she indulged in with her low-born secretary, Rizzio. She was entirely guided by his counsels, which were well known to be all on the side of severity to the proscribed noblemen, and of active measures for the restoration of the old religion and the suppression of the new. As if all these causes did not sufficiently excite popular feeling against him, he assumed a great state and retinue, and was proud and intolerable in his deportment. Darnley, with good grounds, was jealous. The nobles were indignant at his political power. The people hated him for being a foreigner and a papist. Knox and his coadjutors regarded him as the representative of all the enemies of God's people,' (as they exclusively designated their followers and themselves,) from Oreb and Zeeb to Haman, and thought themselves divinely commissioned to sanction his destruction.

Rizzio's murder, with all its savage details, strangely illustrates the times. The public motives for which it was undertaken, and the sort of judicial character assumed by the murderers, seem to resolve it into an exercise of Lynch law, while the circumstances of brutal atrocity towards the queen rank it amongst the most savage deeds of blood of any age. Nor is Mary's courage and self-command amongst the least remarkable features in the affair. She never lost her powers of thought and action, nor was she as overwhelmed by it as the most courageous woman would now be. It was something more within possibility, more conceivable, more a part of the general experience of the age. All persons were inured to the thought of blood; and here, if anywhere, here only lies the excuse for that great deed of blood in which Mary herself so soon after engaged,-that the practices of murder and assassination were too common in Scotland for them to be held in quite the same awe and horror, or so utterly abhorrent to our nature as the law of our being holds them to be in peaceable times. We do not say it is an excuse; but with the weight of evidence we have, it would be more reasonable for Mary's apologists to make it one, than to attempt to clear her from the guilt altogether, as some have attempted to do.

And here we may see how Mary was prepared for the part she so soon acted. First, in the deep hatred with which Darnley's share in the murder inspired her towards him, expressed in the natural threat of the moment, Well, it shall be dear blood to some of you;' and chiefly in her power over herself at the same time to conceal this hatred, and actually, while her heart was yet sore with the death of her favourite, the scene of passionate recrimination with her husband, and the humiliating insults to herself, to dissimulate with him, to get up a reconciliation, to separate him from the conspirators, making him as contemptible to them as to herself by a public denial of his share

in the plot, and to make him assist her in her escape from the power of the conspirators. With extraordinary spirit and energy Mary escaped from their hands, and in a very short time was again in power, ruling paramount in Edinburgh, where she had so lately been a prisoner, avenging the death of Rizzio; and, to show her adherence to the course she had taken, appointing his brother secretary in his place. But all men saw that in her heart she hated Darnley, nor could she be persuaded, after the purpose of their apparent reconciliation was effected, to conceal her aversion. His life was miserable. She withdrew him from all share of public business, and forbade those about her to hold converse with him. He went up and down,' says Melvil, all alone, seeing few durst bear him company.' Her confidence was given to the Earls of Bothwell (who now first appears prominent in her history), Huntley, whose sister he had married, and the Catholic Bishop of Ross, who was so long her faithful adherent; but, says Mignet, Mary did not proceed to 'further extremes against Darnley, until her passion for another 'was added to her increased repugnance to himself.'

On the 19th of June, 1566, she gave birth to a son, which event was immediately communicated to Elizabeth, who on the moment of receiving the news, by a sudden pang of grief and envy, showed how much the course she had so firmly chosen for herself really cost her. She was giving a court ball; while she was dancing, Cecil went up to her, and whispered in her ear. Interrupting the dance, she sunk dejectedly into an arm-chair, and said to the ladies who surrounded her, that the Queen ' of Scots was mother of a fair son, while she was but a barren 'stock.'

The birth of this son revived the question of the succession, always so distasteful to Elizabeth. The English parliament thought it an occasion for expressing their anxious wish to have the question settled, though they were presently silenced by their queen, and Mary was not less eager on her side. But here, on entering upon the darkest page of Mary's history, we will quote from M. Mignet's straightforward narrative:

Notwithstanding Mary Stuart's ardent desire, the English succession remained in the same state as before. She still retained her claims, but had not succeeded in obtaining their recognition. She soon, however, compromised them, and, moreover, exposed herself to the loss of the crown of Scotland. After the birth of the prince royal, the misunderstanding increased between her husband and herself-a fatal passion at this time took possession of her heart. The object of this passion was the Earl of Bothwell, the most enterprising and dangerous man in Scotland. James Hepburn, fourth Earl of Bothwell, was then thirty years of age. He had succeeded his father in 1556, was possessed of large property, and held important offices in the kingdom. By his marriage with Lady Jane Gordon, he had become the brother-in-law of the Earl of Huntley, and had united one of the most

powerful families of the South with the most powerful family of the North. He was distinguished for great bravery, consummate audacity, boundless and unscrupulous ambition. Equally undisguised in his plans as in his vices, he aspired first to gain the affections of the Queen, and then to marry her. Although he was far from handsome, his martial bearing, his taste for pleasure, the undaunted resolution of his character, his air of chivalrous devotion, and the easy and elegant continental manners beneath which he concealed the wild and extravagant passions of his country, charmed the imagination of the Queen, and gave Bothwell great influence over her. Mary Stuart sought to render Bothwell a faithful and useful servant, but she speedily found in him a lover and a master.'—Ibid. vol. i. p. 235.

Side by side with this description we will give his character by Mr. Fraser Tytler, remarkable for the ingenuity with which he turns Mary's toleration, not to say absolute indifference to his infamous morals, into a sort of merit, which is reflected, in some degree, back upon the man himself:

'His ambition and audacity were unbounded. He was a man of notorious gallantry, and had spent a loose life on the Continent, from which, it was said, he had imported some of its worst vices. In attaining the objects of his ambition he was perfectly unscrupulous as to the means he employed, and he had generally about him a band of broken and desperate men, with whom his office of Border Warden made him familiar; hardened and murderous villains, who were ready on the moment to obey every command of their master. In one respect Bothwell was certainly better than many of his brother nobles. There seems to have been little craft or hypocrisy about him, and he made no attempt to conceal his infirmities or vices under the cloak of religion. It is not unlikely that, for this reason, Mary, who had experienced his fidelity to the crown, was more disposed to trust him in any difficulty than those stern and fanatical leaders who, with religion on their lips, were often equally indifferent as to the means they employed. It is certain that from this time she began to treat him with great favour, and to be guided by a preference so predominant that it was not unlikely to be mistaken for a more tender feeling.'-Tytler, vol. vii. p. 46.

Mr. Tytler never absolutely denies the reality of Mary's affection for Bothwell; he only tenderly delays the admission of it, his honesty as an historian compelling him to a detail of facts which can allow of no other construction. We have, throughout his story, little apologetic hints, preparatory to this disgraceful feature of Mary's character; such as- It was Mary's weakness 'to be hurried away by the predominating influence of some one 'feeling and object.' It was the misfortune of her ardent dispo'sition that she was always under the domination of some strong 'and engrossing feeling, which sometimes led her to disregard appearances, and to believe she could never sacrifice enough to 'the object of her approval.' Only Miss Strickland ventures on the bold line of entirely denying that Mary ever cared for Bothwell at all-decidedly the best line, we should say, for a lady to take, who advocates the cause of this unfortunate queen-but a line so glaringly opposed to the facts of the case, to the universal consent of all that deserves to be called history, to every docu

ment worthy of respect, and to the whole course of Mary's public and private conduct, as proves that feminine zeal for the honour of her sex has unfitted her, on this occasion at least, for the rigid and severer duties of the historian :

'It is impossible' [she says] for any one who reads those details,' [Du Croc, the French ambassador, had described a quarrel between Mary and Bothwell after their marriage,] and remembers that they were written by a person who was behind the scenes, and related that which he had heard and seen, to believe for one moment that Bothwell was ever the object of Mary's love, or that her marriage with him originated from any other cause than dire necessity.'-Miss Strickland's Letters of Queen of Scots, vol. i. p. xxvii.

Du Croc's letter proves nothing of the kind, nor did he think anything of the kind, nor desire to convey this impression when he wrote it; on the contrary, he says, just after the said quarrel had happened, that the marriage is already repented of by Mary, which implies a change of feeling, and not that she had always been averse to it. This has been a digression, but it is amusing to see upon how slight a foundation a theory can be formed, against overwhelming opposing evidence, and also to what slender straws Mary's advocates have to trust in their defence.

Her contemporaries, at least, were not of this mind; all parties joined in observing this growing preference. Politicians wrote to one another, commenting on the increasing favour of the new favourite, which 'miscontenteth many;'-a circumstance which seems always to have acted as a sort of spur to Mary, who was stimulated by opposition;-and poor Darnley augured all sorts of evils from it to himself. He wrote secretly to the Pope, accusing the Queen of lukewarmness in religion (Bothwell being a Protestant), and feared for his life, which, with his ill conscience, and in the present aspect of affairs, was not unreasonable. He even meditated retiring to the Continent, but wanted resolution; indeed, he had always an affection for Mary, which the slightest kindness on her part could revive. But the time was not come for such experiments with his feelings. She preferred exposing his weakness, and bringing him into general contempt, and making all the world party to her private sentiments towards him. She did not care who should see the 'great grudges she entertained in her heart against him,' and always had entertained since Rizzio's murder. This event, which had so naturally disgusted her with her husband, had also been the means of bringing Bothwell forward, as his services had materially strengthened her position, and from that time he obtained unbounded influence over her. She heaped favours and offices upon him;' and upon occasion of his being wounded in some

See Laing, vol. i. p. 13.

Border quarrels, betrayed such an amount of anxious alarm as seems to have raised general suspicion. Her visit to him on this occasion has been disputed, in every stage; its purposes, dates, results, are all canvassed and concluded upon, according to the view of the writer. It is the first great skirmish before the regular battle. M. Mignet has thus concluded upon it :-

'On the 6th of October, (1566,) the Queen sent hither the Earl of Bothwell with the title of Lord Lieutenant, to repress these disorders, and restore tranquillity. On the 8th she repaired in person to Jedburgh to hold her assizes, and to add the sanction of justice and armed force. On that same day Bothwell had with great bravery engaged in personal conflict with John Elliot, of Park, a notorious freebooter. In the scuffle Bothwell was severely wounded, and it was found necessary to convey him without loss of time to the neighbouring castle of Armitage. His illness furnished most conclusive proofs of Mary's attachment to him. "Understanding," says Crawford, "the certain report of this accident, the Queen was so highly grieved in heart that she took no repose of body till she saw him. The discharge of her judicial functions detained her at Jedburgh until the 15th of October, but no sooner was she at liberty, than she took horse and hastened to the castle where her favourite lieutenant was lying wounded. She was accompanied on her journey by Murray and some other nobles. Although Hermitage was eighteen miles distant from Jedburgh, she went and returned the same day. She spent an hour with Bothwell, and notwithstanding the fatigues of the day, she sat up until late at night writing to him whom she had just left. The prostration of strength which ensued, and," adds Crawford, "the great distress of mind for the Earl of Bothwell, threw her the next day into a most dangerous illness. She fell into a swoon, and remained for some hours at the point of death. She was then seized with a violent fever, and continued insensible for several days. When she had somewhat recovered from this apparently desperate state, she thought her end was approaching, requested the nobles who were present to pray for her, confided her son to the guardianship of the Queen of England, and sent to inform her husband of her precarious condition. Bothwell, now convalescent, had hastened to her with other members of the privy council, and many of the most important nobles of the kingdom. Darnley did not arrive at Jedburgh until the 28th of October, two days after a favourable crisis had placed the Queen's life out of danger. Finding her so much recovered, he remained at Jedburgh only one night, and returned immediately to Glasgow.'-Mignet, vol. i. p. 240.

From this time dates the history of the Darnley murder. Mary recovered slowly, and was overwhelmed with melancholy. On the 20th of November she arrived at Craigmillar, a castle about a league from Edinburgh, care worn and ready to sink under the contradictory feelings which agitated her. The Queen is not at 'all well,' writes the ambassador Du Croc to the Archbishop of Glasgow. I believe the principal part of her disease to consist ' of a deep grief and sorrow; nor does it seem possible to make her

Laing says, 'The difficulties and haste of the journey are still preserved in the tradition of the country; that her white palfrey sank in a morass which retains the name of the Queen's Moss, and that she was accompanied only by ten attendants, who extricated her.'-Vol. i. p. 17.