REIGN OF ELIZABETH (continued).

Elizabeth Determines to Imprison Mary—The Conference at York—It is Moved to London—The Casket Letters—Mary is sent Southwards—Remonstrances of the European Sovereigns—Affairs in the Netherlands—Alva is sent Thither—Elizabeth Aids the Insurgents—Proposed Marriage between Mary and Norfolk—The Plot is Discovered—Rising in the North—Its Suppression—Death of the Regent Murray—Its Consequences in Scotland—Religious Persecutions—Execution of Norfolk—Massacre of St. Bartholomew—Siege of Edinburgh Castle—War in France—Splendid Defence of La Rochelle—Death of Charles IX.—Religious War in the Netherlands—Rule of Don John—The Anjou Marriage—Deaths of Anjou and of William the Silent.

Elizabeth, on reading Mary's letter, felt that she was now entirely in her power; and all her art was exerted to draw her over into the heart of the kingdom, so that she could neither retreat nor escape to France. She took every measure to avoid alarming her. She dispatched letters to the sheriff of Cumberland, commanding him to treat the Scottish queen with all honour, but to keep the strictest watch over her, and to prevent any possibility of escape. Nothing was farther from Elizabeth's intentions than to enter on friendly terms with the Queen of Scots. She had never forgiven her the offence of insisting on her claims of succession to the crown of England. She had a personal jealousy of the fame of her superior beauty; and, with such a counsellor as Cecil, it was certain that a selfish and suspicious policy would prevail. In those days, honour and high principle were of little account: expediency was the only statesmanship. It was, therefore, easy for Elizabeth and her ministers to plead the accusations against Mary—the imprudence of her conduct, and her still unabated infatuation for the murderer Bothwell. Mary was a firm Papist, Murray was a high professing Protestant, and to favour him and his party was to be the champion of Protestantism. To let Mary escape to France was not to be thought of, for of all things it was essential to keep asunder the union of French and Scottish interests. It was clear, therefore, that Mary must be detained in England, at least for the present; after she had been sufficiently discredited she might be allowed to return to Scotland.

Elizabeth, after some consideration, determined that Mary's conduct should be submitted to a formal inquiry. When Mary learned that a message was actually on its way to call Murray and his accomplices to England, to prefer their charges against her, she protested vehemently against such a proceeding and declared that she would rather die than submit to such indignity. Murray received his summons with his usual artfulness. He was required by Elizabeth to prefer his charges against the Queen of Scots, but in the meantime to refrain from hostilities. He obeyed the requisition; placed his soldiers in quarters; but demanded to know what was to be the result of the inquiry. If the queen was declared innocent, what guarantee was he to receive for his own security? If guilty, what then? He said he had already sent copies of his proofs by his servant Wood; and if they were found to be faithful to the originals, would they be deemed conclusive?

Thus the cunning Regent was seeking to ascertain whether he had already evidence deemed by the selected judge sufficiently damnatory, or whether he should fabricate more. Nothing could be cleverer than Elizabeth's dealings in reply. She assured Murray, and also Mary, that she did not set herself up as a judge of the Scottish queen, far less as an accuser; that her sole object was to settle the disputes between Mary and her subjects, and to reinstate her at once in their good opinion and in her full power; but in secret she assured Murray, as we learn from Goodall and Anderson, that, whatever were her assurances to Mary, she really meant to try her and, if she could find her guilty, to retain her in perpetual imprisonment.

After considerable delay Murray appointed his commissioners—the Earl of Morton, the Bishop of Orkney, Lord Lindsay, and the commendator of Dunfermline, who were to be assisted by Maitland, Buchanan, and Macgill. Elizabeth appointed, as hers, the Duke of Norfolk, the Earl of Sussex, and Sir Ralph Sadler. Maitland, at this juncture, while engaged on the part of Murray, sent Mary copies of the letters which Murray intended to present against her, and begged her to say what he could do to assist her. She replied, that he should use his influence to abate the rigour of Murray, influence the Duke of Norfolk as much as possible in her favour, and rely on the Bishop of Ross as her sincere friend. She then named, on her part, the said Bishop of Ross, the Lords Herries, Boyd, Livingston, the abbot of Kilwinning, Sir John Gordon of Lochinvar, and Sir John Cockburn of Stirling.

The Commissioners, Murray attending in person with his own, met at York, on the 4th of October. Some obstruction of business was occasioned by the Duke of Norfolk insisting that, as the Regent had consented to plead before Elizabeth, he must first do homage to the English crown. This was refused, and was therefore waived; but the step discovered the desire of Elizabeth to seize on this occasion to achieve what none of her ancestors could accomplish—the acknowledgment of the feudal vassalage of Scotland. The next betrayed the duplicity of her promises to the two parties. Mary's commissioners claimed that the engagement of Elizabeth to place Mary on the throne of Scotland in any case, should appear in their powers; and Murray's, on the contrary, pleaded the queen's promise that if Mary were pronounced guilty she should remain a prisoner. These contradictory powers were granted, and Mary's commissioners opened the conference with their charges that Murray and his associates had rebelliously risen in arms against their lawful sovereign, had deposed and imprisoned her, and compelled her to seek justice from her royal kinswoman.

Murray was now called upon to reply, but, instead of openly and boldly stating his reasons for the course he had pursued, and producing and substantiating, as Elizabeth hoped and expected, the charges of her participating in her husband's murder, which he had so long and loudly vaunted, he solicited a private interview with the English commissioners, before whom he stated his defence. In this defence, to the unmitigated astonishment and disappointment of Elizabeth and her ministers, he made no charge against Mary of participation in the murder of Darnley; but reiterated the charges against her of marrying Bothwell, and the danger thereby incurred by the prince. Nor was this all. Mary's commissioners did not so far excuse him; they accused him boldly of complicity with Bothwell and the murderers, and of being on the most friendly terms with Bothwell whilst the marriage with the queen was in progress. Murray, with all his art, was confounded and silenced.

It is said that the arguments and disclosures of the Duke of Norfolk had, at this moment, greatly staggered him. Norfolk had conceived the design of marrying the Queen of Scots; and, in order to deter Murray from pressing the worst charges, intimated to him privately that he was pursuing a dangerous course, for that Elizabeth, it was well known, never meant to decide against Mary. Murray was rendered sufficiently cautious to abstain from the public accusation of the queen; but he laid privately before Norfolk, Suffolk, and Sadler, the alleged contents of the celebrated silver casket, consisting of love-letters and sonnets, addressed by Mary to Bothwell, and a contract of marriage in the handwriting of Huntley. Copies of these were transmitted to Elizabeth.

Being now in possession of Murray's charges, Elizabeth determined to compel him to make them openly, her grand object being to establish an accusation of Mary sufficiently atrocious to warrant her in keeping her a perpetual prisoner. For this reason she summoned the Commission to Westminster, alleging that York was too distant for a quick transaction of business. When Murray appeared before Elizabeth, he found, to his dismay, that she was perfectly informed of his private interviews with Norfolk, and she insisted that he should make a public accusation of Mary, threatening in case of refusal, to transfer her interests to the Duke of Chatelherault, and to favour the latter's claim to the Regency. But Murray was not inclined to make this accusation, unless assured that Elizabeth would pronounce sentence on Mary, which Norfolk had led him to doubt. Mary, on the other hand, received information from Hepburn of Riccarton, a confederate of Bothwell's, that Elizabeth was of all things really anxious to compel Murray to this accusation. To prevent this, she ordered her commissioners, if any such attempt was made at accusing her, to demand her immediate admission to the presence of Elizabeth, and, if that were refused, to break up the conference.

These conferences were opened in the Painted Chamber at Westminster, the commissioners of Mary refusing to meet in any judicial court; and, acting on the instruction of their queen, they at once demanded the admission of Mary to Elizabeth's presence, on the reasonable plea that that privilege had been granted to Murray. This was again declined, on the old ground that Mary must first clear herself; and on the retirement of the commissioners it was demanded of Murray to put in his accusation in writing, Bacon, the Lord Keeper, assuring him that, if Mary were found guilty, she should be either delivered to him, or kept safe in England. To this Murray replied, that he had prepared his written accusation, but that before he would give it in he must have an assurance, under the hand of Elizabeth, that she would pronounce judgment. On this Cecil said, "Where is your accusation?" and Murray's secretary, Wood, taking it imprudently from his bosom, replied, "Here it is, and here it must remain till we have the queen's written assurance." But while he spoke the paper was snatched from his hand by Bothwell, Bishop of Orkney, who rushed over the table, pursued by Wood, and handed it to the English commissioners. It was received amid roars of laughter, and Cecil, who had now gained his great object, became radiant with exultation. The confusion of the scene was extraordinary; Lord William Howard, a blunt sea-officer, shouting aloud in his glee, and Maitland whispering to Murray that he had ruined his cause for ever.

But as there was now no going back, the paper was read, and found to contain the broadest and most direct charge against Mary, not only of being an accomplice in the murder of her husband, but even of inciting Bothwell to it, and then marrying the murderer. This was totally different from Murray's former declaration to the English ministers; but it was now backed by a similar one from Lord Lennox, demanding vengeance for the death of his son. No sooner did the commissioners of the Queen of Scots hear this than they most indignantly condemned the conduct of the English commissioners, declared themselves prepared to prove that Murray and his friends themselves were the actual authors, and some of them the perpetrators of the murder. They demanded instant admittance to the presence of Elizabeth; complained loudly of the breach of the contract that nothing should be received in prejudice of their queen's honour, in her absence; demanded the instant arrest of the authors of the foul charge, and, on that being refused, broke off the conference.

Here, indeed, the conference really ceased. Elizabeth, despite the withdrawal of Mary's commissioners, summoned Murray to produce his proofs; and the pretended love-letters and sonnets, of which Elizabeth had already had copies, were spread before her commissioners. The originals of these celebrated documents have long disappeared, but the copies which remained have evidently been tampered with, and have been pronounced most suspicious by all who have examined them. Mary, on hearing this, demanded by her commissioners the right to see these papers, declaring that she would prove the exhibitors of them the real murderers, and expose them as liars and traitors. This most reasonable request was refused, and Elizabeth, having now all she wanted, delivered by her Council this extraordinary decision on the 10th of January, 1569:—That neither against the Queen of Scotland, nor against Murray, had any convincing charge of crime, on the one hand, or treason on the other, been shown; and that the Queen of England saw no cause to conceive an ill opinion of her good sister of Scotland. It was conceded that Mary should have copies of the papers in the casket, on condition that she should reply to them, which she consented to do, provided that Murray and her accusers were detained to abide the consequence. This, however, did not suit the object of Elizabeth. Murray and his associates were permitted to retire to Scotland, but it was declared that, on many grounds, the Queen of Scots must remain in England.

Meanwhile Elizabeth had removed Mary farther from the Scottish border. She evidently doubted the security of the Queen of Scots so near her Scottish subjects, and in a part of the country so extremely Popish. Mary, on her part, was quite sensible of the views of Elizabeth, and protested against going farther into the interior of England. She did not hesitate to express her opinion that it was the intention of Cecil to make away with her. But resistance on her part was now hopeless. She was in the hands of a powerful and unscrupulous woman, who every day felt more and more the difficult position in which she had placed herself by thus making herself the gaoler, against all right and honour, of an independent queen. She sent express orders to Scrope and Knollys to permit no person to approach the Queen of Scots who was likely to dissuade her from her removal, and furnished them with a list of such well-affected gentlemen as should attend her on her way through the different counties. On the 26th of January, 1569, in wintry weather, Mary and her attendants were obliged to quit Bolton Castle and, mounted on miserable horses, to take their way southward. On the 2nd of February they reached Ripon, and thence proceeded to Tutbury Castle, a ruinous house belonging to the Earl of Shrewsbury, who was now her keeper. The castle lay high above the valley of the Dove, and was a wretched abode for a crowned head; and Mary was watched and guarded with the utmost anxiety lest some of her partisans should find means of communicating with her.

Not only were the Roman Catholic subjects of Elizabeth greatly discontented with the detention of the Scottish queen—whom Elizabeth had again removed to Wingfield Manor, in Derbyshire, in April—but the sovereigns of the Continent also remonstrated with Elizabeth on the injustice of treating a queen—as much a sovereign as herself—as a captive and a criminal. Elizabeth, however, feeling that she had now little to fear from them, replied that they were labouring under a mistake; and that so far from treating the Queen of Scots as a captive, she was giving her refuge and protection against her rebellious subjects, who sought her life, and laid the most grievous crimes to her charge.

The Duke of Norfolk, and the Earls of Arundel and Pembroke, as friends of Mary, were extremely hostile to Cecil, regarding him as the real mover and influencer of the queen against her. They succeeded in securing the favour of Leicester to their design against him, who ventured to lay their complaints, as the complaints of the country, before Elizabeth, representing the clamour against the measures of Cecil, and the belief that his policy was prejudicial to her reputation and injurious to the interests of the realm, as universal. Elizabeth defended her favourite minister with zeal; but the politic Cecil was struck with a degree of alarm at their combination, which might have eventually proved formidable, had they not stumbled on the scheme of marrying Norfolk to Mary. The results of that scheme, however, we must postpone till we have noticed some anterior affairs.

We have seen how Elizabeth assisted the Huguenots in France. In the Netherlands she was not less active. The commercial natives of these countries had not only grown rich under the mild sway of the Dukes of Burgundy, but they had exercised privileges which did not accord with the bigoted and despotic notions of Philip II. Both Protestants and Romanists murmured at his harsh and arbitrary government. The latter complained that opulent abbeys in the possession of natives were dissolved to form bishoprics for Spaniards. The Protestants groaned under a stern persecution, and every class of subjects beheld with horror and disgust the Spanish Inquisition introduced. Protestants and Papists alike united to put down this odious institution. The league, from including both religious parties, was named the Compromise, and the Prince of Orange and the Counts Egmont and Horn took the lead in it. The Duchess of Parma, who governed the country, gave way before the storm, and abolished the Inquisition, which had the effect of separating the Roman Catholics from the Protestants. The latter deemed it necessary, when thus deserted, to conduct their worship with arms in their hands; and the duchess, alarmed at this hostile attitude, issued a proclamation forbidding all such assemblies. In Antwerp and other cities where the English and German Protestants greatly abounded, no notice was taken of her proclamation; but it was resolved no longer to remain on the defensive, but to carry the war into the enemy's quarters.

The people, assembling in April, 1567, in vast crowds, proceeded to demolish the images and altars in the churches, and even to pull the churches down. On the feast of the Assumption, as the priests were carrying an image of the Virgin through the streets, the crowd made terrible menaces against it, and the procession was glad to hasten back to the church from which it had set out. But a few days afterwards the people rushed to the cathedral, which was filled with rich shrines, treasures, and works of art, and set systematically to work to smash and destroy every image that it contained. Amongst these was a crucifix, placed aloft, the work of a famous artist, which they dragged down with ropes, and knocked in pieces. The pictures, many of them very valuable, they cut to shreds, and the altars and shrines they tore down and utterly destroyed. From the desecrated cathedral they proceeded to the other churches, where they perpetrated the same ruin, and thence to the convents and monasteries, driving the monks and nuns destitute into the streets. The example of Antwerp was zealously followed in every other province in the Netherlands, except in the Walloons. The iconoclasts were at length interrupted in their work by the Duchess of Parma, who fell upon them near Antwerp, and defeated them with great slaughter. Philip dispatched the notorious Duke of Alva to take vengeance on the turbulent heretics, and overran the Netherlands with his butcheries. The Prince of Orange retired to his province of Nassau, but Horn and Egmont were seized and beheaded on the 5th of June, 1568.

The Huguenots in France, alarmed at this success of Alva, and believing that he was appointed to carry into execution the secret league of Bayonne, for compelling the Protestants of France, Spain, and Flanders, to give up their religion or their lives, rose under CondÉ, and attempted to seize the king, Charles IX., at Monceaux. Charles, however, was rescued by his Swiss guards, who, surrounding him in a body, beat off the Huguenots, and conducted him in safety to Paris. There, he was, nevertheless, a prisoner, till he was released by the defeat of the Huguenots at the battle of St. Denis, where his principal general, the constable Montmorency, was killed. CondÉ had fallen in the battle of Jarnac (March 15, 1569). Norris, the English ambassador, was accused of giving encouragement and aid to the insurgents, and the king was compelled to make a treaty with his armed subjects. In the spring of 1568, 3,000 of these French Huguenots marched into Flanders, to join the Prince of Orange, who had taken the field against Alva. After various successes, the prince, at the close of the campaign, was obliged to retreat across the Rhine.

Throughout these struggles, both in France and Belgium, Elizabeth lent much aid and encouragement in the shape of money; but, with her usual caution, she would take no public part in the contest, and all the while professed herself the friend of Philip, and most hostile to rebellion.

The summer of 1569 was distinguished by a remarkable scheme for the marriage of the Duke of Norfolk to the Queen of Scots, which ended fatally for that nobleman, and increased the rigour of Mary's incarceration. The scheme was said to have originated in the ever-busy brain of Maitland. Murray fell into it, probably under the idea that Mary would then content herself with living in England, and leave the government of Scotland in his hands; or it might have entered into his calculations that it would, on discovery, so exasperate Elizabeth, as to lead to what it did, the closer imprisonment of the Queen of Scots, which would be equally acceptable to him. Elizabeth was not long in catching the rumours of this plot, and she burst out on the duke in her fiercest style; but Norfolk had the art to satisfy her of the folly of such an idea, by replying that such a thing had, indeed, been suggested to him, but that it was not a thing likely to captivate him, who loved to sleep on a safe pillow. The plan, however, went on, and from one motive or another, it eventually included amongst its promoters the Earls of Pembroke, Arundel, Bedford, Shrewsbury, Northumberland, and Westmoreland. Leicester and Throgmorton were induced to embrace it, and even Cecil was made aware of it and favoured it. In Scotland, Murray, Maitland, the Bishop of Ross, and Lord Boyd, were favourable to the measure. Mary was sounded on the subject, and professed her readiness to be divorced from Bothwell; but as to marriage, from her past sorrowful experience, she would rather retain her solitary life; yet, if the sanction of Elizabeth was obtained, she would consent to take Norfolk—but not, since all her miseries had flowed from her marriage with Darnley, contrary to the Queen of England's pleasure. The duke, on his part, when it was proposed to him, had recommended Leicester rather, and on his declining, his own brother Lord Henry Howard. How far either party was sincere in these statements matters little; the promoters were urgent and they acquiesced.

The Bishop of Ross, with the apparent approbation of Murray, undertook to negotiate with Elizabeth for the restoration of the Scottish queen, on condition that neither she nor her issue should lay claim to the English throne during the life of Elizabeth; and that Mary should enter into a perpetual league, offensive and defensive, with England, and establish the Reformed religion in Scotland. Elizabeth affected to listen to these proposals, and the matter went so far that, on the assembling of the Scottish Parliament in July, 1569, Murray professed to be quite agreeable to the liberation of Mary, but took care to reject the proposals approved of by Elizabeth, and opposed the appointment to examine the queen's marriage with Bothwell. Maitland at once fathomed the long-concealed deceit of the Regent, and dreading his vengeance on those who had committed themselves in the matter, took a hasty flight into the fastnesses of Athole.

And now befell what, no doubt, Murray had calculated upon. He despatched an envoy to the English queen, bearing full details of the propositions laid before the Scottish Parliament, and the consent received from Bothwell in Denmark to the divorce. The marriage with Norfolk, which was the end and object of all these plottings, had never been communicated to Elizabeth; for though Leicester had promised to impart it to her, he had not ventured to do it. Elizabeth immediately invited Norfolk to dine with her at Farnham, and, on rising from table, reminded him, in a very significant tone, of his speech when charged with such a design some time before, saying, "My lord duke, beware on what pillow you lay your head." Alarmed at this expression, Norfolk urged Leicester to redeem his promise, and speak to the queen on the subject; and this he did, under pretence of being seriously ill, while the queen was sitting by his bedside. The rage of Elizabeth was unbounded, but on Leicester expressing the deepest regret for his meddling in the matter, she forgave him, but sent for Norfolk and poured out on him her wrath and scorn. Norfolk expressed himself perfectly indifferent to the alliance, though so strongly recommended by his friends; but his words and manner did not deceive the deep-sighted queen. She continued to regard him with stern looks, and the courtiers immediately avoided him as a dangerous person. Leicester, who had promised him so much, lowered upon him as a public disturber. Norfolk felt it most agreeable to withdraw from Court, and his example was followed by his staunch friends Pembroke and Arundel. From Norfolk he wrote to Elizabeth excusing his absence, and expressing fears of the acts and slanders of his enemies. Elizabeth immediately commanded him to return to London. Her first information from Murray had been increased by the treachery of that nobleman and of Leicester, who had hastened to reveal to her the secret correspondence of Norfolk with them. His friends advised him to fly, but he did not venture on this, but wrote to Cecil to intercede with the queen. Cecil assured him there was no danger; the duke, therefore, proceeded to London, and was instantly arrested and committed to the Tower in October, 1569.

At the same time Elizabeth joined the Earl of Huntingdon, an avowed enemy of the Queen of Scots, in commission with her keeper, the Earl of Shrewsbury, and Viscount Hertford, to secure more completely the person of Mary, who was again removed to Tutbury, and to examine her papers for further proofs of the correspondence with Norfolk. Her confidential servants had been dismissed; her person surrounded by an armed force; and her cabinets and apartments were strictly searched for this correspondence, but without effect. It is also asserted that it was determined to put her to death, if, as had been expected, the Duke of Norfolk should attempt her rescue by force. The friends of Mary blamed the duke for not having taken arms for her rescue, declaring that a short time would have brought whole hosts to his standard, but Norfolk must have too well known the hopelessness of such an enterprise.

The disclosure of the plot produced consternation and distrust on all sides. Murray, in revealing the correspondence with Norfolk, had not been able to escape suspicion himself. Elizabeth saw enough to believe that he had been an active promoter of the scheme; she saw still clearer that Maitland had been the originator of it; she was, moreover, incensed at the double-faced part which Murray's secretary, Wood, had been playing in the matter in London; and she ordered Lord Hunsdon, and her other agents in the North, to keep a sharp eye on Murray, and the movements of the leading Scots. To propitiate Elizabeth Murray determined to sacrifice Maitland; he, therefore, lured him from his retreat by some plausible artifice, when, on the demand of Lennox, he was arrested in the Council as one of the murderers of his son Darnley. Sir James Balfour, whom Lennox also accused, was seized with his brother George, in spite of the pardon which had been granted him on this head. In the midst of Murray's exultation over his success, Kirkaldy of Grange, dreading fresh disclosures, attacked the house where Maitland was kept, and carried him off.

As the autumn approached, there were repeated rumours of rebellion in the North, which alarmed the Court of Elizabeth. On inquiry, however, no trace of such a thing could be discovered, and the Earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland, when questioned, gave such apparently honest and satisfactory answers, that the Government was perplexed. Suddenly, however, at the beginning of October, the two earls received a summons to York on the queen's business, and the Earl of Sussex was instructed, when he had secured them, to forward them to London. The fate of Norfolk, and consciousness of their actual secret proceedings, determined them to disobey the summons. But, unfortunately for them, their plans of action were yet so immature that they were not prepared to take up arms. While consulting what course to follow, the summons of Sussex arrived, and at the same time a rumour that a force was on the march to arrest Northumberland at Topcliffe. He and his countess hastened to Branspeth Castle, where the Earl of Westmoreland had already assembled around him his guests and retainers. Northumberland was still of opinion that they should avoid hostilities, for which they were unprepared; but others, and amongst them the Countess of Westmoreland, the sister of Norfolk, the Markenfields and Nortons, demanded war. Northumberland still dissented, and resolved to set out for Alnwick; but was detained by force, and the banner of revolt was unfurled.

The first step of the insurgents was to occupy the city of Durham. So insignificant was their number at this moment, that only sixty horsemen followed the banner of the two earls. But their appeals to rise and defend the ancient faith found a strong response. Mass was celebrated in the cathedral before some thousands of people, who tore up the English Bible and destroyed the Communion table. They then, continually increasing in numbers, marched through Staindrop, Darlington, Richmond, and Ripon, everywhere turning out the appliances of the Reformed worship from the churches, and reinstating the ancient ritual.

They proceeded as far as Bramham Moor, or, according to other authorities, Clifford Moor, near Wetherby, where their forces were found to amount to 1,700 horse, and something less than 4,000 foot, but many of them badly armed. The earls, who were famous for their hospitality, had but little ready money; Northumberland bringing only 8,000 crowns, and Westmoreland nothing at all. The Roman Catholics did not rise in their favour, as they had calculated. The insurgents had sent to the Spanish ambassador soliciting his help, but he referred them to the Duke of Alva, and the duke waited for orders from Philip. This aid not arriving cast a damp on the Romanists, who now, doubting of the expedition, lay still, or went over to the Royal army under the Earl of Sussex. To add to their confusion, 800 horse, whom they had despatched to Secure the Queen of Scots at Tutbury, returned with the news that she was removed thence to Coventry. They were confounded by this intelligence, and still more by the rumours of the numerous forces which were being raised under Ambrose Dudley, Earl of Warwick, and the Lord Admiral, whilst Lord Hunsdon from Berwick was hastening down upon them with his garrison and Royalists from the Borders.

Dissension now began to appear in their ranks and amongst the leaders. The Earl of Westmoreland, who at first was the most daring, now began to hesitate; and Northumberland, who was, in a manner, dragged into the rising, on the contrary, counselled bold measures, as they had committed themselves. The result, however, was that they retreated to the Earl of Westmoreland's castle of Branspeth. They there issued a new manifesto; and as the Papists had not come forward as they expected, they now dropped the argument of religion, and took up the plea that there was a determination at Court to exercise arbitrary power over the lives and liberties of the subject, and that it was necessary to drive from her Majesty's counsels the persons who gave her pernicious advice.

But this retreat had shaken the confidence of the people; and the different noblemen to whom they sent messengers followed the example of the Earl of Derby, and arrested them and sent them to the queen. The measures on the part of Elizabeth's Government were active and effectual. Orders were issued to muster a large army in the south. The Earl of Bedford was despatched to maintain quiet in Wales. A regiment of well-disciplined troops was marched from the Isle of Wight to defend the person of the sovereign, and suspected persons were arrested. To prevent any communication with the foreign princes, the mail-bags of the Spanish and French ambassadors were stopped and examined. Leicester entreated to be sent against the rebels, but Elizabeth would not risk his precious life, and kept him near her as her chief adviser, Cecil being indisposed.

The patience of Elizabeth was greatly tried by the cautious delay of the Earl of Sussex, who was her commander in the north, and especially as his procrastination allowed the two earls to besiege Sir George Bowes in Barnard Castle for eleven days, which then opened its gates. There were even insinuations that Sussex was in secret league with the rebel earls. On the approach of the army of the Earl of Warwick, 12,000 in number, the insurgents held a council at Durham, on the 16th of December, 1569; but dissension again broke out between Westmoreland and Northumberland to such a degree that the forces scattered, and the enterprise was at an end. The foot got away to their homes, and the earls fled across the Border with 500 horse.

In England no severity was spared in punishing the fallen insurgents. Those who possessed property were reserved for trial in the courts, to secure the forfeiture of their estates. These, and the fugitives together, amounted to fifty-seven noblemen, gentlemen, and freeholders, so that their wealth would form a good fund for the payment of the expenses of the campaign, and the reward of the officers and soldiers. On the poorer class Sussex let loose his vengeance with a fury which was intended to convince Elizabeth of his before-questioned loyalty. In the county of Durham he put to death more than 300 individuals, hanging at Durham at one time sixty-three constables; and Sir George Bowes made his boast that, for sixty miles in length, and fifty miles in breadth, between Newcastle and Wetherby, there was hardly a town or village in which he did not gibbet some of the inhabitants as a warning to the rest; a cruelty, says Bishop Percy, "which exceeds that practised in the West after Monmouth's rebellion; but this was not the age of tenderness or humanity." Sussex, in writing to Cecil, says, "I gesse it will not be under six or seven hundred at leaste of the common sort that shall be executed, besides the prisoners taken in the field."

Meanwhile the Regent Murray, finding that there would never be any rest for either England or Scotland while the Queen of Scots was detained in her unjust captivity, entered into serious negotiations with Elizabeth, to have her surrendered to his own custody, when it would have been in his power to get rid of her on some pretence. Knox, in no equivocal language, in a letter to Cecil which still remains, had recommended her being put out of the way, telling him, "If ye strike not at the root, the branches that appear to be broken will bud again, and this more quickly than man can believe, with greater force than we could wish." On the day on which this letter was dated, Murray despatched Elphinstone to Elizabeth, to impress upon her the absolute necessity of some immediate and decisive dealing with Mary. He assured her that the faction in her favour both at home and abroad was daily acquiring fresh force; that the Spaniards and the Pope were intriguing with the Romanists of England and Scotland, and that daily succours were expected from France. He demanded that she should, therefore, at once exchange the Queen of Scots for Northumberland, and enable him, by a proper supply of money and arms, to resist their common foes. He entreated her to remember that the heads of all these troubles—no doubt meaning Mary and Norfolk—were at her command, and that if she declined this arrangement, he must forbear to adventure his life as he had done.

These negotiations, however private, did not escape the knowledge of Mary's friends. The Bishop of Ross immediately entered a protest before Elizabeth against the scheme, which he declared would be tantamount to signing the death-warrant of the Queen of Scots. He induced the ambassadors of France and Spain to enter like protests; but whether they would have been effective remains a mystery, for Elizabeth had despatched Sir Henry Gates to the Regent on the subject, when the news of Murray's end altered the whole position of affairs.

Private revenge and public had combined to accomplish this tragedy. James Hamilton, of Bothwellhaugh, an estate adjoining the celebrated Bothwell-brig, was one of the Hamilton clan who fought at Langside, and was there taken and condemned to death, but let off with the forfeit of his estate. The loss of his property might have been cause enough of discontent to a proud and high-spirited gentleman, but this was rendered tenfold more intolerable by the seizure of that of his wife, and her ejectment from it in the most brutal manner. He determined to have revenge.

Murray was about to proceed from Stirling to Edinburgh, and had arranged to pass through Linlithgow. The Archbishop of St. Andrews, the uncle of Bothwellhaugh, had an old palace in the High Street of that town, through which Murray must pass. Bothwellhaugh took possession of this, and made all his preparations for the murder with the coolest exactness. He barricaded the front door, so that no one could, without considerable delay, force their way in to seize him. In the back yard he placed a powerful and swift horse, ready bridled and saddled for flight; and even removed the head of the doorway, so as to admit him to spring upon his steed, and ride through it without the moment's delay of leading the horse there. He then cut a hole for the barrel of his gun through a panel below a window, in a sort of wooden gallery, from which he could survey the procession. To prevent his booted steps from being heard, he laid a feather bed on the floor, and to prevent the possible casting of a shadow, hung up behind him a black cloth. These preparations being made, he stood ready, with his piece loaded with four bullets.

The Regent had been duly warned of his danger by a faithful servant named John Herne, who seems to have had full knowledge of Bothwellhaugh's plan and place of ambush, and offered to take the Regent where he could seize the assassin on the spot. With that fatal neglect which so often attends such victims, Murray agreed to avoid the public street, but took no means to secure the murderer. The crowd on entering the town became so great that he allowed himself to be densely surrounded—as it were, borne irresistibly along the fatal street. The throng, moreover, compelled him to move slowly, giving his enemy ample time to take aim. As he passed the archbishop's house, Bothwellhaugh fired so accurately that he shot him through the body, and killed the horse of the person riding next to him (January 23, 1570). The confusion which followed allowed the assassin to escape before his barricade could be forced, and he was just seen galloping away towards Hamilton. There the archbishop, the Lord Arbroath, and the whole clan of the Hamiltons, received him in triumph, as the liberator of his country from an unnatural tyrant who was plotting the murder of his sister and sovereign. They immediately flew to arms, and resolved to march to Edinburgh, liberate the Duke of Chatelherault, and assume the government.

The assassination of Murray greatly disconcerted the policy of Elizabeth. The wily diplomatist who had such strong reasons for securing her co-operation in detaining the Queen of Scots from the throne, being gone, there was a serious danger of the two parties combining, and, by the aid of France, placing Mary, if not on the throne, at least at their head during the minority of her son. The Hamiltons, Maitland, Herries, Huntly, and Argyll, were all on the side of the Queen of Scots, and Morton and his associates were in no condition of themselves to resist them. They were on the march to secure the castles of Dumbarton and Edinburgh; the French were already on the Clyde; the Kers and Scots, friends of Mary, had burst across the Border, accompanied by the refugee Earl of Westmoreland; and an emissary from the Duke of Alva had arrived, bringing money, and promise of substantial help from Philip. It was necessary to sow instant dissension in Scotland, and for this purpose Elizabeth dispatched that subtle intriguer, Sir Thomas Randolph, to that country only three days after Murray's death, and resolved to recommend Lennox, whom the Hamiltons hated, as Regent. The young king, indeed, was his grandson, and therefore he had a natural claim to that position, if his abilities had been adequate to its responsibilities.

HIGH STREET, LINLITHGOW.