In the mean time, before these letters arrived, the Commissioners had held several sittings at Westminster; and Elizabeth having personally informed Murray, that if he would accuse the Queen of Scots of a share in the murder of Darnley, and produce the letters he had in his possession, she would authorize his continuance in the Regency, he no longer hesitated. On the 26th of November, after protesting that he had been anxious to save, as long as possible, the mother of his gracious King, James VI., from the perpetual infamy which the discovery of her shame would attach to her, and that he was now forced to disclose it, in his own defence, because it was maintained, that his previous answer to the complaint made against him was not sufficient, Murray, in conjunction with his colleagues, presented to the English Commissioners an “Eik” or addition to their “Answer,” in which they formally charged Mary with the murder. As to the reluctance so hypocritically avowed, it has been already seen, that so far back as December 1567, precisely the same charge, though unsupported by any evidence, was brought forward in the Scottish Parliament; and having then served its purpose, was allowed to lie dormant for eleven months. It is true, that there was then, no less than now, a palpable contradiction between this accusation, and the grounds which had always previously been assigned, both for Mary’s “sequestration” in Loch-Leven, and her alleged voluntary abdication. It was not till the public mind had been inflamed, and till opposing interests contributed to involve the truth in obscurity, that the notorious fact was denied or concealed, that Mary had been forced into an unwilling marriage with Bothwell, and that her abduction, and imprisonment in the Castle of Dunbar, were themselves an answer to any suspicion, that she was one of his accomplices in Darnley’s slaughter. But now that Mary was a prisoner, in the hands of a jealous rival, the Regent naturally supposed, that some contradictions would be overlooked; and all at once, assuming a tone of the utmost confidence, and undertaking “to manifest the naked truth,” he ventured on couching his assertion in these terms: – “It is certain, and we boldly and constantly affirm, that as James, some time Earl of Bothwell, was the chief executor of the horrible and unworthy murder, perpetrated in the person of King Henry, of good memory, father to our Sovereign Lord, and the Queen’s lawful husband, – so was she of the fore-knowledge, counsel, and device, persuader and commander of the said murder to be done, maintainer and fortifier of the executors thereof, by impeding and stopping of the inquisition and punishment due for the same, according to the laws of the realm, and, consequently, by marriage with the said James, some time Earl Bothwell, dilated and universally esteemed chief author of the above named murder.”166 In support of this new charge, the letters and other documents were referred to, and it was promised to produce them as soon as they were called for.
Before they were able to inform their mistress of the unexpected turn which affairs had taken, Mary’s Commissioners received her instructions from Bolton, to proceed no further in the conference. They therefore stated to Elizabeth, that though they were heartily sorry to perceive their countrymen, with a view to colour their unjust and ungrateful doings, had committed to writing a charge of so shameful a sort, they nevertheless could not condescend to answer it, having begun the conference at York as plaintives, and having afterwards found their relative positions altered, Murray being admitted into her Majesty’s presence, to advance his calumnious falsehoods, and Mary being expected to defend herself against them, though kept in imprisonment at a distance. At the same time, according to Mary’s commands, they said that, although the proceedings of the Regent were altogether intolerable and injurious, they would not yet dissolve the conference, provided their mistress were permitted to appear in her own person before the Queen of England and her nobility.167 To this request Elizabeth would not agree. Her real motive was the fear of truth; that which she assigned was sufficiently preposterous. “As to your desire,” she said to Mary’s Commissioners, “that your Sovereign should come to my presence to declare her innocence in this cause, you will understand, that from the beginning why she was debarred therefrom, was through the bruit and slander that was passed upon her, that she was participant of such a heinous crime as the murder of her husband; and I thought it best for your mistress’s weal and honour, and also for mine own, that trial should be taken thereof before her coming to me; for I could never believe, nor yet will, that ever she did assent thereto.”168 If Elizabeth had been anxious to see justice done, she could very easily have overcome the squeamish dread of being brought into contact with Mary, the more especially as she arrogated for herself the superior character of judge, as it was only “bruit and slander” that implicated her “dearest sister,” and as she did not, according to her own confession, believe her guilty, even after she had been informed of the existence of the love-letters, and made acquainted with their contents. Both parties, however, continuing alike resolute, the Commissioners of the Queen of Scots intimated, that in so far as they were concerned, the conference might be considered closed.
It is here of some importance to point out, that both Robertson and Hume have deduced an argument against Mary, from their own erroneous manner of stating the proceedings of the conference at Westminster. According to the narrative of both these historians, the reader is led to believe, that Mary was perfectly willing to go on till the moment that Murray accused her of being a sharer in Darnley’s murder, but that, as soon as this charge was made, she drew back as if afraid to meet it. Robertson and Hume would have themselves discovered how unfair this view of the matter was, had they taken the trouble to attend to the dates of the documents connected with the transaction. By these they would have seen, that Mary refused to proceed on the 22d of November 1568, unless admitted equally with the Earl of Murray into Elizabeth’s presence, and that Murray’s accusation was not produced till the 26th.169 Thus so far from “recoiling from the inquiry at the critical moment,” as Hume expresses it, she did not hesitate to proceed until she had rebutted every thing which had been advanced against her, and stood on even higher ground than before. It will besides be immediately found, that notwithstanding her previous determination to the contrary, she was no sooner informed of the existence of letters alleged to have been written by her to Bothwell, than she was willing to enter into a proof of their authenticity.
It would not have suited Elizabeth’s views to allow the contending parties to slip through her fingers, before arriving at any definite conclusion. She therefore fell upon an expedient by which she hoped, although the Queen of Scots had withdrawn from the conference, and it consequently should have been considered at an end, to attach to her so great a degree of suspicion, that she might safely detain her from her own realm. She ordered Murray and his colleagues to be called before her Commissioners; and the scene having been arranged before-hand with them, she commanded the Regent to be rebuked for accusing his native Sovereign of a crime so horrible, that if it could be proved true, she would be infamous to all princes in the world. The Regent readily answered, that finding he had displeased her Majesty, he had no objections to show the Commissioners “a collection made in writing of the presumptions and circumstances” by which he had been guided in the charge he had advanced against Mary, and which would satisfy them that it had not been made without due grounds and consideration. This was all that Elizabeth wished. In however glaring a point of view it placed her injustice, she rejoiced that Mary’s Commissioners were no longer attending the conference; for she would now be able to represent to the world, without fear of contradiction, the overwhelming strength of Murray’s evidences, and hold them out as the justification of her own severity. These hopes and plans, however, were very nearly frustrated by the boldness and decision of Mary’s conduct. As soon as she received intelligence of this new accusation, and of the means by which it was to be supported, she resolved that her own innocence and its falsehood should be made apparent; and for this purpose, she even consented to depart from her former demand of being personally admitted to Elizabeth’s presence. She wrote to her Commissioners to resume the duties which they had intermitted, and to renew the conference once more. “We have seen the copy,” she said, “which you have sent us of the false and unlawful accusation presented against us by some of our rebels, together with the declarations and protestations made by you thereon before the Queen of England, our good sister’s Commissioners, wherein you have obeyed our commands to refuse consenting to any further proceedings, if the presence of our sister were refused us. But that our rebels may see that they have not closed your mouths, you may offer a reply to the pretended excuse and cloak of their wicked actions, falsity and disloyalty, whereof you had no information before, it being a thing so horrible, that neither we nor you could have imagined it would have fallen into the thoughts of the said rebels.”170
A reply was accordingly made, in which the “Eik” was maintained to be false in every particular, and nothing but a device, contrived to justify Murray’s own “detestable doings and ambitious purpose.” The writings, or at least copies of them, which had been adduced in support of the Regent’s charge, were required to be delivered; and it was intimated, that Mary would undertake to prove, that the very men who now accused her of murder, were themselves the first inventors, and some of them the executors of the deed. It will at first appear hardly credible, but it is nevertheless true, that Elizabeth refused to allow duplicates of the evidence against her to be sent to Mary. On the contrary, she now hastened to break up the conference; Murray was sent back to his Regency, and the Queen of Scots detained in closer captivity than ever; and though she even yet petitioned to see the writings, Elizabeth refused to surrender them, except upon conditions with which Mary’s Commissioners would not comply. They had formally accused the Regent and his adherents of a share in Bothwell’s guilt; yet the latter had been permitted “to depart into Scotland without abiding to hear the defence of the Queen of Scotland’s innocency, nor the trial and proof of their detection, which was offered to verify and prove them guilty of the same crime, but were fully released, and no end put to the cause, according to the equity and justice thereof. It did not appear meet, therefore, that their Sovereign should make any further answer, unless her rebels were made to remain within the realm until the trial ended.”171
As no decision had been pronounced against Mary, and as the Regent had been allowed to depart, leave was also asked for her to return to Scotland, or proceed to France, as she might think fit. This, however, was expressly refused; but it was insultingly promised, that if she would yield up the crown and government of Scotland in favour of her son the Prince, she would be permitted to remain privately and quietly in England. Mary, of course, rejected the proposal with scorn. “The eyes of all Europe,” she said, “are upon me at this moment; and were I thus tamely to yield to my adversaries, I should be pronouncing my own condemnation. A thousand times rather would I submit to death, than inflict this stain upon my honour. The last words I speak shall be those of the Queen of Scotland.”172
Thus ended this famous conference, which Elizabeth had opened with so many professions of friendship, which she conducted with so much duplicity, and which she concluded without any conclusion, except that of endeavouring to blacken the character of her sister Mary, and give plausibility to her continued imprisonment. To a certain extent it answered her purpose. She had won the reputation, in the eyes of those who looked only at the surface of things, of having endeavoured to do justice between the Queen of Scots and her nobility; she had secured the favour of the Regent; and had obtained a strong hold of the person of her rival, whom she now doomed to lingering and hopeless captivity.173
CHAPTER X.
MARY’S EIGHTEEN YEARS’ CAPTIVITY
The last eighteen years of Mary’s life were spent in imprisonment, and are comparatively a blank in her personal history. She was transported, at intervals, from castle to castle, and was intrusted sometimes to the charge of one nobleman, and sometimes of another; but for her the active scenes of life were past, – the splendour and the dignity of a throne were to be enjoyed no longer, – the sceptre of her native country was never more to grace her hand, – her will ceased to influence a nation, – her voice did not travel beyond the walls that witnessed her confinement. She came into England at the age of twenty-five, in the prime of womanhood, the full vigour of health, and the rapidly ripening strength of her intellectual powers. She was there destined to feel in all its bitterness, that “hope delayed maketh the heart sick.” Year after year passed slowly on, and year after year her spirits became more exhausted, her health feebler, and her doubts and fears confirmed, till they at length settled into despair. Premature old age overtook her, before she was past the meridian of life; and for some time before her death, her hair was white “with other snows than those of age.” Yet, during the whole of this long period, amid sufferings which would have broken many a masculine spirit, and which, even in our own times, have been seen to conquer those who had conquered empires, Mary retained the innate grace and dignity of her character, never forgetting that she had been born a queen, or making her calamities an excuse for the commission of any petty meanness, which she would have scorned in the day of her prosperity. Full of incident as her previous life had been, – brilliant in many of its achievements, fortunate in some, and honourable in all, it may be doubted whether the forbearance, fortitude, and magnanimity, displayed in her latter years, does not redound more highly to her praise, than all that preceded. Many important events took place, and intrigues of various kinds were carried on, between the years 1569, and 1586, but as it is not the intention of this work to illustrate any parts of the history either of Scotland or England, which do not bear immediate reference to the Queen of Scots, nothing but a summary of them, in so far as they were connected with her, need be introduced here.
It was on the 12th of January 1569, that the Earl of Murray and the Scottish Commissioners obtained permission to return home, the Regent having previously received from Elizabeth a loan of 5000l., lent him “for the maintenance of peace between the realms of England and Scotland,” or in other words, as a bribe to secure his co-operation in all time coming.174 Mary, on the contrary, was removed from Bolton, to the Castle of Tutbury in Staffordshire, farther in the interior of England, and was placed under the charge of Lord Shrewsbury, to whom Tutbury belonged. Elizabeth was unwilling to allow her captive to remain long in any one place, lest she should form connections and friendships, which might lead to arrangements for an escape. Besides, Sir Francis Knollys had represented, that unless it was determined to keep the Scottish Queen so close a prisoner, that she should not be allowed to ride out occasionally, which would be death to her, she could not remain any longer at Bolton, for want of forage and provisions.175 During the year, she was taken about by Shrewsbury, on occasional visits, to several mansions which he possessed in different parts of England; but Tutbury was her head-quarters; and wherever she went, she was very strictly guarded. “If I might give advice,” says one of Cecil’s friends, in a letter he wrote to him about this time, “there should very few subjects of this land have access to a conference with this lady; for, beside that she is a goodly personage (and yet in truth not comparable to our Sovereign), she hath withal an alluring grace, a pretty Scotch speech, and a searching wit, clouded with mildness. The greatest person about her is the Lord Livingston, and the lady his wife, which is a fair gentlewoman. She hath nine women more, fifty persons in her household, with ten horses. Lord Shrewsbury is very watchful of his charge; but the Queen overwatches them all, for it is one of the clock at least every night ere she go to bed. I asked her Grace, since the weather did cut off all exercise abroad, how she passed the time within? She said, that all the day she wrought with her needle, and that the diversity of the colours made the work seem less tedious; and she continued so long till even pain made her give over; and with that laid her hand upon her left side, and complained of an old grief newly increased there. She then entered upon a pretty disputable comparison between carving, painting, and working with the needle, affirming painting, in her own opinion, for the most commendable quality.”176
But though Mary thus attempted to beguile her solitude, the thought of her unjust imprisonment never ceased to prey upon her mind. Elizabeth and Cecil tried to defend themselves upon four grounds; but they were all alike weak. They said, first, that she was a lawful prisoner by good treaties. But as they did not mention to what treaties they alluded, Chalmers supposes they meant the same kind of treaties “which justify the Barbary Powers to detain all Christians as slaves.” They said, secondly, that she could not be suffered to depart, till she had satisfied the wrong she had done to Elizabeth, in openly claiming the crown of England, and not making any just recompense. But the disavowal of that claim was all the recompense that was necessary; and though Mary had made the claim when married to Francis, she had expressly given it up ever since his death. They said, thirdly, that Elizabeth possessed a superiority over the crown of Scotland. But this antiquated notion, arising from the subservience of John Baliol to Edward I., in 1292, had long been relinquished, and had never been acknowledged in any treaty between the two nations. They said, fourthly, that the Queen of England was bound to attend to the petition of her subjects “in matters of blood.” But though Lord and Lady Lennox had been brought forward to present a petition against Mary, it was evident that Elizabeth had no power either to grant or refuse such petition, the Queen of Scots not being one of her subjects.
Though Mary’s enemies, however, prevailed, her friends were by no means discomfited. In Scotland, Murray found that only one half of the kingdom was disposed to submit to his authority; and it was not till after a protracted and disastrous civil war, that he was able to free himself from the resolute hostility of Chatelherault, Argyle, Huntly, and others. In England, the Duke of Norfolk was more active than ever in his intrigues. So far from being alarmed by the pretended discoveries to her prejudice, he openly expressed his conviction of their falsehood, and prevailed upon a number of the English nobility to second, to the best of their power, his honourable proposals to the Queen of Scots.177 Though it does not appear that he was able to obtain a personal interview with Mary, many letters passed between them; and as she soon perceived that her best chance of restoration to the throne of Scotland was by joining her interests with those of Norfolk, (whose power and estates were so extensive, that Melville calls him the greatest subject in Europe,) she promised that, though little disposed to form a new alliance, after the experience she had already had of matrimony, she would nevertheless bestow her hand on him as soon as she should regain her liberty, through his means. The Duke’s machinations, however, which had been hitherto carefully concealed from Elizabeth, at length reached her ears, and in the utmost indignation she scrupled not, with her usual arbitrary violence, to send him to the Tower, where she kept him a close prisoner for upwards of nine months, – while the Earls of Arundel, Pembroke, and Leicester, who had favoured his views, all fell into disgrace. Mary was watched more narrowly than before; and Hastings, Earl of Huntingdon, who pretended a superior right to the English succession, was joined with Shrewsbury in the commission of superintending her imprisonment.
Norfolk had not been long in the Tower, when an open rebellion broke out in the Northern counties, headed by the Earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland. It is difficult to ascertain the precise causes which led to it. Though there is no reason to believe that Mary gave it any encouragement, it seems to have borne some reference to her; for in the “Declaration” published by the Earls, one ground of complaint was the want of a law for settling the succession. They marched also towards Tutbury, with the evident intention of restoring Mary to freedom, which they might have succeeded in doing, had she not been removed with all expedition to Coventry. Elizabeth sent an army against the rebels, and they were speedily dispersed; – Westmoreland concealed himself on the Borders; but Northumberland, proceeding further into Scotland, was seized by Murray, and confined in the castle of Loch-Leven, – probably in the very apartments which Mary had occupied.
The year 1570 opened with an event which materially affected the state of public affairs in Scotland, and which to Mary was the occasion of many mingled feelings. Elizabeth, perceiving the danger which accrued to herself from detaining a prisoner of so much importance, had commenced a negotiation with the Earl of Murray for replacing his sister in his hands, when she received the unexpected and unwelcome intelligence of his assassination. The manner and cause of his death are sufficiently known to all who are acquainted with Scottish History; and though nothing can justify a murder committed to gratify private revenge, yet it is impossible to read the story of the wrongs which the Regent had heaped upon Hamilton of Bothwellhaugh, without feeling towards the latter more of pity than of hatred.
Next to Mary herself, no one had held so prominent a place in Scotland as the Earl of Murray; and there is no one concerning whose character historians have more widely differed. There can be no doubt that, like most human characters, it was a very mixed one; but it is to be feared that the evil preponderated. Ambition was his ruling passion, and the temptations which his birth, rank, and fortune, held out for its indulgence, unfortunately led him into errors and crimes which, had he been contented with an humbler sphere, he would in all probability have avoided. There are various sorts of ambition, and the most dangerous is not always that which is most apparent and reckless. Murray was ambitious under the cloak of patriotism, and the mask of religion. He had enough of knowledge of mankind to be aware, that no one could so safely play the villain as he who maintained a high name for integrity. Hence, though he may have loved honesty to a certain extent, for its own sake, he loved it a great deal more for the sake of the advantages to be derived from a reputation for possessing it. He was perhaps constitutionally religious; but though he was very willing to fight as a leader in the armies of the Reformation, it is somewhat questionable that he would have served the good cause with equal zeal, had he been obliged to fill only a subordinate place in its ranks. There is every reason to believe that in many cases he did good only that he might the more safely do wrong; and that he rigidly observed all the external forms of religion, only that the less suspicion might attach to him when he infringed its precepts. He had enough of moral rectitude to understand the distinctions between right and wrong, but too much selfishness to observe them unostentatiously, and too much prudence to disregard them openly. Thus to the casual observer he appeared strong in unshaken integrity, and full of the odour of sanctity. He possessed the art, which few but profound politicians can acquire, of going in the wrong path, as if he were in the right, and of gaining more estimation for his errors, than others do for their virtues. His conduct towards his sister was altogether unjustifiable; yet with the exception of his rebellion on the occasion of her marriage with Darnley, which was the least objectionable, because the boldest and most straight-forward part of the whole, he contrived to inflict, and to see inflicted, the deadliest injuries, as if he unwillingly submitted to them, rather than actively instigated them. He had little warmth of feeling; but what he had, prompted him to affect to feel as he never in reality did. He possessed all the talent compatible with cunning; he had abundance of military skill, and was not deficient in personal courage. He was not often cruel, because he saw it for his interest to be humane; he was a patron of literature, and attentive to his friends, because patronage and a numerous body of friends confer power. He affected nevertheless an ostentatious austerity in his manners, which it was impossible to reconcile with the worldliness of his pursuits. In short, he had so involved his whole character in disingenuousness, under a show of every thing that was exactly the reverse, that he was probably not aware himself when he acted from good, and when from bad motives. He had far too much ambition to be an upright man, and far too much good sense to be an undisguised villain. Notwithstanding all the ill usage she had received from him, Mary shed tears when she heard of his untimely death; and to record this fact, is the highest euloguim which need be passed on his memory.
The Scots chose the Earl of Lennox Regent in the place of Murray, whilst Elizabeth, says Robertson, “adhering to her old system with regard to Scottish affairs, laboured, notwithstanding the solicitations of Mary’s friends, to multiply and to perpetuate the factions which tore in pieces the kingdom.” At the same time, she pretended to enter into a new negotiation with Mary, as she frequently did at subsequent periods, when hard pressed by any of the more powerful friends of the Queen of Scots. But after appointing Commissioners, and requiring Morton and others to meet them from Scotland, the affair ended as it began; Mary still continued in her prison, and Morton returned home, no proposals having been made, to which either of the parties would agree. About this period Elizabeth’s temper was particularly soured, by an excommunication which Pope Pius V. issued against her, and which she erroneously supposed had been prepared in concert with Mary. A person of the name of Felton, affixed a copy of the Pope’s Bull on the gate of the Bishop of London’s palace, and, refusing either to fly or conceal himself, he was seized and executed for the crime. In her ill humour, Elizabeth also ordered that Mary should not be allowed to go abroad, and she did not revoke this order, until strong representations were made to her of the cruel effect produced by it on the health of the Queen, whose constitution was now much broken. The weakness in one of her sides which had long pained her, had of late greatly increased, and she was obliged to have recourse to strengthening baths of white wine.178 During this year she was removed from Tutbury to Chatsworth, and from Chatsworth she was taken to the Earl of Shrewsbury’s castle at Sheffield, – “a town,” says Camden, “of great renown for the smiths therein.” She had not at the most above thirty attendants, among whom the principal were Lord and Lady Livingston, her young friend William Douglas, Castel her French physician, and Roulet her French Secretary. The latter died when she was at Sheffield, and his death afflicted her much. All communication with her friends at a distance was denied her; and her letters were continually intercepted, and either copies, or the originals, sent to Cecil. Yet she had too proud a spirit to give way to unavailing complaints; and when she wrote to inquire after her faithful servant the Bishop of Ross, whom Elizabeth had put into confinement, from a jealousy of his exertions for his mistress, all she allowed herself to say was, that she pitied poor prisoners, for she was used like one herself.
In the year 1571, the Duke of Norfolk, who had been by this time discharged from the Tower, had the imprudence to renew his intrigues for the liberation of Mary, and his own marriage with her. The secret correspondence was renewed between them; and the Queen of Scots sent him, says Stranguage, “a long commentary of her purposes, and certain love-letters in a private character, known to them two.” The Duke was now resolved either to make or mar his fortune; and, deeply engaging in the dangerous game he was playing, he scrupled not to have recourse to many highly treasonable practices. He set on foot negotiations both with one Rodolphi, a Florentine merchant, residing in London, and an agent of the Court of Rome, and with the Spanish ambassador; and with them he boldly entered into an extensive conspiracy, which, if successful, would entirely have subverted the Government. His plan was, that the Duke of Alva should land in England with a numerous army, and should be immediately joined by himself and friends. They were then to proclaim Mary’s right to the throne, call upon all good Catholics to support them, and march direct for London. The Pope, and the King of Spain, readily entered into the scheme; and every thing appeared to be proceeding according to his wishes, when the treachery of one of Norfolk’s servants made Elizabeth acquainted with the whole conspiracy. The Duke was immediately seized, and thrown into prison; and, after several private examinations, he was tried for high treason, found guilty, and condemned to death. Elizabeth, who cultivated a reputation for extreme sensibility, affected the greatest reluctance to sign the warrant for Norfolk’s execution. But she was at length able to shut her heart against his many noble qualities, his princely spirit, and valuable services, and she ordered him to be led to the scaffold. He there confessed that he had been justly found guilty, in so far as he had dealt with the Queen of Scots, in weighty and important business, without the knowledge of his own Queen. He died, as he had lived, with undaunted courage. When the executioner offered him a napkin to cover his eyes, he refused it, saying, “I fear not death;” and, laying his head on the block, it was taken off at one blow.