Chapter VII: Part 7

“The presence-chamber was hung with rich tapestry, and the floor, after the English fashion, strewn with hay, through which the queen commonly passed on her way to chapel. At the door stood a gentleman dressed in velvet, with a gold chain, whose office was to introduce to the queen any person of distinction who came to wait upon her. It was Sunday, when there was usually the greatest attendance of nobility. In the same hall were the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Bishop of London, a great number of councillors of state, officers of the crown, and gentlemen who waited the queen’s coming out, which she did from her own apartment when it was time to go to prayers, attended in the following manner: first went gentlemen, barons, earls, Knights of the Garter, all richly dressed and bareheaded; next came the chancellor, bearing the seals in a red silk purse, between two, one of which carried the royal sceptre, the other the sword of state in a red scabbard studded with golden _fleur-de-lys_, the point upward.

“Next came the queen, in the sixty-sixth year of her age, as we were told, very majestic; her face oblong, fair, but wrinkled; her eyes small, yet black and pleasant; her nose a little hooked, her lips narrow and her teeth black (a defect the English seem subject to, from their too great use of sugar). She had in her ears two pearls, with very rich drops; she wore false hair, and that red; upon her head she had a small crown, reported to be made of some of the gold of the celebrated Lunebourg table. Her bosom was uncovered, as all the English ladies have it till they marry, and she had on a necklace of exceeding fine jewels. Her hands were small, her fingers long, and her stature neither tall nor low; her air was stately, her manner of speaking mild and obliging. That day she was dressed in white silk, bordered with pearls of the size of beans, and over it a mantle of black silk, shot with silver threads; her train was very long, the end of it borne by a marchioness. Instead of a chain she had a collar of gold and jewels. As she went along in all this state and magnificence, she spoke very graciously, first to one, then to another, in English, French, and Italian; for besides being well skilled in Greek, Latin, and the languages I have mentioned, she is mistress of Spanish, Scotch, and Dutch. Whoever speaks to her it is kneeling; now and then she raises some with her hand. Wherever she turned her face as she was going along everybody fell down on their knees. The ladies of the court followed next to her, very handsome and well shaped, and for the most part dressed in white. She was guarded on each side by the gentlemen pensioners, fifty in number, with gilt battle-axes. In the ante-chapel, next the hall, where we were, petitions were presented to her, and she received them most graciously, which occasioned the acclamation of ‘Long live Queen Elizabeth!’”

But while the queen was still at service in the chapel, her table was set out with the following solemnity:—

“A gentleman entered the room, bearing a rod, and along with him another, who had a table-cloth, which, after they had both kneeled three times with the utmost veneration, he spread upon the table, and after kneeling again they both retired. Then came two others, one with the rod again, the other with a salt-cellar, a plate, and bread; when they had kneeled as the others had done, and placed what was brought upon the table, they too retired, with the same ceremonies performed by the first. At last came an unmarried lady (we were told she was a countess), and along with her a married one, bearing a tasting knife; the former was dressed in white silk, who, when she had prostrated herself three times in the most graceful manner, approached the table and rubbed the plates with bread and salt, with as much awe as if the queen had been present. When they had waited there a little while, the yeomen of the guard entered, bareheaded, clothed in scarlet, with a golden rose upon their backs, bringing in at each turn a course of twenty-four dishes, served in plate, most of it gilt; these dishes were received by a gentleman in the same order they were brought, and placed upon the table, while the lady-taster gave to each of the guard a mouthful to eat of the particular dish he had brought, for fear of any poison. During the time that this guard,—which consists of the tallest and stoutest men that can be found in all England, being carefully selected for this service,—were bringing dinner, twelve trumpets and two kettle-drums made the hall ring for half an hour together.

“At the end of all this ceremonial a number of unmarried ladies appeared, who, with particular solemnity, lifted the meat off the table, and conveyed it into the queen’s inner and more private chamber, where, after she had chosen for herself, the rest goes to the ladies of the court. The queen dines and sups alone, with very few attendants; and it is very seldom that anybody, foreign or native, is admitted at that time, and then only at the intercession of some person in power.”

This same traveller, Hentzner, states “that he counted on London bridge no less than three hundred heads of persons who had been executed for high treason.” Surely a lamentable evidence of Elizabeth’s cruelty.

J. R. Green, M. A., in his “History of the English People,” thus sketches the character of Queen Elizabeth:—

“Her moral temper recalled in its strange contrasts the mixed blood within her veins. She was at once the daughter of Henry and Anne Boleyn. From her father she inherited her frank and hearty address, her love of popularity and of free intercourse with the people, her dauntless courage, her amazing self-confidence. Her harsh, man-like voice, her impetuous will, her pride, her furious outbursts of anger, came to her with her Tudor blood. She rated great nobles as if they were school-boys; she met the insolence of Essex with a box on the ear; she would break, now and then, into the gravest deliberations, to swear at her ministers like a fish-wife.

“But strangely in contrast with the violent outlines of her Tudor temper stood the sensuous, self-indulgent nature she derived from Anne Boleyn. Splendor and pleasure were with Elizabeth the very air she breathed. Her delight was to move in perpetual progresses from castle to castle through a series of gorgeous pageants, fanciful and extravagant as a caliph’s dream. She loved gayety and laughter and wit. A happy retort or a finished compliment never failed to win her favor. She hoarded jewels. Her dresses were innumerable. Her vanity remained even to old age, the vanity of a coquette in her teens. No adulation was too fulsome for her, no flattery of her beauty too gross. She would play with her rings, that her courtiers might note the delicacy of her hands; or dance a coranto, that the French ambassador, hidden dexterously behind a curtain, might report her sprightliness to his master. Her levity, her frivolous laughter, her unwomanly jests, gave color to a thousand scandals. Her character, in fact, like her portraits, was utterly without shade. Of womanly reserve or self-restraint she knew nothing. No instinct of delicacy veiled the voluptuous temper which had broken out in the romps of her girlhood, and showed itself almost ostentatiously throughout her later life. Personal beauty in a man was a sure passport to her liking. She patted handsome young squires on the neck when they knelt to kiss her hand, and fondled her ‘sweet Robin,’—Lord Leicester,—in the face of the court.

“It was no wonder that the statesmen whom she outwitted held Elizabeth almost to the last to be little more than a frivolous woman. But the Elizabeth whom they saw was far from being all of Elizabeth. The wilfulness of Henry, the triviality of Anne Boleyn, played over the surface of a nature hard as steel, a temper purely intellectual, the very type of reason untouched by imagination or passion. Luxurious and pleasure-loving as she seemed, Elizabeth lived simply and frugally, and she worked hard. Her vanity and caprice had no weight whatever with her state affairs. The coquette of the presence-chamber became the coolest and hardest of politicians at the council-board. Fresh from the flattery of her courtiers, she would tolerate no flattery in the closet; she was herself plain and downright of speech with her councillors, and she looked for a corresponding plainness of speech in return. Her expenditure was parsimonious, and even miserly. If any trace of her sex lingered in her actual statesmanship, it was seen in the simplicity and tenacity of purpose that often underlie a woman’s fluctuations of feeling. It was this in part which gave her her marked superiority over the statesmen of her time. No nobler group of ministers ever gathered round a council-board than those who gathered round the council-board of Elizabeth. But she is the instrument of none. She listens, she weighs, she uses or puts by the counsels of each in turn, but her policy as a whole is her own. It was a policy, not of genius, but of good sense. Of political wisdom, indeed, in its larger and more generous sense, Elizabeth had little or none; but her political tact was unerring. It was a policy of detail, and in details her wonderful readiness and ingenuity found scope for their exercise. She played with grave cabinets as a cat plays with a mouse, and with much of the same feline delight in the mere embarrassment of her victims.

“Had Elizabeth written the story of her reign, she would have prided herself, not on the triumph of England or the ruin of Spain, but on the skill with which she had hoodwinked and outwitted every statesman in Europe during fifty years. Nor was her trickery without political value. Nothing is more revolting in the queen, but nothing is more characteristic, than her shameless mendacity. It was an age of political lying, but in the profusion and recklessness of her lies Elizabeth stood without a peer in Christendom. A falsehood was to her simply an intellectual means of meeting a difficulty.

“She had a quick eye for merit of any sort, and a wonderful power of enlisting its whole energy in her service. Her success, indeed, in securing from the beginning of her reign to its end, with the single exception of Leicester, precisely the right men for the work she set them to do, sprang in great measure from the noblest characteristic of her intellect.

“Elizabeth could talk poetry with Spenser and philosophy with Bruno; she could discuss euphuism with Lyly, and enjoy the chivalry of Essex; she could turn from talk of the latest fashions, to pore with Cecil over despatches and treasury books; she could pass from tracking traitors with Walsingham, to settle points of doctrine with Parker, or to calculate with Frobisher the chances of a northwest passage to the Indies. The versatility and many-sidedness of her mind enabled her to understand every phase of the intellectual movement of her day, and to fix by a sort of instinct on its higher representatives. But the greatness of the queen rests above all on her power over her people. We have had grander and nobler rulers, but none so popular as Elizabeth. It was only on her intellectual side that Elizabeth touched the England of her day. All its moral aspects were simply dead to her. She made her market with equal indifference out of the heroism of William of Orange or the bigotry of Philip. The noblest aims and lives were only counters on her board. No woman ever lived who was so destitute of the sentiment of religion. While the world around her was being swayed more and more by theological beliefs and controversies, Elizabeth was absolutely untouched by them.”

For nineteen long years Queen Elizabeth kept the beautiful Mary, Queen of Scots, in captivity, without right or reason, Mary Stuart’s defenders declare; but Elizabeth’s upholders claim that Mary was guilty of many plots against the English Queen.

It is almost impossible to tread the mazy paths of this epoch with impartial glance and unbiassed opinions. The writers on both sides of these knotty questions are able and apparently conscientious. We can but state both sides, and leave the reader to form his or her own opinion.

That Mary, Queen of Scots, could have been subjected to all the terrible trials and awful accusations which fell upon her seemingly defenceless head and still be entirely innocent of the crimes alleged against her, is quite possible, considering her peculiar situation and the selfish hatred of her enemies; yet those who believe in her guilt bring forth very strong evidence to prove that she connived at murder, and willingly gave herself into the power of the murderer.

This seems too atrocious to claim regarding a woman of the otherwise winning and kindly character of Mary, Queen of Scots. When two entire nations,—and one of them governed by a keen-witted, dissembling, and weakly-jealous queen,—are joined to destroy one poor helpless woman, and that woman a prisoner in the hands of her enemies, with spies at every keyhole and adversaries on every side, hoping to raise themselves to power by her destruction,—it is hardly to be wondered at that evidence can be found or forged which shall aid them in overwhelming her in ruin and at length in death.

Either Mary, Queen of Scots, stands forth in history as the most diabolical instance of hypocritical innocence cloaking the blackest of infamy which the world affords,—for she was too enlightened to be excused as a Cleopatra, and too apparently an embodiment of womanly loveliness and gentleness to be shunned as a Catherine de’ Medici, and therefore all the more dangerous and insidious a tempter to lead others to hideous crimes;—or she was the most pathetic and helpless victim of the most nefarious intrigues, which seemingly none but the devils in Hades could have originated and carried out, to the lasting disgrace of civilized and so-called Christian nations, and the indelible dishonor of the heartless sovereign who abetted and consummated such an atrocious crime.

Either Mary, Queen of Scots, or Elizabeth, Queen of England, must be stamped with disgrace and even infamy; or _both_ of them were victims in the hands of fiendish aspirants for power,—the _one_, _unwillingly_, helpless as a prisoner, treacherously betrayed; the _other_, _willingly_, tarnishing her royal glory out of weak jealousy veiled under hypocritical protestations of political policy and unselfish devotion to the welfare of her subjects.

If Elizabeth was guilty of putting to death an innocent and persecuted kinswoman, who, relying on her avowed declarations of love and friendship, fled to her for safety, only to meet a lingering and dishonorable imprisonment, and an outrageous and ignominious death, at the hands of her who basely professed the tenderest sympathy and sisterly affection,—then Mary, Queen of Scots’ tragic death is unparalleled in history; for though other queens have died upon the scaffold, the executioner’s hand was not lifted at the command of a _near_ and _professedly-devoted_ relation; nor did an _only son_ behold his mother’s shameful death without raising hand or word to help her when that _son_ was a _king_ upon a throne. That Mary Queen of Scots, rightfully claimed the throne of Scotland is beyond dispute; that she also rightfully claimed her place as successor to Elizabeth for the throne of England, is clearly proven from the fact that her son, James VI. of Scotland, ascended the throne of England, as James I., upon the death of Elizabeth, without any seeming opposition or question of his rights of succession.

Mary Stuart, queen of Scotland, was born on the 7th of December, 1542, in the palace of Linlithgow. The blood of the two rival claimants of the crown of Scotland, John Baliol and Robert Bruce, mingled in the veins of Mary Stuart.

“It was the injustice of Henry VIII.’s will in ignoring the descendants of his eldest sister, and placing those of the youngest in the order of the regal succession next his own children, which rendered it expedient for Mary, Queen of Scots, afterwards to obtain a recognition of her rights from Elizabeth, although in point of legitimacy, Mary’s lineal title to the throne of England was considered by all the Roman Catholics in Europe, and the people still attached to that communion in England and Ireland, as more valid than that of Elizabeth. Elizabeth had, however, been recognized by the Parliament of England as the successor of her late sister, Queen Mary I., and solemnly accepted by the realm on the day of her consecration as the sovereign. It was therefore futile to urge in depreciation of her title the stigma which her unnatural father’s declaration, her unfortunate mother’s admission, and Cranmer’s sentence, had combined to pass upon her legitimacy, for, according to the constitutional laws of England, the crown had taken away all defects that might previously have existed. The demand of Mary Stuart to be acknowledged as her successor was in itself the strongest recognition of the unimpugnable nature of Elizabeth’s rights, and therefore ought to have been met in a friendly spirit, instead of being repelled in a manner which naturally inspired suspicions in the mind of Mary, that Elizabeth intended to supersede her legitimate claims in favor either of one of the descendants of the youngest sister of Margaret Tudor, or to bring forward the Earl of Huntingdon, great-grandson of George, Duke of Clarence.”

It was poor Mary Stuart’s first father-in-law, Henry II. of France, who cost her her head, by prematurely declaring her queen of England, in 1559, and it was largely owing to the base treacheries and plots of her second father-in-law, the Earl of Lennox, that the net-work of vile lies, and slanders were spread about her in Scotland, which afterwards so fatally entrapped her, to which the weak and vacillating Darnley lent himself by turns, and then repenting, sued for pardon, which the forgiving Mary had no sooner granted, than he was again persuaded by her enemies to betray her.

In the midst of the labyrinth of conflicting testimonies and evidences, a thread has been found which, following it to its source, leads us to the English court of Elizabeth, as the first instigator of those infamous lies which so many historians have claimed to be the truth, and which, if so, must perforce stigmatize the unfortunate Mary, Queen of Scots, as guilty beyond doubt of the terrible crimes of which she was accused. But researches have revealed a deeper-laid scheme than was for a long time imagined, and which, if true, brands the English cabinet, and to some extent Elizabeth herself, as an accessory to that scheme,—though we will give her the credit to suppose that her aid was gained by keeping her in ignorance of the vileness of the plot,—with as great, and even greater infamy, than has ever rested upon the probably guiltless name of the persecuted Queen of Scots. In proof whereof, we will give the statements which bear upon this point in their proper place in the sketch of Mary Stuart’s life, as we proceed.

“With the exceptions of Queen Elizabeth, Catherine de’ Medici, and the Countess of Shrewsbury, Mary had no female enemies. No female witnesses from her household came forward to bear testimony against her when it was out of her power to purchase secrecy, if they had been cognizant of her guilt. None of the ladies of her court, whether of the reformed religion or of the old faith—not even Lady Bothwell herself—lifted up her voice to impute blame to her. Mary was attended by noble Scotch gentlewomen in the days of her royal splendor; they clave to her in adversity, through good report and evil report; they shared her prisons, they waited upon her on the scaffold, and forsook not her mangled remains till they had seen them consigned to a long-denied tomb.”

Truly such faithful friendships throughout a life of sorrow and continued aspersions against her character speak volumes on the side of Mary’s innocence.

Mary Stuart was but a few days old, when James V., her royal father, died. When Mary was nine months of age the royal ceremonial of her coronation was solemnized. The baby queen was crowned with all the solemnities usual upon the inauguration of the kings of Scotland. The tiny infant was wrapped in regal robes, and borne in pompous procession from her nursery into the church where Cardinal Beton placed the royal crown upon her baby brow, and her little fingers were made to clasp the sceptre of state, and she was girded with the famous sword which had been borne by so many warlike monarchs of Scotland. And while prelates and peers knelt before the tiny queen in solemn reverence, and royal princes esteemed it an august honor to kiss her baby cheek, the terrified infant, frightened by all these strange rough men around her, wept. Poor baby queen! She began her reign in tears and ended it upon the scaffold.

When Mary Stuart was five years of age she was betrothed to the Dauphin of France, afterwards Francis II., and when she was six years old she was sent to France to be educated. She was at this time remarkable for her exquisite loveliness of form and feature and precocious intellect. Four young Scotch girls of high rank had accompanied the tiny queen from her native land, and as they were all named Mary, they were known as the “Queen’s Maries.” These Scottish maidens were Mary Beton, Mary Seton, Mary Livingston, and Mary Fleming. When in after years one after another of these Maries married and left her service, they were replaced by others bearing the same name, as it was a fancy of the queen always to have four Maries attending her.

Mary astonished the court of France and all the foreign ambassadors there assembled, when only twelve years of age, by reciting with grace and dignity a Latin oration of her own composition, before the king and a distinguished company. Her essay, written in the style of Cicero, was a plea in behalf of the “capacity of females for the highest mental acquirements in literature and the fine arts.”

So beautiful was the young queen at this time that, when on Palm Sunday she, with all the princesses and ladies of the court of France, was carrying a palm branch from church, a woman in the crowd was so dazzled with the beauty and heavenly expression of Mary’s face, that she knelt at the feet of the child in rapturous admiration, exclaiming, “Are you not indeed an angel?”

A portrait of Mary Stuart, formerly in the royal gallery at Fontainebleau, represents her in her fourteenth year. “The color of her hair and eyes which has been as much disputed as the question of her guilt or innocence, is of that rich tint of brown called by the French chestnut; so are her beautiful eyebrows. Her complexion is clear and delicate, but somewhat pale, her nose straight, and her features lovely, refined, and intellectual. She wears a white satin Scotch cap, placed very low on one side of her head, with a rosette of white ostrich feathers, having in the centre a ruby brooch, round which is wrought in gold letters _Mariæ Reginæ Scotorum_. From this depends a drooping plume formed of small pendant pearls. Her dress is of white damask, fitting closely to her shape, with a small partlet ruff of scalloped point lace, supported by a collar of sapphires and rubies; a girdle of gems to correspond encircles her waist. The dress is made without plaits, gradually widening towards the feet in the shape of a bell, and is fastened down the front with medallions of pearls and precious stones. A royal mantle of pure white is attached to the shoulders of her dress, trimmed with point lace. Her sleeves are rather full, parted with strings of pearls, and finished with small ruffles and jewelled bracelets. Her hands are exquisitely formed. She rests one on the back of a crimson velvet fauteuil, emblazoned with the royal _fleurs-de-lys_; in the other she holds an embroidered handkerchief. The arms of Scotland, singly, are displayed in a maiden lozenge on the wall above her, for Mary was not yet _la Reine Dauphine_. She was at that time caressingly called by Catherine de’ Medici and the royal children of France, _notre petite Reinette d’Escosse_, and was the pet and idol of the glittering court of Valois. ‘Our petite Reinette Escossaise,’ said Catherine de’ Medici, ‘has but to smile to turn the heads of all Frenchmen.’”

When Mary Stuart was in her sixteenth year she was married to the Dauphin, Francis, who was then fifteen years of age. The nuptial ceremonies and festivities were magnificent in the extreme. Never had the famous portals of Nôtre Dame received so lovely a bride. Her appearance is thus described:—

“She was dressed in a robe whiter than the lily, but so glorious in its fashion and decorations, that it would be difficult, nay impossible, for any pen to do justice to its details. Her regal mantle and train were of bluish-grey cut velvet, richly embroidered with white silk and pearls. It was of a marvellous length, full six toises, covered with precious stones, and was supported by young ladies. Mary wore a royal crown on this occasion far more costly than any previous Scottish monarch could ever boast, composed of the finest gold and most exquisite workmanship, set with diamonds, pearls, rubies, and emeralds of inestimable worth, having in the centre a pendent stone computed at five hundred thousand crowns. About her neck hung a matchless jewel, suspended by chains of precious stones, which, from its description, must have been none other than that well known in Scottish records by the familiar name of the _Great Harry_. This was her own personal property, derived from her royal English great-grandfather, Henry VII., by whom it was presented to her grandmother, Queen Margaret Tudor.” Nôtre Dame blazed with lights, dazzling jewels, and _grande toilettes_. As the ceremony was concluded, Mary greeted her husband as Francis I., king of Scotland; and all the Scottish nobles bent in homage to him. Handfuls of gold and silver coin were then thrown in the midst of the assembled crowds of people, while French heralds proclaimed the marriage, and cried, “Largesse, largesse!” and the royal couple received the titles of “Queen-Dauphiness,” and “The King Dauphin.”

Magnificent banquets, gorgeous balls, and splendid pageants succeeded the marriage ceremonies in the church. The royal palace was decorated with superb splendor and regal lavishness of display. At the grand ball the beautiful bride, the dazzling queen of Scotland, danced the stately pavon,—a kind of minuet, which was performed by ladies alone. As her train was twelve yards long, and was borne after her by a gentleman, following her in the dance, it was a difficult exercise of grace and skill for the young bride to achieve. After the dance, a novel pageant took place in the grand _salon_. Suddenly there issued from the Chamber of Requests six gallant ships, with sails of silver gauze fastened to silver masts. Seated on the deck of each vessel, which was propelled by artificial means, was a prince attired in cloth of gold. Each handsome prince wore a mask; and as the ship sailed by the groups of ladies, the chivalrous knight seized a maiden and placed her on the gorgeous throne beside him. In this exciting game the Dauphin caught his bride, the lovely Mary Stuart. But Prince de Condé, champion of the Huguenots, caused great merriment by capturing, as his lady, the wife of his opponent of Romish faith, the Duke de Guise.

The death of Mary I., queen of England, in 1558, opened the way for the fatal step of Henry II. of France, regarding his royal daughter-in-law, the queen of Scotland. At a grand tournament held in honor of the marriage of Elizabeth of France with Philip II. of Spain, Mary, queen of Scotland, was borne to her place in the royal balcony on a kind of triumphal car, emblazoned with the royal escutcheon of England and Scotland, while she was preceded by heralds who cried, “_Place! place! pour la Reine d’Angleterre!_” And as the people took up the cry, “_Vive la Reine d’Angleterre!_” they little imagined that they were sounding the death-knell of the lovely wife of their dauphin, whom they all adored. It was the assumption of this title at this time which, twenty-seven years afterwards, cost Mary Stuart her life.

But marriage pageants, funeral obsequies, and coronations followed each other in quick succession. At the very marriage tournament when Henry II. of France had caused his royal daughter-in-law to be proclaimed queen of England, he met with an accident which resulted in his death. Mary’s husband was thereupon crowned king as Francis II. of France. But in less than a year after his coronation, Francis breathed his last, and the beautiful Scottish queen was left a widow. That Mary Stuart was a devoted wife to her French husband, all concede; and Charles IX., brother of Francis, has left this pathetic testimony to her worth. Whenever Charles IX. looked upon Mary’s portrait, he would exclaim: “Ah, Francis! happy brother! Though your life and reign were so short, you were to be envied in this,—that you were the possessor of that angel and the object of her love!”

Mary, Queen of Scots, returned to her native land after the death of her husband, Francis II., and at this point Elizabeth’s injustice begins. Mary sent a courteous request to the queen of England, that she should be allowed to pass to her own kingdom through her cousin’s domains; but this was ungraciously refused. After Mary, Queen of Scots, reached Scotland and assumed royal power there, she was immediately beset by suitors for her hand. The King of Sweden, Philip II. of Spain, and the Archduke Charles, son of the Emperor of Germany, all sued for her hand,—the former and latter in their own behalf, while Philip of Spain desired an alliance between Mary and his heir, Don Carlos. As these three princes had been previous suitors to the English queen, Elizabeth never forgave the insult, and vented all her spite of wounded vanity upon the poor Queen of Scots. Then followed the schemes and intrigues regarding the marriage of the Scottish queen; Elizabeth claiming that she had no right to marry any one whom she (Elizabeth) did not approve. At length Mary took the matter into her own hands; and being really in love with the handsome Darnley, her cousin,—who had thus far veiled his weak and vicious nature beneath his courtly manners and attractive face,—this unfortunate marriage was consummated, and Mary Stuart became the hapless victim of her many enemies.

We cannot recount the details of the many trials heaped upon her by her weak and unworthy husband and his intriguing father, joined with Scottish noblemen, who desired her ruin because she was a Catholic. These earls were not actuated by any fervent zeal in upholding the Protestant religion; but as Scotland was then professedly a Protestant nation, these wily nobles used the prevailing opinions of the people to further their own ambitious schemes. And in denouncing Mary as a Catholic, and urging that she be dethroned, that her infant son might be declared king, they were simply endeavoring to grasp the reins of government with their own hands. These Scottish noblemen were leagued with the English court; but Bothwell headed another faction, which explains the seeming difficulty in regard to her being still imprisoned by the very party who rescued her from Bothwell’s power, and from whom she was obliged to flee to England, to seek the promised protection of the English queen.

With her last dying breath, Queen Elizabeth, perchance unwittingly, substantiated her own treachery, or that of the English cabinet, and acknowledged the rights of Mary, Queen of Scots. When urged to name her successor, she said, “My seat has been the seat of kings, and I will have _no rascal_ to succeed me.” Secretary Cecil ventured to ask her what she meant by those significant words; to which she replied,—thereby intimating that all who were not royal princes were _perforce rascals_,—“I will be succeeded by a king, and who should that be but the _King of Scots_.”

In spite of the subtle schemes and wily plotting of the most cunning, keen-witted, and unscrupulous courtiers of those wide-awake and intellectually progressive times, all of them bent upon the destruction of one helpless, imprisoned woman, whose very charms and fascinations and confiding faith in good rather than evil motives, were used by them as the very evidence to convict her of infamous guilt;—whereas, these traits of character are the strongest proof of her innocence;—in spite of all their evil machinations, aided by the jealous vanity of a queen who in other respects evinced a strong mind, and whose reign is regarded as one of the brightest epochs in the world’s history; in spite of all these overwhelming forces conspiring to defame and destroy the hapless Queen of Scots, nevertheless, our higher instincts of humanity intuitively plead for the innocence of this unfortunate Queen Mary, even though, by that very conclusion, we must perforce tarnish the glory of the illustrious Queen of England. For Elizabeth’s acknowledged defects of character harmonize more strongly with such a supposition, than that we should, without violence to our better intuitions, allow that it could be consistent to link with infamy and crime Mary’s equally acknowledged loveliness and kindliness of nature, and devout constancy to what _she_ felt to be vital points in her Christian faith, while at the same time she allowed the most generous liberality of belief to others. For of Mary, Queen of Scots, alone it could be said, what no other sovereign of those days could claim, that she never permitted persecution for religious differences.

That Elizabeth could be dissembling and treacherous when actuated by her weak, jealous vanity, all historians fully prove and frankly acknowledge; that Elizabeth scrupled not even at the death of her former friends, when her petty spite was kindled against them, other instances, such as the execution of the Earl of Essex, whom without doubt Elizabeth loved, yet in a fit of anger condemned to death, most clearly demonstrate. But that Mary, Queen of Scots, could display such traits of character, as all testimony, whether that of friends or foes, are forced to concede to her through long years of imprisonment, while still at heart she was the infamous spirit of evil which her accusers have declared her to be,—a very devil clothed in the likeness of an angel of Paradise,—is against all experiences of human nature, against all analogous instances in history.

The question of Mary Stuart’s guilt or innocence regarding the murder of Darnley and willing marriage with Bothwell, is one thing; but the question of Mary Stuart’s political intrigues with Elizabeth’s enemies is entirely another thing. As regards Mary Stuart’s connivance with her Catholic party during her long imprisonment in England, it is not necessary that she should be proven innocent of such charges to insure her innocence of the horrible infamy regarding the murder of Darnley and willing marriage with his murderer. Were she guilty of these nefarious crimes, all others however black and villanous would be probable. But her innocence regarding those bloody deeds would not be impeached by political intrigues to obtain her rightful liberty. Political scheming was the governmental policy of the times, and he or she who could be the most wily and intriguing _diplomate_ was looked upon as one who had achieved the greatest stroke of genius. Surely in this business none were such adepts as Elizabeth. That Mary Stuart would plot in behalf of her Catholic belief would not prove that she was capable of the vilest crimes. And though one should frankly acknowledge that the death of Mary, Queen of Scots, was an advantage to the cause of Protestantism, by weakening Catholicism in Scotland and England, it would not consequently be necessary to prove that her death was the evidence of any crime on her part, save the insatiate thirst for power, and consequent scheming and plotting therefor, of which none of the sovereigns of her time could be said to be guiltless.

Three things are asserted by those who condemn Mary, Queen of the Scots: that she was guilty of murder, and the vilest crimes of which a woman’s nature can be accused; that she was guilty of political intrigues as a Catholic fanatic in behalf of her Roman faith; or that she was without any religious belief, merely employing religion as a cloak to her crimes. Now, of course, if she were guilty of the first accusation, no one could attempt to deny the others; but though she were guilty of both the last accusations, it would not imply that, therefore, she was necessarily guilty of murder and revolting pollution.

The historians who defend Mary, Queen of Scots, claim that she was innocent, not only of connivance at murder and infamous vice, but that she was also free from all political intrigues, either in defence of her ambitious greed for power, or in upholding her religious fanaticism; while the historians who denounce Mary Stuart declare that she was guilty of all and every crime, both as wife, woman, and fanatic intriguer. From a close comparison of given evidence on both sides, the truth would seem to lie between them; for the proofs seem the stronger which free Mary, Queen of Scots, of connivance at murder, and vile pollution, while probabilities lean toward the supposition that she knew of, if she did not indeed encourage, plots amongst the enemies of England; but as she was unjustly imprisoned by the English, this was only political scheming; and though it might cost her her head, from political expediency, it is no proof at all that she was therefore guilty also of the most shocking and inexpiable corruption. The plea of that _political expediency_ would of course remove infamy from the English cabinet and their sovereign, as regards the one act of decapitating their dangerous prisoner; but at the same time, the same plea of political expediency would excuse the plotting of Mary, Queen of Scots, while her substantiated innocence of the viler and more heinous crimes brought against her character as a wife and a woman, would at the same time heap upon the English government and Elizabeth the deepest and most demoniacal infamy, in conniving at such atrocious and brutal lies against the character and purity of a helpless woman, that they might strengthen their political schemes against her life.

The question of the effect of her downfall upon the world, as regards the upholding of Protestantism, and the check to the onrush of inquisitorial Catholicism, is a very different matter from the question regarding her innocence as a wife and a woman.

That her downfall strengthened Protestantism will be conceded; and that her death from political expediency might have been required may not be denied; which concession would not blot out the treachery of Elizabeth and her ministers, nor would it involve the acknowledgment of Mary Stuart’s guilt of aught save political plotting, which, had she been the _queen_ on the _throne_ rather than the _queen_ in the _prison_, would have been looked upon as justifiable strategy.

There is no doubt that the quarrel of Henry VIII. with the Pope and Romish Church was a great factor in the glorious struggle for religious liberty, and the strengthening of the power of the Reformation, which has filled not only Europe, but the world, with the effulgent light of a broader Christian civilization. But God can make the “very wrath of man to praise him,” and because Henry VIII. was an unconscious and unwilling instrument in the hands of the Almighty, the praise is not to the wicked king, but to an overruling Providence.

If Mary Stuart died for her religion, even though that faith was Catholicism, Protestantism must not fanatically refuse her the martyr’s crown. But if Mary Stuart and Elizabeth were both women utterly devoid of religious principle,—and this Elizabeth’s warmest admirers declare concerning herself, as well as Mary Stuart,—then were these two women engaged in one of the most subtle, ingenious, and well-matched political games which was ever played upon the stage of history; and in this game, Elizabeth showed herself to be the most cunning schemer who ever wore a victor’s crown, while Mary Stuart displayed the most heroic and unconquerable fortitude ever evinced by dying gladiator when vanquished in the Roman amphitheatre.

Unless volumes were written upon the subject, it would be an impossibility to give a clear recital of the statements made by the partisans and defamers of Mary Stuart. According to one side, the famous “Silver-casket Letters” are proved by acts of the Scottish Parliament and many eminent authorities to have been forgeries; and the whole scheme of Rizzio’s and Darnley’s murder to have been concocted in the English cabinet. According to other acts of Parliament and other eminent authorities, the famous “Silver-casket Letters” are pronounced genuine and convincing proofs of Mary’s guilt of conniving at Darnley’s murder, and most shamelessly marrying his murderer.

Now if the “Casket Letters” are genuine, there indeed remains no doubt of Mary’s guilt. But if the act of the Scottish Parliament, framed Dec. 20, 1567, for Bothwell’s forfeiture, which act of Parliament was signed by James Makgill, clerk-register (and which document, it is stated, may be consulted in the register-house, Edinburgh, in the original Latin), be genuine, the “Casket Letters” must be spurious, and Mary’s innocence would be proved. It is only upon these “Silver-casket Letters” that her defamers rest the most important proof of her abetting Darnley’s death and marrying Bothwell _willingly_, knowing that he was her husband’s murderer. In these forged letters, Mary is made to plan with Bothwell the death of Darnley, and her own abduction with a man who had not yet procured a divorce from his wife, whom only six months before he had married with the queen’s most open consent.

This act of Parliament for the forfeiture of Bothwell and sixty-four of his accomplices, after reciting his murder of the “late King Henry,” proceeds in these words: “And also for their treasonable interception of the most noble person of our most illustrious mother, Mary, Queen of Scots, on her way from Linlithgow to the town of Edinburgh, near the bridges vulgarly called ‘Foul Bridges,’ besetting her with a thousand armed men, equipped in manner of war, in the month of April last. She suspecting no evil from any of her subjects, and least of all from the Earl of Bothwell, toward whom she had shown as great offers of liberality and benevolence as prince could show to good subject,—he by force and violence treasonably seized her most noble person; put violent hands upon her, not permitting her to enter her own town of Edinburgh in peace, but carried her away that same night to the Castle of Dunbar, against her will; and there detained her as his prisoner for about twelve days.”

This act of Parliament, after specifying the nefarious crime committed against her, in more explicit language, recites: “That, after detaining Queen Mary’s most noble person by force and violence twelve days, or thereabouts, at Dunbar Castle, Bothwell compelled her by fear, under circumstances such as might befall the most courageous woman in the world, to promise that she would as soon as possible contract marriage with him,—all which things were plotted and planned by the said earl and the persons aforesaid, of long time before, even before their aforesaid conspiracy and parricide (the murder of Darnley), notwithstanding that at the same time James, Earl of Bothwell, was bound in marriage to an honorable lady, Janet Gordon, from whom not only was he not divorced, but no process of divorce was begun. And in his nefarious and treasonable crimes and purposes continuing and persevering, he kept and detained the most noble person of our said dearest mother in firm custody and durance, by force and _masterful_ hand of his armed friends and dependants, until the sixth day of May last past; on which day, still accompanied by a great number of armed men, he carried her to the Castle of Edinburgh, which was then in his power, and there imprisoned her, and compelled her to remain until the eleventh of the said month, on which day, still accompanied by a great number of armed men, that he might better color his treasonable and nefarious crimes and purposes, he carried her to our palace of Holyrood, and so within four days compelled her to contract marriage with him.”

Regarding this act of Parliament, Agnes Strickland, the English historian, says: “The facts chronicled in the parliamentary record, which are officially attested by the signature of James Makgill of Rankeillour, the clerk-register, demonstrate at once the falsehood of his patron, the Earl of Murray’s journal, of Buchanan’s ‘Detection’ and history of Mary’s reign, of the absurd paper published by Murray under the name of ‘French Paris’s Second Confession,’ and the supposititious letters produced by Morton for the defamation of the queen. These are all refuted by the act of Parliament, which asserts the treasonable constraint that was put on the queen’s will; and that act, be it remembered, was framed, and more than that, proclaimed by the heralds in the ears of the people, six months after the date assigned by Morton to the discovery of the letters which he produced as evidences of a guilty collusion and correspondence between the queen and Bothwell. The act was framed within seven months after the offence was perpetrated; and it behooved to be correct, because several persons assisted in that Parliament, as Huntley, Lethington, Sir James Melville, and others, who were not only present when the abduction was effected, but were carried away with their royal mistress as prisoners to Dunbar.”

Now let it be remembered that these witnesses for her innocence were, with the exception of the faithful Sir James Melville, and perhaps one or two others, no friends of Mary, Queen of Scots, but were the very parties in league with the English cabinet for her overthrow; and as Bothwell was not in this league, but was plotting only for his own scheme of being raised to the throne by marriage with Mary Stuart, these framers of this act of Parliament, exonerating Mary and denouncing Bothwell, were not acting through favor of her; and therefore this strong and overwhelming evidence comes from her very foes.

The following letter is from Mary Stuart to the Pope when she was at last out of the power of Bothwell. This letter is from the collection of Prince Labanoff: “_Lettres de Marie Stuart_, from the Secret Archives of the Vatican at Rome,”—and will reveal Mary’s feelings on the subject: “Tell to his Holiness,” writes she to her accredited envoy, “the grief we suffered when we were made prisoner by one of our subjects, the Earl of Bothwell, and led as prisoner with the Earl of Huntley the Chancellor, and the nobleman, our Secretary, together to the Castle of Dunbar, and after to the Castle of Edinburgh, where we were detained against our will in the hands of the said Earl of Bothwell, until such time as he had procured a pretended divorce between him and the sister of the said Lord of Huntley, his wife, our near relative; and we were constrained to yield our consent, yet against our will, to him. Therefore your Holiness is supplicated to take order on this, that we are made quit of the said indignity by means of a process at Rome, and commission sent to Scotland, to the bishops and other Catholic judges as your Holiness seemeth best.”

On the other hand, Mr. Froude, the English historian, does not refute this act of Parliament, but as evidence of Mary’s guilt, which he most vehemently declares, cites another act of Parliament, and states the following:—

“The Parliament met on the 15th of December. A series of acts embodying the resolutions of the Council were prepared by the Lords of the Articles,—among them were Huntley and Argyle. The abdication of Lochleven, the coronation of James, and the regency of Murray were successively declared to have been lawful; and lastly, in an act ‘anent the retention of their sovereign Lord’s mother’s person,’ the genuineness of the evidence by which her share in the murder was proved was accepted as beyond doubt or question.

“When the measure was laid before Parliament, Lord Herries, with one or two others, protested, not against the truth of the charges, but ‘against an act which was prejudicial to the honor, power, and estate of the Queen.’ But their objections were overruled. The acts were passed; the last and most important declaring that ‘the taking of arms by the lords and barons, the apprehension of the queen’s person, and generally all other things spoken and done by them to that effect, since the 10th of February last period, were caused by the said queen’s own default.’ It was most certain, from divers her privy letters, written wholly with her own hand, to the Earl of Bothwell, and by her ungodly and dishonorable proceeding to a pretended marriage with him, that she was privy art and part of the device and deed of the murder, and therefore justly deserved whatever had been done to her. Indirect counsel and means had been used to hold back the knowledge of the truth, yet all men were fully persuaded in their hearts of the authors and devisers of the fact. The nobility perceiving the queen so thrall and so blindly affectionate to the tyrant, and perceiving also that both he and she had conspired together such horrible cruelty, they had at length taken up arms to punish them.”

Surely both of these acts of Parliament cannot be trustworthy. Froude refers to Anderson’s Collection as his authority; Miss Strickland, to the register-house, Edinburgh, where the act may be seen in the original Latin. According to one, Mary, Queen of Scots is most clearly proven innocent; according to the other, Mary is most clearly proven guilty. The question therefore rests on the validity of the two acts. The reader may choose between them.

Regarding the famous “Silver-casket Letters,” these two English authorities thus comment. Miss Strickland says: “Several hundreds of Mary Stuart’s genuine letters are now before the public, commencing with those she wrote to her mother in her artless childhood. Not one of these bears the slightest analogy, either in style, sentiment or diction, with the eight suspicious documents she is alleged to have written. But argument is rendered unnecessary by the fact that the discovery of letters so discrepant with anything ever written, ever said or done, by Mary Stuart, rests solely on the testimony of Morton, one of the conspirators in the murder of Darnley. Prince Labanoff, who has devoted his life to the collection and verification of Mary Stuart’s letters, rejects this supposititious series, because, as he briefly observes, ‘there is nothing to prove their authenticity’; while the elder Tytler, who, as a lord of session, or judge, had been accustomed to study and collate evidences in the criminal courts of Scotland, has written two able volumes to expose their fallacies, under the title of ‘A Critical Enquiry into the Evidences.’”

Dr. Henry, the historian of England and Scotland, gave his private and most impartial opinion on this controversy in a letter to William Tytler, printed in “Transactions of Scottish Antiquarian Society,” in these words: “I have been long convinced that the unfortunate Queen Mary was basely betrayed and cruelly oppressed during her life, and calumniated after her death. Many things contributed to involve her in difficulties and dangers on her return to Scotland; her invincible adherence to her religion, her implicit submission to the dictates of her French friends, her having roused the jealousy of Elizabeth by assuming the English arms, the ambition of her brother James, and the faithless, plotting characters of others near her person,—in a word, an invisible political net seemed to have been spread around her, from which it was hardly possible for her to escape. Your efforts, sir, to relieve the memory of a much injured princess from a load of calumny are generous and commendable, and I can assure you they have not been unsuccessful. There is a great and general change in the sentiments of the public on that subject. He would be a bold man who should publish a history of Queen Mary now in the same strain with our two late historians,—Malcolm Laing and Robertson, whose sophistries were rightly estimated by that clear-headed and honest historian, Dr. Henry. Dr. Johnson, a person of a very different way of thinking from either, pronounced a most decided opinion in favor of Mary’s innocence, and expressed his firm conviction ‘that the Silver-casket Letters were spurious, and would never again be brought forward as historic evidences.’”