I said that I had already supped. Then he called for a cup of wine, and drank to me, that I might pledge him like a Dutchman. He made me drink it out to grow fatter, 'for,' said he, 'the zeal of the commonweal has eaten ye up, and made ye lean.' I answered, that every little member should serve to some use; but that the care of the commonweal appertained most to him, and the rest of the n.o.bility, who should be as fathers to it. Then he said, I well knew he would find a pin for every bore. Then he discoursed of gentlewomen, speaking such filthy language, that I left him, and pa.s.sed up to the Queen, who was very glad at my coming."[95]

Such was the man who was now inseparably joined to Mary, and who, by fraud and villany, had made himself, for the time, so absolute in Scotland, that her possession of the throne of her ancestors, nay, her very life, seems to have depended upon his will and pleasure.

CHAPTER VI.

THE REBELLION OF THE n.o.bLES, THE MEETING AT CARBERRY HILL, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.

Mary's first step, after her marriage, was to send, at her husband's desire, amba.s.sadors into England and France, to explain to these Courts the motives by which she had been actuated. The instructions given to these amba.s.sadors, as Buchanan has justly remarked, and after him the French historians De Thou and Le Clerc, were drawn up with much art. They came, no doubt, from the pen of Bothwell's friend, Secretary Maitland; and they recapitulate so forcibly all the Earl's services, both to Mary and her mother, enlarge so successfully upon his influence in Scotland, his favour with the n.o.bility, and their anxiety that he should become King; and finally, colour so dexterously his recent conduct, that after their perusal, one is almost induced to believe that the Queen could not have chosen a better husband in all Christendom. Of course, Mary would herself see them before they were despatched, as they are written in her name; and the consent she must have given to the attempt made in them to screen her husband from blame, confirms the belief that she did not plan, along with him, the scheme of the abduction; for she would, in that case, have represented, in a much stronger light, the consequences necessarily arising from it. If she had consented to such a scheme, it must have been with the view of making it be believed that her marriage with a suspected murderer (suspected at least by many, though probably not by Mary herself), was a matter of necessity; and she could never have been so inconsistent as labour to convince her foreign friends, that though violence had been used in the first instance, she had ultimately seen the propriety of voluntarily becoming Bothwell's wife. But it was her sincere and laudable desire, now that she was married, to shelter her husband as much as possible; and, conscious of her own innocence, she did not antic.i.p.ate that the measures she took in his behalf might be turned against herself. It must indeed be distinctly remembered, in tracing the lamentable events which followed this marriage, that though force and fraud were not perhaps employed on the very day of its consummation, yet that they had previously done their utmost, and that it was not the Queen who surrendered herself to Bothwell, but Bothwell who forced himself upon the Queen.

Though Mary attempted to conceal her misery from the prying eye of the world, they who had an opportunity of being near her person easily saw that her peace of mind was wrecked. So little love existed either on the one side or the other, that even the days usually set aside for nuptial rejoicings, were marked only by suspicions and wranglings. They remained together at Holyrood from the 15th of May to the 7th of June; but during the whole of that time, Bothwell was so alarmed, lest she should yet break from him, and a.s.sert her independence, that he kept her "environed with a continual guard of two hundred harquebuziers, as well day as night, wherever she went;"--and whoever wished an audience with her, "it behoved him, before he could come to her presence, to go through the ranks of harquebuziers, under the mercy of a notorious tyrant,--a new example, wherewith this nation had never been acquainted; and yet few or none were admitted to her speech, for his suspicious heart, brought in fear by the testimony of an evil conscience, would not suffer her subjects to have access to her Majesty as they were wont to do."[96] The letter from which these pa.s.sages are quoted, deserves, at this period of Mary's history, every attention, for it was written, scarcely two months after her marriage, by the Lords who had a.s.sociated themselves against Bothwell, but who had not yet discovered the necessity of implicating Mary in the guilt with which they charged him. The declarations therefore, they then made, contrasted with those which ambition and selfishness afterwards prompted, prove their sincerity in the first instance, and their wickedness in the last. "They firmly believe," they say, "that whether they had risen up against her husband or not, _the Queen would not have lived with him half a year to an end_, as may be conjectured by the short time they lived together, and _the maintaining of his other wife at home at his house_."

This last fact is no less singular than it is important. It seems distinctly to imply, that though Bothwell was divorced from his first wife, and that though her brother, the Earl of Huntly, had given his consent to the divorce, yet that in reality, the dissolution of the marriage was, on the part of Bothwell, merely _pro forma_, to enable him to prosecute his scheme of ambition, that his attachment to the Lady Jane Gordon continued unabated, and that if Mary had ever loved him, she must have loved him, knowing that he did not return her affection. No wonder that under such an acc.u.mulation of miseries--the suspicion with which she was regarded by foreign courts,--the ready hatred of many of her more bigoted Presbyterian subjects,--the dependence, almost amounting to a state of bondage, in which she was kept,--and the brutal treatment she experienced from her worthless husband,--no wonder that Mary was heard, in moments almost of distraction, to express an intention of committing suicide.[97] Her heart was broken,--her prospects were blighted,--her honour, which was dearer to her than life, was doubted. She was a Queen without the command of her subjects,--a wife without the love of her husband. The humblest peasant in Scotland was more to be envied than the last daughter of the royal line.

But Bothwell was not permitted to triumph long in the success of his villany. Many, even of his own friends, now began to think that he had carried through his measures with too high a hand. They were willing that he should have won Mary by fair means, but not by foul; and when they saw that he had not only imperatively thrust himself upon her as a husband, but was taking rapid strides towards making himself absolute in Scotland, they trembled for the freedom of the Const.i.tution, and the safety of the Commonweal. With an imprudence equal to his audacity, Bothwell was at no pains either to disguise his wishes, or to conciliate the good will of those whose a.s.sistance might have been valuable. With the restless uneasiness of one conscious of guilt, and dreading its probable consequences, he scrupled not to avow his anxiety to get into his possession the person of the young Prince, and had even "made a vaunt already among his familiars, that if he could get him once into his own hands, he should warrant him from revenging his father's death."[98] But the Prince was lodged in the Castle of Stirling, in the custody of the Earl of Mar, a n.o.bleman of approved fidelity and honour, who positively refused to deliver him up. It was not easy, however, to divert Bothwell from his object; and though the Queen did not countenance it, being, on the contrary, rather desirous that her son should remain with Mar, yet he ceased not to cajole and threaten, by turns, until all Scotland was roused into suspicion and anger.[99] A number of the n.o.bility met at Stirling, and entered into an a.s.sociation to defend the person of the Prince; and they soon saw, or thought they saw, the necessity of taking active measures to that effect. On the 28th of May, proclamations were issued at Edinburgh, intimating the intention of the Queen and Bothwell to proceed, with a strong force, to the Borders, to suppress some disturbances there, and requiring all loyal subjects to a.s.semble in arms at Melrose. It was immediately rumoured that this expedition was only a pretence, and that Bothwell's real design was to march to Stirling, there to make himself master of the Castle and its inhabitants. In a second proclamation, made for the purpose, this suspicion was characterized as most unfounded; but whether just or not, it had taken a strong hold of the public mind, and was not easily removed. The Prince's Lords, as they were called, the chief of whom were Argyle, Athol, Morton, Mar, and Glencairn, busied themselves in collecting their followers, as if in compliance with the requisition to a.s.semble at Melrose. On the 6th or 7th of June 1567, Bothwell took the Queen with him from the Palace of Holyrood to the Castle of Borthwick, situated about eight miles to the south of Edinburgh, having discovered, only a day or two before, that Edinburgh was no longer a safe residence for him. Sir James Balfour, the Governor of the Castle, seeing so strong a party start up against his former patron, had allowed himself to be tampered with, and Bothwell now suspected that he held the Castle not for him, but for the Lords at Stirling. He feared, that Balfour might be persuaded by them to sally down to Holyrood with a party of troops, and carry him off a prisoner to the Castle, and therefore thought it wise to withdraw to a safer distance.

It was not long before the n.o.bility at Stirling heard of Bothwell's retreat to Borthwick, and they resolved to take advantage of it. They advanced unexpectedly from Stirling, and, marching past Edinburgh, suddenly invested the Castle of Borthwick. It was with great difficulty that Bothwell and the Queen escaped to Dunbar, and the Lords then fell back upon Edinburgh. Huntly commanded there for Bothwell; but though, at his request, the magistrates shut the gates of the city, the opposite party found little difficulty in forcibly effecting an entrance. Huntly, and the rest of Bothwell's friends, still trusting to Sir James Balfour's fidelity, retreated into the Castle. The opposite faction, with Morton at its head, immediately issued proclamations, in which they demanded the a.s.sistance of all loyal subjects, on the grounds, "that the Queen's Majesty, being detained in captivity, was neither able to govern her realm, nor try the murder of her husband, and that they had a.s.sembled to deliver her and preserve the Prince."[100] These proclamations prove, that no feelings of hostility were as yet entertained or expressed against Mary. One of them, issued at Edinburgh on the 12th of June, commences thus:--"The Lords of Secret Council and n.o.bility, understanding that James, Earl of Bothwell, put violent hands on our Sovereign Lady's most n.o.ble person upon the 24th day of April last, and thereafter warded (imprisoned) her Highness in the Castle of Dunbar, which he had in keeping, and, before a long s.p.a.ce thereafter, conveyed her Majesty, environed with men of war, and such friends and kinsmen of his as would do for him, ever into such places where he had most dominion and power, her Grace being dest.i.tute of all counsel and servants, during which time the said Earl seduced, by unlawful ways, our said Sovereign to a dishonest marriage with himself, which, from the beginning, is null and of no effect." And the proclamation concludes with announcing their determination, "to deliver the Queen's Majesty's most n.o.ble person forth of captivity and prison," and to bring Bothwell and his accomplices to trial, both for the murder of Darnley, and for "the ravishing and detaining of the Queen's Majesty's person," as well as to prevent the enterprise intended against the Prince.[101] Can any thing establish an historical fact more explicitly than such evidence?

Bothwell was, in the meantime, busily collecting his friends at Dunbar. In a few days, upwards of 2000 men had resorted to him, more because the Queen was with him, than from any love they bore himself; and, as he was unwilling that the hostile Lords should be allowed time to collect their strength, he marched, with this force, from Dunbar on the 14th of June.

When the news of his approach reached Edinburgh, the Lords immediately advanced to meet him, though with a somewhat inferior strength. The two armies did not come in sight of each other till the morning of the 15th, when Bothwell's troops were discovered upon Carberry Hill, a rising ground of some extent between Musselburgh and Dalkeith. The Lords, who had spent the night at Musselburgh, made a circuit towards Dalkeith, that they also might get on the high ground, and took up a position to the west of Bothwell. It was here discovered that neither party was very anxious to commence an engagement; and the French amba.s.sador, Le Croc, spent several hours in riding between both armies, and endeavouring to bring them to terms of mutual accommodation, being authorized on the part of the Queen, to promise that the present insurrection would be willingly forgiven, if the Lords would lay down their arms and disband their followers. But the Earl of Morton answered, "that they had taken up arms _not against the Queen_, but against the murderer of the King, whom, if she would deliver to be punished, or at least put from her company, she should find a continuation of dutiful obedience from them and all other good subjects."[102] Le Croc, despairing of effecting his purpose, unwillingly quitted the field, and returned to Edinburgh. But both parties were still desirous to temporize,--Bothwell, because he hourly expected reinforcements from Lord Herries and others,--and the Lords, because they also looked for an accession of strength, and because the day was hot, and the sun shining strong in their faces.[103] To draw out the time, Bothwell made a bravado of offering to end the quarrel, by engaging in single combat any Lord of equal rank who would encounter him. Kircaldy of Grange, one of the best soldiers of the day, and Murray of Tullibardin, both expressed their willingness to accept the challenge, but were rejected on the score of inferiority in rank. Lord Lindsay then offered himself, and him Bothwell had no right to refuse. It was expected, therefore, that the whole quarrel would be referred to them, the Queen herself, though at the head of an army superior to that of her opponents, having consented, that a husband to whom she had so short a while been married, and for whom the veracious Buchanan would have us believe she entertained so extravagant an affection, should thus unnecessarily risk his life. Twenty gentlemen on either side were to attend, and the ground was about to be marked out, when the Lords changed their minds, and declared they did not choose that Lord Lindsay should take upon himself the whole burden of a quarrel in which they all felt equally interested.[104]

In these negotiations the day pa.s.sed over. It was now between seven and eight in the evening, and a battle must have ensued, either that night or next morning, had not an unexpected step been taken by the Queen. Without betraying Bothwell, she formed a resolution to rid herself from the bondage in which he kept her. She sent to desire that Kircaldy of Grange should come to speak with her, and she intimated to him her willingness to part from Bothwell as was demanded, if Morton and the other Lords would undertake to conduct her safely into Edinburgh, and there return to their allegiance. This overture, on being reported by Grange, was at once accepted, provided Mary agreed to dismiss Bothwell on the field. It may be easily conceived that to Bothwell himself such an arrangement was not particularly agreeable, and could never have entered the imagination, much less have been the deliberate proposal, of a loving and obedient wife.

Historians, we think, have not sufficiently insisted on the strong presumption in Mary's favour, afforded by her conduct at Carberry Hill. It is true, that there might have been an understanding between her and Bothwell, that as soon as she was re-instated in her power, she would recall him to a share of her throne and bed. But even supposing that, notwithstanding the alleged violence of her love, she had been willing to consent to a temporary separation, both she and Bothwell knew the spirit of the men they had to deal with too well, to trust to the chance of outwitting them, after yielding to their demands. Mary must have been aware, that if she parted with Bothwell at all, she in all probability parted with him for ever. Had she truly loved him, she would rather have braved all risks (as she did with Darnley when Murray rebelled) than have abandoned him just at the crisis of his fortune. But she had at no period felt more than the commonest friendship for Bothwell; and since she had been seized by him at the Bridge of Almond, she had absolutely hated him.

Melville, accordingly, expresses himself regarding this transaction in these terms. "Albeit her Majesty was at Carberry Hill, I cannot name it to be her army; for many of them that were with her, were of opinion that she had intelligence with the Lords; chiefly such as understood of the Earl Bothwell's mishandling of her, and many indignities that he had both said and done unto her since their marriage. He was so beastly and suspicious, that he suffered her not to pa.s.s a day in patience, or without giving her cause to shed abundance of salt tears. Thus, part of his own company detested him; and the other part believed that her Majesty would fain have been quit of him, but thought shame to be the doer thereof directly herself."[105] Melville adds, that so determined was Bothwell not to leave the field if he could avoid it, that he ordered a soldier to shoot Grange when he overheard the arrangement which he and the Queen were making. It was "not without great difficulty," says another cotemporary writer, that Mary prevailed upon Bothwell to mount his horse, and ride away with a few followers back to Dunbar.[106] There is no wonder;--but that a wife of one month's standing, who is said for his sake to have murdered her former husband, should permit, nay beseech him, thus to sneak off a field he might have won, had she allowed him to fight, is indeed strange and unaccountable. When Bothwell left Carberry Hill, he turned his back upon a Queen and a throne;--he left hope behind, and must have seen only ruin before.

As soon as her husband had departed, Mary desired Grange to lead her to the Lords. Morton and the rest came forward to meet her, and received her with all due respect. The Queen was on horseback, and Grange himself walked at her bridle. On riding up to the a.s.sociated n.o.bles, she said to them,--"My Lords, I am come to you, not out of any fear I had of my life, nor yet doubting of the victory, if matters had gone to the worst; but I abhor the shedding of Christian blood, especially of those that are my own subjects; and therefore I yield to you, and will be ruled hereafter by your counsels, trusting you will respect me as your born Princess and Queen."[107] Alas! Mary had not calculated either on the perfidy of the men to whom she had surrendered herself, or on the vulgar virulence of their hired retainers, who, having been disappointed in their hopes of a battle, thought they might take their revenge, by insulting the person of a Roman Catholic Sovereign, now for the first time standing before them somewhat in the light of a suitor and a prisoner. They led her into Edinburgh between eight and nine in the evening; and the citizens, hearing of the turn which affairs had taken, came out in great crowds, and lined the way as they pa.s.sed. The envy and hatred of the more bigoted part of the rabble did not fail to exhibit itself. Royalty in misfortune, like a statue taken from its pedestal, is often liable to the rudest handling, simply because it has fallen from a height which previously kept it at a distance from the mult.i.tude. There had long rancoured in the bosoms of the more zealous and less honest Presbyterians, an ill-concealed jealousy of Mary's superiority; and in the mob which now gathered round her, the turbulent and unprincipled led the way, as they commonly do in a mob, to insult and outrage. So far from being allowed to return to Edinburgh as a Queen, and to take possession of her wonted state, Mary was forced to ride as a captive in a triumphal show. The hatred which was borne towards Bothwell was transferred to her, and the Lords, at the head of whom was the crafty Morton, forgetting the proclamation they had made only two days before, announcing their intention to rescue the Queen from the bondage in which she was held, only took her from one tyrant to retain her in the hands of many. As the cavalcade proceeded, a banner was displayed in front, on which was represented the King lying dead at the foot of a tree, and the young Prince upon his knees near him, exclaiming--"Judge and revenge my cause, O Lord!" The people shouted with savage exultation, as this ensign was carried past, and turning their eyes on the Queen, who was dissolved in tears, they scrupled not, by the coa.r.s.e malice of their expressions, to add to the agony of her feelings.

When Mary arrived in Edinburgh, and found she was not to be taken to Holyrood House, (from which, indeed, the Lords had previously carried off much of her valuable furniture), she gave up all for lost, and in her despair called upon all who came near her to rescue her from the hands of traitors. But an excitement had just been given to the public mind, which it required some hours of sober reflection to allay. No one interfering in her behalf, she was taken to the Provost's house in the High Street, where she was lodged for the night. The crowd gradually dispersed, and the Lords were left to themselves to arrange their future plan of procedure.

Kircaldy of Grange, was the only one among them who was disposed to act honourably. He reminded them that he had been commissioned to a.s.sure the Queen of their loyal services, provided she parted from Bothwell, and came over to them,--and as she had fulfilled her part of the agreement, he did not think it right that they should fail in theirs. Influenced by these representations, a division might thus have taken place among themselves, had not Morton fallen on an expedient to silence the scruples of Grange.

He produced a letter, which he alleged Mary had just written to Bothwell, and which he had intercepted, in which she was made to declare, that she was resolved never to abandon him, although for a time she might be obliged to yield to circ.u.mstances. Kircaldy, possessing all the blunt sincerity of a soldier, and being little given to suspicion, was startled by this letter, and left Morton, in consequence, to take his own way. That the pretended epistle was in truth a mere hasty forgery, is proved to demonstration, by the fact that, important as such a doc.u.ment would have been, it was never afterwards alluded to by the Lords, nor produced in evidence along with the other papers they so laboriously collected to lay before Elizabeth's Commissioners. From this specimen of their honesty, we may guess what reliance is to be placed on the authenticity of writings, subsequently sc.r.a.ped together by men who, on the spur of the moment, executed a forgery so clumsily, that they were unable to avail themselves of it on any future occasion. But Morton's intriguing spirit was again busily at work; and having the Queen's person once more in his possession, and being apparently supported by the people, he was determined on taking a step which would secure him Elizabeth's lasting grat.i.tude, and might ultimately raise him to the regency of Scotland. He, therefore, veered suddenly round; and though he had a.s.serted, on the 12th of June, that Mary was kept in unwilling bondage by Bothwell, he saw it prudent to maintain on the 15th, that there was no man in Scotland to whom she was so pa.s.sionately attached. In support of this a.s.sertion, the letter became a necessary fabrication; and Morton well knew that a political falsehood, though credited only for a day, may be made a useful engine in the hands of a skilful workman.

It would appear, however, that a night's reflection operated a considerable change in the minds of the ever-fluctuating populace. In the course of the 16th, they collected before the Provost's house; and the Queen having come several times to the window, and represented to them strongly the iniquity of the constraint in which she was kept by her own n.o.bles who had betrayed her, a general feeling began to manifest itself in her favour. Morton and his colleagues no sooner perceived this change, than they waited on the Queen, and, with the most consummate hypocrisy, protested that she had quite mistaken their intentions, and that, to convince her of their sincerity, they should immediately replace her in the palace of Holyrood. Mary listened to them, and was again deceived. In the evening, as if to fulfil their promise, they conducted her to Holyrood, Morton walking respectfully on one side of her horse, and Athol on the other. But when she reached the Palace, she was as strictly watched as ever; and about midnight, to her terror and surprise, they suddenly came to her, and forcing her to disguise herself in an ordinary riding-habit, mounted her on horseback, and rode off, without informing her whither she was going. She was escorted by the Lords Ruthven and Lindsay, and, after riding all night, arrived at the castle of Loch-Leven early in the morning. This castle was a place of considerable strength, standing on a small island in the centre of the lake, which is ten or twelve miles in circ.u.mference. It was possessed by Lady Douglas, the Lady of Loch-Leven, as she was commonly called, the widow of Sir Robert Douglas, and mother to the Earl of Murray, by James V. "It is needless to observe," says Keith, "how proper a place this was for the design of the rebels, the house being surrounded with water on all sides, for the s.p.a.ce, at shortest, of half a mile; and the proprietors of it being so nearly related to some princ.i.p.al persons among them, in whom, therefore, they could the more securely confide. And indeed it has been said, that the Lady Loch-Leven answered the expectation of the Lords to the full, having basely insulted the captive Queen's misfortune, and bragged, besides, that she herself was King James V.'s lawful wife, and her son, the Earl of Murray, his legitimate issue, and true heir of the crown. The Lady Loch-Leven was not only mother to the Earl of Murray, but likewise to the Lord Lindsay's lady, by her husband Robert Douglas of Loch-Leven. The family of Loch-Leven was moreover heirs-apparent to that of Morton; and to that family they did actually succeed some time after. The Lord Ruthven also had to wife a natural daughter of the Earl of Angus;--all which considerations centering together in one, made the house of Loch-Leven, humanly speaking, a most sure and close prison for the Royal captive."[108]

To give an air of something like justice to a measure so violent and unexpected, Morton and his friends endeavoured to sanction it by what they were pleased to term an Act of Privy Council. They experienced, however, no little difficulty in determining on the proper mode of expressing this act. They recollected the proclamations in the Queen's favour to which they had so recently put their names; they recollected also the solemn engagement into which they had entered at Carberry Hill; and though _might_ was with them of greater value than _right_, they did not choose, if they could avoid it, to stand convicted of treason in the face of the whole country. They tried, therefore, to excuse the step they had taken, by a.s.serting, that though they still believed her Majesty had unwillingly married Bothwell, and had been kept in bondage by him, and that, though she had quitted his company for theirs at Carberry, yet that after they had "opened and declared unto her Highness her own estate and condition, and the miserable estate of this realm, with the danger that her dearest son the Prince stood in, requiring that she would suffer and command the murder and authors thereof to be punished, they found in her Majesty such untowardness and repugnance thereto, that rather she appeared to fortify and maintain the said Earl Bothwell and his accomplices in the said wicked crimes." The truth of this statement is directly contradicted by the transactions of the 15th of June, when Mary, though at the head of an army, had agreed to do every thing the Lords desired, and when, with a degree of facility only to be accounted for on the supposition that she was anxious to escape from his company, she had separated herself finally from Bothwell in the face of the whole world. So far from charging her with "fortifying" and "maintaining" him in his crimes, these Lords themselves declared, on the 11th, that they had a.s.sembled "to deliver their sovereign's most n.o.ble person out of bondage and captivity;" and, a month afterwards, they told the English amba.s.sador they "firmly believed the Queen would not have lived with Bothwell half a year to an end."[109]

In addition to this act of Privy Council, which was no doubt the production of Morton, and is signed by him and Athol, and six other n.o.blemen of less note, a bond of a.s.sociation was drawn up the same day, in which an explanation was given at greater length, of the system on which the Lords were about to proceed. It is a remarkable feature of this bond, that, in so far as Mary is concerned, it very materially contradicts the act of Council. Instead of containing any accusation against her, it represents her throughout as having been the victim of force and fraud. It commences by stating the conviction of the subscribers, that Bothwell was the murderer of Darnley, and that, had he himself not taken means to prevent a fair trial, he would have been convicted of the crime. It goes on to a.s.sert, that, adding wickedness to wickedness, the Earl had treasonably, and without any reverence for his native Prince, carried her prisoner to his castle at Dunbar, and had afterwards pretended unlawfully to marry her; which being accomplished, his cruel and ambitious nature immediately showed itself, "no n.o.bleman daring to resort to her Majesty to speak with her without suspicion, unless in his presence and hearing, and her chamber-doors being continually watched by armed men." It is therefore maintained that their interference was necessary, both on account of the "shameful thraldom" in which the Queen was kept, and the great danger of the young Prince, her only son. They had taken up arms, they say, against Bothwell, and to deliver their sovereign; and though they had already chased him from his unlawful authority, they considered themselves obliged to continue in arms till "the authors of the murder and ravishing were condignly punished, the pretended marriage dissolved, their sovereign relieved of the thraldom, bondage, and ignominy, which she had sustained, and still underlies by the said Earl's fault, the person of the innocent prince placed in safety, and, finally, justice restored and uprightly administered to all the subjects of the realm."[110]

This, then, was all the length to which Morton and the other Lords, as yet ventured. They had sent Mary to Loch-Leven, merely to keep her at a safe distance from Bothwell; and as soon as they had seized his person, or driven him from the kingdom, it was of course implied that they would restore their sovereign to her throne. They did not hint, in the most distant manner, that she was in the least implicated in the guilt of her husband's death; and they expressly declared that, for every thing which had taken place since, Bothwell alone was to blame. Judging by their own words, they entertained as much respect for the Queen as ever; and the impression they gave to the country was, that they intended she should remain at Loch-Leven only for a short time, and that so far from meaning to punish one whom they accused of no crime, by forcing from her an abdication of her crown, and condemning her to perpetual imprisonment, they would soon be found rallying round her, and conducting her back to her capital in triumph. These may have been the hopes entertained by some; but they forgot that Morton, who was at the head of the new faction, had a.s.sa.s.sinated Rizzio, and countenanced the murder of Darnley;--and that Murray, though at present in France, had left the country only till new disturbances should afford new prospects for his inordinate ambition.

CHAPTER VII.

MARY AT LOCHLEVEN, HER ABDICATION, AND MURRAY'S REGENCY.

Scotland was now in the most unfortunate condition in which a country could possibly be. Like a ship without a pilot, it was left at the mercy of a hundred contrary opinions; and it was not long before there sprung out of these two opposing currents or distinct parties, known by the name of the Queen's and the Prince's. Morton and his friends calling themselves the Prince's Lords, continued at Edinburgh; whilst the Queen's n.o.bles a.s.sembled at Hamilton Palace in very considerable force, having among them, besides the Hamiltons, Huntly, (who had been allowed by Sir James Balfour to escape from the Castle of Edinburgh, in which he had taken shelter some time before), Argyle, (who, though he had at first joined with Morton and Mar at Stirling, when they announced their determination to keep the Prince out of Bothwell's hands, never intended taking up arms against the Queen), Rothes, Caithness, Crawfurd, Boyd, Herries, Livingston, Seaton, Ogilvie, and others.[111] Morton laboured to effect a coalition with these Lords; but though he employed the mediation of the General a.s.sembly, they would not consent to any proposals he made them.

Buchanan himself is forced to allow, that affairs took a very different turn from what was expected. "For popular envy being abated, partly by time, and partly by the consideration of the uncertainty of human affairs, commiseration succeeded; nay, some of the n.o.bility did then no less bewail the Queen's calamity than they had before execrated her cruelty."[112] The truth is, that Mary's friends were at this time much more numerous than her enemies; but unfortunately they were not sufficiently unanimous in their councils, to be able to take any decisive steps in her behalf.

Morton earnestly laboured to increase the popularity of his faction by every means in his power. To please the mult.i.tude, he apprehended several persons, whom he accused of being implicated in the murder of Darnley; and though he probably knew them to be innocent, they were all condemned and executed, with the exception of Sebastian, the Queen's servant, who was seized with the view of casting suspicion on Mary herself, but who contrived to escape.[113] Thus, they who blamed Mary for being too remiss in seeking out and punishing the murderers, were able to console themselves with the reflection, that, under the new order of things, persons were iniquitously executed for the sake of appearances, by those who had themselves been Bothwell's accomplices. Against Bothwell himself, Morton, for his own sake, proceeded with more caution. It was not till the 26th of June, that letters were addressed to the keeper of the Castle at Dunbar, ordering him to deliver up his charge, because he had received and protected Bothwell; and, on the same day, a proclamation was issued, offering the moderate reward of a thousand crowns to any one who should apprehend the Earl.[114] It is singular that these Lords, who were so fully convinced of his criminality, not only allowed him to depart unmolested from Carberry Hill, but took no steps, for ten days afterwards, towards securing his person.

The precise period at which Bothwell left Dunbar, the efforts he made to regain his authority in Scotland, and in general, most of the particulars of his subsequent fate, are not accurately known. He entered, no doubt, into correspondence with the n.o.blemen a.s.sembled at Hamilton; but probably received from them little encouragement, as it was the Queen's cause, not his, in which they were interested. He then retired to the North, where he possessed estates as Duke of Orkney, and some influence with his kinsman, the Bishop of Murray. As soon as his flight thither was known, Grange and Tullibardin were sent in pursuit of him, with several vessels which were fitted out on purpose. Hearing of their approach, Bothwell fled towards the Orkney and Shetland Islands, and, being closely followed, was there very nearly captured. His pursuers were at one time within gun-shot of his ship, and it must have been taken, had not the vessels of Grange and Tullibardin, in the very heat of the chase, both struck upon a sunken rock, which Bothwell, either because his pilot was better acquainted with the seas, or because his ship was lighter, avoided. They were, however, fortunate enough to seize some of his accomplices, who were brought to Edinburgh, and having been tried and condemned, made the confessions which have been already referred to, and by which the particulars of the murder became known. Bothwell himself proceeded to Denmark, imagining that the King of that country, Frederick II., who was distantly related to Mary, through her great-grandmother Margaret of Denmark, the spouse of James III., might be disposed to interest himself in his behalf. But finding that the circ.u.mstances under which he had left Scotland, would prevent him from appearing at the Danish Court with so much _eclat_ as he desired, he ventured on enriching his treasury, by making a seizure of one or two merchantmen, trading in the North Seas. These practices were discovered; a superior force was fitted out against him; and he was carried into a Danish port, not as an exiled prince, but as a captive pirate. He was there thrown into prison without ceremony; and though he lost no time in letting his name and rank be known to the government, it does not appear that the discovery operated greatly in his favour. He was retained in durance for many years, the King of Denmark neither choosing to surrender him to Elizabeth or his enemies in Scotland, nor thinking it right to offend them by restoring him to liberty, so long at least as Mary herself remained a prisoner. Broken down by misfortune, and perhaps a.s.sailed by remorse, Bothwell is believed to have been in a state of mental derangement for several years before his death. There can be no doubt that he died miserably; and he seems, even in this life, to have paid the penalty of his crimes, if any earthly penalty could atone for the misery he brought on the innocent victim of his lawless ambition and systematic villany. His character may be summed up in the words of our great poet:--

"Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy; Thy schooldays frightful, desp'rate, wild, and furious; Thy prime of manhood daring, bold, and venturous; Thy age confirmed, proud, subtle, sly, and b.l.o.o.d.y."[115]

In the meantime, foreign courts were not inattentive to the state of affairs in Scotland. An amba.s.sador arrived from Mary's friends in France; but finding, to his astonishment, that she was imprisoned, and that some of the n.o.bility had usurped the government, he refused to acknowledge their authority, and immediately left the country. Elizabeth's messenger, who came about the same time, was less scrupulous; and, indeed, few things could have given that Queen greater satisfaction, than the turn which Scottish affairs had recently taken. In the letters she sent by her amba.s.sador Sir Nicholas Throckmorton, are discovered all that duplicity, affected sincerity, and real heartlessness, which so constantly distinguish the despatches of Cecil and his mistress. After taking it for granted, in direct opposition to the declarations of the rebel Lords themselves, that Mary had given her consent to the hasty marriage with Bothwell, and that she was consequently implicated in all his guilt, Elizabeth proceeds with no little contradiction, to a.s.sure her good sister that she considers her imprisonment entirely unjustifiable. But the insincerity of her desire, that the Queen of Scots should recover her liberty, is evinced by the very idle conditions she suggests should first be imposed upon her. These are, that the murderers of Darnley should be immediately prosecuted and punished, and that the young Prince should be preserved free from all danger;--just as if Mary could punish murderers before they were discovered or taken, unless, indeed, she chose to follow the example of her Lords, and condemn the innocent; and as if she had lost the natural affection of a mother, and would have delivered her only son to be butchered, as his father had been. In short, Morton and his colleagues had no difficulty in perceiving, that though Elizabeth thought it necessary, for the sake of appearances, to pretend to be displeased with them, yet that they had, in truth, never stood higher in her good graces. They well knew, as they had observed in the case of Murray, and experienced in their own, that Elizabeth seldom said what she meant, or meant what she said.

But to put her conduct on the present occasion in a still clearer light, the reader will be somewhat surprised to learn, that Throckmorton brought with him into Scotland two distinct sets of "Instructions," both bearing the same date (June 30th 1567), the one of which was to be shown to Mary, and the other to the rebel Lords. In the former, she expresses the greatest indignation at the Queen's imprisonment, and threatens vengeance on all her enemies. In the latter, the Lords are spoken of in a much more confidential and friendly manner. They are told, that Elizabeth thought it requisite to send an amba.s.sador; but that he came to solicit nothing that was not for the general weal of the realm; and that, if she were allowed to mediate between their Queen and them, "they should have no just cause to mislike her doings," because she would consent to nothing that was not "for their security hereafter, and for quietness to the realm." Nay, she even desired Throckmorton to a.s.sure them, that she "meant not to allow of such faults as she hears _by report_ are imputed to the Queen of Scots, but had given him strictly in charge to lay before, and to _reprove her_, in her name, for the same."--"And in the end also," she adds, "we mean not with any such partiality to deal for her, but that her princely state being preserved, she should conform herself to all reasonable devices that may bring a good accord betwixt her and her n.o.bility and people." Thus she was to take upon herself to reprove Mary for faults which "_she heard by report were imputed to her_;" and to insist, though she herself was of opinion that she had been unlawfully imprisoned, that she should enter into negotiations with her rebel subjects, which would compromise her dignity, and even impugn her character.[116]

When Throckmorton came into Scotland, in July 1567, although he was allowed no more access to the Queen than had been granted to the French amba.s.sador, yet, as his instructions authorized him to treat with the Lords of Secret Council, he of course remained. From them he received an explanation of their late proceedings, containing some of the most glaring contradictions ever exhibited in a State paper. They do not throw out the most distant suspicion of the Queen being implicated in Bothwell's guilt; on the contrary, they continue to express their conviction that she became his wife very unwillingly, and only after force had been used; but they allege, as their reason for imprisoning her, the change which took place in her mind an hour or two after she parted with her husband at Carberry Hill. They state, that, immediately after, Bothwell, "caring little or nothing for her Majesty" left her to save himself, and that after she, caring as little for him, had parted company from him, and voluntarily come with them to Edinburgh, they all at once, and most unexpectedly, "found her pa.s.sion so prevail in maintenance of him and his cause, that she would not with patience hear speak any thing to his reproof, or suffer his doings to be called in question; but, on the contrary, offered to give over the realm and all, so that she might be suffered to enjoy him, with many threatenings to be revenged on every man who had dealt in the matter."[117] This was surely a very sudden and inexplicable change of mind; for, in the very same letter, with an inconsistency which might almost have startled themselves, these veracious Lords declare, that "the Queen, their Sovereign, had been led captive, and, by fear, force, and other extraordinary and more unlawful means, compelled to become bed-fellow to another wife's husband;" that even though they had not interfered, "she would not have lived with him half a year to an end;" and that at Carberry Hill, a separation voluntary on both sides took place.

Was it, therefore, for a moment to be credited, that during the short interval of a few hours, which elapsed between this separation and Mary's imprisonment in Loch-Leven, she could either have so entirely altered her sentiments regarding Bothwell, or, if they had in truth never been unfavourable, so foolishly and unnecessarily betrayed them, as to convince her n.o.bility, that to secure their own safety, and force her to live apart from him, no plan would be of any avail, but that of shutting her up in a strong and remote castle? And even if this expedient appeared advisable at the moment, did they think that, if Mary was now restored to liberty, she would set sail for Denmark, and join Bothwell in his prison there? No; they did not go so far; for, in conclusion, they a.s.sured Throckmorton, that, "knowing the great wisdom wherewith G.o.d hath endowed her," they antic.i.p.ated that within a short time her mind would be settled, and that as soon as "by a just trial they had made the truth appear, she would conform herself to their doings."[118]

"By the above answer," says Keith, "I make no doubt but my readers will be ready enough to prognosticate what shall be the upshot of Sir Nicholas Throckmorton's negotiations with the rebels in favour of our Queen." There can be no doubt that the same motives (whatever these might be) which led to Mary's imprisonment, would have equal force in keeping her there. The whole history of this conspiracy may be explained in a few words. When Morton and the other Lords took up arms at Stirling, they were, to a certain extent, sincere; they believed (especially those of them who had been his accomplices) that Bothwell was the murderer of Darnley, and that he was anxiously endeavouring to get the young Prince into his power. This they determined to prevent, and having won over Sir James Balfour, the governor of the Castle, they advanced to Edinburgh. Bothwell retired to Dunbar, taking the Queen along with him. But the Lords knew that Mary entertained no affection for her husband, and they therefore hoped to create a division between them. They accomplished this object at Carberry Hill, and reconducted the Queen to Edinburgh. There, though not sorry that she had parted from her husband, Mary did not express any high approbation of the conduct of Lords who, when she was first seized by Bothwell, did not draw a sword in her defence, and now that she had become his wife, according to their own express recommendation recorded in the bond they had given him, openly rebelled against the authority with which they had induced her to intrust him. Morton recollected at the same time his share in Rizzio's a.s.sa.s.sination, and the disastrous consequences which ensued, as soon as Mary made her escape from the thraldom in which he had then kept her for several days. He determined not to expose himself to a similar risk now, especially as he had an army at his command; if he disbanded it, he might be executed as a traitor,--if he remained at the head of it, he might become Regent of Scotland. These were the secret motives by which his conduct was regulated;--having taken one step he thought he might venture to go on with another; he commenced with defending the son, and ended by dethroning the mother.

Four different plans were now in agitation, by adopting any of which it was thought the troubles of the kingdom might be brought to a conclusion.

The first was suggested by the Queen's friends a.s.sembled at Hamilton; their proposal was, to restore the Queen to her liberty and throne, having previously bound her, by an express agreement, to pardon the rebel Lords, to watch over the safety of the Prince, to consent to a divorce from Bothwell, and to punish all persons implicated in the murder of Darnley.

The other three schemes came from Morton and his party, and were worthy of the source from which they came. The _first_ was, to make the Queen resign all government and regal authority in favour of her son, under whom a Council of the n.o.bility should govern the realm, whilst she herself should retire to France or England, and never again return to her own country. The _second_ was, to have the Queen tried, to condemn her, to keep her in prison for life, and to crown the Prince. The _third_ was, to have her tried, condemned, and executed,--a measure which would have disgraced Scotland in even its most barbarous times, and which nothing but the violence of party feeling could now have suggested.[119] The English amba.s.sador, knowing the wishes of his mistress, did not hesitate to a.s.sure her that there was no probability of any of the more lenient proposals being adopted; and he took care to remind the Lords, that "it would be convenient for them so to proceed, as that by their doings they should not wipe away the Queen's infamy, and the Lord Bothwell's detestable murder, and by their outrageous dealings bring all the slander upon themselves."

At Morton's request, he likewise suggested to Elizabeth, that it would be proper to send a supply of ten or twelve thousand crowns to aid the Lords in their present increased expenditure; and this he said was the more necessary, because Lethington and others had reminded him that, notwithstanding all her Majesty's fair words, Murray, Morton, and the rest, "had in their troubles found cold relief and small favour at her Majesty's hands."[120] No wonder that, in moments when his better nature prevailed, Throckmorton felt disgusted with the double part he was obliged to act, and spoke "honestly and plainly" of it to Melville. "Yea," says Sir James, "he detested the whole counsel of England for the time, and told us friendly what reasoning they held among themselves to that end; namely, how that one of their finest counsellors (Cecil) proposed openly to the rest, that it was needful for the welfare of England, to foster and nourish the civil wars, as well in France and in Flanders, as in Scotland; whereby England might reap many advantages, and be sought after by all parties, and in the meantime live in rest, and gather great riches. This advice and proposition was well liked by most part of the Council; yet an honest counsellor stood up and said, it was a very worldly advice, and had little or nothing to do with a Christian commonweal."[121]

The Earl of Murray was in the meantime anxiously watching the progress of affairs in Scotland, and, though still in France, had so contrived, that he possessed as much influence in the counsels of the nation as Morton himself. The Lords indeed had long been in close correspondence with him.

Letters from them were forwarded to him by Cecil, who exchanged frequent communications with Murray; and, on the 26th of June, four days before Throckmorton left London for Scotland, Cecil wrote to the English amba.s.sador at Paris, that "Murray's return into Scotland was much desired, for the weal both of England and Scotland."[122] But as Murray had attempted to ingratiate himself at the French Court, by exaggerating his fidelity to Mary, he found it impossible to disengage himself immediately from the connexions he had there made, not antic.i.p.ating so sudden a revolution in the state of affairs at home. He sent, however, an agent into Scotland, of the name of Elphinston, whom he commissioned to attend to his interests, and whom the Lords allowed to visit the Queen at Loch-Leven, though they refused every body else. It is not likely that Morton, who had thus a second time been engaged in setting up a ladder for Murray to ascend by, was altogether pleased to find that he could not obtain the first place for himself. As soon as he determined to force Mary to abdicate the Crown, he saw that he would be obliged to yield the Regency to Murray, supported as that n.o.bleman was, both by his numerous friends in England and Scotland, and the earnest recommendations of Knox and the other preachers, who, in their anxiety to see their old patron once more Lord of the ascendant, "took pieces of Scripture, and inveighed vehemently against the Queen, and persuaded extremities against her, by application of the text."[123] Morton, however, consoled himself with the reflection, that he was in great favour with Murray, and that, by acting in concert with him, he would enjoy a scarcely inferior degree of power and honour.

Preparatory to extorting from her an abdication, the Lords anxiously circulated a report, that the Queen was devotedly and almost insanely attached to Bothwell. They did not venture, it is true, to put this attachment to the test, by publicly offering her reasonable terms of accommodation, which, if she had refused, all men would have acknowledged her infatuation, and deserted her cause;--they brought her to no trial,--they proved her guilty of no crime; all they did was to endeavour to impose upon the vulgar. They a.s.serted that Mary would not agree to prosecute the perpetrators of the murder, after she had already prosecuted them,--and that she would not consent to abandon a husband whom she had already abandoned, and with whom, they themselves had declared, only a few weeks before, she could not, under any circ.u.mstances, have lived for many months. Throckmorton, who was willing enough to propagate all the absurd falsehoods they told him, wrote to Elizabeth,--"she avoweth constantly that she will live and die with him; and saith, that if it were put to her choice to relinquish her Crown and kingdom, or the Lord Bothwell, she would leave her kingdom and dignity, to go as a simple damsel with him; and that she will never consent that he shall fare worse, or have more harm than herself."[124] But the numerous party in favour of the Queen openly avowed their disbelief of these reports; and Elizabeth herself, who began to fear that, in sending Throckmorton to the rebel Lords, she had countenanced the weaker side, wrote to her amba.s.sador on the 29th of August in the following terms, which, as they are used by an enemy so determined as Elizabeth, speak volumes in favour of Mary:--"We cannot perceive, that they, with whom they have dealt, can answer the doubts moved by the Hamiltons, who, howsoever they may be carried for their private respects, yet those things which they move will be allowed by all reasonable persons. For if they may not, being n.o.blemen of the realm, be suffered to hear the Queen, their Sovereign, declare her mind concerning the reports which are made of her by such as keep her in captivity, how should they believe the reports, or obey them which do report it?"[125]

That Mary refused to return to her throne, unless Bothwell was placed upon it beside her, is an a.s.sertion so ridiculous, that no time need be lost in refuting it. That she may not have chosen to submit to an immediate divorce from one whom all her n.o.bility had recommended to her as a husband, and by whom she might possibly have a child, is within the verge of probability. She would naturally be anxious to avoid doing any thing which would be equivalent with acknowledging her belief of his guilt, and might have appeared to implicate her in the suspicion attached to him. She had not married Bothwell till he had been judicially acquitted; and were she to consent to be divorced from him before he was again tried, she would seem to confess, that she had previously sanctioned a procedure possessing the show of justice, without the substance.[126] There can be no doubt, however, that if Bothwell's guilt had been distinctly proved to her, and if she could have disunited herself from him without injury to her reputation or her prospects, she would have been the very last person to have objected either to see Darnley's death revenged, or herself freed from an alliance into which she had been forced against her will.

But the Lords of Secret Council, conscious as they were of the injustice of their proceedings, had gone too far to recede, and were determined not to rest satisfied with any half-measures. On the 24th of July 1567, Lord Lindsay and Sir Robert Melville (brother to Sir James), were commissioned to pa.s.s to Loch-Leven, and to carry with them deeds or instruments of abdication.[127] These instruments were three in number. By the first, Mary was made to resign the Crown in favour of her son,--by the second, to const.i.tute the Earl of Murray Regent during his nonage,--and, by the third, to appoint a Council to administer the Government until Murray's return home, and, if he should refuse to accept of the regency, until her son's majority. It was of course well known to the rebels, that the Queen would not willingly affix her signature to deeds by which she was to surrender all power, and to reduce herself at once to the station of a subject, without receiving in return any promise of liberty, or the enjoyment of a single worldly good. Yet they had the effrontery to aver, that rather than submit to a separation from one with whom "she could not have lived half-a-year to an end," she preferred becoming a landless and crownless pensioner, on the bounty of such men as Morton and his accomplices.

Were we to single out the day in Mary's whole life in which it might be fairly concluded that she suffered the most intense mental anguish, we should fix on the 25th of July 1567, the day on which the Commissioners had their audience. Shut up in a gloomy edifice, which, though dignified with the name of a castle, was little else than a square tower of three stories; and instead of a numerous a.s.semblage of obsequious n.o.bles, attended by only three or four female servants;--it must have required a more than common spirit of queenly fort.i.tude to support so great a reverse of fortune.[128] But the misery of her situation was now to be increased a hundred fold, by a blow the severest she had yet experienced. When the report first reached her, that it was in contemplation to force her to abdicate her crown, she indignantly refused to believe so lawless an attempt possible. Mary had been all her life fond of power, and proud of her ill.u.s.trious birth and rank; and there were few subjects on which she dwelt with greater pleasure, than her unsullied descent from a "centenary line of kings." Was she now, without a struggle, to surrender the crown of the Stuarts into the hands of the b.a.s.t.a.r.d Murray, or the blood-stained Morton? Was she to submit to the bitter mockery, introduced in the very preamble to the instrument of demission, which stated, that, ever since her arrival in her realm, she had "employed her body, spirit, whole senses and forces, to govern in such sort, that her royal and honourable estate might stand and continue with her and her posterity, and that her loving and kind lieges might enjoy the quietness of true subjects;" but that, being now wearied with the fatigues of administration, she wished to lay down her sceptre?[129] Even though prepared to lay it down, was she also to countenance falsehood, and practise dissimulation?

When the commissioners arrived at Lochleven, Sir Robert Melville, knowing that Lindsay was personally disagreeable to his Sovereign, came to her at first alone. Opening to her his errand, and, addressing her with respect, and professions of attachment (for she had often employed him before about her person, or as her amba.s.sador to foreign courts), he urged every argument he could think of to persuade her to affix her signature to the deeds. She listened to him with calm dignity and unshaken resolution. She heard him describe the distracted state of Scotland--the impossibility of ever prevailing on all parties to submit again to her sway--the virulence of her enemies, and the apparent lukewarmness of her friends. She allowed him to proceed from these more general topics, to others more intimately connected with her own person. She listened to his a.s.surance, that, if she continued obstinate, it was determined to bring her to trial,--to blacken her character, by accusing her of incontinency, not only with Bothwell, but with others, and of the murder of her late husband, and, upon whatever evidence, to condemn and execute her.[130] But she remained unmoved, and preserved the same composure of manner, though not without many a secret throb of pain, at the discovery of the utter ingrat.i.tude and perfidy of those whom she had so often befriended and advanced. As a last expedient, Melville produced a letter from Throckmorton, in which the amba.s.sador advised her to consult her personal safety, by consenting to an abdication--a somewhat singular advice to be given by one who affected to have come into Scotland for the express purpose of securing her restoration to the throne.[131] But she only remarked on this letter, that it convinced her of the insincerity of Elizabeth's promises of a.s.sistance.

Melville now saw that there was no alternative, and that Lindsay must be called in to his a.s.sistance. Notorious for being one of the most pa.s.sionate men in Scotland, Lindsay burst into the Queen's presence, with the instruments in his hands, and rage sparkling in his eyes. Mary, for the first time, became agitated, for she recollected the evening of Rizzio's murder, when Lindsay stood beside the gaunt form of Ruthven, instigating him to the commission of that deed of cruelty. With fearful oaths and imprecations, this unmannered barbarian, ent.i.tled to be called a man only because he bore the external form of one, vowed, that unless she subscribed the deeds without delay, he would sign them himself with her blood, and seal them on her heart.[132] Mary had a bold and masculine spirit; but, trembling under the prospect of immediate destruction, and imagining that she saw Lindsay's dagger already drawn, she became suddenly pale and motionless, and would have fallen in a swoon, had not a flood of tears afforded her relief. Melville, moved perhaps to contrition by the depth of her misery, whispered in her ear, that instruments signed in captivity could not be considered valid, if she chose to revoke them when she regained her liberty. This suggestion may have had some weight; but almost before she had time to attend to it, Lindsay's pa.s.sion again broke forth, and, pointing to the lake which surrounded her confined residence, he swore that it should become her immediate grave, if she hesitated one moment longer. Driven to distraction, and scarcely knowing what she did, Mary seized a pen, and without reading a line of the voluminous writings before her, she affixed her name to each of them, as legibly as her tears would permit. The Commissioners then took their departure, secretly congratulating themselves, that, by a mixture of cunning and ferocity, they had gained their end. Mary, no longer a Queen, was left alone to the desolate solitude of her own gloomy thoughts.[133]

As soon as Lord Lindsay returned to Edinburgh, and notified the success of his mission, it was determined by Morton and his a.s.sociates that the Prince should be crowned with as little delay as possible. Sir James Melville, who was considered a moderate man by both parties, was sent to the Lords at Hamilton, to invite their concurrence and presence on the occasion. He was received courteously; but the n.o.bility there would not agree to countenance proceedings which they denounced as treasonable. On the contrary, perceiving the turn which matters were about to take, they retired from Hamilton to Dumbarton, where they prepared for more active opposition. They signed a bond of mutual defence and a.s.sistance, in which they declared, that owing to t