceless womanin prison. For the moment, Elizabeth had conquered.But she had gained a Pyrrhic victory. So long as shekept Mary prisoner, there would be two queens in therealm of England, and while both lived the land wouldnever know quiet. Injustice always leads to disorder,that which is done too craftily is done badly. By robbingMary Stuart of her freedom, Elizabeth Tudor robbedherself of her own. By treating Mary as an enemy, shegave Mary the right to break her word; every lie on theEnglish Queen's part justified another lie on the part ofthe Queen of Scotland. Year after year Elizabeth wouldhave to pay for not having .followed her first and mostnatural instincts. Too late would she realize that magnanimitywould have been a better policy. If, after thebrief ceremonial of a cool reception, Elizabeth had leftMary free to go whitherso ever she pleased, Mary's life347

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSthenceforward would have been like a stream whosewaters run to waste in the sands of the desert. To whomcould the woman thus contemptuously dismissed haveturned for refuge? Neither judge nor poet would haveintervened any longer on her behalf. Tainted by thebreath of scandal, humiliated by Elizabeth's generosity,she would have wandered aimlessly from court to court.Moray would have made it impossible for her to returnto Scotland; neither in France nor in Spain would shehave been received (an unwelcome guest) with any greatshow of respect. Her temperament being what it was,she would probably have become involved in new loveaffairs,unless she had followed Bothwell to Denmark.Her name would have counted for little in history; or, atmost, she would have been mentioned derogatorily as aqueen who had married the murderer of her husband.It was Elizabeth's injustice which saved Mary from thisobscure and pitiable fate. By trying to debase Mary,Elizabeth lifted her on to a higher plane, and equippedher with the halo of martyrdom. As the shamefullydeceived, as the unjustly imprisoned, as a romanticallytouching figure, as the innocent victim of a cruel use offorce, she has been justified by history as against her unjustcousin. Nothing has done so much to make MaryStuart a centre of undying legend, and nothing has doneso much to detract from Elizabeth's moral greatness, asthe English Queen's failure to be generous in this decisivehour.348

Sfiapter 19YEARS SPENT IN THESHADOWS1569-1584J\| OTHING eludes description more effectually thana vacuum, nothing can be more difficult to picture''thanmonotony. Mary Stuart's imprisonment was such aprolonged non-existence; such an empty, starless night.With the decision of the Westminster Conference, therhythm of her life had been definitively interrupted.Year followed year, as at sea wave follows wave, sometimesmore eventful, sometimes more tranquil; neveragain would she be stirred to the depths in her solitude,whether by unqualified happiness or by unqualifiedtorment. A destiny which had been so moving and sopassionate became uneventful, and therefore doublyunsatisfying. Thus in a sort of piaffing trot passed hereight-and-twentieth, nine-and-twentieth, thirtieth years.A new decade of her life opened, vacant and chill as thelast had been at the close. Followed the one-and-thirtieth,the two-and-thirtieth, the three-and thirtieth, thefour-and-thirtieth, the five and thirtieth, the six-andthirtieth,the seven-and-thirtieth, the eight-and-thirtieth,the nine-and-thirtieth year. Merely to write thenumbers is fatiguing. But to understand her cruel fatewe have to dwell upon them, to understand the interminableduration of her spiritual agony; for each of theseyears had hundreds of days; each day had too manyhours, and not one of these hours was irradiated by joy.Then came the fortieth year, and she was no longer a349

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSyoung woman, nor yet a strong one, but ageing, weary,and in poor health. Slowly there dragged themselvesout the one-and-fortieth, the two-and-fortieth, and thethree-and-fortieth year, until at length death had compassionon her when her fellow-mortals had none, andrelieved her weary spirit from imprisonment.There were many changes for her during these years,but only in minor and indifferent matters. Sometimesshe was well, sometimes ill; sometimes she was hopeful,and a hundred times she was disappointed; sometimesshe was more harshly and at other times more clementlytreated; occasionally Elizabeth would write her angryletters, to be followed by others that were kindly worded;but in general there was nothing but dull uniformity, agarland of colourless hours which slipped vacantlythrough her fingers. Outwardly her prison-housechanged from time to time. Now she would be detainedin Bolton Castle, now at Chatsworth or Sheffield orTutbury or Wakefield or Fotheringay. But only thenames were different. They all had the same walls ofimpenetrable stone, and were really the same prisonsince they all deprived her of freedom. The monotonousprocession of the days, the weeks, and the months wasmarked by the circling of the sun, the moon, and thestars. Night followed day and day followed night summingup the months and the years. Kingdoms passedand were renewed; kings rose and fell; women grew up,bore children, and withered; beyond the coasts and themountains, the world continued in process of unceasingchange. Only this one life was perpetually in theshadows, cut off from its roots, no longer bearing eitherblossom or fruit. Slowly, slowly, as if poisoned by impotentyearning, Mary Stuart watched the withering ofher youth, the ticking-out of heflife.Paradoxically enough, the most cruel feature of thisendless imprisonment was that, 'to outward seeming, it350

YEARS SPENT IN THE SHADOWSwas never cruel. A self-reliant person can react againstcrude violence, can reply to humiliation by bitterness;always the mental stature can be increased by fierceresistance. Nothing but vacancy makes us absolutely impotent.Always the walls of a padded cell, against whichthe fists of the prisoner cannot even hurt themselves, aremore unendurable than the hardest lock-up. No flogging,no abusive language, arouses so hopeless a frame ofmind as the violation of freedom under the mask ofobsequiousness and with devoted assurances of respect;no kind of scorn is more dreadful than that whichassumes the form of politeness. This feigned consideration,not shown to the suffering human being, but toher rank, was the treatment to which Mary Stuart wasunceasingly subjected. Always a respectful entourage ofguardians, a masked watch, "honourable custody" bythose who, hat in hand and with profound obeisances,followed hard upon her heels. Throughout these years,never for a minute was Mary Stuart's queenship forgotten.She was granted all kinds of valueless conveniencesand petty freedoms, while the most importantthing in life was withheld—true liberty.Elizabeth, sedulous to maintain her prestige as ahumane sovereign, was clever enough to avoid treatingher adversary vengefully. She would take great care ofher "good sister!" When Mary was out of health,anxious inquiries came from London; Elizabeth wouldoffer the services of her own physician; would express awish that the prisoner's food should be prepared by herown domestic staff. No evil tongues should whisper thatshe was trying to rid herself of an inconvenient rival bypoison. No one should complain that she was keepingan anointed queen in a prison cell. All that had happenedwas that she had urgently begged her Scottishsister to live in some of her fine English country mansionsor castles as a permanent guest! Certainly it would351

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTShave been much more convenient and safe for EHzabethto keep the unyielding woman in the Tower of London;a much less costly plan than the one she adopted. But,having a wider experience of the world than her ministersof State, who again and again recommended her totake this precaution, Elizabeth persisted in avoiding theodium she would have incurred by sending Mary to theTower. Her cousin should be treated as a queen, whileentangled in a noose of reverence and fettered withgolden chains.Penurious though she was, Elizabeth was able, in thisinstance, to overcome her avarice, with a grudging heartproviding for the maintenance of her uninvited guestno less than two-and-fifty pounds a week throughoutthese nineteen years. Since, in addition, Mary receiveda pension of £1,200 a year from France, she was wellsupplied with funds. She could live like a sovereigriruler at whichever castle or manor was her residence forthe time. She was allowed to install»a royal canopy inher reception-room, keeping queenly state, though aprisoner. She had a silver table-service; her rooms werelit with costly wax candles in silver sconces; the floorswere covered with Turkey carpets—a rare luxury atthat time. So abundantly were her apartments furnished,that dozens of waggons drawn by four-horseteams were needed when she was removed from onemansion to another. For her personal service she had anumber of ladies-in-waiting, tire-women, and chambermaids.In the best days there were fifty of them tomake up her personal staff. A miniature court withmajor-domos, priests, physicians, secretaries, paymasters,chamberlains, keepers-of-the-wardrobe, tailors, dressmakers,and cooks—whose numbers the frugal queen ofEngland desperately endeavoured to cut down, while,Mary Stuart with no less tenacity defended herselfagainst any invasion of her privileges.352

YEARS SPENT IN THE SHADOWSBut that no cruelly romantic imprisonment wasdesigned for the Queen who had fallen from power wasshown at the outset by the choice of George Talbot,sixth earl of Shrewsbury, a great nobleman and truegentleman, as her guardian in chief. Down to June,1569, when Elizabeth appointed him to this post, hemight reckon himself a fortunate man. He had greatpossessions in the Northern and Midland counties, ninecastles of his own, so that he had lived quietly on hisestates as a minor prince in the by-paths of history,remote from offices and dignities. Untroubled bypolitical ambition, this serious-minded man had beenwell satisfied with his life. His beard was grizzled, andhe must have thought that nothing was likely to disturbhis rest until Elizabeth unexpectedly forced upon him thedistasteful task of keeping watch and ward over herambitious rival, who had been embittered by ill-treatment.His predecessor, Sir Francis KnoUys, drew a breath ofrelief on being informed that Shrewsbury was to supercedehim in the perilous charge, and declared: "Assure as there is a God in. heaven, I would rather endureany punishment than continue this occupation." Forit was an unthankful task, this "honourable custody,"whose rights and limits were extremely vague, so that itwas one which required immense tact. Mary was atone and the same time a queen and not a queen; inname she was a guest, but in fact she was a prisoner.Thus, as a gentleman, Shrewsbury had to play the partof a polite host, but as a gaoler in Elizabeth's confidencehe had to restrict his "guest's" liberties in various disagreeableways. He was the controller of her doings, andyet could only present himself before her when makingobeisance; he must be strict, but under the mask ofsubserviency; he must entertain her, and yet perpetuallywatch her. As if the situation were not already enough353

THE qUEEN OF SCOTScomplicated, it was further involved by the fact thatLady Shrewsbury had been the notorious Bess of Hardwick.She had buried three husbands. Talbot was herfourth, and she reduced him to despair by her unceasinggossip. She was a weathercock, too, intriguing, nowagainst Elizabeth, now in her behalf, sometimes favourableand sometimes antagonistic to Mary Stuart. PoorShrewsbury had a difficult time of it among these threewomen, being the loyal subject of one, married to thesecond, and bound to the third by invisible bonds.For fifteen years he was not really the prisoned queen'sguardian but her fellow-prisoner; and in his persononce more was fulfilled the mysterious curse which madeher bring misfortune to all whom she encountered uponher tragical path.What did Mary Stuart do during these vacant and unmeaningyears? She seemed to^pend her time quietlyand comfortably enough. Outwardly regarded, herdaily round did not differ from that of other women ofrank who lived year after year in a manor-house or acastle. When she felt well enough, she would go outriding—hawking or hunting—surrounded by the inevitable"guard of honour"; or she would play pall-mallor some other outdoor game in order to keep herself, asfar as possible, in good bodily condition. There was nolack of company. Visitors would come from neighbouringcountry mansions to pay their reverence to the interestingprisoner; for it must never be forgotten that,however powerless she might, be at the moment, she wasstill the next heir to the English throne, and if anythinguntoward should happen to Elizabeth, Mary mightreign in her stead. That was why far-seeing persons,Shrewsbury not excepted, thought it expedient to remainon good terms with her. Even Elizabeth's favourite and354

YEARS SPENT IN THE SHADOWSintimate friends, Sir Christopher Hatton and the Earl ofLeicester, wishing to keep a foot in both camps, wouldbehind their patroness's back, send letters and greetingsto her rival. Who could tell whether it might not benecessary, ere long, to bend the knee before her, and toask for some sinecure. In various ways, therefore,although kept in the wilds, Mary Stuart was continuallyin receipt of information as to what went on at theEnglish court and in the wider world of Europe. LadyShrewsbury told her a great deal about Elizabeth whichthis other Bess would have done better to keep to herself.Then, by various underground channels, news was continuallyflowing in from Rome. It must not be supposedthat Mary Stuart's exile was that of a prisoner in a dungeon.She was not completely forsaken. On the longwinter evenings, music could help to pass the timeagreeably.Not now, of course, as in the days of Chastelard, didyoung poets sing madrigals to her. Banished for everwere the masques of Holyrood; and this impatient hearthad no room left any longer for love and passion. Theinclination for such adventures was ebbing with heryouth. Of her more enthusiastic adherents, there onlyremained with her Willie Douglas, who had helped herto escape from Lochleven; and among all the men whoformed her little court (no more Bothwells or Rizzios,alas!) she prized above the rest the physician. For shewas often ill, suffering from rheumatism, and from an inexplicablepain in the side. Often her legs were so greatlyswelled that she could scarcely move, could only getrelief in hot springs; while from the lack of exercise, thebody which had been so slender, gradually becameflaccid and obese. Seldom now was her will tensed as ofold. Gone for ever were the long day's gallops throughthe Scottish countryside, when she was journeyingmerrily from castle to castle.355

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSThe longer her seclusion lasted, the more did she takepleasure in domestic occupations. For hours she wouldsit, dressed in black like a nun, at her broidery-frame,stitching with her lovely white hands those remarkablegold embroideries many of which have come down to us.At other times she would read her favourite books.There is no trustworthy record of her having had anylove affairs during the nineteen years of her imprisonment—beyondthe fugitive scheme for a marriage withthe Duke of Norfolk. Since her tenderness could nolonger flow out towards a Bothwell, or any other lover,it was directed more gently and \yith less exuberance tothose creatures who never deceive us, domestic pets.Mary imported from France the gentlest and cleverest ofall dogs, spaniels; she had an aviary and a dove-cot;she personally cared for the flowers in the garden. Shesaw to it that the women of her suite should not sufferfrom want of anything; the ordinary cares of a housewifeoccupied her mind now that she no longer felt thestirrings of passion. A casual observer, a passing guestwho failed to look into the depths, might suppose thatthe ambition which had once shaken the world had dieddown in her, that all earthly desires had subsided. Frequently,in her flowing widow's weeds, the ageingwoman went to hear Mass; she kneeled devoutly on theprie-Dieu in her chapel; sometimes, though rarely now,she still wrote verses in her prayer-book or upon a loosesheet of paper. No longer did she pen ardent sonnets,but poems breathing piety or resignation, in which sherepudiated longing for any other kingdom than thekingdom of heaven, hoped to become reconciled withGod and man and with her own fate! This, for instance:Que suisie helas et quoy sert ma vielen suis fors qun corps priue de cueurUn ombre vayn un object de malheurQui na plus rien que de mourir en uie. . . .

YEARS SPENT IN THESHADOWS[What am 1, alas, and of what use my life?I am naught but a body without a heart,A vain shadow, a creature of misfortune.Whose only future is one of living death.]Always she produced the impression of having abandonedthoughts of worldly power, of being one whoquietly awaits the coming of that last grim visitor whocan alone bring peace on earth—death.Yet this was but semblance. In reality her pride wasundiminished, and she had but one thought—that ofrecovering freedom and sovereignty. Not for a momentdid she seriously desire to become reconciled with herlot. Work at the broidery-frame, reading, conversation,and reverie, served only to conceal her real work, whichwas conspiracy. From the first to the last day of herimprisonment, Mary was perpetually plotting; andwherever she went, her habitation was a centre of intrigue.Work went on in her apartments feverishly byday and by night. Behind closed doors, Mary, with theaid of her two secretaries, composed holograph diplomaticletters to the French and Spanish ambassadors, tothe papal legate, to her adherents in Scotland and in theNetherlands. At the same time she sent imploring ortranquillizing, humble or proud letters to Elizabeth, whohad long ceased to answer them. In a hundred differentdisguises, her messengers made their way to and fromParis and Madrid. Secret signs were agreed upon;ciphers were elaborated, and changed month by month;an overseas correspondence with the enemies of Elizabethwent on day after day. All the members of the littlecourt—as Cecil knew perfectly well, and therefore wascontinually trying to have its numbers reduced—workedas a general staff aiming to promote her escape. Herfifty servants paid visit after visit to the neighbouring357

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSvillages, to gather news, for the local population wasbribed under cover of alms-giving, and was part of thegossamer organisation which kept Mary in touch withMadrid and Rome. Letters were smuggled in and outwith the' washing, in books, in hollow sticks, beneath thelids of ornamental boxes, or in other ingenious hidingplaces.New tricks were continually being devised toelude Shrewsbury's vigilance. For instance, the liningqf a shoe would be opened up, to hide between the layersa message wTitten in invisible ink; or wigs were worn inwhich rolls of paper could be concealed. In the bookswhich Mary Stuart received from Paris or from London,letters were underlined in accordance with a code, andimportant messages could thus be transmitted. The mostcompromising documents would be stitched beneath theinner sole of his shoe by the confessor. Mary Stuart,who in youth had learned how to elaborate and to deciphercryptograms, directed the whole diplomaticservice; and this exciting amusement of frustratingElizabeth's precautions- kept her intelligence alert, replacingoutdoor sports and other amusements. Sheflung herself with her usual heedlessness and ardour intothis conspiratorial activity, with the result that oftenenough, when messages and pledges had come by somenew route from Paris, from Rome, or from Madrid, shecould succeed in convincing herself that she was oncemore in possession of real power, could regard herself asa centre of European interest. The thought that Elizabethknew her to be dangerous and yet could not bendher will, that despite the vigilance of those who keptwatch over her she could conduct a campaign from herprison and modify the destinies of the world, was, perhaps,the only pleasure which diverted and refreshed hermind during those long and vacant years.358

YEARS SPENT IN THE SHADOWSMarvellous, indeed, was her energy, the vigour shecontinued to show though in chains; but it was tragicallikewise, through its futility. For Mary never had anyluck in her undertakings. The conspiracies she was continuallyinstigating were foredodmed to failure. Thegame was too unequal. The individual is always weakin face of an effective organization. Mary Stuart wasalone, whereas Elizabeth was the head of a great State,was in command of ministers, police, soldiers, and spies;and besides, one can fight better from a government officethan from a prison. Cecil had ample resources at hisdisposal; he could spend freely, and, watching with athousand eyes, could easily checkmate the attempts ofthis lonely and inexperienced woman. At that time thepopulation of England was about three million. A largenumber, no doubt; but the authorities kept close watchon suspects, every foreigner who landed on the Englishcoast was under strict observation; there were spies in thetaverns, in the prisons, upon the ships that crossed theChannel. When these means failed to elicit the desiredinformation, there was no hesitation in employing astronger instrument—the rack.The superiority of collective force over individualwas soon manifest. Censorship was tightened. Oneafter another of Mary's friends was, in the course of herimprisonment, dragged into the vaults of the Tower,and tortured into avowing the schemes and the namesof his confederates. One plot after another was crushedby this brutal method. Even when, now and again,Mary Stuart was able, by way of the embassies, to sendher correspondence abroad, it took weeks before her letterscould reach Rome or Madrid; and many weeks more beforeher correspondents in the foreign capitals made uptheir minds to answer these dangerous dispatches; andmany weeks more before the answer could get back to her.How supine, then, was the help which was offered; how359

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSintolerably lukewarm did it seem to the impatient wonaanwho was always waiting for armies and armadas to besent to set her free. The prisoner, the solitary, thinkingday and night of his own sad fate, is always inclined tobelieve that those who live in the free and active worldmust be as much concerned about him as he is abouthimself. Of course, it is not so.Vainly, therefore, did Mary Stuart continue to representher liberation as the most important step towardsthe Counter-Reformation, as the first and most noteworthything the Catholic Church could do to safeguardits position. Those to whom she addressed these instigationswere calculators and procrastinators, and were notagreed arnong themselves. The armada was notequipped; its main promoter, Philip II of Spain, prayedmuch, but ventured little. He was not inclined, onbehalf of the imprisoned Scottish queen, to declare awar whose upshot no one could foresee. Now and againhe or the Pope would send money, to help her to bribeconspirators. But the plots were poor things, badlyplanned, and promptly ferreted out by Walsingham'sspies! Only a few mutilated corpses on Tower Hillserved from time to time, to remind the populace that,at some castle in the north, there lived a royal prisonerwho obstinately persisted in her claim to be the rightfulqueen of England; to show the multitude that there werestill fools and heroes ready to throw away their lives onbehalf of this woman's alleged rights.It was plain to all intelligent persons that Mary's incessantplotting would in the end drag her down to destruction; that she was leading a forlorn hope when, fromher prison, she declared war against one of the mightiestmonarchs of that day. As early as 1572, after the failureof the Ridolfi conspiracy, her brother-in-law Charles IXangrily declared: "The poor foolish woman will not360

YEARS SPENT IN THE SHADOWSdesist until she loses her head. She will certainly bringabout her own execution. If she does so, it will be herown fault, for I can do nothing to hinder her." Thesewere harsh words from a man whose own heroism onlysufficedto make him, during the Massacre of St. Bartholomew,fire upon unarmed fugitives from a window inthe Louvre;From the outlook of chill reason Mary behavedfoolishly in preferring the hopeless part of conspiracy tomaking a convenient but cowardly capitulation. It isprobable that a tim.ely renunciation of her royal pretensionswould have unlocked the doors of her prisonhouse,and if so, during all these years, she had the keyin her own hands. She need merely humble herselfsolemnly abandon her claim alike to the Scottish and tothe English throne, and England would have set her atliberty. England would have been glad to do so. Severaltimes Elizabeth—not from magnanimity but from fear,because the accusing presence of this dangerous prisonerwas a nightmare to her—endeavoured to build a goldenbridge for Mary; again and again she was ready tonegotiate with her "dear sister," and offer an easy compromise.But Mary would rather remain a crownedprisoner than be a queen without a throne; and Knollyshad rightly judged her that she had courage to holdout so long as there was left no more than a span ofhope. She was keen-witted enough to understand that,if set free as a queen who had abdicated, she could enjoynothing more than a pitiful freedom; that all which couldthen await her would be a shameful existence in someout-of-the-way corner; and that it was her presentabasement which would give her a great position inhistory. Stronger than the bars of her prison-housewere the barriers imposed by her formal declaration thatshe would never abdicate, and that the last words sheuttered on earth would be those of a queen of Scotland.361

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSVery narrow are the limits between folly and foolhardiness,for the most heroic actions can always beregarded as foolish. In concrete affairs, Sancho Panza isshrewder than Don Quixote; and from the standpointof a "reasonable" man, Thersites is more reasonable thanAchilles: but Hamlet's words, "Rightly to be great is notto stir without great argument, but greatly to findquarrel in a straw when honour's at the stake," willremain the acid test of a heroic nature. Beyond question,Mary Stuart's resistance was almost hopeless againstsuch overwhelming superiority of force; yet we shoulddo wrong to call it absurd because it was in the end unsuccessful.Throughout these years, and more effectivelyas year followed year, this seemingly powerless and lonelywoman, by her defiance, incorporated • an immensepower; and, for the very reason that she shook her chains,again and again she made England quake and Elizabeth'sheart tremble. We regard historical happeningsin a false perspective when we look upon them onlyfrom the convenient standpoint of posterity, which seeseffects as well as causes. When the hurly-burly's done,when the battle's lost or won, it is easy to stigmatize as afool him who has been vanquished because he ventured adangerous combat.For nigh on twenty years, the decision of the strugglebetween these two women hung in the balance. Manyof the conspiracies instigated to restore Mary Stuart tothe throne of Scotland or to establish her on that ofEngland, might, with better luck and more adroitness,have proved fatal to Elizabeth. Twice or thrice, theTudor queen escaped only by a hair's breadth. First ofall the Duke of Northumberland rebelled at the head, ofthe Catholic nobles. The whole of the North was in anuproar, and Elizabeth found 'it hard work to remainmistress of the situation. Then, yet more dangerous,came the Duke of Norfolk's intrigue. The flower of the362

YEARS SPENT IN THE SHADOWSEnglish nobility, and among thena some of Elizabeth'sclosest friends, such as the Earl of Leicester, supportedhis scheme for marrying the Scottish queen, who, lest heshould be a laggard in love {'^aX would she not do topromote her triumph?), wrote him the most affectionateletters. Through the intermediation of Ridolfi, theFlorentine, Spanish and French troops were ready toland on English soil. Had not Norfolk (as shown by hisbefore-mentioned repudiation of his marital scheme)been a weakling and a coward, had not chance, windand storm, the sea and betrayal, wrought against theenterprise, the page would have been turned, rolesexchanged, Mary Stuart would have gone to live atWestminster while Elizabeth Tudor would have languishedin the Tower or have been in her coffin.The execution of Norfolk, the fate of Northumberlandand of all the others who, during these years, had laiddown their lives for Mary's sake, did not deter her lastsuitor. Another wooer appeared upon the scene, DonJohn of Austria, illegitimate son of Charles V and halfbrotherof Philip II, the victor of Lepanto, exemplar ofchivalry, the first warrior of Christendom. Excludedfrom the Spanish succession by his bastardy, he hadattempted to found a kingdom for himself in Tunis.Then there offered a chance of mounting the Scottishthrone by a marriage to the imprisoned queen. Hisarmy was being equipped in the Netherlands, and aplan had been made for the deliverance of Mary, whenDon John was struck down by the fate that awaited allher helpers. He died prematurely. . . .It was luck that failed, rather than cunning. If welook clearly into the matter of this prolonged strugglebetween Elizabeth and Mary, luck always favoured theformer, whereas disaster invariably dogged the latter'scourses. Force against force, personality against personality,the women were fairly matched. Not so their363

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSrespective stars. Once luck had finally turned againstMary, once she had been dethroned and imprisoned,all her attempts miscarried. The fleets sent againstEngland were scattered by storms; her messengers losttheir way; her suitors died or were slain; her friendslacked vigour in the decisive hour; and whoever tried tohelp her was working for his own destruction.Profoundly moving, therefore, was what Norfolk saidupon the scaffold: "Nothing that was begun by her orfor her has ever turned out well." Evil had pursued her,from the time when Bothwell had become her lover. Itwas equally fatal to love her or to be loved by her. Whoeverwished her well, did her harm; whoever served her,invited death to tap him on the shoulder. As the loadstonemountain in the Arabian tale attracted ships totheir wreck because of the iron they had on board, so didshe tend to involve all who came near her in her own unhappyfate. That is why her name has become investedwith the sinister m.agic of death. The more hopeless hercause, the more fiercely did she fight. Her long andmelancholy imprisonment, instead of breaking her pride,stiffened her to renewed defiance. Of her own free will,though aware that what she did was futile, she challengedthe final award of destiny.364

eLpter 20WAR TO THEKNIFE1584-1585i HE years sped by. Days, weeks, months passed liketenuous clouds over the skies of Mary's solitude, andwere barely noticed in the monotonous course of herlife. Nevertheless, time was laying its mark upon her andher contemporaries, and was transforming the worldabout her. She had reached her fifth decade, an ominousperiod in a woman's vital span: and still Mary Stuartremained a captive, still was she deprived of her freedom.Gently, age began to touch her; the hair at her templeswas turning grey; her body began to thicken, her generalappearance slowly assumed a more matronly aspect, anda quiet melancholy took possession of her soul, a sadnesswhich she sublimated into religious fervour. Deep in herheart, the woman within must have come to realizethat the days of love were gone for ever. What could notbe fulfilled now must remain unfulfilled to all eternity.Evening had drawn in, and the dark night-time was athand. It was long since a wooer had sued for her; perhapsno man would again present himself as a possiblelover. In a brief space, maybe, life would be irreclaimablyclosed. Was there any sense in waiting, and againwaiting, for a miracle to happen, for the miracle ofliberation, for the miracle of aid coming to her from anindifferent world? During recent years a feeling hadbeen growing stronger with every passing day, that thislong-suffering woman was weary of the struggle, and365

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSthat slowly she was making up her mind to renounce alland accept a compromise. Ever more frequently did sheask herself whether it was not mad and useless to allowherself to wilt away like a flower in the shade, unloved,unremembered; whether she would not be better advisedto buy her freedom, and of her own free will to renouncethe crown. Mary Stuart, for all her courage, was findingthat captivity pressed too heavily upon her tired spirit;life had become so empty that her craving for power wasslowly changing into a mystical longing for death. Thisexplains her mood on the morning of her execution,when she wrote the heart-rending lines:O Domine Deus! speravi in te.O care mi Jesu! nunc libeia me., In dura catena, in misera poena, desidero te;Languendo, gemendo et genu flectendo,Adoro, imploro, ut liberes me.[O Lord my God, I have hoped in Thee.0 dear Lord Jesu, set me free.Though hard the chains that fasten me.And sore my lot, yet I long for Thee;1 languish, and groaning bend my knee.Adoring, and imploring Thee to set me free.]Since none came to deliver her, Mary turned more andmore to her Redeemer. Far better to commit her soulinto His hands than to continue to live so empty anexistence, to continue waiting and uncertain, expectantand full of hope, only at last to be frustrated once more.Let an end be made—^whether good or bad, whetherthrough victory or complete relinquishment of her claim,she no longer cared. And since Mary Stuart herselfdesired this end with every energy of her nature, accomplishmentcould not fail to ensue.The longer the struggle continued the more tenacioushad the two antagonists become. Mary Stuart and366

WAR TO THE KNIFEElizabeth Tudor confronted one another defiantly. Inthe political arena, the English queen secured onesuccess after another. She had composed her differenceswith France, Spain dared not declare war, her hand layheavy upon malcontents at home and abroad. But oneenemy remained to deal satisfactorily with: a womanwithin her own borders; a woman conquered and yetunconquerable. Only when this last foe had been setaside could Elizabeth look upon herself as a genuinevictress. For Mary Stuart, too, Elizabeth Tudor remainedthe only survivor upon whom to concentrate thefull fury of her hatred.In a fit of despairing moodiness, she made a last appealto the humane feelings of her sister in destiny, writing anepistle whose plaintiveness is miost affecting. "I cannot,Madam, suffer it any longer; and, dying, I must dis^cover the authors of my death. The vilest criminals inyour gaols and born under your authority are admittedto be tried for their own justification, and their accusersand the accusation against them are made' known tothem. Why should not the same privilege be accordedto me, a sovereign queen, your nearest relative and yourlegitimate heir? I think that this last quality has beenhitherto the principal cause of exciting my enemiesagainst me, and of all their calumnies for creating divisionbetween us two, in order to advance their own unjustpretensions. But, alas! they have now little reason andstill less need to torment me longer on this account; forI protest to you on mine honour that I now look for noother kingdom than that of my God, whom I see preparingme for the best end of all my sorrows and adversities."Then she added a final plea: "I entreat you,for the honour and grievous passion of our Saviour andRedeemer, Jesu Christ; once more I beseech you topermit me to withdraw from this kingdom to some placeof rest, there to seek solace for my poor body, so worn367 N

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSand wearied with unceasing grief, and, with liberty ofmy conscience, to prepare my soul for God who dailysummons me. . . . Give me this contentment before Idie that, seeing all things set at rest between us, my soul,delivered from my body, may not be constrained topour out its complaints before God for the wrong youhave suffered to be done me here below. . . ."Elizabeth turned a deaf ear to this moving appeal, andno compassionate word dropped from her lips. ButMary Stuart, too, henceforward kept silent and clenchedher fists. Hatred now possessed her, a cold and fierceand enduring hatred, all the more ardent because it wasconcentrated upon one individual, the last of her enemiesto remain alive, since the others had either died anatural death or had been put away by their foes andadversaries. It was as if a demon of death emanatedfrom the person of Mary Stuart, a demon that assailed asindiscriminately those she loved as it assailed those shehated, slaying or maiming her supporters and her antagonistsalike. The accusers at the York Commissionof Inquiry, Moray, Morton, and Lethington, died violentdeaths; those who at York sat in judgment upon her,Northumberland and Norfolk, lost their heads on theblock; those who conspired against Darnley and thosewho did the same by Bothwell, the traitors of Kirk o'Field, of Carberry Hill, and of Langside, betrayed themselves,as in the case of Lindsay and Kirkcaldy; thoseshe abhorred, the whole band. of wild, ruthless, anddangerous men who loved life so greedily, the lords andearls of Scotland, slew one another, thus settling agelongdisputes with the point of a dirk. The arena hadbeen wellnigh emptied of combatants. One alone remainedfor Mary to wrestle with and to hate: ElizabethTudor. Thus the combat had-degenerated into a duel.One would have to remain victorious; the other needsmust be vanquished. The hour for trafiicking and com-368

WAR TO THEKNIFEpromise had gone by: now it was a struggle for life orfor death.Mary Stuart rallied her remaining energies for thisultimate struggle. Her last hope had to be taken fromher. She would have to submit to a final and profoundaffront. This had ever been the case with Mary: hersuperb courage, her unlimited resoluteness, were nevergreater than when all was lost or seemed to be lost. Hertrue heroism shone forth whenever there was nothingrnore to expect.Mary's last hope, now, was that she might come to anunderstanding with her son. For during the tedious anduneventful years that had crumbled away behind her,during which her fresh and youthful visage had beenchanged into a sere and pallid countenance, a child hadgrown to boyhood, the son of her womb, with her ownlalood coursing in his veins. She had left her infant behindat Stirling Castle when she rode forth to Edinburgh,where Bothwell's troopers surrounded and abducted her.Never since then had she set eyes on James. Ten yearspassed, fifteen years went by; now the baby she hadclasped in her arms was a stripling of seventeen, JamesVI, King of Scotland. Soon he would be a full-grownman. Qualities of both his parents were mingled in hisdisposition. He possessed a queer make-up; his bodywas plump and stocky; his speech was heavy, his tongueunwieldy; his spirit lay under a pall of anxiety and shyness.A superficial glance conveyed the impression thatthe boy was abnormal. He withdrew from social intercourse,was alarmed at the sight of naked steel, trembledbefore dogs. His ways were uncouth, his manners farfrom polished. The delicate and ingrained charm of hismother was completely lacking. Nor was he musical;indeed he loved neither music nor the dance; he could369

THEQ,UEEN OF. SCOTSnot participate in gay and pleasant conversation. Buthe acquired foreign languages with ease, had an excellentmemory, and a certain shrewdness and resolutenessmanifested themselves where his personal advantage wasconcerned. Unhappily, many of the father's' unworthiertraits had been transferred to the son; for James was infirmof purpose, had no true sense of honour, and wasnever to be depended upon. Elizabeth once asked irritablywhat one could expect from this double-tonguedfellow. James, like Darnley, was twisted hither andthither by almost anybody he came in contact with.Generous impulses remained totally alien to his nature;cold and calculating ambition governed his decisions;and his unwavering coolness towards his mother canonly be understood when we consider it without anyreference to accepted ideas of filial piety and sentiment.The lad had been mainly educated and taught Latinby one of Mary's bitterest enemies, George Buchanan,the author of the defamatory pamphlet Detection. All hislife James had been brought up to believe that hismother had encompassed his father's death, and thatfrom her places of captivity across the border she contestedhis right to reign though he was crowned King ofScotland. Froin the outset it had been dinned into hisears that he must look upon his mother as a stranger andas an obstacle in the way to his own achievement ofpower. Even if a tender and childlike longing to meetthe woman who had given him birth still lingered inJames's heart, he could never have attained his object,for the English and Scottish wardens of both prisonerskept too keen a watch on their movements—indeed, justas Mary was Elizabeth's prisoner so was James theprisoner of the Scottish lords and of various regentsduring his minority. Nevertheless, from time to time aletter would pass over the border. Mary Stuart sentoccasional presents to her boy, playthings, too, and once370

WAR TO THEKNIFEshe got him a little monkey. Most of these comm.unicationsand gifts were returned to the sender, because Marywould not bend her pride to addressing the child as king.So long as she persisted in calling James VI "Prince ofScotland," and refused him his regal title, the lordsmaintained that her letters were an insult to theirsovereign. Not even a formal relationship betweenmother and son was possible if she and he respectivelycontinued to stand upon their royal prerogatives andlooked upon the possession of power as of more importancethan the ties of blood; if she persisted in maintainingthat she alone was Queen and sovereign lady ofScotland, while he considered that he alone was Kingand sovereign lord of the same realm.Mary and James could perhaps begin to draw togetherif she curtailed her pretension of alone being the reigningsovereign of Scotland. Despair and weariness mightexercise more power over her proud and impatientspirit than any other means of persuasion. Of course,even if she yielded on a point or two she had no intentionof wholly renouncing her privilege to bear the titleof Queen. She intended to live and die with the crownupon her consecrated head. But she was now prepared,at the price of regaining freedom, at least to share theroyal sovereignty with her son. For the first time herthoughts turned to compromise. Let James rule theland and call himself King; but let her retain her titleof Queen, so that her renunciation might at least begilded with a little honour. Could not some formulabe found? Negotiations at first promised well. But JamesVI, perpetually at the mercy of his threatening nobles,carried on the parleyings in a spirit of cold calculation.Without scruple, he bargained simultaneously with everyone, playing off" Mary against Elizabeth and Elizabethagainst Mary, using one religion as a lever against theother. He was content to sell his favour to the highest371

THE QUEEN OF SCOTSbidder, since for him the struggle did not concern hishonour. What he hoped to win out of the barter was therecognition of himself as the sole and unlimited monarchof Scotland, and at the same time to secure his own successionto the English throne. He was not satisfied withbeing the accredited heir of one only of these twowomen, but must bear that relation to both. Quiteprepared to remain Protestant if by doing so he addedto his advantages, he was, nevertheless, equally amenableto the idea of entering the Catholic Church if theold faith offered him a handsomer price; the seventeenyear-oldmonarch was not even affrighted at the notionof marrying Elizabeth, if these nuptials were likely tomake him King of England the sooner. Yet ElizabethTudor was by this time a jaded and worn-out piece ofwomanhood, nine years older than Mary Stuart, andthe fiercest and most embittered enemy of James'smother. For Darnley's son these contemptible quibbleswere no more than matters of deTiberate calculation.For Mary, on the other hand, the undying child of illusion,shut away as she was from the world and its events,the parleyings to and fro acted like a bellows upon theglowing brazier of her final hopes, so that she trulybelieved she might come to an understanding with herson and yet retain her title of Queen.But Elizabeth was fully awake to the peril that such areconciliation entailed for herself Any outcome of thesort must be hindered. She quickly took a hand in thegame. Sharp-eyed and cynical as she was, it wouldprove no diflScuIt affair to decoy the unscrupulouscareerist: she need but trade upon his weakness. Knowingthe uncouth youngster to be madly in love with thechase, Elizabeth sent him gifts of the finest horses andhounds she could lay hands on. His counsellors werehandsomely bribed; and he himself—^who like all theScottish nobles and gentry—was perennially short of372

WAR TO THEKNIFEmoney, was offered a yearly pension of five thousandpounds. Finally the promise of the English successionwas dangled before his eyes. Money, as always, decidedthe issue. While Mary, ignorant of these counterintrigues,was making diplomatic contacts with thePope and with Spain in an endeavour to bring Scotlandinto the Roman Catholic fold, James VI was signing atreaty with Elizabeth wherein were incorporated theclauses which might accrue to his benefit, but where nomention was made of Mary Stuart's liberation. Nothought was given to the captive, for she had become acreature of no consequence to James her son since shehad no advantages to offer. As if Mary had ceased tolive, he came to a workable arrangement with Elizabeth,his mother's cruellest foe. The woman to whom heowed his existence might disappear for all he cared, ormust at least not enter the circle of his life. No soonerwas the bond between himself and Elizabeth signed, nosooner had he got the promised pension in hand andbecome the master of some fine hunting dogs and horsesthan, at a moment's notice, he broke off negotiationswith Mary Stuart. Why should he bother about behavingcourteously to a woman who had lost all power?He announced that he was under the necessity "ofdeclining to associate her with himself in the sovereigntyof Scotland"; nor could he "treat with her otherwisethan as Queen-Mother." Thus a son heartlessly abandonedhis royal mother to life-long captivity. Realm,crown, power, freedom had been snatched out of hergrasp by her rival. The childless Tudor monarch therebycompleted her vengeance, for she had brought aboutthe defection of Mary Stuart's son.Elizabeth's triumph on this occasion shattered Mary'slast hopes. Once again she realized that her enemy had373

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSsold and betrayed her. Having lost her husband, herbrother, and her subjects, she now lost her child; henceforwardshe was to stand alone. Her disappointmentwas only equalled by her disgust. She need considernobody's feelings for the future! Just as well, perhaps!Since her own child denied her, she would deny him.Since he had meanly bartered away her right to thecrown of Scotland, she would pay the youngster backin his own coin. She accused him of having forgottenthe "duty and obligation" he owed her, threatening tobestow her malediction; "and invoke that of heaven onmy ungrateful son"; further, she affirmed that unless.James became a convert to the Church of Rome shewould debar him from his rights to the crowns of Englandand of Scotland. She would rather, "if he perseveres inthe heresy of Calvin" transfer these rights to a foreignprince—to the King of Spain, for instance, should thatnaonarch consent to fight for her freedom and to humiliatethe assassin of her best hopes, Queen Elizabeth ofEngland. No longer was her son or her country of importanceto her. All she needed now was freedom,liberty to live her own life, once more to be victor in thearena. Even the boldest venture seemed natural to her.One who has lost everything has nothing left to risk.Year after year anger and embitterment had accumulatedwithin this tortured and humiliated woman; yearafter year she had hoped and negotiated and compromisedand conspired. Her cup was now full, andeven overfull. A flame of hatred streamed upwardagainst the torturer, the usurper, the wardress of herimprisonment. No longer was it as one queen againstanother or as one woman against another that MaryStuart hurled herself tooth and nail against ElizabethTudor. A petty incident brought things to a head. The374

WAR TO THE KNIFECountess of Shrewsbury, a confirmed scandal-mongerand peculiarly malicious slanderer, declared that MaryStuart had entered into amorous relationships with theEarl, her husband and Mary's gaoler. Such gossip wasnot meant to be taken seriously; but Elizabeth, whohad always been at pains to show up the moral lapses ofher rival, quickly seized the opportunity in order toacquaint the continental courts of her cousin's freshmisdemeanour. It was, then, not enough that she shouldhave power taken from her, that she should be deprivedof her freedom, that the affection of her son should bealienated from her; now her fair name must be besmirched,and she, who lived like a nun, who dispensedwith any form of pleasure or of love, was to be held upbefore the eyes of the world as an adulteress. Woundedpride made her wrath blaze high. She demanded immediatereparation, and Lady Shrewsbury "upon herknees" denied that there were any grounds for the infamousreports spread abroad against the Queen ofScots. But Mary knew well who was responsible for thespeedy extension of the rumours initiated by her gaoler'swife, she guessed the secret and malignant joy of herperennial foe at having so luscious a morsel of calumnyto serve up to the courts of Europe, and she determinedto counter the blow which had been dealt her in thedark by a blow dealt in the open. Impatience had longpossessed her soul to exhibit this so-called virgin queenin true colours. She who set herself up as a model ofvirtue and righteousness should hear the truth at last asbetween one woman and the other.Mary, therefore, wrote a letter (to outward seeming afriendly one, but, in truth, one of the spiciest documentsin the English archives) to Elizabeth, narrating in thefrankest language the gossip anent the English queen'sprivate life and morals that was being disseminated bythe Countess of Shrewsbury. The ostensible motive was,375 N*

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSas I have said, a friendly one; but Mary's real objectwas to show her "dear sister" how slight were the latter'sclaims to pose as an exemplar of good morals or as anauthority upon ethical standards. Every word in thisepistle seems like a fresh blow, whose punch was backedup by despair and hate. All the fearful things onewoman can say to another are herein stated; Elizabeth'sfaults of character are flung vindictively in her face;the most hidden secrets of her womanhood are ruthlesslyunveiled. "Bess of Hardwick" had indulged her tonguebeyond the limits of the excusable, had declared Elizabethto be so vain and to hold so exalted an opinion ofher own loveliness as to make her hearers believe shemust be the Queen of Heaven. Never was she satiatedwith flattery, continually forcing her ladies into the mostabsurd exaggerations; her uncontrolled vulgarity wasdisplayed in the way she would, when vexed, mishandlethese same gentlewomen and the tiring-maidsin her suite. She had actually Broken the finger of one,and had slashed another with a knife on the hand becauseof some lack of dexterity in the serving of a meal.These items, however, were nothing when comparedto other revelations, such as that Elizabeth had a runningsore on the leg (a hint that she might have inheritedsyphilis from her father); that she had lost her youthprematurely, but nevertheless continued to lust aftermen. That "infinies foys," countless numbers of times,she had gone to bed with Leicester; nor had he been heronly paramour; that she sought her pleasure anywhereand everywhere; that she never wanted to lose her freedomto make love and to have her desires satisfied byever fresh lovers. At night she had been known to slipout of her own bedchamber, wearing nothing more thana nightgown, with, maybe, a shawl flung about her forwarmth's sake, and creep into the room of some man ofher choice; these illicit delights had to be paid for376

WAR TO THE KNIFEdearly. Mary heaped name upon name, detail upondetail. But the deadliest bolt of all, Elizabeth's bitterestwound to her pride as a woman, about which Ben Johnsonblabbed freely in the taverns he frequented, was notspared the English sovereign: "She says, moreover, thatindubitably you are not Uke other women, and it is follyto advance the notion of your marriage with the dued'Anjou, seeing that such a conjugal union could neverbe consummated," There Elizabeth had it plain and flat;her secret was known to all; every one knew that becauseof her physical imperfection she could only gratifyher lust but never her natural sexual appetite, that shecould only play at love but was debarred entirely fromwedlock and motherhood. One woman alone had thecourage to tell the mightiest of queens this ultimate andterrible truth, one captive woman alone after twentyyears of pent-up hatred, of stifled anger, of imprisonedenergies, rallied her forces to deal this ghastly assaultupon the heart of her tormentor.After such an explosion, reconciliation was impossible.The woman who had composed the letter, and thewoman who was intended to read it, could no longerbreathe the same air or live in the same country. "Hastaal cuchillo," as the Spaniards say, war to the knife, warto the death—such was the only issue. After more thantwo decades of double dealing, of obstinate spying andirreconcilable enmity, Mary Stuart and Elizabeth Tudorhad brought their historic combat into the light of day.The Counter-Reformation had used every conceivablediplomatic art, but neither side had as yet had recourseto arms. What was to be proudly (and afterwards derisively)styled the "Invincible Armada" was beingslowly and laboriously built in Spain. But, despite theinflow of wealth from America, the court of that un-377

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTShappy land was always short alike of money and of resolution.Philip the Pious resembled John Knox in lookingupon the removal of an adversary who adhered to anothercreed as an act well pleasing to Almighty God.Would it not be cheaper and easier to hire a few bravoeswho would forthwith rid the world of Elizabeth, theprotectress of heresy? The age of Machiavelli and hispupils was not troubled by moral considerations whenpower was at stake. Here the stakes were colossal: faithagainst faith, south against north, the admiralty of theworld.When politics are heated white-hot in the furnace ofpassion, moral and legal scruples are thrown to thewinds; no one bothers about honour or decency, andeven assassination is glorified. Through the excommunicationof Elizabeth in 1570 and of William theSilent in 1580, the two chief enemies of Catholicism hadbeen outlawed by the Roman Church; and after thePope had expressly approved the' Massacre of St. Bartholomew,every Catholic was assured that he would bedoing a praiseworthy deed if he succeeded in assassinatingeither of these hereditary foes of the true faith. Avigorous thrust with a dagger, a skilfully aimed pistolbullet, might free Mary Stuart from captivity and placeher on the throne at Westminster, with the result thatEngland and the world would be regained for Rome.The Jesuits were busily and secretly going to and froacross the Channel. The Spanish government did nothesitate to avow that the murder of Elizabeth was oneof its chief political aims. Mendoza, Spanish ambassadorin London, referred frequently in his dispatches to "killingthe queen" as a laudable enterprise. The Duke ofAlva, governor of the Netherlands, approved thescheme. Philip II, lord of two continents, drafted withhis own hand a plan which he hoped that "God wouldfavour." Matters were to be decided, not by diplomatic378

WAR TO THEKNIFEartSj nor by open warfare, but by the assassin's knife.There was not much to choose between England andSpain as to methods. In Madrid, the killing of Elizabethwas decided on in a secret conclave, and was endorsed bythe king. In London, Cecil and Walsingham andLeicester were agreed upon making short work of MaryStuart. There were to be no more hesitations and nomore expedients. The account had long been overdue,and its settlement would be marked by a line drawn inblood. The only question was, which would act morepromptly, the Reformation or the Counter-Reformation,London or Madrid? Would Mary Stuart sweep ElizabethTudor out of her path;.or would Elizabeth make anend of Mary?379

Qhapter 21"THE MATTER MUST COMETO AN END"SEPTEMBER 1585 TO AUGUST 15861 HE matter must come to an end." Such was the incisiveformula in which one of Ehzabeth's ministers ofState impatiently summarised the sentiment that prevailedthroughout England. Nothing is harder for anindividual or a nation to bear than long-continued uncertainty.The assassination of the other great protagonistof the Reformation, Wilham the Silent, showedEngland plainly enough that fhe poniard had alreadybeen sharpened for the heart of Queen Elizabeth.It was a known fact that one conspiracy followedclose upon another. The general feeUng, therefore, was,that the moment had come to make an end of the prisonedScottish queen who laid claim to the throne of Englandas well. The evil must be cut at the roots. In September,1584, the Protestant section of the English nobilityand gentry drew up a Bond of Association pledging allgood citizens to slay without scruple any conspirator whoplotted against the Queen. Furthermore "pretenders tothe throne in whose favour these men conspired" were"to be deprived of all rights as claimants to the succession,"and were to be held personally responsible forsuch plots. Next the Bondof Association was confirmedby a statute (27 Elizabeth, 1585) entitled An Ad for theSecurity of the Queen's Royal Person and the Continuance of theRealm of Peace. Everyone who participated in an attack380

THE MATTER MUST COME TO AN END"upon the Queen or who merely sanctioned it becameliable to the death penalty. It was further decided thatevery one accused of entering into a conspiracy againstthe Queen should be tried by a jury of four-and-twentypersons appointed by the crown.This gave Mary Stuart plain notice of two facts. Firstof all, that her royal rank would no longer protect herfrom a public trial. Secondly, that even a successfulattempt on Elizabeth's life would bring her no advantage,but would cost her her own head. This was like thelast flourish of trumpets which demands the surrenderof an obstinate fortress before the final assault. If therewere any further hesitation, no quarter would be given.Ambiguities between Elizabeth Tudor and Mary Stuartwere over and done with. There was to be no moreshilly-shallying.There were other signs that the days of a courteousinterchange of letters and of amiable hypocrisies wereover, that the last round in the long struggle had opened,there was to be no more consideration shown, that warto the knife had been declared. The English courtdecided, in view of the unceasing conspiracies againstElizabeth, that Mary Stuart should be more strictlyguarded in future. Shrewsbury, being too much of agentleman to be a good gaoler, was "released" from hisoffice. In very truth, Shrewsbury thanked Elizabethon his knees for having restored him to freedom afterfifteen years of a gaolership which had made him aprisoner as well as Mary. He was replaced in hisguardianship by Sir Amyas Paulet, a fanatical Protestant.Now Mary Stuart could, without exaggeration,speak of having been reduced to "servitude," for herfriendly guardian had been substituted an inexorablegaoler.381

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSAmyas Paulet, a hard-bitten Puritan, one of theexcessively "just" who model their behaviour upon theOld Testament worthies but who cannot be pleasing toa good God, made no secret of his determination thatthenceforward Mary Stuart's life was to be as uncomfortableas possible. The task of making himself disagreeable,of robbing her of the small favours Shrewsburyhad granted her, was a delight to Paulet. He wrote toElizabeth saying that he expected no mercy should Maryescape from his custody, since such an escape would onlybe possible through gross negligence on his part. Withthe cold and clear systematism of one who regards himselfas a slave to "duty," he contemplated the guardianshipof Mary Stuart and the making it impossible forher to do any harm, as a task assigned to him by God.He had no other ambition than to be an exemplarygaoler. He was a new Cato, whom no temptation couldlead astray; and no inner promptings of tendernesswould ever induce him to modify^his harshness. Theailing and weary woman was not, in his eyes, a princesswho deserved compassion for her misfortunes, but merelyhis Queen's arch-enemy, who must be treated as Antichristpersonified. As for her illness, he wrote cynically:"The indisposition of this Queen's body, and the greatinfirmity of her legs, which is so desperate as herselfdoth not hope of any recovery, is no small advantage toher keeper, who shall not need to stand in great fear ofher running av/^ay, if he can foresee that she be not takenfrom him by force." He fulfilled his task with a maliciousdelight in his own efficiency, entering his observations ofthe captive night after night in a manuscript book.Even though history has made us acquainted with morecruel, violent, and unjust gaolers than Paulet, there isscarce a record of any who was as well able as he to takepleasure in his detestable duties.His first step was to cut the hidden threads by means382

THE MATTER MUST COME TO AN END"of which Mary Stuart had still been able to communicatewith the outer world. Her prison-house was surroundedby sentries, whose cordon was kept intact by day and bynight. The domestic staff, which had hitherto passedfreely in and out, and had been able to transmit oraland written messages, had their leave stopped. Nomember of Mary's court could go abroad without aspecial permit, and must then be accompanied by asoldier. Mary was forbidden to continue the bestowal ofalms upon the poor of the neighbourhood, Paulet perspicaciouslyrecognizing that this pious practice madethe recipients ready to smuggle information. The regulationswere made stricter day by day. Parcels of laundry,of books—whatever passed in or out—^were scrutinizedas closely as baggage is at a modern customhouse,and in this way the possibility of secret correspondencewas cut off. Nau and Curie, Mary's secretaries,sat twiddling their thumbs, for their occupationwas gone. They had no letters either to write or todecipher. Neither from London nor from Scotland norfrom Rome nor from Madrid did news trickle throughbringing hope to Mary in her loneliness. Soon Pauletdeprived her of her last enjoyment. Her sixteen horsesate their heads off in Sheffield, since she was forbiddenthe chase or even a ride to breathe the fresh air. Terriblynarrowed were the bounds of her existence under SirAmyas Paulet's "guardianship," so that she was atlength indisputably imprisoned, and felt as if she werealready in her coffin.It might have been more creditable to Elizabeth hadshe chosen a less strict gaoler for her sister the Queen.Still, as far as seeing to Elizabeth's immunity from therisk of assassination was concerned, one cannot butrecognize that no more trusty watch-dog could have383

THE Q_UEEN OF SCOTSbeen chosen than this cold-blooded Calvinist. Pauletadmirably discharged the duty of isolating Mary Stuartfrom the world. Within a few months she began to feelas if she were kept under a bell-glass. Not a word, not aletter, from outside reached her. Elizabeth had everyreason to be satisfied with the new gaoler, and expressedher most heartfelt thanks to Paulet for all he was doing."If you knew, my dear Amyas, how much indebted I feelto you for your unparalleled care, how thankfully Irecognize the flawlessness of your arrangements, how Iapprove your wise orders and safe measures in the performanceof a task so dangerous and difficult, it wouldlighten your cares and rejoice your heart."Strangely enough, however, Elizabeth's ministers ofState, Cecil and Walsingham, were, to begin with, byno means pleased with the "precise fellow," Sir AmyasPaulet, for his pains. The complete severance of MaryStuart from her secret correspondence with foreign partsran counter to their wishes. It did^not suit them at allthat the Scottish Queen should be deprived of everychance for carrying on conspiracies, or that Paulet, byestablishing a cordon round her, was guarding heragainst the consequences of her own incaution. WhatCecil and Walsingham wanted was, not an innocentMary Stuart, but a guilty one; they wanted her, whomthey regarded as the perpetual cause of unrest and plottingin England, to continue her plots until she could becaught in her own net. Their main desire was that "thematter should come to an end"; they looked forward tothe trial, condemnation and execution of Mary Stuart.In their view, the only way of safeguarding Elizabethwas to make an end of her adversary; and since SirAmyas Paulet, by the rigorous methods he adopted, hadrendered it impossible for Mary to initiate any furtherplots, a plot must be instigated by provocative agents,and the prisoner induced to take part in it. What Cecil384

THE MATTER MUST COME TO AN ENDand Walsingham required was a conspiracy againstElizabeth, and plain proof that Mary Stuart was involvedin it.As a matter of fact, a plot to kill Elizabeth was readyto their hands. The plot was, so to say, a permanent one.Philip of Spain had established on the Continent an anti-English conspiratorial centre; in Paris resided Morgan,Mary Stuart's confidential agent, supplied with fundsfrom Spain, his business being to carry on unceasingmachinations against England and Elizabeth. Heremore and more young enthusiasts were enlisted.Through the intermediation of the Spanish and Frenchambassadors, links were maintained between the malcontentCatholic nobility in England and the chancelleriesof the Counter-Reformation. But an importantpoint had escaped Morgan's notice, namely that Walsingham,one of the ablest and most unscrupulousdirectors of provocative agents that ever existed, hadplanted upon Morgan some of his own spies under theguise of devout Catholics, so that the very messengerswhom Morgan placed most confidence in were really inWalsingham's pay. What was planned on behalf ofMary Stuart was betrayed to England, time after time,before any steps had been taken to put the scheme intoexecution. Now, at the close of the year 1585, when thescaffold was still dripping with the blood of those whowere executed for the party they had played in the latestconspiracy, the English authorities became aware thatfresh action was about to be taken for the assassination ofElizabeth. Walsingham had a full and accurate list ofthe names of the Catholic nobles in England who hadassured Morgan of their willingness to support anymove to put Mary Stuart upon the throne. He needmerely give a sign, and a liberal use of the rack wouldenable him to fill the gaps in his knowledge.Walsingham's technique, however, was more subtle,385

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSmore far-sighted, and more perfidious. Of course, if hewished, he could nip the conspiracy in the bud. Itwould not suit his purposes, however, merely to send afew noblemen to the block or to have some of the lesserconspirators hanged, drawn, and quartered. Whatwould be the use of cutting off five or six heads of thehydra of this unceasing conspiracy if, next morning, twonew heads would have taken the place of each? "Carthagemust be destroyed" was Cecil's and Walsingham'smotto; they were determined to make an end of MaryStuart; and for this purpose no minor conspiracy wouldsuffice. They would need to prove the existence ofwidespread activities in favour of the imprisoned Queenof Scots. Instead, therefore, of stifling Babington's plotin the germ, Walsingham secretly encouraged it;manuring it with good wishes, supplying it with funds,furthering it by assumed indifference. Thanks to hisskill as director of provocative agents, what had at firstbeen no more than an amateurish conspiracy of a fewcountry gentlefolk against Ehzabeth, developed into thefamous Walsingham plot for ridding the world of MaryStuart.There must be three stages in the affair if MaryStuart were to be slain in due form of law. First of allthe conspirators must be induced to commit themselvesto a scheme for Elizabeth's assassination. Secondly, itwas necessary that they should acquaint Mary Stuart oftheir intention. Thirdly (and this was the most difficultrequisite), Mary herself must be persuaded to approvethe plan, by a document in her own handwriting. HercompHcity and her guilt must be proved up to the hilt,for Ehzabeth would be dishonoured if Mary were put todeath in default of the desired proof. Rather than that,manufacture evidence of Mary's guilt! Rather than that,cunningly press into her hand a dagger with which shecould slay herself.386

THE MATTER MUST COME TO AN ENDThe work of the EngUsh official conspirators againstMary Stuart began by a mitigation of the rigorousnessof her imprisonment. Walsingham, it would seem, didnot find much difficulty in persuading Sir Amyas Paulet,the pious Puritan, that, instead of maintaining so closea cordon round Mary as to make it impossible for herto initiate or participate in any conspiracies, it wouldbe better to entangle the royal prisoner in a plot. Anyhow,Paulet, modified his treatment of Mary in accordancewith the scheme of the English general staff. Oneday this man, who had hitherto been so inexorable agaoler, came to see Mary and told her, in the mostfriendly terms, that it had been decided to remove herfrom Tutbury to Chartley. Mary, little guessing themachinations of her enemies, could not conceal herdelight. Tutbury was a gloomy stronghold, more like aprison than a castle; Chartley, on the other hand, was apleasant place enough, with the added advantage thatin the neighbourhood lived Catholic families friendly toher, and from which she might expect aid. At Chartleyshe would be able to go out riding once more, if herhealth allowed it; and there, perhaps, she would have achance of getting news from her relatives and friendsacross the seas, a chance (with courage and skill) ofregaining what she would prize most of all—her liberty.Behold, one morning, Mary Stuart was astonished.She could scarcely believe her eyes. As if by magic. SirAmyas Paulet's encirclement had been broken through.A cipher dispatch came to hand, the first she had receivedfor months. How clever of her friends to have atlength found means for outwitting her inexorablegaoler! What an unexpected delight. She was no longercut off from the world, but would again be kept informedof the plans that were being made to set her free.Nevertheless some instinct warned her to be cautious,and in her reply to Morgan she advised him: "Keep387

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSyourself from meddling with anything that might redoundto your hurt, or increase the suspicion alreadyconceived against you in these parts, being sure thatyou are able to clear yourself of all dealings for my servicehithertill." But this mood of suspicion did not lastlong. It was dispelled when she learned by what cleverartifices her friends (really they were her intended assassins)would keep up communications with her. Everyweek a barrel of beer was sent from Burton for theQueen's servants, and her friends persuaded the draymanto let them replace the bung of the barrel with acorked tube in which letters could be concealed. Thenceforwardcommunications were carried on with the regularityof a postal service. Week after week "the honestman" as the drayman was styled in the correspondence,brought his barrel of beer to the castle; once it was safelyin the cellar, Mary's butler removed the corked tubewhich carried the incoming letter; while last week'sempty barrel, in like manner, conveyed an outgoingletter. The honest man, it need hardly be said, was wellpaid for his services.But what Mary Stuart did not know was that thedrayman was paid over again by the English authorities,and that Sir Amyas Paulet knew all that was going on.It was not Mary Stuart's friends who had excogitatedthis method of communication, but Gilford, one ofWalsingham' spies, who had presented himself to Morganand to the French ambassador as Mary's confidentialagent. Thus Mary's secret correspondence could befully supervised by her political enemies. Every letterto or from Mary was, on its way, inspected by Gilford(whom Morgan regarded as his most trustworthyhenchman), was deciphered by Thomas Phelippes, whowas also in Walsingham's employ and was clever atciphers. When the missive had been decoded, a copywas promptly sent to London. This work was done388 ~

THE MATTER MUST COME TO AN END"with SO much dispatch that the correspondence betweenMary Stuart and the French embassy went on brisklywithout the parties at either end suspecting that it hadbeen tampered with.Mary Stuart congratulated herself. At length shehad outwitted Sir Amyas Paulet, the stiff Puritan, whoexamined the laundry on its way to and from the wash,had shoe-soles inspected, kept her under close observationas if she were a criminal. She smiled as she thoughtwhat a rage her gaoler would be in if he knew that,despite all his sentries, despite locks and bars, she wasweek after week exchanging letters with Paris, Madrid,and Rome; that her agents were working busily on herbehalf; that armies and navies were making ready insupport of her cause; that daggers were being sharpenedto pierce the hearts of her enemies. Sometimes, maybe,she showed her dehght too plainly, thus giving herselfaway beneath Sir Amyas Paulet's watchful eyes, nowthat she was stimulated by the cordial of renewed hope.Paulet, on his side, was much better justified in smilingcoldly to himself when, week after week, he saw thefresh supply of beer being brought by the "honest man"(the only name by which this worthy is known), whenhe noted the haste with which Queen Mary's butlerwent down to the cellar to secure the precious letter.Paulet knew that what his prisoner was about to readhad long since been deciphered by the EngHsh agent, andthat copies were on their way to Walsingham and Cecil.These ministers of State would learn from the decodedletters that Mary Stuart had offered the crown of Scotlandand the right of succession to the crown of Englandto Philip of Spain, if he would help her to escape. Sucha letter, they knew, might be useful in appeasing JamesVI if he should take it into his head that his mother wasbeing too harshly treated. They read that Mary Stuart,in her holograph dispatches to Paris, was urging the389

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSinvasion of England by Spanish troops. This would beuseful, too, when the Scottish Queen was brought totrial. Unfortunately for their scheme, however, theycould not for a long time discover anything in the lettersto show that Mary Stuart sanctioned a plan for theassassination of Elizabeth Tudor. The prisoner had notmade herself as guilty as Queen Elizabeth's adviserswished; she had not yet done enough for them to settheir murder-machine in motion by demanding a publictrial of the prisoner; they wanted definite proof of MaryStuart's "consent" to the killing of Elizabeth Tudor. Tosecure this last turn of the screw, Walsingham, pastmaster among provocative agents, now devoted his bestenergies. Therewith began one of the most incrediblethough documentarily attested acts of perfidy known tohistory—the "frame-up" by which Walsingham madeMary Stuart privy to a plot of his own manufacture,the so-called Babington conspiracy, which was in realitya Walsingham conspiracy.Walsingham's plan was masterly, and was, in a sense,justified by results. What made it so repulsive that, afterthe lapse of centuries, one's gorge rises when one contemplatesthe details, was that Walsingham, to further it,appealed to one of the finest of human qualities, thetouching faith of youthful romanticists. Anthony Babington,whom the authorities in London chose as their unwittingtool, merits our sympathy and admiration, for hethrew away his life under stress of a noble impulse. Ayoung country gentleman, married and well-to-do, scionof an ancient Northumberland family which later settledin Derbyshire, he lived for the most part on his estate,which was close to Chartley. The reader will readilyunderstand why Walsingham selected Chartley as MaryStuart's latest residence. Walsingham had-long since390

THE MATTER MUST COME TO AN END"known that Babington, a devout Catholic, greatlyattached to Mary Stuart, was instrumental in furtheringher secret correspondence with foreign parts. It is oneof the privileges of youth to be profoundly moved bysympathy for the victims of a tragical destiny. Such anunsuspicious idealist, a "pure fool", would suit Walsingham'spurposes far better than a hired spy, for theprisoned Queen would be only too eager to put her trustin young Babington. She knew that he was not moved bypursuit of gain, or by personal fondness for her, but bychivalric sentiment, which in him was accentuated almostbeyond the verge of sanity. It is most probably a posthumousand romantic invention, the assertion that Babingtonhad been page to Mary Stuart for a time whenshe was under Shrewsbury's custody, and had thenfallen to her charms. Presumably he never met her, andserved her only from delight in service, from Catholicfervour, from adventurous enthusiasm, all these combiningto make him devote himself to the woman whomhe regarded as the rightful queen of England. Heedless,unwary, and loquacious, as emotional young people areprone to be, he recruited adherents from among hisfriends, inducing various individuals of his own creedand station to join him. A strange circle of conspiratorswas formed, including a fanatic priest named Ballard, adesperado aptly called "Savage," and various younggentlemen with more money than brains, who had readPlutarch's Lives, and entertained cloudy dreams ofheroism. Soon, however, their ranks were swelled byclearer-headed and more resolute persons than Babingtonand his intimates; above all by a certain Gifford,whom Elizabeth was subsequently to reward for hisservices with a pension of one hundred pounds perannum. The hotheads among them decided that itwould not be enough to set the imprisoned Queen atliberty. Impetuously they determined upon a far more391

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSdangerous deed: upon the assassination of Elizabeth,the "usurper."The latest adherents to the plot, and the most ardentamong the conspirators, were, it need hardly be said,Walsingham's spies, insinuated among the young idealistsas provocative agents; for Walsingham designed, notonly to keep himself fully informed as to what was goingon, but also, and above all, to jog the elbow of Babingtonthe enthusiast. For Babington, as the documents clearlyshow, had, with his friends, originally designed nothingmore than, from his country-house as base, to effectMary Stuart's rescue from prison. The thought ofmurder was foreign to his nature.But a mere scheme for the carrying-off of MaryStuart would not suffice Walsingham, would not enablehim to send the troublesome prisoner to the block. Heneeded a full-dress conspiracy for assassination. Hisagents, therefore, kept up their work of incitation untilBabington and the latter's friends finally agreed to takeaction along the line desired by Walsingham. On May12, 1586, the Spanish ambassador, who was throughoutin touch with the conspirators, was able to report toKing Philip the agreeable tidings that four Catholicgentlemen who were granted the entry to Elizabeth'scourt had solemnly sworn to make an end of the Queenwith poison or dagger. The provocative agents haddone their work satisfactorily: at length Walsingham'smurder-conspiracy was well on the way.But this only fulfilled the first part of Walsingham'splans. The snare was fastened at one end. The otherend needed to be firmly attached. The plot for themurder of Queen Elizabeth had been successfully instigated.Now came the harder part of the business,the securing of the unsuspicious prisoner's "consent" tothe "removal" of her rival. Orice more Walsinghamwhistled up his gang of spies.. He sent some of his392

THE MATTER MUST COME TO AN END"emissaries to Paris, the headquarters of the Catholicconspiracy, with instructions to complain to Morganagent of Philip II and of Mary Stuart, that Babingtonand Co. were lukewarm in the cause. They could notmake up their minds to the assassination, but hesitatedand procrastinated. It was urgently necessary to stirtiu,late their fervour, and nothing could do this so effectuallyas a word from Mary Stuart. Were Babington onceconvinced that the Queen he honoured and admiredapproved the murder, he would be prepared to takeaction. It was essential, therefore, so the spies assuredMorgan, for him to induce Queen Mary to write somethingthat would enhance Babington's zeal.Morgan hesitated. One may guess that his suspicionswere aroused, that he had glimpsed Walsingham'sgame. However, the English minister's agents persistedin assuring him that nothing more was needed than afew formal lines. At length Morgan gave way; but, toguard against any lack of caution, he sent to Mary adraft of the letter he wanted her to write to Babington.The Queen, who had full confidence in Morgan, copiedthis missive word for word.At length the connection Walsingham desired betweenMary Stuart and the conspiracy had been brought about.Morgan's caution, however, stood him and the Queen ingood stead, for Mary's first letter to the conspirators,though cordial enough, was non-committal. WhatWalsingham needed was the Queen's plain "consent"to the proposed attempt upon Elizabeth's life. Actingon his instructions, therefore, his agents set to workonce more upon the other end of the snare. Giffordmade it plain to the unhappy Babington that, nowMary had shown her confidence in him, he must respondby giving the captive Queen a full account of his plan.A thing so dangerous as an attempt upon Elizabeth'slife must not be undertaken without the express approval393

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSof Mary Stuart; and, thanks to the weekly visits of the"honest man," there was a safe way of conveying allnecessary information to Queen Mary and of gettingher royal instructions in return. Babington, the "purefool," with more courage than wit, walked into thetrap. He sent a long missive addressed to his "tr^s cheresouveraine," disclosing every detail of the plot. Whyshould not the unhappy Queen be consoled in her captivityby knowing what was afoot? Why should she notbe informed that the hour of her liberation was at hand?As unsuspiciously as if his words were to be conveyed toQueen Mary by heavenly messengers, absolutely unawarethat whatever he wrote would be read by Walsingham'semissaries before it would be read by Mary, the poorwretch blabbed the whole plan of campaign. "Myselfwith ten gentlemen and a hundred of followers willundertake the delivery of your royal person from thehands of your enemies. For the dispatch of the usurper,from the obedience of whom we are by the excommunicationof her made free, there be six noble gentlemen,all my private friends, who for the zeal they bear to theCatholic cause and Your Majesty's service will undertakethat tragical execution." Ardent resolution, and aclear understanding of the risk that was being run, aremade plain by this foolish though candid letter, whichcannot but touch the hearts of those who read it afterthe lapse of centuries. Surely it would touch QueenMary's heart too? She was not likely to be so cautious orsober-minded as, from cowardice, to refuse answer andencouragement to those who were chivalrously ready todevote themselves to her service.It was upon Mary Stuart's ardour and heedlessness,the qualities she had so often shown, that Walsinghamwas counting. If Mary approved Babington's schemefor "the dispatch of the usurper," Walsingham wouldhave gained his end. Mary would have relieved him394

THE MATTER MUST COME TO AN ENDfrom the unpleasant need for compassing her secretmurder. She would have walked into the open trap.The disastrous letter was sent. . Phelippes, as usual,deciphered it and sent a copy to Walsingham. The unalteredoriginal, scrupulously resealed, was dispatchedto the unsuspecting recipient by way of the beer-barrel.On July lo, 1586, it was in Mary Stuart's hands, whentwo notables in London, Cecil and Walsingham, theprime movers in this perfidious plot, were eagerly waitingto know how she would reply to it. The moment ofgreatest tension had come. The fish was nibbling at thebait. Would the tempting morsel be swallowed hookand all, or would it be left uneaten? Well, we must lookat the affair for a moment from Cecil's and Walsingham'spoint of view, for some will admire though others willcondemn their political methods. However abominablethe means Cecil used for the destruction of Mary Stuart,we must remember that this statesman was throughoutworking for an ideal. He believed that by ridding theworld of the hereditary enemy of Protestantism he wasmerely acting in accordance with an inexorable necessity.As for Walsingham, whose business it was to frustrateplots against his sovereign, we could hardly expecthim to be more scrupulous than his adversaries, to renounceespionage, and to countenance nothing whichpersons with more exalted standards would regard asimmoral.What about Elizabeth? Throughout life she gaveample evidence of concern for her reputation before thetribunal of posterity. Are we to suppose that on thisoccasion she knew how, behind the scenes, a murderousmachine was being constructed, more sinister and dangerousthan any of the accepted means of public execution?Were these repulsive practices undertaken by395

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSher chief advisers with her knowledge and consent?Mary Stuart's biographer is forced to inquire what partthe Queen of England played in this sinister plot againsther adversary.The answer is that Elizabeth played a double role.We have plain evidence that she knew about Walsingham'smachinations; that from first to last she tolerated,approved, and perhaps actively furthered the provocativeagency of Cecil and Walsingham. History can neveracquit her from the charge of looking on and perhapsassisting while the prisoner under her care was beinglured to destruction. Still I must reiterate that Elizabethwould not have been Elizabeth if she had acted unambiguously.Capable of any falsehood, any misrepresentation,any form of deception, this extraordinary womanwas, nevertheless, not without a conscience, and wasnever wholly immoral or ungenerous. In decisivemoments, her finer impulses were always stirred. Evennow she felt uneasy at the prospect of deriving advantagefrom such base practices. For suddenly, when herministrants were getting ready to garnish the sacrifice,she made a strange movement in favour of the victim.She sent for the French ambassador, who had been instrumentalin conveying Mary Stuart's correspondencefrom and to Chartley, without a notion that those whomhe employed as messengers were creatures of Walsingham."Sir," she said to him roundly, "you are in frequentcommunication with the Queen of Scotland. Iwould give you to know that I am aware of all that goeson in my kingdom. I have myself been a prisoner, in thedays when my sister Mary ruled this land as queen, andam therefore familiar with the expedients used byprisoners to corrupt servants and effect secret communications."With these words, Elizabeth salved herconscience. She had conveyed a, clear warning to theFrench ambassador, and therewith to Mary Stuart. She396

THE MATTER MUST GOME TO AN ENDhad said as much as she could without betraying herservants. If Mary did not desist from the enterprise,Elizabeth could wash her innocent hands and sayproudly: "At any rate I gave full warning at the lastmoment."But Mary Stuart would not have been Mary Stuarthad she allowed herself to be frightened from her intendedcourses by a warning, if she had learned to actcautiously and thoughtfully. Still, to begin with she wascontent with a brief and non-committal acknowledgmentof Babington's letter—so brief that her enemieswere disappointed, but Phelippes reported to Walsingham:"We attain her very heart at the next." She hesitateda while, and Nau, her secretary, urgently advisedher against involving herself in so dangerous an affair byputting pen to paper. But the plan was too exciting, theconspiracy too promising, for Mary Stuart to controlher dangerous longing for intrigue. "Elle s'est laisseealler a I'accepter," remarked Nau with manifest concern.For three days she was closeted in her room withher two secretaries, Nau and Curie, writing a detailedanswer to the various proposals. On July 17, a few daysafter getting Babington's missive, she dispatched herrejoinder by the usual route in the beer-barrel.Phelippes was loitering in the neighbourhood of Chartleythat he might decipher this momentous letter forthwith.As chance would have it, one of these days whenMary Stuart was out driving, she caught sight of therascal, and was struck by his pock-marked countenance.He beamed at her genially, for he knew that the fruit ofhis labours was about to be garnered. The hopeful Maryfancied he must be one of the emissaries of her friends,come to the neighbourhood in order to prepare the wayfor her liberation. But PheUppes had a much more397

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSurgent and perilous task in hand. As soon as he hadtaken her missive from its cache, he set to work busilyupon deciphering it. It began with generalities.Mary Stuart expressed her thanks to Babington, andmade three separate proposals for the coup de main whichwas to get her safe away from Chartley. Of course thesematters were not without interest to the spy, but theywere not of decisive importance. Then, however,Phelippes' heart almost stopped beating from delight, forhe came to a passage which conveyed what Walsinghamso greatly desired, Mary Stuart's "consent" to the .murderof Elizabeth Tudor. To Babington's remark that "todispatch the usurper" there were "six noble gentlemen,all my private friends," prepared to "undertake thattragical execution," Mary replied unambiguously: "Theaffairs being thus prepared and forces in readiness bothwithout and within the realm, then it shall be time toset the six gentlemen to work, taking order that, uponthe accomplishment of their design, I may be suddenlytransported out of this place, and that all of your forcesin the same time be on the field to meet me in tarryingfor the arrival of the foreign aid, which then must behastened with all diligence."What more was needed? Thus Mary Stuart disclosed"her very heart," by approving the plan for the murderof Elizabeth. At length Walsingham's plot had reachedfruition. Commissioners and creatures, masters andservants, could congratulate one another, could claspone another's befouled and soon to be blood-stainedhands. "Now you have documents enough," wrotePhelippes triumphantly to Walsingham. Sir AmyasPaulet, likewise, knowing that the execution of QueenMary would soon free him from his gaolership, was filledwith pious exultation. "God has blessed my exertions,"he wrote, "and I rejoice that He has thus rewarded myfaithful services."398

THE MATTER MUST COME TO AN END"Now, when the bird of paradise was caught in the netWalsingham need no longer hesitate. His plan hadproved successful; his unsavoury machinations hadbeen carried to a safe conclusion; but so sure was he ofhis position that he could not refrain from the gloomypleasureof playing with his victim for a few days more.If he duly sent the deciphered and copied letter of MaryStuart to Babington there would be no harm in givingBabington a chance to answer, and perhaps therebyprocuring additional items for the indictment. Something,however, must have made Babington aware thathis mysteries were being probed. His courage failed, forthe nerves of the most valiant man may give way understress of an invisible and incomprehensible danger. Heran hither and thither like a hunted rat. Mounting ahorse, he rode forth into the country. Then, as aimlessly,he returned to London and (a Dostoeffsky touch!)visited Walsingham, the intriguer who was playing withhis fate. His obvious intention was to discover, if possible,whether he was suspect. Walsingham, tranquil as ever,disclosed nothing, and let Babington take leave unmolested.Perhaps the fool would give additional proofby some act of stupidity. Babington, however, felt thatthe atmosphere was threatening. He scribbled a note toa friend, using heroic words in the attempt to keep uphis courage. "The fiery furnace is made ready in whichour faith will be tested." At the same time he sent alast word to Mary Stuart, telling her to trust and hope.By now Walsingham had all the proofs he needed, andhe struck hard. One of the conspirators was arrested,and this showed Babington that the game was lost. In anoutburst of despair he proposed to Savage that theyshould hasten to the palace and make an end of Elizabeth.But it was too late. Walsingham's catchpoleswere already on their trail, and only for a moment couldthe pair evade capture. Whither could they flee? The399 • o

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSroads were blocked, the ports were watched, they wereshort of money and provisions. For ten days they hidin St. John's Wood, then a few miles from London,though now not far from the heart of the huge city—tendays of horror. But hunger was pitiless, and at lengthdrove them to a friend's house, where they receivedfood, and where the last sacraments were administeredto them. There they were arrested, and led back inchains through the streets of London. The only mercythese two bold young men could expect in the vaults ofthe Tower was that of the rack, while the bells of theLondon churches were pealing in triumph. The populacewas lighting bonfires and inaugurating processionsto celebrate the rescue of Elizabeth, the revealing andfoiling of the conspiracy, and the imminent destructionof Mary Stuart.Meanwhile at Chartley the prisoner had enjoyed afew hours of unfamiliar happiness. Her nerves weretensed. At any hour, men might gallop up with thereport that the scheme had successfully been carried intoeffect. To-day, to-morrow, or the day after, she mightbe making a triumphal progress to London, where shewould be housed in the royal palace. In fancy, shepictured the nobles and the burgesses in festal attire,awaiting her at the gates of the city, while the bellspealed jubilantly. She did not know, poor thing, thatthe bells were already pealing jubilantly to celebrateElizabeth's deliverance. In one or two days more, herlong martyrdom would be ended; England and Scotlandwould be united under her sovereignty, and allBritain would be restored to the, bosom of the ChurchUniversal. —No physician can prescribe a better remedy than hopefor an exhausted body or an outwearied spirit. Now that400

THE MATTER MUST COME TO AN ENDMary, always credulous and full of hope, felt her triumphto be so near, she seemed completely transformed. Shewas refreshed and rejuvenated. Though of late yearsshe had continually suffered from fatigue and exhaustion,so that she could scarcely walk any distance withoutbringing on pain in the side, and was a martyr to rheumatism,she was able once more to swing herself into thesaddle. Astonished at this rapid change for the better,at the very time when the conspiracy had been blownupon she wrote to her "good Morgan" as follows: "Ithank God that He hath not yet set me so low, but thatI am able to handle my crossbow for killing of a deerand to gallop after the hounds on horseback."Being in this cheerful mood of restored health, shewelcomed the invitation of the morose Sir Amyas (unaware,she thought, stupid Puritan that he was, howsoon his gaolership would come to an end!) to participateon August 8 in a stag-hunt organized by Sir WalterAston in his park of Tixall. The weather was unsettledfor a week, and it was not until the i6th that Mary, inhunting costume, was able to ride forth, attended by hercourt chamberlain, her two secretaries, her physician,and Paulet himself, who remained unusually friendly.Paulet, however, was accompanied by a sufficient force.A glorious morning, sunshiny and warm, the fieldssteaming after the recent rain. Mary spurred her horse,to win the full enjoyment of recovered energies. Forweeks, for months, she had not felt so young. Duringall these gloomy years' of imprisonment she had not beenso cheerful as on this lovely forenoon. Everything lookedbeautiful to her, all was going well. When hope springsup in the heart, a sense of benediction falls upon the soul.The cavalcade trotted through the gates of TixallPark. Now, however, Mary's pulses began to beat furiously.In front of the castle was waiting a troop ofarmed horsemen. Were they her friends, Babington and401

THE Q_UEEN OF SCOTShis associates? Had the undertaking hinted at in thecorrespondence been successfully carried out? But,strangely enough, only one of the waiting hosemetidetached himself from the group. Slowly and solemnlyhe rode up to the Queen, bowed, and raised his hat. Itwas Sir Thomas Gorges, gentleman-pensioner of QueenElizabeth. Next moment, Mary Stuart's joy and excitementwere dissipated, for Sir Thomas told her in baldwords that Babington's conspiracy had been discoveredand that he was charged to arrest her two secretaries.Mary was struck dumb. Any words she uttered mightbetray her. Perhaps she did not immediately grasp thefull extent of the danger, but the cruel truth was soondisclosed to her when she noticed that Sir Amyas Pauletmade no move to ride back with her to Chartley. Shegrasped, at length, the meaning of this invitation to ahunting party. She had been lured away from herhouse that her rooms might be searched in her absence.No doubt her private papers would be examined. Theauthorities would raid the diplomatic chancellery overwhich she had presided almost as openly as if she had stillbeen a sovereign ruler instead of a prisoner in a strangeland. She was given plenty of time to think over herblunders and her follies, being detained for seventeendays at Tixall without being allowed to write or to receiveletters. She knew that her most intimate secretsmust have become known to Cecil and Walsingham,that her hopes had been dashed to the ground. She hadbeen dragged a stage lower, from the position of prisonerto that of accused criminal.The woman who returned from Tixall'to Chartleywas in a very different mood from the one who, seventeendays earlier, had joyously set forth from Chartley toTixall. She did not ride through the gateway at a lively402

THE MATTER MUST COME TO AN END"gallop, javelin in hand, surrounded by trusty friends andadherents, but slowly, mute, accompanied only byguardians and enemies, a weary, disappointed, ageingwoman, with nothing but misery in prospect. Was shesurprised to find that her coffers and drawers had beenbroken open, and that the documents they containedhad been removed? Was it not natural that the fewmembers of the Chartley household who remained loyalto her should welcome her back with tears of affliction?She knew that all was over. But an unexpected incident,a strange call upon her services, helped her through herfirst despair. Downstairs in the servants' quarters was awoman in the throes of labour, the wife of Curie, hersecretary, who had been taken to London that he mightbear witness against her and help to destroy her. MistressCurie was alone in her extremity, with no doctor tohelp her and no priest to minister to her. The Queen,therefore, rising to the occasion in the everlasting sisterhoodof women and of misfortune, did what she could tohelp, and (as the Church permits to the lay in such anextremity) herself baptized the new-born infant.For a few days longer Mary Stuart was detained atChartley. Then came orders to remove her to a saferhold. Fotheringay Castle was chosen for her new prison,this being the last of the many. Her wanderings wereover, and soon her life would be over as well.But Mary's sufferings during the last months of herlife, tragical though they were, were shght in comparisonwith the abominable tortures inflicted upon the unhappyyoung men who had ventured all on behalf of the imprisonedQueen. For the most part historians are affectedwith a class bias, describing at great length, and oftenenough exclusively, the distresses of those who sit in theseats of the mighty, the triumphs and tragedies of the403

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSrulers of the earth. They ignore the deeds of crueltydone in dark places, the torments inflicted upon sufferersof little note—as if persons of high rank felt moreacutely than their "inferiors." Babington and a numberof his confederates (who mentions their names to-day,although the name and the sad destinies of QueenMary have been immortalized on countless stages andin numberless books?) endured in three hours of hideoustorture more than Mary Stuart had to endure in thetwenty years of her misfortune. Traitors, in the Englandof those days, were sentenced to be "hanged, drawn, andquartered"; and this gruesome penalty was inflictedon Babington and the others with the full approval ofCecil, Walsingham, and Queen Elizabeth. After a preliminaryhanging, the offender was taken down from thegallows while still alive, his sexual organs were cut off, hewas disembowelled, and was then quartered by theexecutioner. Among the seven who were thus executedon the twentieth day of September—Babington, regardedas the ringleader; Ballard, a Jesuit; Savage; andfour others—^were two who were little more than boysand whose only offence had been that they had givenbread to their friend Babington to aid him in his flight.Even the London mob, not as a rule squeamish, had hadits fill of horrors, "and murmured at the long-drawn-outbarbarity of the execution. Next day, therefore, when"justice" was wreaked upon seven more of the offenders,the horrible procedure was shortened. Once again,however, a place of execution became drenched withblood for the sake of this woman whose magical powerit was to lure more and ever more youths to destruction.For the last time! The Dance of Death which had begunwith Chastelard, had now drawn to a close. No one else,except Mary herself, would perish on behalf of her dreamof power and greatness.404

Qkapter 22ELIZABETH AGAINSTELIZABETHAUGUST 1586 TO FEBRUARY 1587XliLIZABETH'S ministers of State thus achievedtheir end. Mary Stuart innocently entered the trap,gave her "consent," made herself "guilty." Withoutstirring a finger, Elizabeth could let matters take theircourse, so that a legal decision would sweep her dangerousrival out of her path for ever. The struggle whichhad lasted for a quarter of a century was over. Elizabethwas victorious, and could rejoice as merrily as her subjects,who in the streets of London and elsewhere werenoisily celebrating the rescue of their sovereign and thetriumph of the Protestant cause. But in every fulfilment,bitter is mingled with sweet in the cup. Now, whenElizabeth could strike she hesitated. It had been far,far easier to entice a heedless prisoner into the snarethan it was to slay her when the trap had closed on her.If Elizabeth wanted to rid herself of the inconvenientcaptive by force, she had had ample opportunities erethis. Fifteen years earlier, parliament had requestedthat Queen Mary should be dealt with by the axe. In1570, John Knox wrote to Cecil warning him "that, ifhe thrust not at the root, the branches, which appearedto be broken, would bud more quickly than men couldbelieve, and with greater force than would be wished,"adding emphatically, ''God grant you wisdom" andsigning "John Knox, with his one foot in the grave."Always when thus urged to take sharp measures,405

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSElizabeth answered: "I cannot slay the dove whichpursued by a falcon, has flown to me for help." Nowhowever, what choice was left her, when the Babingtonconspiracy (Walsingham's plot!) convinced her that thechoice lay between her own life or Mary's? NeverthelessElizabeth continued to shrink from a decision, forshe knew what immense possibilities, moving in everwideningcircles, were involved. It is hard for us of alater day to understand how new-fangled, how revolutionary,was the thought of executing Mary Queen ofScotland and the Isles—a notion at which the hierarchyof the western world shuddered. To send an anointedqueen to the scaffold was a plain demonstration to thehitherto servile people of Europe that even a monarchwas subject to death at the hands of the executioner, andcould not be regarded as sacrosanct. Thus Elizabeth'sdecision implied, not merely the doom of a fellowcreature,but the doom of an idea. For centuries theslaughtering of this idea would work fiavoc among theIdngs of this world. The execution of Queen Mary wouldbe a precedent for the execution of King Charles I, hergrandson; and the execution of King Charles, in its turnwould be a precedent for the execution of Louis XVl andof Marie Antoinette. Thus does destiny work. Elizabethtaking long views, and having a strong sense of responsibility,perceived the far-reaching implications of herdecision. She hesitated, vacillated, and procrastinated.Once more there became active in her, perhaps moreactive than ever, the struggle between reason and feeling,the war of Elizabeth against Elizabeth. It is always amoving spectacle when we contemplate a fellow humanbeingwrestling with conscience.Oppressed by this bipolarity of purpose, Elizabethtried to evade the inevitable. Again and again she re-406

ELIZABETH AGAINSTELIZABETHfused to decide; again and again decision was forcedupon her. Thus, once more, at the last moment, shetried to shuffle responsibility off upon Mary. She wrotethe latter a letter (indubitably penned, though it has notcome down to us) in which she asked Mary to make her aconfidential communication, as from one queen to another.Mary was to avow participation in the conspiracy,and submit to Elizabeth's personal judgment, insteadof being tried in open court.This proposal was the only way out of the difiBculty,short of public trial and execution. It would spare Marythe humiliations that were otherwise unavoidable. FromElizabeth's standpoint it would provide an infalliblesafeguard if this dangerous pretender to her throne consentedto make an avowal in her own handwriting. Itwould give Elizabeth a firm moral hold on Mary.Thenceforward Mary, disarmed by her concession, couldgo on living quietly in obscurity, and Elizabeth would betranquil in the fierce light that beats upon a throne.Each membei of the pair would be assigned a separaterole. No longer would Elizabeth Tudor and MaryStuart stand as foes and equals on the stage of history,for Mary would have become a penitent on her kneesbefore one who had graciously pardoned her and grantedher her life.But Mary no longer wished to be saved. The strongestof her instincts was pride, and she would rather kneel tolay her head on the block than kneel before a protectress,would rather tell a preposterous falsehood than make aplain confession, would rather perish than humble herselfShe was therefore deaf to this offer, which implieddebasement as well as salvation. She knew that as asovereign ruler she had played and lost. Only onepower was left to her on earth, that of putting heradversary Elizabeth in the wrong. Since she could nolonger do her enemy direct harm, she would use the407 o*

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSsole weapon that remained to her, would relentlesslymanifest Elizabeth's culpability to the world by dying aglorious death.Mary rejected the proffered hand. Elizabeth, eggedon by Cecil and Walsingham, was forced to adopt acourse she loathed. To give the proposed trial a legaljustification, the crown lawyers-were summoned, andcrown lawyers are wont to find good legal grounds forwhatever the wearer of the crown wishes to do. Busilythey sought for precedents, showing that, ere this, kingsand queens had been tried before the courts; that theaccusation of Mary was not a manifest breach withtradition, not an entirely new thing in the world. Theexamples they were able to discover were not very impressive: Cajetanus, an obscure tetrarch, who had beenput to death fifteen hundred years before; Licinius,Constantine's brother-in-law, equally unknown; finallyConradin of Hohenstaufen and Joanna of Naples—thesewere the only sovereigns who could be shown to havelost their lives through a decision of a law court. Intheir servility, the crown lawyers went so far as to declarethat the court of nobles Elizabeth proposed toappoint was superfluous. They held it would suffice,since Mary Stuart's crime had been committed in Staffordshire,to bring her before a common jury of thatcounty. This democratic suggestion did not suit Elizabethat all. She wanted to observe the forms. One whowas the leading living descendant of the House ofStuart and (herself apart) also of the House of Tudorwas to be done away with in right royal fashion, withpomp and circumstance, with, the respect and thereverence due to a womaff who had been a reigningsovereign. She must not be shuflEled out of the way bythe verdict of a few farmers and burgesses. Elizabeth408

ELIZABETH AGAINSTELIZABETHangrily declared: "That would be a strange sort ofprocedure to take against a princess. I deem it right toavoid such absurdities, and to entrust the examinationof so important a matter to a sufficient number of thenoblest persons and judges in this land. For we princessesstand on the world's stage in full sight of theworld." A royal trial, a royal execution, a royal burialwere Mary Stuart's right, and therefore Elizabethselected forty-six commissioners from among the noblestand most distinguished in her realm.Mary Stuart, however, had no inclination to allowherself to be examined or sentenced by even the mostblue-blooded subjects of her sister-queen, \yhen, onOctober ii, 1586, Mary being ill in bed at the time,Paulet introduced Sir Walter Mildmay and Barker, thenotary, into her bedchamber, to deliver Queen Elizabeth'sletter, which announced the decision to bring herto trial before the commissioners, Mary burst forth indignantly:"Doth not your mistress know that I am aqueen by birth? Or thinketh she that I will so far prejudicerhy rank and station, the blood whereof I amdescended, the son who is to succeed me, and themajesty of other princes, as to yield obedience to hercommands? My mind is not yet so far dejected, neitherwill sink nor faint under this mine adversity."But, by an eternal law, character is destiny, and neithergood fortune nor bad can wholly change it. Mary'smerits and defects remained the same throughout life.Always, in moments of grave peril, she could react withoutstanding dignity; but always, in the end, she wouldshow herself too indifferent, too inert, to defend herselfresolutely and persistently against prolonged pressure.Just as, at the time of the York Conference, she hadabandoned the strong position of her claim to inviolablesovereignty, and had thus dropped the only weaponElizabeth feared, so was it now. Early on the morning409

. THE qUEEN OF SCOTSof October 14, Mary declared her willingness to appearbefore the commissioners—she thereby admitted thejurisdiction of Queen Elizabeth's court.On this fourteenth day of October, 1586, a greatspectacle was staged in the hall of Fotheringay Castle. Atone end of the big room had been set up a dais, with acanopy, and a chair of State, surmounted with thearms of England, after the manner of a throne, to symbolizethe invisible presence of England's queen, as supremeauthority. To right and to left were ranged in order ofprecedence the various commissioners; between themwas a table for the use of the prosecuting counsel, thepresiding judge, other lawyers, and minute-takers. MaryStuart entered, supported on one side by her physician,Bourgoigne, and on the other by Andrew Melville, hermaster of the household. As usual throughout the yearsof her imprisonment, she was dressed in black. On entering,she looked contemptuously round the assembly, andsaid, with scorn: "How many lawyers are here assembled,and not one of them to represent me." Then she madeher way to the chair that had been placed for her, notbeneath the royal canopy, but a few steps from theempty throne. The "overlordship," the suzerainty ofEngland over Scotland, which the northern land hadpersistently repudiated, was symbolized here by theloftier position of Elizabeth's throne. Mary would notlet this pass without protest. "I am a queen by birth, andhave been the consort of a king of France. My placeshould be there," she said, glancing at the vacant seatbeneath the canopy.^The proceedings were formally opened. Just as atYork and at Westminster, so "now, the most primitivelegal considerations were disregarded. As at the conferences,many years before," the principal witnesses,410

ELIZABETH AGAINST ELIZABETHBothwell's servants, had been executed with suspicioushaste, so, on this occasion, had Babington and his associatesbeen jostled out of the world before Mary's trialbegan. Nothing but their alleged, confessions, extortedunder fear of imminent death, were laid before the court.By a further amazing breach of justice, even the incriminatingletters upon which so much stress was laidthe missives from Mary. Stuart to Babington and fromBabington to Mary Stuart, were not read aloud from thereputed originals, but from transcripts. Mary Stuartprotested against this use of Phelippes' decipherments."Nay," she said, "bring me my own handwrit; anythingto suit a purpose may be put in which you do call copies.Also, it is an easy matter to counterfeit ciphers andcharacters, if others have got the alphabet used for suchcorrespondence." Then she went on to hint at Walsingham'splan for her destruction and that of her son.Legally, the Queen of Scots had ground for a vigorousdefence aJong the line here indicated, and had she: beenrepresented by counsel, much stress would have beenlaid upon the matter. But Mary stood alone before thejudges, ignorant of English law, unaware of what incriminatingmaterial could be produced against her, and,to her disaster, she made the mistake she had made atYork and Westminster. She did not confine herself toprotests against certain suspicious circumstances in theaccusation, but denied in block the charges against her,thus trying to refute much that was irrefutable. Shebegan by denying all knowledge of Babington, but wascompelled, on the second day of the trial, under stressof the proofs put in, to admit that she was acquaintedwith him by correspondence. This mistaken repudiation,which she was forced to withdraw, weakened her moralposition, and it was too late to try a return to the oldstand-point, to demand "as a queen" the right of beingbelieved on the strength of her royal word. It was of no411

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSavail for her to exclaim: "I came to this land relyin„upon the friendship and the pledges of the Queen ofEngland, who had sent me a ring in token that I Couldso rely." For Mary's judges were not trying her in Qrderthat right, which is eternal and inviolable, should prg.vail, but simply that they might secure peace at longlast for their own queen and their own country. Theverdict had been settled before the hearing; and whenon the twenty-fifth of the month, the commissicinersreassembled in the Star Chamber at Westminster, onlyone of them, Lord Zouche, was bold enough to declarehimself unsatisfied that the Scottish queen "had Compassed,practised, or imagined" the death of Elizalgeth.Thus the verdict was robbed of the charm of unanirnitybut all the other commissioners subserviently decidedas they had been told. Promptly a scrivener set to 'Workwriting fair on parchment the court's decision that "theaforesaid Mary Stuart, a pretender to the crown of thiskinjrdom of England,, had approved and devised variousplans for the purpose of injuring, destroying, or slayingthe royal person of our sovereign lady the Queen ofEngland." Parliament had already decreed that puhishmentfor such plots against Elizabeth's life was to bedeath.It had been incumbent on the assembled nobk,s toutter the verdict and pass sentence. The verdict hadbeen "guilty," and the sentence one of death. Elizabethhowever, the Queen of England, was the incorporationof the highest powers in the realm, and could exercisethe humane, the generous right of clernency. With her itultimately rested whether the death sentence should becarried out or should be annulled. Once more a choiceshe hated was forced upon her. What would she do?Again Elizabeth was marshalled against Elizabeth. As,412

ELIZABETH AGAINST ELIZABETHin the tragedies of the ancient Greek playwrights, thechorus was ranged to right and to left of a consciencestrickenprincipal, uttering strophe and antistrophe,so now did Elizabeth hear voices both within and without,some urging her to be inflexible, and others imploringher to be forgiving. Above them all, looked down unseenthe supreme judge of human actions. History, whosevoice is silent while the actors still live, and who onlyutters the verdict when the curtain has fallen on themfor ever. The right wing of the chorus was loud andinexorable in clam.ouring "Death, Death, Death."The lord high treasurer, the Privy Council, Elizabeth'sclosest friends (such as Leicester), the lords, and thecommons—one and all considered that the execution ofMary Stuart was the only way of securing tranquillity forthe realm and peace of mind and safety for its queen.Both Houses of Parliament adopted an address to theQueen's most Gracious Majesty praying that sentence ofdeath be executed forthwith against Mary. "We cannotfind that there is any possible means to provide for YourMajesty's safety but by the just and speedy execution ofthe said queen, the neglecting whereof may procurethe heavy displeasure and punishment of AlmightyGod."To Elizabeth this insistence was welcome. Shewanted the world at large to know that she personallyhad no desire to make an end of Mary Stuart, but thatthe English nation urged upon her the necessity ofcarrying out the sentence. The louder and the plainerthe condemnatory voices, the better. Then she wouldbe given a chance of performing a great aria of clemencyand humaneness upon the world-stage; and, ever a playactress,she made the most of her opportunity. Shefervently acknowledged receipt of the exhortation ofparliament, humbly thanking Almighty God that by Hiswill she had been delivered from deadly peril. There-413

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSafter, speaking in louder tones, she addressed the widerworld and the tribunal of history, wishing to disclaimresponsibility for Mary Stuart's fate."Although mine own life hath been in such deadlyperil, I avow that nothing hath distressed me more thanthat one of mine own sex, of equal rank and birth, and sonearly akin to me by blood, should have been guilty of sogreat a crime. So far am I from being moved by malicethat, immediately after the disclosure of certain traitorousproceedings against myself, I wrote to her privatelyto the effect that if she would make avowal of her guiltto me in a private letter everything could be settledquietly. I did not write to her thiswise in order to lureher into a trap, since I already was fully informed as toanything she could admit to me. But now, when mattershave gone so far, even now, if she would openly admither penitence, and if no one any longer were in hername to push her cause against me, I would willinglypardon her, were no more at stake than my own life,and not the safety and welfare of my realm. It is foryour sake and that of my people that I wish to go onliving." Then comes a frank admission that her hesitationis determined by her dread of the verdict of history."For we princes stand, as it were, upon a stage,exposed to the prying glances of the world. The slightestspeck upon our raiment is noticed, any weakness of oursis quickly recorded, so that we must be sedulous morethan others that our actions shall always be just andhonourable." For this reason she begged parliament toexcuse her for not coming to an immediate decision,seeing that "it is my wont, even in matters of far lessmoment, to deliberate long before coming to a finaldecision."Was this rigmarole truth or falsehood? Both; for, asalready said, Elizabeth was bipolar. She wanted to befreed from her adversary, but at the same time desired414

ELIZABETH AGAINSTELIZABETHto pose before the world as magnanimous and clement.Twelve days later she sent to Cecil to inquire whether itwould not be possible to spare Mary Stuart's life whilesafeguarding her own. Once more the Privy Council andparliament assured Queen Elizabeth that there was noother way out of the difficulty than Queen Mary'sexecution. Now let us hear Elizabeth once more. Thistime her words have the unmistakable ring of truth. "Iam this day more in conflict with myself than ever beforein my life, as to whether I shall speak or be silent. WereI to speak and to complain, I should play the hypocrite;were I to remain silent, all your pains would have beenlost. It may seem strange to you that I should complain,but I must avow it hath always been my innermost wishto find some other way of achieving your safety andmine own ^velfare than the one that is proposed. . . .Since, however it hath now been determined that mysafety cannot be secured in any other way than by herdeath, I am profoundly mournful that I, who havepardoned so many rebels and have passed over so manyacts of treason in silence, should be compelled to showcruelty towards so highly placed a princess." Readingbetween the lines, we can see that she is only asking tobe over-persuaded. But, ambiguous as ever, she cannotutter a clear Yes or a plain No, for she concludes withthe words: "I beg you to content yourselves for thenonce with an answer which is no answer. I do notwithstand your opinion, I understand your reason, andI beg you to accept my gratitude, to excuse my inwarddoubts, and not to take it amiss that I send you ananswer which is no answer."The voices on the right have spoken. They haveclamoured Death, Death, Death. But the voices on theleft, the voices accordant with the best promptings of her415

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSheart, were also speaking loudly. The King of Francesent a special envoy to talk of the common interests ofmonarchs. He reminded Elizabeth that by defendingMary's inviolability she would be defending her own;he exhorted her not to forget that the first rule for onewho wished to reign well and happily must be to avoidbloodshed. He reminded her that the right of hospitalitywas sacred among all nations. Elizabeth must not sinagainst God by touching the head of an anointed queen.Since Elizabeth, playing the game of shilly-shally asusual, would only reply with half-assurances and ambiguousutterances, the tone of the foreign envoys grewlouder. What had at first been no more than requestsbecame imperious warnings, and then open threats.Elizabeth, however, trained by nearly three decades onthe throne in the intricacies of political life, had finehearing. When addressed in this emotional way, shelistened only for one thing, to learn whether, in the foldsof their togas, the diplomatists had'hidden commissionsto break off relations and declare war. She was quickto perceive that behind the loud and blustering wordsthere was no clash of arms; that neither Henry III norPhilip II was prepared to draw the sword and to let slipthe dogs of war as soon as the axe fell upon MaryStuart's neck.Thus she was content to shrug her shoulders at thediplomatic stage-thunder of France and Spain. Shehad, doubtless, to show more caution in thrusting asideanother objection, that of Scotland. For if any one onearth should regard it as a sacred duty to prevent theexecution of a Queen of Scotland in a strange land, itwas James VI, since the blood which was to be shed ranin his own veins, since the woman whose life was to betaken was she who had given him life, his mother. Notthat James was likely to be stirred by filial aifection.Having become Elizabeth's- pensioner and ally, it416

ELIZABETH AGAINSTELIZABETHseemed to him that the mother who denied his royaltitle, who had invoked maledictions upon him, and hadtried to sell his heritage to foreign monarchs, was nothingbut an obstacle in his path. Directly he heard of thediscovery of the Babington conspiracy, he sent congratulationsto Queen Elizabeth; and when the Frenchambassador, seeking him out engaged in his favouriteoccupation of the chase, begged him to use his influenceon his mother's behalf, young James replied angrily"qu'il fallait qu'elle but la boisson qu'elle avait brassee"—that she must drink the potion she had brewed. Hedeclared that he recked little "how closely she might beprisoned, and whether all her base servants werehanged." The best thing would be that in future sheshould confine her attention to praying to God. It wasno affair of his; and, in actual fact, the hard-heartedson refused, for some time, even to send an embassy toLondon. Not until his mother had been condemned todeath, and nationalist feeling blazed up over Scotlandbecause the queen of a foreign land was about to slaytheir own anointed monarch, did the young man realisehow poor a figure he would cut if he remained inactive.For form's sake, at least, he must do something. Hewould not, indeed, go so far as the Scottish parliamentdemanded, and declare his intention to make war onEngland should the execution take place. Still, he satdown at his writing-desk, penned energetic, menacingdispatches -to Walsingham, and sent an embassy toLondon.Of course Elizabeth had expected this protest. Here,likewise, she did not take it at its face-value, but listenedfor the fundamental tone. The deputies of James VIconsisted of two groups. The official ones, those whostood in the public eye, made reiterated and louddemands for the annulment of the death-sentence.They rattled their swords, breathed threatenings and417

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSslaughter, and those among them who were Scottishnobles displayed the fervour of genuine patriotism.They did not suspect that, while they were voicing thesemenaces in the royal reception-room, behind the scenesanother agent, a confidential representative of James VI,had been admitted to Queen Elizabeth's private apartments,to negotiate with her, on the quiet, about a verydifferent matter, which was far more important to theKing of Scotland than his mother's life, namely hisrecognition as heir to the English throne. We learn fromthe French ambassador, who was well informed as towhat was going on, that this secret envoy of James VIhad been commissioned to tell Elizabeth that if Jameswas uttering loud threats, this was only done "for hishonour and reputation." Elizabeth should not take hisviolence "in ill part." Thus Elizabeth was plainly toldwhat was probably no news to her, namely that JamesVI, far from being outraged at the prospect of hismotiter's execution, was prepared "to xiigest it" if oniythere were held out to him the enticement of a pledge ora half-pledge of his succession to the throne. The negotiationsthat now went on were of a most unsavourycharacter. Mary Stuart's chief enemy and her only sondrew near together, being both moved by the same darkpurpose, for both secretly wished Mary Stuart to beswept out of their path, provided only that the worldshould not know with what feelings they were animated.They wanted her dead, but had, before thepublic eye, to behave as if their most heartfelt wish wereto protect her. In reality Elizabeth was not trying topreserve her "sister's" life, nor James VI his mother's,each of them being only concerned to keep up a goodappearance "on the world-stage." James had long sinceshown plainly enough that he woiild make no difRcultiesfor Elizabeth though the worst should happen, thusgiving her a free hand for the execution of his mother.418

ELIZABETH AGAINSTELIZABETHBefore Elizabeth sent Mary to her death, Mary's son hadsacrificed her.Elizabeth now knew that neither France nor Spain norScotland, nor any one else in the wide world, wouldtrouble her in earnest should she decide that "thematter must come to an end." There was only oneperson who, perhaps, might still save Mary Stuart—Mary Stuart herself. She need merely sue for pardon,and it is probable that Elizabeth would have been satisfiedwith this triumph. At the bottom of her heart shewas waiting for such an appeal, which would salve hersore conscience. Everything possible was done duringthese last weeks to break Mary's pride. As soon assentence had been passed, Elizabeth told Sir AmyasPaulet to inform the prisoner of what had happened,whereupon this arid and sober-minded official, who wasall the more repulsive for his impeccability, took theopportunity of affronting the condemned who for himwas nothing more, now, than "une femme morte sansnuUe dignite." He clapped his hat on his head and satdown in her presence, showing the stupid malevolenceof one who takes delight in another's misfortune; heordered his servants to tear down her canopy of Statewhich was decorated with the arms of Scotland. Herattendants refused to obey the gaoler's orders, and whenPaulet made his own menials do the dirty work, Maryhung up a crucifix where the arms of Scotland had been,in order to show that a higher power than Scotland waswatching over her. To every dictatorial affront, shewas ready to reply with a moving gesture. "Theythreaten to slay me if I do not ask for pardon," she wroteto her friends, "but I reply that if they have alreadydetermined upon my death, they may consummate theirinjustice when they please." Let Elizabeth murder her;419

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSSO much the worse for Elizabeth! Better a death whichwould humble her adversary before the tribunal ofhistory, than acceptance of a feigned clemency whichwould invest Elizabeth with the halo of magnanimity.Instead of protesting against the death-sentence orbegging for grace, as a sincere Christian she meeklythanked God for all His mercies. But to Elizabeth shereplied proudly as one queen to another:"Now since I have been on your part informed of thesentence of your last meeting of parliament, Lord Buckhurstand Master Robert Beale having admonished meto prepare for the end of my long and weary pilgrimage,I beg to return you thanks on my part for these happytidings, and to entreat you to vouchsafe me to certainpoints for the discharge of my corpse. ... As alast request, which I have thought for many reasons Iought to ask of you alone, I beg that you will accordthis ultimate grace for which I should not like to beindebted to any other, since I have no hope of findingaught but cruelty from the puritans, who are at thistime, God knows wherefore! the first in authority and the •most bitter against me. . . ."Then, Madam, for the sake of that Jesus to whosename all powers bow, I require you to ordain, thatwhen my enemies have slaked their black thirst for myinnocent blood, you will permit my poor desolatedservants altogether to carry away my corpse, to buryit in holy ground, with the other queens of France, mypredecessors, especially near the late Queen, mymother. . . . Refuse me not this my last request, thatyou will permit free sepulchre to this body when thesoul is separated, which when united could never obtainliberty to live in repose, such as you would procure foryourself—against which repose, before God I speak, Inever aimed a blow; but God will let> you see the truthof all after my death.420

ELIZABETH AGAINSTELIZABETH"And because I dread the tyranny of those to whosepower you have abandoned me, I entreat you not topermit that execution to be done on me without yourown knowledge, not for fear of the torments, which Iam most ready to suffer, but on account of the reportswhich will be raised concerning my death unprotected,and without other witnesses than those who would inflictit, who, I am persuaded, would be of very differentquality from those parties whom I require (being myservants) to stay spectators and witnesses of my end, inthe face of our Sacrament, of my Saviour, and in obedienceto His Church. And after all is over, that theytogether may carry away my poor corpse (as secretly asyou please), and speedily withdraw, without taking withthem any of my goods, except those which in dying Imay leave to them, which are little enough for their longand good services."I ask these things in the name of Jesus Christ, and inrespect of our consanguinity, and for the sake of KingHenry VH, your grandfather and mine, and by thehonour of the dignity we both have held, and of our sexcommon. Therefore do I implore you to grant these myrequests. . . ."Your sister and cousin,"Prisoner wrongfully, Marie (Royne)."Strangely, and contrary to all expectations, were theroles reversed during the last days of this long-enduringstruggle. After Mary Stuart was informed of the deathsentence, her self-confidence returned. Her heartpulsed unperturbed; but Elizabeth's hand trembledwhen she signed the death-warrant. Mary Stuart wasless afraid to die than Elizabeth Tudor was to kill. Maryhad long been tired of her earthly pilgrimage, andyearned for eternal rest. She spent her hours in serious421

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSpreparation for the end. She made her will, dividingher worldly goods among her domestic staff; she wroteletters to her colleagues, or those who had been hercolleagues when she was still on the throne; no longer toincite them into sending armies and equipping for war,but in order to assure them that she was ready to die inthe Catholic faith and for the Catholic faith. This restlessheart had at length found peace. Fear and hope,"the worst enemies of man," as Goethe calls them, couldno longer trouble her spirit. Like her sister in misfortune,Marie Antoinette, it was under the shadow ofimminent death that Mary Queen of Scotland and theIsles realized her true task. The sense of historical responsibilitycompletely dispelled her previous indifference.She gave no thought to the possibilities of pardon,but wanted only to die an impressive death, to triumphin the last moment. She knew that nothing but a dramaticand heroic end could make the world forgive thetragic errors of her life, and that nothing more could bevouchsafed to her than a worthy exit.An extraordinary contrast to the dignity and composureof the doomed woman in Foth'eringay Castle wasshown by the uncertainty, the tantrums, the perplexity,the wrathful outbursts of Elizabeth in London. MaryStuart's mind was composed and tranquil; whereasElizabeth Tudor was still wrestling for a decision. Neverhad the Queen of England suffered so much at the handsof her rival the Queen of Scotland as when the latterdefencelessly awaited an unjust doom. Elizabeth wasunable to sleep; she passed day after day in gloomysilence; her spirit was obsessed with the intolerableproblem as to whether she should have the death-sentencecarried out. She tried to thrust aside the thoughtas Sisyphus rolled his stone uphill, but always it rolledback again to crush her. Vainly did her ministers ofState address her; she could"listen only to the voice of422

ELIZABETH AGAINSTELIZABETHher own conscience. Rejecting one proposal afteranother, she was continually asking for new ones. Cecilfound her "as changeable as the weather"; at one timeshe was for death, at another for pardon; again andagain she asked her friends whether there was not somealternative, although at the bottom of her heart sheknew there could be no such thing. If only what was tohappen could happen without her knowledge, withouther express order, be done for her instead of by her!She feverishly struggled to evade responsibility, perpetuallyweighing and reweighing the advantages anddisadvantages of so conspicuous a deed. To the despairof her advisers, she put off her decision with ambiguous,irritable, nervous, and unintelligible phrases, alwaysnon-committal. "With weariness to talk. Her Majestyleft off all till a time I know not when," complainedCecil, who, cold and reasonable, could not understandthe distress of Elizabeth's tortured soul. Though she hadput a harsh gaoler in charge of Mary Stuart, she washerself in thrall to a yet harsher one, the most cruel onearth, her conscience. This struggle of Elizabeth againstElizabeth, this inability to decide whether she shouldlisten to the voice of reason or to the voice of humanity,went on for three months, four months, five months,nearly half a year. Her nerves being thus overwrought,it was but natural that the final decision, when it came,should take the form of an explosion.On Wednesday, February i, 1587, William Davison,Queen Elizabeth's private secretary (Walsingham, byluck or cunning, was indisposed during these days), inthe gardens at Greenwich, was unexpectedly informedby Admiral Howard that Her Majesty needed his serviceson the instant, and that he was to bring her MaryStuart's death-warrant for signature. Davison procuredthe document, which Cecil had written with his ownhand, and conveyed it with a number of other papers to423

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSthe Queen. But, strangely enough, Elizabeth, the greatplay-actress, now seemed in no hurry to sign. Shecounterfeited indifference, talked to Davison aboutvarious matters, looked out of the window and remarkedwhat a bright and beautiful winter morning it was. Thenshe asked the secretary, casually (had she really forgottenshe had sent for him to bring the death-warrant?),what those papers were on the table. Davison replied"instruments for Your Majesty's signature," and amongthem one which Lord Howard had specially chargedhim to bring. Elizabeth picked them up, and signedthem in rapid succession, without looking at them, including,of course, Mary Stuart's death-warrant. Thiswas according to plan, so that she could pretend, afterwards,that she had signed the fatal deed unsuspectinglyamong papers of minor importance. But then came oneof her weathercock changes. Her next remark showedthat she knew perfectly well what she -had been about,for she assured Davison that she had only delayed solong in signing the warrant in order to show clearly thather assent was most unwilling. Still, now it had beensigned, he must take it to Cecil, that the Great Sealmight be put to it. "Do it secretly," she added, "for itmay prove dangerous to me were it to be known beforethe execution actually takes place," When the warranthad been sealed, it was to be carried into effect by theproper parties. The orders were clear, leaving Davisonin no doubt that her Majesty's mind was made up. Thefact that the Queen had long thought over the affair inall its details was shown by her further instructions toDavison. The execution was to take place in the greathall of Fotheringay Castle, for neither the front courtnor the inner court was suitable. She reiterated herdemand for secrecy as to the signing of the warrant. But,having been able to make up her mind at last seemed tohave relieved, the strain. This plzfher in a merry mood.424

ELIZABETH AGAINSTELIZABETHShe chuckled as she told Davison that when Walsinghamlearned what she had done, "the grief thereofwill go near to kill him outright."Davison believed, as well he might, that his instructionswere ended. He bowed, and made for the door.Elizabeth, however, could never decide unhesitatingly,and those who thought she had done so were apt to findthemselves mistaken. She called Davison back [rom thedoor, her merriment having passed, and her real orfeigned resolution having been dissipated. Uneasily theQueen paced up and down the room. Was there notanother way? After all, the "Members of the Association"had sworn to kill any one who should attempt herassassination. Since Sir Amyas Paulet and his companionSir Drue Drury at Fotheringay were membersof the "Association," was it not their unquestioned dutyto do the deed, and to relieve her, the Queen, from theodium of a public execution? Let Walsingham write tothe pair of them in that sense.The worthy Davison became uneasy. It was plain tohim that the Queen wished the deed done without herselfhaving part or lot in it. One may well suppose thatthe secretary regretted having had no witnesses to thisimportant conversation. Still, what could he do? HiSorders were plain. He therefore went first to Cecil; theGreat Seal was affixed to the warrant; then he went on toWalsingham, who forthwith composed a letter to SirAmyas Paulet in the sense desired. Her Majesty, saidWalsingham, "doth note in you both a lack of that careand zeal of her service that she looketh for at yourhands. . . . In that you have not in all this time of yourselves(without other provocation) found out some wayto shorten the life of that queen, considering the greatperil she is subject unto hourly, so long as the said queenshall live." Especially the recipients of the letter shouldbear in mind that they had "good warrant and ground"425

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSfor the satisfaction of their consciences towards God andthe discharge of their credit and reputation towardsthe world, "in the oath of association which you bothhave so solemnly taken and vowed, especially the matterwherewith she stands in charge being so clearly andmanifestly proved against her." The letter went on tosay that Elizabeth "taketh it most unkindly towards herthat men professing that love towards her that you doshould in any kind of thought, for lack of discharge ofyour duties, cast the burthen upon her, knowing as youdo her indisposition to shed blood, especially of one ofthat sex and quality, and so near to her in blood as thesaid queen is."This letter can hardly have reached Sir Amyas Paulet,and certainly the answer from Fotheringay could nothave got back to London, when a change of wind set inat Greenwich. Next morning, Thursday, a messengerknocked at Davison's door with a note from the Queen,"If the secretary has not yet taken the warrant to thechancellor for the affixing of the Great Seal, let him waituntil her majesty has had a further talk with him."Davison hastened to the Queen and told her that, asordered, he had already had the death-warrant sealed.Elizabeth made her discontent plain, showing this bythe expression of her countenance; but did not blameDavison in so many words, and, above all, refrainedfrom ordering him to bring back the signed and sealeddeath-warrant. She complained once more of the freshburdens that were continually being laid upon hershoulders. Restlessly she wandered up and down theroom. Davison stood to his guns, humbly waiting fordecisive orders. Suddenly, Elizabeth quitted the room,without saying another word.It was a Shakespearean scene that Elizabeth was play-426

ELIZABETH AGAINSTELIZABETHing before an audience of one. We cannot but think ofRichard III, complaining that his adversary Buckinghamis alive, without giving clear orders for the murder.The same injured look of King Richard III, when hisvassals understand him and yet pretend not to understand,had been flashed by Elizabeth at the unhappyDavison. He felt that he was on slippery ground, andtried to find securer footing. He did not wish to standalone in a position of such overwhelming responsibility.Seeking out Sir Christopher Hatton, a close friend of theQueen who had been one of the commissioners atFotheringay, Davison explained that he, the secretary,was in a ticklish position. Elizabeth had commandedhim to have the Great Seal affixed to the death-warrant,after she had signed it; but her demeanour that morningmade it obvious that she was in a mood to repudiate herorders. Hatton knew Elizabeth's whimsies too well notto understand, but he, likewise, was disinclined to speakin candid terms to poor Davison. The comedy of tryingto shift responsibility was carried a stage further. Elizabethhad thrown the ball to Davison; Davison passed iton to Hatton; Hatton, in his turn, brought Cecil intothe game. The Lord High Treasurer'was no less indisposedthari the others had been to shoulder full responsibility,but he summoned a meeting of the PrivyCouncil for the next day. All Elizabeth's intimates andclosest confidants were present: Leicester, Hatton,and ten other men of rank, who had had ample experienceof the Queen's untrustworthiness. At theCouncil, for the first time, the matter was discussed inplain English. They were agreed that Queen Elizabeth,for the sake of her moral prestige, wished to avoid anyappearance of having commanded the execution ofMary Stuart. She wanted to present herself before theworld as "astonished" by an accomplished fact. It was,therefore, the duty of her loyal lieges to play up to her,427

THE Q_UEEN OF SCOTSand, in apparent defiance of the Queen's will, do whatshe really wanted and would not expressly commandOf course this was to take an enormous responsibilityand therefore the weight of her genuine or simulatedanger must not fall upon one individual. Cecil's proposalwas that they should jointly order the executionand jointly accept responsibility for it. Lord Kent andLord Shrewsbury were instructed to see to the carryingout of the death-sentence, and Beale, clerk of the Councilwas sent with the necessary orders to Fotheringay. Thusthe possible blame would fall upon the ten members ofthe Privy Council who had been present at this meetingand by their transgression of the limits of their powers atransgression which Elizabeth secretly desired—theywould remove the "burthen" from the Queen.One of Elizabeth's most conspicuous characteristicswas her curiosity. She always wanted to know, and toknow forthwith, everything that was going on in herpalace and throughout her realm. Yet on this occasionstrangely enough, she neither asked Davison nor Cecilnor any one else what had been done with the deathwarrantshe had signed. For three whole days sheseemed to have utterly forgotten a matter upon whichher mind had been concentrated for months past. Shedid not ask once more whether the document had beensealed, and in whose hands it then was. As if she haddrunk of the waters of Lethe, this momentous affairseemed to have vanished from her memory. When nextmorning, Sunday, Sir Amyas Paulet's answer to herproposal that he and Drury should murder Maryarrived, she never inquired where the signed and sealeddeath-warrant might be. Paulet's answer was by nomeans to the Queen's taste. He instantly perceived howungrateful a task was being assigned to him. He was to428

ELIZABETH AGAINST ELIZABETHmake an end of Mary Stuart, and for what reward? TheQueen would then have him accused of the murder andhand him over to justice. Sir Amyas Paulet did not expectgratitude from any member of the House of Tudor,and had no incHnation to be made a scapegoat of. Lesthe might seem disobedient, the shrewd puritan appealedto a yet higher authority than the Queen's, namely toGod's. He wrapped his refusal in the cloak of morality.His reply was, of course, to Sir Francis Walsingham, andnot to Queen Elizabeth direct."Your letter of yesterday coming to my hand thispresent day at five in the afternoon, I would not fail,according to your directions, to return my answer withall possible speed, which shall deliver unto you withgreat grief and bitterness of mind, in that I am so unhappy-to have lived to see this unhappy day, in thewhich I am required by direction from my most graciousSovereign to do an act which God and the law forbiddeth.My good livings and life are at her Majesty's disposition,and am ready to so lose them this next morrowif it shall so please her, acknowledging that I hold themas of her near and most gracious favour, and do notdesire them to enjoy them, but with Her Highness'sgood liking. But God forbid that I should make so foula shipwreck of my conscience, or leave so great a blotto my poor .posterity, to shed blood without law orwarrant. Trusting that Her Majesty, of her accustomedclemency, will take this my dutiful answer in good part(and the rather by your good mediation), as proceedingfrom one who will never be inferior to any Christiansubject living in duty, honour, love, and obedience towardshis sovereign. And thus I commit you to themercy of the Almighty."But Elizabeth was by no means inclined to take ingood part this dutiful answer of her trusty Paulet, whomshortly before she had so enthusiastically praised on429

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSaccount of his "spotless actions, wise orders, and saferegards." Angrily she tramped up and down the roomshouting that she could not stomach those "dainty andprecise fellows" who would promise everything and performnothing. Paulet was a perjurer. He had signed the"Bond of Association" undertaking to serve the Queenat risk of his own life. "But I can do without him," shescreamed. "I have Wingfield, who will not draw back."With real or pretended wrath she stormed at the unhappyDavison (Walsingham was better advised in beinglaid up at the moment!), who, with lamentable simplicity,assured her, that the legal method was best."Wiser men than you," said Elizabeth contemptuously,"hold different opinions." It was time that the matterwas settled once for all, and a scandal to every one concernedthat she had not been freed from the "burthen"of responsibility.Davison held his tongue. He might have replied to hisroyal mistress that steps to make "an end to the matteronce for all had already been taken. He knew, however,that nothing he could say would be more distasteful tothe Queen than an honest assurance of what she alreadyknew and pretended not to know—that the messengercarrying the signed and sealed death-warrant was on hisway to Fotheringay, accompanied by the man who wasto translate words into blood, comrriands into performance—theLondon executioner.430

Chapl er 23"EN MA FINEST MON COMMENCEMENT"FEBRUARY 8, 1587XIJN ma fin est mon commencement." Such was thedevice, not then comprehensible, which, years before,Mary had stitched into one of her embroideries. Herforeboding was to be reaUzed. Her tragical death wasthe true beginning of her fame; it only would compensatein the eyes of posterity for the offences of her youth,would transfigure her crimes and follies. For weeks thecondemned woman had been circumspectly and resolutelypreparing for this last ordeal. Twice, as a youngqueen, she had looked on while a nobleman perishedbeneath the executioner's axe, and had thus learned thatheroism on the scaffold is the only way of compensatingfor so cruel a death. Mary Stuart knew that the contemporaryworld and posterity would scrutinize herbehaviour closely when, as an anointed queen, sheperished by a public execution; and that to show thewhite feather in this decisive moment would be treasonto her royal reputation. Thus, 'during the weeks ofwaiting, she concentrated her energies. Creature ofimpulse though she had always been, for this last hour ofher life she tranquilly made ready—with the result thatthere might have been written of her what AndrewMarvell wrote of her grandson Charles I on the likeoccasion, "She nothing common did or mean, upon thatmemorable scene."431 P

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSShe gave no sign of terror or astonishment when, onTuesday, February 7, 1587, her servants told her thatShrewsbury, Kent, and Beale had arrived from London,that they were accompanied by the high sheriff of Northampton,and that they and Sir Drue Drury had news tocommunicate to her. She summoned her ladies andmost of the members of her domestic staff. Then thevisitors were admitted. She wanted to be surroundedby friendly witnesses, who would declare that she hadbeen stalwart to the last, that she, daughter of James Vof Scotland and Mary of Lorraine, she, in whose veinsflowed the blood of the .Tudors, the Valois, and theStuarts, could be steadfast in this terrible emergency.Shrewsbury, under whose care she had lived for thegreater part of her long imprisonment, bent his kneeand bowed his grey head. His voice trembled as heannounced that Queen Elizabeth had found it necessaryto yield to the urgent petition of her subjects and to commandthat the death-penalty should be carried intoeffect. Then he read the death-warrant, to which Marylistened without a sign of emotion. Having crossed herself,she said: "In the name of God, these tidings are welcome,,and I bless and pray Him that the end of alhmybitter sufferings, is at hand. I could receive no betternews, and thank the Almighty for His grace in allowingme to die for the honour of His name and of His Church,the ancient Catholic and Romaine religion." She madeno further protest—except in so far as a protest was impliedin her placing her hand on a Bible which lay on thetable near her, and swearing: "I have never either desiredthe death of the Queen, or endeavoured to bring itabout, or that of any other person."Herself a queen, she no longer wished to defend herselfagainst the injustice perpetrated against her byanother queen, but was ready, as a Christian woman,to accept the afflictions imposed on her by God's will,432

EN MA FIN EST MONCOMMENCEMENTand perhaps welcomed her martyrdom gladly as the lasttriumph He might vouchsafe her in this life. She madeonly two requests; that her chaplain should assist her tothe last with ghostly consolation; and that the sentenceshould not be executed the very next morning, that shemight have more time to prepare herself for death.Both petitions were rejected. The Earl of Kent, afanatical Protestant, answered vehemently that sheneeded no priest of the Popish faith, but he would see toit that she should have the ministrations of a cleric of theReformed Church, who would instruct her in the TrueReUgion. Of course, at this supreme hour, when MaryStuart wished to avow, before the eyes of the Catholicworld, her"'faith in the creed in which she had beenbrought up, she would hold no commerce with a hei'etic.Less cruel than the refusal of the consolations of herreligion to a dying woman, was the rejection of her pleafor a postponement of the execution. Once the matterhad been decided, the less time between the announcementand the act of doom the better. The few hours thatremained to her would be so busily occupied that littleopportunity was left for the intrusion of fear or unrest.One of God's gifts to mortals is that, for the dying, time isalways too short.Mary allotted the minutes of her remaining hourswith far more thoughtfulness and circumspection thanhad been her wont in ordinary life. As a great princess,she wished to die a great death; and, with the immaculatesense for style which had always characterized her,with her native artistry and her inborn talent for seemlybehaviour on solemn occasions, Mary prepared for" herexit from life as one prepared for a festival, a triumph, agrand ceremony. Nothing was to be improvised,nothing was to be left to chance. Every effect was to becalculated; all was to be regal, splendid, and imposing.The details were to be as carefully thought out as the433

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSwords of one of those heroic sagas that depict the exemplarydeath of a martyr. She ordered her evening repastfor a somewhat earlier hour than usual, wantingtime in which to write a few necessary letters, and tocompose her mind for the solemn occasion. The mealwas to symbolize the Last Supper. Having herself eaten,she summoned the members of her domestic staff, and,having drunk to their welfare, enjoined them to remainfaithful to the Catholic religion and to live at peace onewith another. As in a scene from the Lives of the Saints, sheasked each of them for forgiveness for any wrong shemight have done to them. Then she gave to each amemento, distributing among them the rings and otherjewels, the lace, and whatever valuables were left to her.On their knees, silent or sobbing, they accepted thegifts; and the Queen, against her will, was herselfmoved to tears by their signs of devotion.At length she retired to her private apartments, wherewax candles had been lighted on the writing-table. Shehad still much to do before the morning; to read herWill once more, to make arrangements for the hour ofdoom, and to write the aforesaid letters. The first ofthese was to Preau, her chaplain, begging him to prayfor her throughout the night. He was sequestered in anotherpart of the castle, the Earl of Kent, who was pitiless,having forbidden him to leave his room, lest heshould administer to Mary Stuart the "papistical"Extreme Unction. There were sentinels in all the corridors,and it does not seem that this letter can have beenconveyed to the chaplain. Perhaps Kent did not knowthat the prisoner had a gold and jewelled ciboriumcontaining a consecrated wafer sent her by the Pope,with a unique dispensation to administer the Eucharist toherself, if denied the attendance of a priest! Next theQueen wrote to her relatives, Henry HI and the Dukeof Guise. It is an honour to her • that, during this last434

EN MA FIN EST MONCOMMENCEMENTdreadful night, she had tender thoughts for others.She knew that, at her death, the cutting-off of herwidow's pension would leave her domestics unprovidedfor. Consequently she begged the King of France tomake it his business to see that none of them shouldsuffer want, to distribute her legacies, and to haveMasses read "for a Christian Queen, who dies as aCatholic, and has been despoiled of all her worldlygoods." She had previously written to Philip II and tothe Pope. There was only one of the rulers of this worldto whom it might still have been expedient to write—Elizabeth. But to her Mary Stuart had no further wordsto say. She would ask Elizabeth for nothing, nor thankher for anything. Only by a proud silence could she stillput her long-time adversary to shame; by that, and by adignified death.It was long after midnight when Mary went to bed.She had done all that she could during the brief span oflife that was allotted her. Only a few hours more, andher soul would leave her weary frame In a corner of thebedroom, the maids were kneeling, praying silently,for they did not wish to disturb the Queen's slumbers.Mary could not sleep. Her eyes were wide open in thedarkness. Still, she could rest her limbs for a while, sothat refreshed in mind and body she would havestrength to meet death who was stronger than herself.Mary had robed herself for many festal occasions,coronations, baptisms, weddings, chivalric sports, warand the chase, receptions, dances, and tourneys—alwayssplendidly, fully aware of the power which beautywields on earth. But never did she dress more carefullythan for the greatest hour of her life, which was to beher last. She thought out every detail of her attire onthis unprecedented occasion weeks in advance; as ifwishing, in a final display of vanity, to show the world435

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTShow perfectly a Queen could present herself on thescaffold. For two hours the tire-women were at work.She would not go to the block clad as a sinner, in drabarray. She chose a robe of State for this last formalappearance—black velvet stamped with gold and ablack stomacher. The dress had a train so long thatAndrew Melville, her master of the household, carried itas she walked. She wore two rosaries and a number ofscapularies. After her wig had been adjusted, a wiredwhite veil reaching to her feet was clipped to it. Theshoes were of white Spanish leather, soft leather whichwould not creak when she mounted the scaffold. Shetook out of a drawer the kerchief with which her eyeswere to be bound; it was made of the finest lawn with agold fringe, probably broidered by her own hands.Every article of her apparel had been most purposivelyselected, every detail, down to her underclothing, beingcombined to form a harmony, and with full knowledgethat on the scaffold she would be' partially disrobedbefore the eyes of strange men. The petticoat and camisolewere of crimson velvet, and she had scarlet sleeves tomatch, that, when her neck was severed, the spurtingblood should not contrast too crudely with her under-V wear and her arms. Never had a woman condemned todeath made herself ready for execution with moreartistry and dignity.At eight o'clock in the morning there came a knockat the door. Mary Stuart did not answer, for she waskneeling at her prie-Dieu, reading aloud the prayers forthe dying. Not until her devotions were finished did sherisei and, at the second knock, the door was opened.The sheriff of Northampton, carrying his white wand ofoffice (soon to be broken), entered, and with a profoundreverence said: "Madam, the lords have sent me to436

EN MA FIN EST MONCOMMENCEMENTyou." "Yes, let us go," replied the Queen, as Bourgoigne,her French physician, stepped to her side.Now began her final progress. Supported to right andto left by two of her servants, walking slowly becauseher legs were swollen with rheumatism, she went outthrough the door. She was triply armed with theweapons of the faith, that no sudden access of fear mightoverwhelm her. Besides the Agnus Dei hung round herneck, and the rosaries, she carried in one hand an ivorycrucifix. The world was to see how a queen could die inthe Catholic faith and for the Catholic faith. It was toforget the crimes and follies of her youth, and that shewas now to suffer death as accessory before the fact toan intended murder. For all time to come she wishedto be regarded as a martyr to the Catholic cause, avictim of her heretical enemies.Only 'as far as the doorway leading out of the corridorwas she accompanied by her own servitors. Paulet'smen-at-arms, acting under orders, barred the way to herstaff. They might serve her while she was still in her ownchamber, but not in the last minutes before her death.Down the great staircase, therefore, she was assisted bytwo of Paulet's troopers. None but enemies were to joinin the crime of leading an anointed queen to the block.On the last step, in front of the entrance to the hall wherethe execution was to take place, was kneeling AndrewMelville, her master of the household. To him, as oneof the Scottish gentry, would be entrusted the duty ofacquainting her son that the execution had taken place.The Queen lifted him from his knees and embracedhim. His presence was welcome to her, for it strengthenedher in her forced composure. When Melvillesaid: "It will be the sorrowfullest message that ever Icarried when I shall report that my Queen and mistressis dead," Mary replied: "Not so. To-day, good Melville,thou seest the end of Mary Stuart's miseries, and437

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSthat should rejoice thee. I pray thee carry a messagefrom me that I die a true woman to my religion, like atrue Queen of Scotland and France. But God forgivethem that have long desired my end and thirsted for myblood, as the hart does for the water-brooks. Commendme to my dearest and most sweet son. Tell him I havedone nothing to prejudice him in his realm, nor to disparagehis dignity." Then, turning to the Earls ofShrewsbury and Kent, she asked them "to permit herpoor distressed servants to be present about her at herdeath, that their eyes and heart may see and witness howpatiently their Queen and mistress will endure her execution,and so make relation, when they come into theircountry, that she died a true constant Catholic to herreligion." To this the Earl of Kent objected. Thewomen would make a scene. "Besides, if such an accessmight be allowed, they would not stick to put some superstitiouspopery in practice, if it were but dipping theirhandkerchiefs in Your Grace's blod3, whereon it werevery unmeet for us to give allowance.""My Lords," rejoined Mary, "I will give my wordthat, although then I shall be dead, they will do nothingof the kind. I hope your mistress, being a maiden queen,will vouchsafe in the regard of womanhood that I shallhave some of mine own people about m.e at my death.I know Her Majesty hath not given you any such straitcharge or commission, but that you might grant a requestof far greater courtesy than this is, if I were awoman of far meaner calling than the Queen of Scots."Seeing that the Earl of Kent looked stubborn, she burstinto tears, and said: "I am cousin to your Queen, anddescended from the blood royal of Henry VII, and amarried Queen of France, and an anointed Queen ofScotland."•The two Earls consulted together, and at lengthagreed that she might be accompanied to the scaffold438

'EN MA FIN EST MON COMMENCEMENTby "six of her best beloved men and women." Thereupon"of her men she chose Melville, Bourgoigne thephysician, Gourion the surgeon, and Gervais the apothecary; and of her women, those two, Jane Kennedy andElizabeth Curie, which did lie in her chamber." WithMelville carrying her train, she walked behind thesheriff and Shrewsbury and Kent into the great hall ofFotheringay Castle.Throughout the night, carpenters had been at workin this hall. The tables and chairs had been removed.At one end a scaffold had been erected, two feet highand twelve feet broad, "with rails round about, hangedand covered with black, with a low stool, a long faircushion, and a block covered also with black." Thecushion was in front of the block, on it the Queen wasto kneel in order to receive the fatal stroke. To right andto left were seats for the Earls of Shrewsbury and Kent,as representatives of Queen Elizabeth. Against thefarther wall stood two men, masked and clad in blackvelvet, with white aprons, grim and silent, the executionerand his assistant. Spectators thronged the rest ofthe hall. Across the floor had been run a barrier,guarded by Paulet and his soldiers. Behind it weretwo hundred of the nobility and gentry who hadassembled in haste from the neighbourhood to witnessso unique a spectacle as the execution of a queen. Outsidethe castle-gates hundreds upon hundreds of thecommon folk were thronging, allured by the news; butnone of them would be admitted to the castle. Only theblue-bloods might see the shedding of the blood royal.With an unmoved countenance, Mary entered thehall. A queen since she was but a few days old, she hadearly learned to demean herself royally, and this exalted439 ' P*

THE QUEEN OF SCOTSart did not forsake her in the supreme moment. Headerect, she mounted the two steps to the scaffold. Thusproudly, when a girl of fifteen, she had ascended thethrone of France; thus proudly, the steps leading" to thealtar at Rheims. Thus proudly would she have mountedthe throne of England, if other stars had presided overher destiny. With mingled pride and humility she hadkneeled beside a king of France, and later beside a kingof Scotland, to receive priestly benediction; with mingledpride and humility, she now bowed her head to receivethe benediction of death. She. listened unmoved whileBeale read the death-warrant aloud to her. So calm washer expression, friendly and almost joyful, that evenRichard Wigmore, Cecil's secret agent, declared in hisreport to his master that she listened to the document"with so merry and cheerful a countenance as if it hadbeen a pardon from Her Majesty."But a hard trial still awaited her. Mary Stuart wishedthis ultimate hour to be a triumph, in which she could"disclose herself to the world as a pillar of the faith, as asplendid flame of Catholic martyrdom. The Protestantlords were no less determined that the last gesture of herlife should not be an impressive avowal of Catholicism,and they therefore did their utmost to diminish MaryStuart's dignity by acts of petty spite. Several times onthe way from her bedchamber to the hall of execution,the Queen looked round to see whether her confessorwas not among those present, that, if only by a sign fromhim she could be assured of blessing and absolution.Vainly^ however! Father Preau was imprisoned in hisroom. Now, when she had made up her mind to sufferthe execution without ghostly counsel, there appeared onthe scaffold the Dean of Peterborough, Dr. Fletcher, afanatical champion of the Reformed creed, who, to the440

EN MA FIN EST MONCOMMENCEMENTfinal moment of her life, was to embody for her the warof religions which had troubled her youth and wreckedher career. The magnates in charge of the execution hadthrice been sufficiently informed that Mary, a devoutCatholic, would rather die without priestly aid thanaccept the ministrations of a heretic. But just as QueenMary wished, on the scaffold, to make the most of herown religion, so did the Protestants wish to bring theirsto the front; it was their God who was to be honoured onthis occasion, not hers. Under the pretext of care for hersalvation, the Dean began an evangelical exhortation,which Mary, in her impatience, several times tried tocut short. Again and again she interrupted Dr. Fletcherby assuring him that she persisted, that she was "settled,"in the ancient Catholic and Romaine religion, in defencewhereof by God's grace, she was that day to spend herblood. But Fletcher was a paltry creature, with scantrespect for the will of a dying woman, and inflated byvanity. Having carefully prepared his sermon, he wasdelighted with the chance of delivering it before so distinguisheda congregation. He went on with his oration,until Mary found no other means for deafening her earsthan to throw herself on her knees, crucifix in one handand missal in the other, to pray aloud in Latin, that shemight drown the unctuous outpourings of the Dean.The two religions, instead of joining forces to pray onbehalf of the victim, were still at grips upon the scaffold,hatred being always stronger than reverence for distress.Shrewsbury and Kent, and with them most of thoseassembled, prayed aloud in English, while Mary andher servitors prayed aloud in Latin. As soon as Fletcher'soration came to an end, and when the silence had healedup again, Mary rose, kneeled down once more, andprayed in English for Christ's afflicted Church, for a surceaseof her troubles, for her son, and for the Queen'sMajesty. Pressing the crucifix to her breast, she desired441

THE qUEEN OF SCOTSthe saints to make intercession for her to the Saviour ofthe world, Jesus Christ. Again the Earl of Kent, likewisea Protestant fanatic, interfered with her devotions, urgingher to lay aside these "popish trumperies." But thedying woman was by now far beyond earthly contentions.She uttered no sound, made no sign in answer, buther voice pealed through the hall saying that she forgaveher enemies with all her heart, those who had long soughther blood, and begged God to lead them to the truth.Silence was restored. Mary knew that the end wasnear. For the last time she kissed the crucifix, andcrossed herself, saying: "Even as Thy arms, O JesuChrist, were spread here upon the cross, so receive meinto the arms of mercy, and forgive me all my sins.Amen."That was a cruel and violent age, but it was not thereforewholly unspiritual. In many of its customs it remainedmore keenly aware of its own inhumanity thanwe are aware of our own inhumanity to-day. At everyexecution, however barbarous the method, there was am.oment of human greatness amid the horror. Before theexecutioner stretched forth his hand to slay or to torture,he asked the victim's pardon for the wrong he was aboutto commit. The two masked men, Bulle, the executioner,and his assistant, kneeled in front of Mary and beggedforgiveness since it was their duty to put her to death.She answered: "I forgive you with all my heart. For Ihope this death shall give an end to my troubles." Thetwo black-robed men rose to their feet once moreand made ready for their work.Simultaneously Jane Kennedy and Elizabeth Curiebegan to disrobe Mary. She helped them by removingfrom her neck the chain with the Agnus Dei. She madethese preparations firmly, and,- as Wigmore reported,442

EN MA FIN EST MONCOMMENCEMENT"with such speed as if she had longed to be gone out ofworld." When the black gown had been removed, herred velvet underclothing shone forth, and, thus robed,with her long scarlet sleeves to match, she looked like aflame of blood, splendid and unforgettable. Now camethe farewells. The Queen embraced her assistants, andexhorted them not to weep too loudly: "Ne cry vous,j'ay preye pur vous." Then, kneeling on the cushionwhich had been spread for her, she intoned the Latinpsalm: "In te, domine, confido, ne confundar in seternum."Little remained to be done. She laid her head on theblock, which she embraced with both arms, as one in lovewith death. To the end, Mary Stuart maintained herroyal dignity. With neither sign nor word did she showany fear. The daughter of the Stuarts, of the Tudors,and of the Guises, made ready to die worthily. But whathelp is human dignity, what help is acquired or inheritedpoise, against the horror which necessarily surroundsmurder? On no one (however much the books and reportsmay lie about the matter) can the execution of ahuman being produce a romantic and touching impression.Always death by the executioner's axe must bea horrible spectacle of slaughter. The first blow fellawry, striking the back of the head instead of severingthe neck. A hollow groan escaped from the mouth ofthe victim. At the second stroke, the axe sank deep intothe neck, and the blood spurted out copiously. Notuntil a third blow had been given was the head detachedfrom the trunk. Now came a further touch ofhorror. When BuUe wished to lift the head by the hairand show it to those assembled, he gripped only the wig,and the head dropped on to the ground. It rolled likea ball across the scaffold: and when the executionerstooped once more to seize it, the onlookers could discernthat it was that of an old woman with close-cropped443

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSand grizzled hair. For a moment, the spectators wereovercome by their feelings, so that all held their breathin silence. At length, however, when the executionerlifted up'the head and shouted "God save the Queen!"the Dean of Peterborough summoned up courage to say"Amen! Amenl So perish all the Queen's enemies."The Earl of Kent came up to the dead body, and, withlowered voice said: "Such end happen to all the Queen'sand Gospel's enemies!"Pallid, where not stained with blood, was the whitehairedhead as it confronted the noblemen ^yho, had herfate been different, would have been her most loyalservants and zealous subjects. For nigh on a quarter ofan hour the lips continued to twitch convulsively. Tolessen the horror of the spectacle, a pall was hastily drawnover the headless trunk and the gorgon-Uke head. Then,while, amid a paralyzed silence, ^underlings were carryingaway the gloomy burden, a trifling incident revivedthe general consternation. As the executioner and hisassistant were raising the decapitated trunk, which wasto be borne into a neighbouring room to be embalmed,something stirred beneath the clothing. Unnoticed,Mary's Skye terrier had crept beneath her petticoat.Now the little beast sprang forth "embrued in herblood." Afterwards, "it would not depart from the deadcorpse, but came and lay between her head and shoulders."By force it was taken away and sent to be washed."The executioners were discharged with money for theirfees, not having any one thing that belonged at her."Then, "every one was commanded forth of the hall,saving the sheriff and his men, who carried her up into agreat chamber and made ready for the surgeon to embalmher, and there was she embalmed."444

Chapter 24AFTERMATH1587-1603IN the Greek drama a long and gloomy tragedy wasalways followed by a short, rollicking farce. Such anepilogue was not wanting in the drama of Mary Stuart.She was sent to the block on the morning of February 8,1587. Next morning, all London heard of the execution.A wave of intense jubilation spread through the capitaland the country. Had not the usually acute ears of theQueen of England been suddenly deafened, Elizabethmust have known from the pealing of the church bellsthat a festival not in the calendar was being celebratedby her subjects, and what was the occasion of thattumultuous rejoicing. But she carefully refrained fromasking, wrapping herself more and more closely in themantle of ignorance. She was waiting to be officiallyinformed of the execution of her rival, and to be seizedwith "astonishment" at the news. The gloomy task ofacquainting the "unsuspecting" monarch of the executionof her "dear sister," had been allotted to Cecil.He did not like the job. During the many years he hadheld high office under Protector Somerset, Edward VI,Mary Tudor, and Elizabeth, he had been throughtroublous times, and, especially under his present mistress,had had to endure frequent storms of indignation,some genuine and some feigned. On the present occasion,therefore, the calm and serious-minded manequipped himself with an armour of indifference before445

THE qUEEN OF SCOTShe entered the royal reception-room to acquaint theQueen officially with the fact that Mary had been executed.But Elizabeth's fury, this time, was unexampled.What? Mary Stuart had been put to death without herknowledge and without her express command? Impossible! Inconceivable! Never had she contemplatedso cruel a measure, as long as no foreign invader set footupon English soil. Her counsellors had cheated andbetrayed her, were a pack of rascals. Her prestige, herhonour, had been irrevocably tarnished before the worldthrough this perfidious and underhand deed. Her poorunhappy sister had been the victim of a disastrous errora scandalous plot! Elizabeth sobbed, screamed, andstamped on the floor in her frenzy. She railed like a fishwifeat the grey-haired statesman who, in conjunctionwith other members of her Council, had dared, withouther express commission, to act upon the death-warrantshe had signed.Never for a moment had Cecil and his friends expectedanything else than that Elizabeth would repudiate theaction they had taken as "illegal," as a "gross usurpationof power by subordinate authorities." Believing their"usurpation of authority" would be welcome to her,they had decided to relieve Queen Elizabeth of the"burthen" of responsibility. They had expected, however,that this attitude of repudiation would only beassumed by the Queen when she was playing to thegallery, and that, under the rose, in her private audiencechamber,she would thank them for so promptly clearingher rival out of her path. But, in the depths of hermind, Elizabeth had so carefully rehearsed her simulatedwrath, that, despite herself, it took possession of herand became genuine. Thus the storm that burst overCecil's bowed head was not mere stage-thunder, butthe discharge of furious indignation, a hurricane ofinvectives, a cloud-burst of abuse. Not content with446

AFTERMATHberating Cecil, Elizabeth was almost ready to slapher most faithful adviser's face. She reviled him sounmercifully that he, now well up in years (he was sixtysix),tendered his resignation, and, in punishment for hisalleged excess of zeal, was actually forbidden the courtfor some time.It became clear that Walsingham, who had been theprime mover in the naatter, had been guided by ashrewd instinct when he fell sick, or appeared to do so,during the decisive days. For the vials of the royalwrath were emptied upon the head of his henchman, theunhappy Davison. Davison was selected as scapegoat,as the butt who was to demonstrate Elizabeth's innocence.Never, insisted Elizabeth, had she told the secretaryto convey the death-warrant to Cecil and to havethe Great Seal affixed thereto. He had acted on his owninitiative, against her will, and, by thus exceeding hisinstructions, had wrought immeasurable harm. By theQueen's command this "unfaithful servant," whoseoffence was that he had been too faithful, was haledbefore the Star Chamber. A decision of that augustcourt was to proclaim to Europe that the execution ofMary Stuart had been exclusively the work of the rascalDavison, and that Elizabeth had been completely innocentin the matter. It need hardly be said that the privycouncillors who had sworn to shoulder the responsibilityjointly with Cecil, hastened to leave their comrade,and Davison as well, in the lurch. All that concernedthem was to save their own ministerial positions andsinecures amid this royal storm. Davison, who had nowitnesses to confirm his story of Queen Elizabeth'sorders, was sentenced to pay a fine of ^^i 0,000. Since hiswhole worldly wealth amounted to nothing like this sum,he was cast into gaol. On the quiet, subsequently, hewas granted a pension, but never while Elizabeth livedwas he allowed to appear at court; his career was at an447

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSend, and thenceforward he was a broken man. It igalways dangerous for courtiers to fail to understand thesecret wishes of their sovereign. At times, however, it isstill more disastrous when they understand these secretwishes too well.The pretty tale of Queen Elizabeth's innocence andignorance as regards this matter of the execution of MaryStuart was too obvious a fabrication to impose upon hercontemporaries. Perhaps there was only one person whoreally came to believe in this fable of the imaginationand that, strangely enough, was Elizabeth herself. Oneof the most remarkable capacities of persons of hystericaldisposition is, not only their ability to be splendid liarsbut to be imposed upon by their own falsehoods. Forthem the truth is what they want to be true, what theybeUeve is what they wish to believe, so that their testimonymay often be the most honourable of lies, andtherefore the most dangerous. Hysteria apart, we have atendency to self-justification and self-exculpation, andEhzabeth, presumably, felt perfectly sincere when sheassured all and sundry that she had neither commandednor desired the execution of Mary. As already said, shewas bipolar in the matter. In part, she had never willedthe death of Mary, and now that the death had takenplace, this part, her remembrance that she had notwanted it, gradually became supreme over her remembrancethat also she had desired her rival's death. Heroutburst of wrath on receipt of the news, which shewished to be true but did not wish to hear, was not exclusivelytheatrical, but also—since her whole naturewas double-faced—a genuine - and honest anger: theoutcome of an inability to forgive herself for havingallowed her better instincts to be overpowered; and alsoa perfectly genuine anger against Cecil for having448

AFTERMATHallowed himself to be persuaded to the execution withoutinstigating steps that would have relieved her ofresponsibility. So powerful was Elizabeth's auto-suggestionto the effect that the execution had taken placein defiance of her will, so well did she succeed in deceivingherself, that again and again, thereafter, we hearthe tone of genuine conviction in her asseverations. Shewas not merely humbugging when she put on mourningto receive the French ambassador and assured him thatshe had not been so greatly moved by the death of herfather or by that of her sister as by the death of MaryQueen of Scots; but she was "a poor weak woman,environed by foes." Had not the members of the Privycouncil who had played her this sorry trick been longin her service, she would have sent them to the block.She had only signed the death warrant in order topacify her subjects, but had never intended to have itcarried into effect unless her realm were invaded byforeign armies.In her holograph letter to James VI of Scotland,Queen Elizabeth persisted in the half-truth and halffalsehoodthat she had never really desired the executionof Mary Stuart. She reiterated her profound distressthat the execution had been carried out "without herknowledge and consent." She called God to witness thatshe was "innocent in this matter," and declared thatshe "had never thought to put the queene your motherto death"; although her advisers were perpetuallydinning into her ears that it was incumbent on her todo so. To forestall the natural objection that she wassimply making a scapegoat of Davison, she proudlydeclared that no power on earth could induce her toshift on to another's shoulders the blame for anythingshe had herself commanded.James VI, on his side, was not particularly eager tohear the truth. All he wanted was to avert from himself449

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTSthe suspicion of not having done enough to defend hismother. Of course it would not do for him to acceptEUzabeth's assurances without demur; he Ukewisemust maintain the semblance of surprise and indignation.He therefore made a great gesture, solemnly declaringthat such a deed must not be left unavenged.Elizabeth's envoys were forbidden to set foot on Scottishsoil, and King James's own messengers took over theirdispatches from them in the town of Berwick. The worldwas to see that James VI showed his teeth to the murderersof his mother. But the Cabinet in London hadlong since mixed the jam that was necessary to make theangry son swallow the unpalatable powder which wasthe news of his mother's execution. Simultaneouslywith Elizabeth's letter intended for public consumptionthere was dispatched to Edinburgh a private diplomaticmissive in which Walsingham informed the Scottishsecretary of State that James would be successor to thethrone of England, so that the whole dark affair wouldredound to the general good. The effect was all thatcould be wished. James had not a word more to say of anopen breach with England. He was no longer troubledat the thought that his mother's corpse was still lyingin some out-of-the-way corner of a cjjurchyard. Hemade no protest because one of her last wishes, to theeffect that her remains should be laid to rest in Frenchsoil, was being flatly disregarded. As if by magic, hewas suddenly convinced of Queen Elizabeth's innocence,and gladly accepted the official version that the executionhad been a "mistake." "Ye purge youre self ofane unhappy fact," he wrote to the Queen of England,and, as her contented pensioner, expressed the hopethat her "honourable conduct would become known tothe world." ' A golden wind of promise rapidly appeasedthe storm of his wrath. Thenceforward peace andharmony prevailed between an undutiful son and450

AFTERMATHthe woman who had passed a death sentence on hismother.Morality and policy take divergent paths. We judgean event quite differently according as we consider itfrom the standpoint of humanity or from that of temporaladvantage. Morally, the execution of MaryStuart was utterly unjustifiable. Contrary to internationallaw, in peace-time, the queen of one countryhad imprisoned the queen of another, had woven asnare for her, and had perfidiously encompassed herdeath. Just as little, however, can we deny that, from apurely political outlook, England was right in riddingthe world of Mary Stuart. For, alas, what is decisive inpolitics is not the abstract right of what is done, butwhether it is or is not advantageous in its results. Now,as regards the execution of Mary Stuart, the results,politically speaking, provide full justification, since themurder brought England not unrest, but rest. Cecil andWalsingham had rightly estimated the positive forcesthat were at work in one direction and another. Theyknew that foreign States are always inclined to singsmall when faced by a really strong government, andare ready to overlook the deeds of violence and even thecrimes committed by such a government. They hadbeen right in their supposition that the world would notbe greatly disturbed by this execution. The alarumsand excursions in France and Scotland, the threats ofvengeance, soon quieted down. Henry III refrainedfrom breaking off diplomatic relations with England,as he had threatened to do. He never proposed to senda soldier across the Channel on behalf of Mary Stuartwhen she was alive, and he was not likely to take uparms in her cause now that she was dead. Of course hehad a Requiem Mass read in Notre Dame, and the451

THE Q,UEEN OF SCOTScourt poets wrote a few elegies; but therewith, as far asFrance was concerned, the affair of Mary Stuart wasover and done with.Some threats were mouthed in the Scottish parliament; James VI put on mourning, but he continued toride the horses which had been presented him by QueenElizabeth, used the hounds she had sent him in hisfavourite sport of the chase, and remained the mostfriendly neighbour England had ever known. OnlyPhilip the Procrastinator of Spain at length set to workseriously upon the equipment of his Invincible Armadabut he stood alone, and against him was ranged Elizabeth'sgood fortune, which was part of her greatness, asit is part of that of all famous rulers. The Armada wasscattered by storms quite as much as by the resistance ofthe English fleet, and therewith the carefully planned onslaughtof the Counter-Reformation collapsed. Elizabethwas victorious, and with the death of Mary Stuarther chief danger had been removed'. The period of thedefensive was over. English warships could now moveto the attack, could navigate all the oceans, and beginthe foundation of a world-wide empire. The wealth ofEngland steadily increased; a new art grew during thelast years of Elizabeth's life. Never was the Queen moreadmired, never more loved and honoured, than afterthe basest act of her life. Again and again do we findthat the great edifices of State are built out of blocks ofharshness and injustice; always their foundations arecemented with blood. In political life it is only the vanquishedwho are wrong, and history strides over themwith iron-shod heels.The son of Mary Stuart was not spared a great test ofhis patience. He did not, as he had hoped, mount theEnglish throne forthwith; the payment for his cowardly452

AFTERMATHinertia was long delayed. He had to do what is thehardest thing for an ambitious man—to wait, to wait,to wait. For sixteen years, almost as long a time as thatduring which his mother had been prisoned by Elizabeth,he was inactive at Edinburgh, waiting until atlength the sceptre fell from the old woman's shrivelledhand. Moodily he passed his days at one or other of hisScottish castles, riding often to the chase, writing treatisesupon religious and political questions; but his chiefoccupation was to wait for a dead woman's shoes, toexpect tidings from London. She survived with remarkablepersistence until well on into her* seventiethyear. It seemed as if the blood of her rival must havebeen transfused into Elizabeth's arteries, rejuvenatingher. She became stronger, more self-assured, healthier,after Mary's death. No longer did she suffer from obstinatesleeplessness. The fierce torments of an uneasyconscience which had plagued her during the monthsand years of indecision, were assuaged now that she andher country had at length found repose. No mortal wasleft to threaten her position as ruler, and she devoted thereminder of her passionate energy to a struggle againstdeath who must in the end rob her of her crown. Whenshe was approaching seventy, tenacious and unyielding,the thought of dying became a horror to her. She wanderedabout her palaces, would not keep her bed, andmoved aimlessly from room to room. Why should shevacate the position for which she had fought so long andso ruthlessly?At length the knell sounded. Grim Death came to layher low. Still she lived on for days with the rattle in herthroat, her restless old heart beating feebly. Beneath thewindows, his horse ready saddled, an envoy of the impatientScottish heir was awaiting a pre-arranged sign.One of Elizabeth's ladies had promised, as soon as theQueen breathed her last, to lower a ring to the messenger.453

THE Q^UEEN OF SCOTSLong was the vigil. The virgin queen, who had rejectedso many wooers, was reluctant to accept the embrace ofDeath. On March 24, 1603, a casement opened, awoman's hand was protruded, a ring was dropped. Thecourier mounted his horse and galloped away, to reachEdinburgh in two-and-a-half days—a ride that becamefamous, for the distance is hard upon four hundred miles.He counted upon a high guerdon for his pains, for hewas the bringer of good tidings. James VI of Scotlandwould mount the English throne as James I. In theperson of Mary Stuart's son, the two kingdoms of Britainwere to be* united, and the long struggle between thoseof the same blood and speech who live on either side ofthe border was to come to an end. History often walksby dark and devious paths, but in the end historicalnecessity comes into its own.James I settled down contentedlyat Whitehall, wherehis mother had so often dreamed of residing. At longlast he was free from monetary cares, and his ambitionwas satisfied; he thought more of comfort than of immortalfame. He often went out hunting; was glad to visitthe theatre, there extending his patronage over a certainShakespeare and other noted playwrights—this beingone of the few good things to be recorded of the firetStuart monarch of a united Britain. A weakling, lethargicand dull-witted, devoid of Elizabeth's intellectualbrilliancy, lacking the courage and the passion of hismother, he was a humdrum ruler over the joint heritageof the two queens who had so long been at feud. Theunion of the crowns which each of them had so eagerlycoveted, fell into his hands like an over-ripe fruit. Now,when England and Scotland were one the time had cometo forget that a queen of Scotland and a queen of Englandhad troubled one another's lives with poisonous454

AFTERMATHenmity. No longer could it be said that one of them hadbeen right and the other wrong, since death had reducedthe pair o[ them to the same level. Those who had solong fiercely opposed one another, could now rest side byside. James I had his mother's mortal remains broughtsouth from Peterborough to be interred, with greatpomp and ceremony, in the British pantheon at WestminsterAbbey. A marble statue of Mary Stuart waserected over her tomb, hard by the marble statue overthe tomb of Elizabeth Tudor. The old quarrel wasfinished; neither woman would dispute the other's rightto a place in the Abbey. The foes who, during their lifetime,had never set eyes on one another, were to rest forevermore side by side as sisters in the untroubled sleep ofiminortaHty.455

Ainslie's Taverne, 260Alloa, Mary visits Mar at, 179,180Alva, Duke of, 378Amboise, Tumult of, 35Angus, Archibald Douglas, Earlof, 2Anville, M. d', 83Argyll, Archibald Campbell, 5thEarl of, 218, 261Argylls, clan of the, 5Armada, the Spanish, 452Arran, James Hamilton, Earl of,42, 127Arrans, clan of the, 5AthoU, Colin Campbell, Earl of,302Babington, Anthony, xvii, 390 et•se?-j 399. 404. 4"Babington plot, the, xvii, 385,390 et seq., 406; execution ofthose concerned in, 404Balfour, Sir James, 249, 255,281; informs the Scottish lordsof the Casket and its documents,207; Moray and, 258Ballard, John, one of the Babingtonconspirators, 391, 404Barker (notary), 409Bastien, servant of Mary, 249Beale, Robert, clerk of PrivyCouncil, 428, 432, 440Beaton, Archbishop, letter ofMary to (quoted), 224Beaton, Mary, 14Beaumont, Villeroy de, FrenchAmbassador, 317Bedford, 2nd Earl of, 127Bedford, ist Earl of, 191Boleyn, Anne, xvi, 27Bolton Castle, 333, 350Bond of Association drawn up(1584), 380Bothwell, Adam, Bishop of Orkney,277INDEXBothwell, James Hepburn, 4thEarl of, xiv, 130,145,155,159,165, i8i, 182, 183, 184, 192,218, 232, 248, 249, 255, 260,270, 271, 336; personality(character, characteristics,etc.), 142, 181 et seq., 205, 212,215, 217, 256, 260, 270, 275,284, 312; relations with Mary,see under Mary, relations of,with Bothwell, 165 et passim;military dictatorship of, 184,248; Lady Jane Gordon and(1566-7), 184, 214, 271, 273,278, 289; at baptism ofJames VI (1566), 191; possessionof Mary by (1566),205, 212; wounding of (1566),209; plot to kill Darnley, 218seq., 235,239,246,247;—aftermathof, 254 et seq., 295, 299,339; universally regarded asDarnley's murderer, 250 etpassim; trial of, and preparationfor, 256, 259; receptionof special messenger by, 258;Moray and, 258, 311; Scotland'shighest honour is conferredon (1567), 260; preconjugalrelations with Mary,269; "abduction" of Mary by(1567), 270 et seq.; marriageto Mary Stuart (1567) of, 275et seq.;—results of, 277; seealso under Mary; created Dukeof Orkney, 276; goes toBorthwick and sees Scottishlords, 280; army of (June,1567), 281 et seq.; outlawry of,289, 311; Casket documentsand (1567), 297; fate of, andlast years of his life (1567-78), 311, 312Bourdeille, Pierre de. SeeBrantome.457

Bourgoigne, physician to Mary,437, 439Brantome, Pierre, Seigneur de,xvi; on Mary in her teens, 20;on Mary's beauty, ibid.; onMary's arrival in Scotland,55; on Mary's farewell toFrance, 53; works, Vie desdames galantes, 35Buchanan, George, xv; andJames VI, 370; publishesCasket Letters (1571), aoi;works. Detection, 370BuUe, executioner, xvii, 439,442, 444Burleigh, William Cecil, Lord.See Cecil, William.INDEXCalais, Henry II of France on,29Calvinism, 59, 65, 69. See alsoKnox, John; Scotland.Carberry Hill, battle of, 282Carlisle, Mary imprisoned in theCastle of, 328;—precautionslest she should escape, 333Carlos Don, of Spain, 40, 90,105, 113, 121, 251Casket Letters, the (and Sonnetsfound with them), x, xi, ig8 etpassim, 203, 223, 226, 271, 298et seq., 336 et seq.; authenticityof, 198 et seq., 305, 344;burned by James VI, 199,301;discovery of (1567), 297;read in the Scottish parliament{1567), 305; copies of,sent to foreign courts, 306;York Conference and, 336 etseq.; Westminster Conferenceand, 343Cassilis, Earl of, 261Catherine de' Medici, xv, 25, 31,34. 36, 39, 255Catholicism, 120, 121, 440; andMary, 162, 373; Mary's thirdmarriage and, 275; two chiefenemies of, 378. See alsoMary (death).458Cecil, William, later Lord Burleigh,xvi, 43, 131, 293, 318,332, 336, 347. 357, 379. 384,408, 415, 425, 447 et seq.; andElizabeth, 324, 423; andMary Stuart, 324, 327 et seq.,359, 384, 385,.389, 395; andMary's execution, 427, 445;brings Elizabeth the news ofMary Stuart's execution, 446Chalmers, David, 225Charles I, King of England, 4,293, 406; Andrew Marvell on,43'Charles IX, King of France, xvi34,41,92,105,360Chartley, Castle of, 387Chastelard, Pierre, de xv, 83;—poems of (quoted), 83Chatsworth, 350Clouet, Francois ("Janet"), 18;portraits of Mary Stuart by,21,37Counter-Reformation, the, 60360, 377, 379, 385, 452; andScotland, 118, 120, 143Craig, John (Minister at St.Giles's), 275, 277Craigmillar Castle; conferenceon Darnley at, 217, 338Crawfords, clan of the, 5Criminals. See under Psychology.Croc, see Du CrocCurie, Elizabeth, and Mary,403, 439, 442Curie, Gilbert, Secretary toMary, 383, 403Dalgleish, George (valet), andthe Casket Letters, 297Darnley, Henry Stuart, Lord,xiv, 113 et seq., 125, 154, 167,170, 185, 206, 216; meetsMary in Scotland (1565), 115,116; relations of, with Mary,- see under Mary, relations of,with Darnley, iid et passim;personality (character, characteristics,etc.), 117, 118, 135

INDEXetseq., 145, 150, 161, 185, 189,238; relations of, with Rizzio,118, 145; and Elizabeth, 122;created Earl of Ross, 124;marriage (1565) to Mary of,(secret) 121, (public) 123; andthe "crown matrimonial"(1566), 124, 136, 137, 146,148; Mary's treatment of, 135et J'c?., 188; see also under Mary;conspiracy to murder, 145,149 etseq., 218 etseq., 239, 245et seq., 336, 345 et seq.; and theRizzio conspirators, 149, 163,192, 217; becomes the tool ofMary Stuart, 161, 188 e( seq.;flight of, with Mary (1566),165 et seq.; perjury of, 169;and paternity of James VI,171; threatens to go abroad,187; arrives at Holyrood,Dec, "188; at baptism ofJames VI, 191; illness of, 220,235; Mary in Glasgow with(1567), 228 et seq.; letter of(1567), to his father, 237;burial of, 247.Davison, William, 423 e't seq.,447 et seq.Diplomacy. See Politics; andunder Cecil, William; Maitland,William; Moray, Earlof; Walsingham, Sir Francis.Douglas, Archibald, letter of, onthe murder of Damley, 225Douglas, George, 2Douglas, George, and Mary, 313et seq.Douglas, House of, and James V,2Douglas, Lady Margaret(daughter of Lord Erskine),61, 289, 309, 313Douglas, Sir William, of Lochlevcn,310, 316Douglas, Willie, 316, 355Drury (spy of Elizabeth), 266Drury, Sir Drue, 425, 334,432Du Bellay, Joachim, xvi, 18; onMary, 20Du Croc, French ambassador,and Darnley, 189, 194; andMary's third marriage, 274,277; on Mary's marriage withBothwell, 274 et seq.; atCarberry Hill, 283; on Bothwell,284Dudley, Robert.Earl of.Dunbar, 167, 260, 272, 281Dundrennan Abbey, 321See Leicester,Edinburgh, 169, 280; entry ofMary into (1561), 56 el seq.See also Craigmillar Castle;Holyrood Castle.Edinburgh, Treaty of (1560),and Mary's refusal to ratify,43. 47. 80Edward VI, King of England,xvi, 27; betrothed to Mary(1542), 9Eglington, Earl of, 261Elizabeth, Queen of England,xvi, 27, 78, 79, 173, 301, 325,352, 391, 395. 396; parentageof, 27; succeeds to the throne(1558), 27; Calais, and, 29;relations of, with Mary, seeunder Mary, relations of, withElizabeth, 29 et passim; andthe Scottish lords, 59; see alsounder Maitland, Moray, Scottishlords; and the Stuarts, 60;and Moray, 63;—(1565), 130et seq.; on Sir William Maitland,64; and Knox, 65, 71.Letters: correspondence of,with Mary, 79, 104, 105, 252et seq., 293, 330, 350, 407;letter of, to Paulet, 384;—toJames VI (quoted), 449; andquestion of marriage andreligion, 90; and opposingforces of her epoch, 90; andthe Reformation, 100; andEngland, 102; and her states-459

INDEXmen, loa; and the Englishcrown, 28; — and the right ofsuccession, 106; and Dudley,108, 112, 113, 252; Sir JamesMelville on, no; createsDudley Earl of Leicester, n 2;and Sir James Melville, n 2,113; and Darnley's marriage,12a, 123; and Darnley's murder,247; offers Mary the successionto English crown, 123;sends troops and money toScotland (1565), 127; positionof, after defeat of Scottishrebels {1565), 129 et seq.; isgodmother to James VI, 174,igi; receives news of birth ofJames VI (1566), 173; sendsgift of silver font for baptismof James VI, 191; CasketLetters and, 200; and themurder of Amy "ilobsart(1560), 252 ; Lennox asks helpof, 255, 256; supports Mary'squeenship (1567), 293, 294;on Mary's marriage to Bothwelland on murderer ofDarnley (1567), 294; her convictionof Mary's complicityin Darnley's murder, 295;sends messenger to Scottishlords, ibid.; requires Bothwellas witness^ 312; congratulatesMary on her escape (1568),317; embarrassment of, whenMary arrives in England(1568), 323; Cecil, and, 324;decides to keep Mary prisonerin England (1568), 325 et seq.;two possible ways of treatingMary (1568), 326; pledges of,to Mary (1568), 330 et seq.; —broken at Westminster Conference,343 et seq.; receivesMoray (1568), 335; and Norfolk(1568), 342; and YorkConference (1568), 339, 342,343; — transferred to London,343; and Westminster Con­460ference (1568), 347 etseq.; andJames VI, 171, 371 et seq.-offers James Vl a yearly pen!sion and English succession373; plots to kill (1585), 384'385; —(1586), 391 etseq.;^and Mary's "consent," 398-the Babington plot, and, 394et seq.; and the execution ofMary, 405 et seq., 418, 445 etseq.; and death-sentence onMary (1586), 322 et seq.; onMary (quoted), 414 et seqreceivesforeign envoys aftertrial of Mary, 416; Cecil on,and Mary's death-sentence,423; and Davison, 423 et seq.;manner of signing MaryStuart's death-warrant, 423,424; proposal of, to haveMary murdered, 425, 429;and Sir Amyas Paulet, 429;receives news of Mary's execution,445 etseq.; after Mary'sdeath, 452; death of (1603),453; tomb o!, 455; persona'iity:91 et seq., 103, 108 et seq.,:73, 345; •—• accomplishments,culture of, 92, 111;aspect and character of, asseen in her portraits, 95;character and characteristicsof, 78, 92, 93 «« «

98, 99, 173, 174. 422, 423;physical imperfection of, 98,173, '74, 376; desire formotherhood of, and her infertility,173; private life andmorals of, 173, 375, 376;wardrobe of, 111England and Scotland, 7 et seq.,60; and Elizabeth's reign,102, 103; English governmentand Mary, 336, 361,380, 413English ambassador, the, inFrance, interview of Marywith, 45, 46, 47Eric, King of Sweden, 41Erskine, Arthur, 166Europe in sixteenth century, 90,91, 92, 250, 274, 275, 292, 296,342. See also Monarchy;Morality; Politics; and individualrulers by riame.INDEXFalkland, palace, i, 3Ferdinand, Emperor of Austria,92Fleming, Mary, 14, 65, 338Fletcher, Dr. Richard, at Mary'sexecution, 440, 441, 444Fontenay, Sieur de. See Nau,Claude.Fotheringay Castle, 350, 403,410, 422; execution of Maryat, 425, 439 et seq.Four Maries. See "Queen'sMaries."France and Scotland, 2, 8, 9, 13,23, 24, 388; Mary's life atFrench court, 16 et seq,;French court (1548), ibid.;court etiquette of, for a king'swidow, 36; Casket Letters(copies) sent to French court,201Francis I, King of France, 34Francis II, King of France, xv,16, 23, 24, 39, 56, 137, 206,244; betrothal, his,- to Mary461(1548), 13; Mary meets(1548), 16; marriage of, toMary (1558), 25, 26, 276; assumesthe royal arms ofEngland, 28 et seq.; health of,23, 33, 34; death of (1560),36; Mary's elegy on (quoted),38; and the Treaty of Edinburgh,43Frederick II, PUng of Denmark,41,3"French ambassador (to Elizabeth)131 et seq., 324French ambassador (to Mary) inScotland, on the Scottish lords(quoted), 5; Elizabeth warns,of Babington plot, 396Gifford, Gilbert, 388, 391, 393Glencaim, Alexander Cunningham,Earl of, 261, 302Gordon, Lady Jane, marriesBothwell (1566), 184, 214;divorce of (1567), 271, 273;Mary to Bothwell on, 214,234; relations of Bothwellwith, after divorce, 278, 288Gordons, clan of the, 5. See alsoGordon, Lady Jane; Huntly,Earl of.Gorges, Sir Thomas, 402Gregory XIII, Pope, and Mary,360Guise, Charles de. Set Lorraine,Cardinal of.Guise, Duke of, 49Guises, the, xvi, 34, 49, 142; andmarriage deeds of Mary, 24.See also Lorraine, Cardinal of;Mary of Guise.Hamilton, James. See Arran,Earl of.Hamilton Castle, 317Hamilton, House of, 5, 6, 315,317Hatton, Sir Christopher, 355;and Davison, 427

Henry VII, King of England,xvi, 113Henry VIII, King of England,xvi, 251; and Scotland, i;James V on Scotland and, 2;and Mary's betrothal, 9;wives and children of, 27Henry II, King of France, xv;and Mary, 13, 28,29, 30; andMary's reception in France(1548), 16; letter of, on Mary,16; death of (1559I, 30Henry III, King of France, xvi,416, 434, 451Henry IV. King of France, onJames I, 147Hepburn. Captain, 83Hermitage Castle, 209Herries, Lord, 274Holyrood Palace, 56, 69, 125,155. 163, 188, 192, 237, 238,239. 2! 9, 277, 289, 290;life and court of Mary at,81, 237, 238; murder of Rizzioat, 151 et seq.; held by rebels(1566), 163 «/ seq.Huguenots, the, 35, 50Humanism, 18Huntly, George Gordon, 5thEarl of, 155, 159, 184, 218,261, 271, 272, 275Huntlys, clan of the, 75, 315,317. See also Gordon, LadyJane; Huntly, 5tb Earl of.Inchmahome, 12,James I of England and VI ofScotland. See James VI ofScotland.James I, King of Scotland,murder of (1446), 4James II, King of Scotland, 4James III, King of Scotland,murder of (1488), 4James IV, King of Scotland(i448-i5i3)_, 4Jaines V, King of Scotland(1512-42), xiv, I, 3, 61, 289,INDEX310; letter to Mary of Guisg(1538), 2; on the birth ofMary (quoted), 4; fortune of7James VI of Scotland and I ofEngland, xiv, xvi, 279, agg369, 370. 452; personafit^(character, characteristicsetc.), 369, 370, 454; birth of(1566), 170; baptism of(1566), 191; burns the CasketLetters, 199, 201 ; Mary visits(1567), 271, 272; coronationof (1567), 302 ; and Elizabeth,371. 372, 373. 417; and hissuccession to English throne371, 418, 450; and Mary'%6Q et seq., 416 and death ofMary, 416, 449, 450 et seq;becomes King of England(1603), 454; has Mary'sremains brought to WestminsterAbbey, 455; life of,at Whitehall, 454"Janet." See Clouet, Frangois.Jesuits, the, 378John, Don, of Austria, 363Jonson, Ben, on Elizabeth(quoted), 98, 377462Kennedy, Jane, 439, 443Kent, Henry Grey, Earl of, andMary's death, 428, 432 et seq.,438,441,444Ker, Andrew, of Faudonside, attemptsto shoot Mary (1566),168Kingship in sixteenth century.See Monarchy.Kirk o' Field, 227. 236, 238, 239,245, 368; description of, 236;blown up by gunpowder("1567), 239Kirkcaldy, Sir WilHam, ofGrange, 286, 287Knollys, Sir Francis, 358, 346,353 J 361; mission of, to Mary,328; on Mary (quoted), ibid.Knox, John, xv, 65 et seq., 85,

125, 150, 168, 275, 299, 345;enmity of, to Mary, 65; andElizabeth, 65, 72; and MaryStuart, 68 et seq., 85, 300; —interview with, 71 etseq.; fanaticismof, 65 et seq.; and the lifeat Mary's court, 81 et seq.;sermon quoted, 81; preachescoronation sermon of JamesVI, 302; on Mary, 405INDEXLangside, battle of, 318Leicester, Robert Dudley, Earlof, xvii, 115, 125, 343, 355,363, 3.76, 377. 427; proposedby Elizabeth as husband forMary, 108 et seq.; and AmyRobsart, 108, 252; and Elizabeth,108 et seq., 252; createdEarl of Leicester, 112Lennox, Margaret (Douglas),Countess of, 114; confined inthe Tower, 122Lennox, Matthew Stuart, Earlof, XV, 113, 115,220,277,344;and. Mary, 228, 254, 255; andDarnley's murder, 254 et seq.;asks Elizabeth for protection(1567); 255. 256; Bothwell'strial and, 259Lennoxes, clan of the, 5Lethington, Laird of. See Maitland,WilliamLindsay, Earl, 218, 301, 368;and Mary, 287Lindsays, clan of the, 5Linlithgow Castle, iLivingstone, Mary, 14Lochleven Castle, 289, ago, 301,303; Mary at, 307 et seq.Lorraine, Cardinal of (Charlesde Guise), 49; letter of, onMary, 19Lorraine, Duke of, on HenryDamley, 98Macbeth, Lady, comparisonwith Mary, 264 et seq.Maitland, William, of Lethington,xiv, 58, 74, 77, 122, 139,140, 178, 185, 192, 193, 232,246, 248, 277, 336, 343, 368;relations of, with Mary, 64,180, 288, 338,- 339, 342;diplomacy of, 64, 281; characterof, 64; on Mary andDamley, 192; on Mary, 209;and Darnley's murder, 218,219, 225; and the "abduction"of Mary, 272 ; leaves theservice of Mary (1567), 281;and the York Conference, 338,and the Duke of Norfolk, 339Maitlands, clan of the, 5Mameret, Roche (Confessor toMary), 277Mar, John Erskine, 2nd Earl of,guardian of James VI, 179,271, 272, 279, 302Marvell, Andrew (1621-78), 431Mary I, Queen of England, xvi;deathof (1558), 27Mary of Guise, xiv, 10, 11, 58,142; letter of James V to, 1,2;death of (1560), 36Mary Stuart, Queen of Scotlandand the Isles: health of, 75,209, 355, 381, 401; horsemanshipof, 20, 56, 74, 94, 319;physique of, 75; sex appeal of,82, 313; skill in sport of, 20;birth of, (1542) I; succeeds asQueen of Scotland (1542), i,4; betrothal of, to Edward VI(1542), 9; Henry VIII's plansabout her marriage, 9 et seq.;ill luck of, 9, 88, 364; atStirling Castle, 11; at Inchmahome,12 «( seq.; goes toFrance (1548), 14, 15; betrothal,her, to Francis II,13; childhood of (1542-7), 13et seq.; four companions of,13, 14; arrival and welcome,her, in France (1548), 15, 16;opinions of, and those of otherpeople on Mary, 19 et seq., 37,45, 94, 116, 201, 251, 260, 354.463 R

INDEX360, 363, 409, 410, 419, 432;marriage documents of (threesecret deeds of) (1558), 24;wedding of, to Francis II(1558), 24, 25, 26, 276; claimof, to English crowns, 27 et seq.,42, 43, 106, 126; assumes theroyal arms of England (1558),28 et seq., 46; relations of,with Elizabeth, 29, 42 et seq.,78 et seq., 90 et seq., 99, 125 etseq., 252 etseq., 320,321, 328 etseq., 345 et seq., 352; (hatredof, for Elizabeth), 367 et seq.,406, 407, 418 etseq.; stTuggleof, with Elizabeth, symbolismof, 100 et seq.; is Queen ofFrance (i559)> 3', 33; coronationof, 33; widowhood of(1560), 36 et seq., Catherinede' Medici, and, 39; schemesof, for marriage (1560), 40,41,8g; life of, at French court(1558-61), 41; refusal of, toratify Treaty of Edinburgh,43, 47,80; audience of English,ambassador with, 36 et seq.;ceremonial departure of, fromFrance (1561), 48 «« seq.; andthe French poets, 51; arrivalof, in Scotland (1561), 54, 55;entry of, into Edinburgh(1561), 56, 57; relations of,with Moray, 60, 63, 64, 128,162, 258, 318, 339; relationsof, with Knox, 65 et seq.; lifeof, as Queen ofScotland (1561-4), 74etseg.;—at Holy rood, 80,81; relations of, with her subjects,74, 77 ; Chastelard, and,83 et seq. Casket Letters, seeunder that head. Letters: toBabington, 398, 41; to Bothwell(1567), j«« Casket Letters;to Cardinal of Lorraine (1568)(quoted), 319; Catherine de'Medici (1566), 187; duringher imprisonment, 257 etpassim; to Elizabeth, 79, 104,464105, 106, 124, 321, 323, 331,334^ .357. 376, 420 > writtenthe night before her execution,435,; poems of, 38, 84, 85, 202et seq., 276, 356, 366; and opposingforces of her epoch,100; negotiations for her remarriage(1563-5), 105 etseq.;and her proposed marriagewith Dudley, 109; relationsof, with Darnley, 115, 116 «(seq., 135, 136, 153, I5Q etseq.,168, 177, 185 etseq., 197, 220,222; (1567), 228 et seq.;crown of England is offered toher (1565), 123; proclamationof, to the Scottish rebels(1565), 128; action of, andher victory in insurrection(1565), 128, 129; relations of,with Rizzio, 140 et seq.; andthe murder of Rizzio, 151 etseq.; held prisoner in Holyrood(1566) ,155; and the conspiratorsagainst Rizzio, 157et seqi; plans vengeance onconspirators against Rizzio,157 et seq.; secret aim torestore Catholicism, 162;flight of, from Holyrood, 165et seq.; relations of, with Bothwell,165, 181 et seq., 204 etseq., 216, 227, 233, 260, 313;passion of, for Bothwell, 193,198, ao^etseq., sioetseq., 232,241. 249, 254, 258, 268, 277,278, ^08passim; vengeance of,on Darnley, 168; birth of herson, 171; makes a will, 170;James VI, and, 171, 191, 369et seq.; safeguards paternity ofJames VI, 170; desires divorcefrom Darnley, 177; flight of,from Darnley, 179; stays atAlloa (1566), ibid; and theJedburgh episode (1566), 209;visits Bothwell at HermitageCastle, ibid; at CraigmillarCastle conference (1566) ,217;

INDEX465complicity of, in Darnley'smurder, 218, 220, 222 et seg.,294. 299, 310, 335 et seq.;Kirk o' Field, and (1567),238, 239; received Bothwell atSeton House, 250; Lennoxand, 255; comparison of, withLady Macbeth, 264 et seq.; iswith child by Bothwell (1567),268, 269, 301, 308, 309; "abduction"by Bothwell of(1567), 270 et seq.; visitsJames VI at Stirling (1567),271; returns to Edinburghwith Bothwell, 274; goes toBorthwick (1567), 280; helpsBothwell to pay mercenaries,ibid; relations of, with theScottish lords, 281 et seq., 287et seq., 299, 336, 337; army of,282, 317; arrival of, at Dunbar,281; at Carberry Hill(1567), 282, 283; saves Bothwell,284; progress of, fromCarberry Hill to Edinburgh,285, 286; Elizabeth supports,293 et seq.; "voluntary" abdicationof, 299; visited byMoray at Lochleven Castle(1567) > 303> 304 J ^t LochlevenCastle, 307 et seq.; mentalagony of, 308 et seq.; treatmentof and life at LochlevenCastle, 309 et seq.; marriage of,to Bothwell (1567), 260, 261,268, 269 276 et seq., 292305; results of, 278;refusal of, to forsake Bothwell,288, 296, 301; three documentssigned by (1567), 300,301; schemes of, for othermarriages, 313, 315; escapefrom Lochleven Castle, 314,315, 316; at battle of Langside,319; decides to takerefuge in England, ibid;reaches Dundrennan Abbey,320; sends token of friendshipto Elizabeth, 321, 327; arrivesin England (1568), 322;and Cecil, 324; Elizabeth'sperfidious treatment of, from1568 onwards, 325 et passim;imprisonment of, 326 et seq.,344 et passim; in CarlisleCastle, 328 et seq.; legal positionof, in England, 332; removalof, to Bolton Castle,333; trial of, at York (1568),337; Maitland of Lethington,and, 338; scheme for marriageto Norfolk (1568), 340 et seq.;decision of the WestminsterConference on, 347, 349; lifein prison of (i569-1586), 349et seq.; Lord Shrewsbury, and,375; Bond of Association and(i584)> 380, 381; Babington,and, 390 et seq.; "consent" of,to murder of Elizabeth, 398;at Chartley and the Babingtonplot, 400 et seq.; detainmentof, at Tixall Park, 402;goes to Fotheringay Castle,403; trial of (1586), 408 et seq.;James VI and execution of,418; death-warrant is broughtto, 432; execution of (1587),433 et seq.; Sir Andrew Melville,and, 437; remains of,interred in Westminster Abbey,455Mauvissiere, French ambassador,on Henry Darnley, 117Medici, Catherine de'. SeeCatherine de' Medici.Melville, Andrew, 436, 437, 439Melville, Sir James (1535-1617),xiv; diplomatic mission of, toLondon, no et seq.; conveysthe tidings of James VI's birthto Elizabeth, 172, 173 ; tries tohinder third marriage ofMary, 274; and the Leicestermarriage, no et seq.; diplomacyof, no, 112 et seq.; onthe personality of Elizabeth,no et seq.; on Elizabeth and

Dudley, 112 ;jMemoiVj(quoted),114, 172; on Elizabeth's attitudetowards birth ofJames VI, 174; on Mary, 260Melville, Sir Robert, 301Mendoza, Spanish ambassadorin London, 378Middlemore, Henry, 330Mildmay, Sir Walter, 409Monarchy in Europe in the sixteenthcentury, 291 et seq.;exemplified in Mary's conceptionof the divine right ofrulers, 70, 94, 96, 97, 302, 305,331) 346, 410Montgomery, Comte de, andHenry II, 31Morality, ideas of, in the sixteenthcentury, 251, 341. Seealso Europe; Monarchy; Politics.Moray, James Stuart, Earl of,xiv; and Mary's arrival inScotland, 55; appointed primeminister by Mary (1561), 60;Mary and, 61, 63, 64, 121,127, 162, 168, 180; parentageof, 61, 310; character of, 62,63, 121, 162; psychology of,and of his position, 62; politicalability and aims of, ibid.;Elizabeth and, 63, 335; andcelebration of Mass at Holyrood(1565), 69; as ruler ofScotland (1561-3), 74, 77; onfriendship between Mary andElizabeth, 79; Chastelardand, 86; second marriage ofMary and, 105, 121, 126; disappearancesof, and his policy,127, 238, 258, 303; leader ofinsurrection (1565), 128; outlawryof (1565), 129, 130; atthe court of Elizabeth (1565),130' «i seq.; and murder ofRizzio, 162; and the questionof Mary's divorce (1566), 178,185, 186, 192, 193, 209, 246,277, 289, 295, 332, 336, 337,INDEX368; Bothwell and, 185, 311 •presides over home affairs(1566), 185; and murder ofDarnley, 218, 219, 237, 246;and Casket Letters, 298, 343,344; makes queenship ofMary impossible, 303; visitsMary (1567), 303, 304; GasketLetters are read in Scot-. tish parliament by Order of(1567), 305; strictness of regencyof, 317; army of (1567),318; and the investigation intoDarnley's murder, 332, 343,344; and the York Conference'337 et seq.; decision of WestminsterConference on (1569),347Morgan, Thomas, agent ofMary, 385, 387, 393, 401; andGiflTord, 388Morton, James Douglas, 4thEarl of, XV, 218, 261, 2g8, 336,368; takes charge of CasketLetters, 200, 298; and Damley'smurder, 218, 336Nau, Claude, 383, 397; on birthof Mary's child, 309Niddry, West, 317Norfolk, Thomas Howard, 4thDuke of, xvii, 342, 362; andMary, 325, 337 et seq.; andMaitland of Lethington, 339et seq.; at York Conference,339; scheme of, for marryingMary, 340 et seq., 362; executionof, 363, 368Northumberland, Thomas Percy,Earl of, and Mary, 355, 337;rebellion of, 362; execution of,363. 368Papacy, the, and Scotland, 8;and James V, 61. See also ClementVII; Pius IV; Pius V.Paris, celebrations in, for thewedding of Mary andFrancis II, 25, 26466

INDEXParker, Archbishop Matthew,345Paulet, Mary's secretary, 141Paulet, Sir Amyas, xvii, 381, 387et seq., 398, 409; dismissal of,by Mary, 141; puritanism of,382; guardianship, his, ofMary Stuart, 382 et seq.; onMary's health (quoted), 382;cuts off Mary's correspondence,383, 384; relations of,with Mary, 387 et seq., 401,419; letter of Walsingham to,on Mary's death, 425, 426;and the death of Mary, 428,429; and Elizabeth, ibid.;letter of, to Walsingham, 429Phelippes, Thomas, 388, 394,397, 398Philip II, King of Spain, 90, 91,25'; 378 385, 416, 435; andMary, 107, 360, 389; andArmada, 452Pinkie Cleugh, Battle of (1547),12Pius IV, Pope, 120, 251PiusV, Pope, 313, 378Poitiers, Diane de, 30, 40Pr^au, chaplain to Mary, 434,440Purpose, The (a masque), Maryand Chastelard in, 81, 85"Queen's Maries," the, xv, 14,15, 49, 52, 82. See also Beaton,Mary; Fleming, Mary; Livingstone,Mary; Seton, Mary.Randolph, Thomas, English ambassador,117, 122, 133; onMary and Darnley after theirmarriage, 135; and Darnley,138; on Scottish court atChristmas 1565, ibid.; onRizzio, 144; on bonds ofRizzio conspiracy, 149; reportof, his, affairs in Scotlandin February 1566, ibid.Reformation, the, 379; in Scotland,58 et seq., 67, 122Rheims, Cathedral of, 33, 41Ridolfi, 360, 363Rizzio, David, xv, 118, 121, 140,141, 166, 169; champion of467the Counter - Reformation,118, 119; his part in themarriage of Mary and Darnley,119, 120; and Darnley, 138,145, 146; made private secretaryto Mary (1566), 140, 141;personality of, 141; sonnets of,ibid.; and Scottish nobility,144; relations of, with Mary,142, 145, 146; murder of(1566), 151 etseq.Rizzio, Joseph, 170, 249Robsart, Amy, 108; murder of,and Elizabeth, 252Ronsard, Pierre, xvi, 18, 19, 21;on Scotland, 4; on Mary as av«dow, 37; on Mary in AuDipart, 50, 51; Hymn toDeath (quoted), 87Rothes, Earl of, 261Ruthven Patrick, 3rd lord, andthe murder of Rizzio, 152,154, 168,218Ruthven, William, 4th lord, 313Savage, John, one of the Babingtonconspirators, 391, 399,404Scotland, lairds and nobles of,XV, 1, 2; clans of, 3 et seq.;conditions in, in sixteenthcentury, 5 et seq., 58; povertyof, 7, 55 et seq.; and England,9; nobles of, and Henry VIII,ibid.; Lords of the Congregationin, and Mary (1560), 42;religion in (1561), 59, 60, 65etseq.; rebellion in (1565), 126et seq.; (J567), 282; (1568),318; conspiracy against Rizzioof, 144, 145; political assassinationin, 149; conspiratorsin the Rizzio murder, and

INDEXMary, 163 ei seq., 246;vengeance of, on Damley,178; conspirators pardoned,192; public opinion ininflamed against Mary,299; Scottish Parliament andthe Casket Letters (1567), 200,201, 305. See also Huntly;Earl of; Lennox, Earl of;Mar, Earl of; Moray, Earl of;Morton, Earl of, Ruthven,Lord.Scrope, Lord, mission of, toMary, 328Sempill, Lord, 167Seton, George, Lord, 166, 250,316,317Seton, Mary, 14Seton, House, 166, 250Setons, the, 315, 317Sheffield, 350Shrewsbury, George Talbot, 6thEarl of, xvii, 353, 375, 381,428, 432, 438, 439, 441Shrewsbury (Bess of Hardwick),Countess of, xvii, 353, 354;and Mary, 355; gossip of,375 et seq.; spreads infamousreports on Mary, ibid.Silva, Guzman de, Spanish ambassador,258, 273Solway Moss, Battle/of, 3Somerset, Edward Seymour,Duke of, 12Spain and Elizabeth, 378Standen, Sir William, 172Stirling Castle, 11, 12, 191, 192,271Stuart, House of, 3, 4, to, 315Stuart, James. See Moray, Earlof.Taylor, Darnley's body-servant,239Tixall, Park, 401, 402Tudor, House of, 9, 12, 124Tutbury Castle, 350,387Valois, House of, t6, 24, 27; andclaim of Mary to the Englishcrown, 28Vega, Lope de, on the beauty ofMary, 21'Wakefield, 350Walsingham, Sir Francis, xvii,394, 408, 447; and Morgan,385; and Mary, 385, 389, 390,395. 396; and Babington, 392,398, 399; letter of, to Pauleton Mary's death, 425; andPaulet, 429; and James VI,450 ,Walsingham Conspiracy. SeeBabington Plot.Westminster Conference, 343 etseq., 349; decisions of, 347Westminster Abbey, 455Wigmore, Richard, on Mary atthe scaffold (quoted), 440, 442Wishart, George, 66York Conference, 201, 337 el seq.,368Zouch, Lord, 412468