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Mary's Marriage Personal Appearance And Popularity

Mary The Queen Dauphiness The Queen And The Queen Dowager Of France

Occurrences Immediately Preceding Darnley's Death

An Examination Of The Letters Sonnets And Other Writings Adduced In Evidence Against Mary Queen Of Scots

A Tangle

The Little Waif

Rizzio

The Fall Of Bothwell

Mary's Birth And Subsequent Residence At The French Court

Mary's Escape From Lochleven And The Battle Of Langside



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The Ebbing Well

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Mary's Eighteen Years' Captivity

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Bothwell








1566-1567

Earl of Bothwell.--His desperate character.--Castle of Dunbar.--The
border country.--Scenes of violence and blood.--Birth of James.--Its
political importance.--Darnley's conduct.--Darnley's hypocrisy.--Mary's
dejection.--A divorce proposed.--Mary's love for her child.--Baptism
of the infant.--James's titles.--The prince's cradle.--Bothwell and
Murray.--Mary's visit to Bothwell.--Its probable motive.--Plot for
Darnley's destruction.--Bothwell's intrigues.--Desperate schemes
attributed to Darnley.--His illness.--Mary's visit.--Return
to Edinburgh.--Situation of Darnley's residence.--Kirk of
Field.--Description of Darnley's residence.--Plan of Darnley's
house.--Its accommodations.--French Paris.--The gunpowder.--A
wedding.--Details of the plot.--The powder placed in Mary's room.--The
big cask.--Bothwell's effrontery.--Mary's leave of Darnley.--Was Mary
privy to the plot?--Anecdotes of Mary.--Return to Holyrood.--French
Paris falters.--The convent gardens.--Laying the train.--Suspense.--The
explosion.--Flight of the criminals.--Mary's indignation.--Bothwell
arrested, tried, and acquitted.--Bothwell's challenge.--His plan to
marry Mary.--The abduction.--Mary's confinement at Dunbar.--Her account
of it.--Bothwell entreats Mary to marry him.--She consents.--Bothwell's
pardon.--The marriage.--Doubts in respect to Mary.--Influence of beauty
and misfortune.


The Earl of Bothwell was a man of great energy of character, fearless
and decided in all that he undertook, and sometimes perfectly
reckless and uncontrollable. He was in Scotland at the time of Mary's
return from France, but he was so turbulent and unmanageable that he
was at one time sent into banishment. He was, however, afterward
recalled, and again intrusted with power. He entered ardently into
Mary's service in her contest with the murderers of Rizzio. He
assisted her in raising an army after her flight, and in conquering
Morton, Ruthven, and the rest, and driving them out of the country.
Mary soon began to look upon him as, notwithstanding his roughness,
her best and most efficient friend. As a reward for these services,
she granted him a castle, situated in a romantic position on the
eastern coast of Scotland. It was called the Castle of Dunbar. It was
on a stormy promontory, overlooking the German Ocean: a very
appropriate retreat and fastness for such a man of iron as he.

In those days, the border country between England and Scotland was
the resort of robbers, freebooters, and outlaws from both lands. If
pursued by one government, they could retreat across the line and be
safe. Incursions, too, were continually made across this frontier by
the people of either side, to plunder or to destroy whatever property
was within reach. Thus the country became a region of violence and
bloodshed which all men of peace and quietness were glad to shun.
They left it to the possession of men who could find pleasure in such
scenes of violence and blood. When Queen Mary had got quietly settled
in her government, after the overthrow of the murderers of Rizzio, as
she thus no longer needed Bothwell's immediate aid, she sent him to
this border country to see if he could enforce some sort of order
among its lawless population.

The birth of Mary's son was an event of the greatest importance, not
only to her personally, but in respect to the political prospects of
the two great kingdoms, for in this infant were combined the claims
of succession to both the Scotch and English crowns. The whole world
knew that if Elizabeth should die without leaving a direct heir,
this child would become the monarch both of England and Scotland,
and, as such, one of the greatest personages in Europe. His birth,
therefore, was a great event, and it was celebrated in Scotland with
universal rejoicings. The tidings of it spread, as news of great
public interest, all over Europe. Even Elizabeth pretended to be
pleased, and sent messages of congratulation to Mary. But every one
thought that they could see in her air and manner, when she received
the intelligence, obvious traces of mortification and chagrin.

Mary's heart was filled, at first, with maternal pride and joy; but
her happiness was soon sadly alloyed by Darnley's continued
unkindness. She traveled about during the autumn, from castle to
castle, anxious and ill at ease. Sometimes Darnley followed her, and
sometimes he amused himself with hunting, and with various vicious
indulgences, at different towns and castles at a distance from her.
He wanted her to dismiss her ministry and put him into power, and he
took every possible means to importune or tease her into compliance
with this plan. At one time he said he had resolved to leave
Scotland, and go and reside in France, and he pretended to make his
preparations, and to be about to take his leave. He seems to have
thought that Mary, though he knew that she no longer loved him, would
be distressed at the idea of being abandoned by one who was, after
all, her husband. Mary was, in fact, distressed at this proposal, and
urged him not to go. He seemed determined, and took his leave.
Instead of going to France, however, he only went to Stirling Castle.

Darnley, finding that he could not accomplish his aims by such
methods as these, wrote, it is said, to the Catholic governments of
Europe, proposing that, if they would co-operate in putting him into
power in Scotland, he would adopt efficient measures for changing the
religion of the country from the Protestant to the Catholic faith. He
made, too, every effort to organize a party in his favor in Scotland,
and tried to defeat and counteract the influence of Mary's government
by every means in his power. These things, and other trials and
difficulties connected with them, weighed very heavily upon Mary's
mind. She sunk gradually into a state of great dejection and
despondency. She spent many hours in sighing and in tears, and often
wished that she was in her grave.

So deeply, in fact, was Mary plunged into distress and trouble by the
state of things existing between herself and Darnley, that some of
her officers of government began to conceive of a plan of having her
divorced from him. After looking at this subject in all its bearings,
and consulting about it with each other, they ventured, at last, to
propose it to Mary. She would not listen to any such plan. She did
not think a divorce could be legally accomplished. And then, if it
were to be done, it would, she feared, in some way or other, affect
the position and rights of the darling son who was now to her more
than all the world besides. She would rather endure to the end of her
days the tyranny and torment she experienced from her brutal husband,
than hazard in the least degree the future greatness and glory of the
infant who was lying in his cradle before her, equally unconscious of
the grandeur which awaited him in future years, and of the strength
of the maternal love which was smiling upon him from amid such sorrow
and tears, and extending over him such gentle, but determined and
effectual protection.

The sad and sorrowful feelings which Mary endured were interrupted
for a little time by the splendid pageant of the baptism of the
child. Embassadors came from all the important courts of the
Continent to do honor to the occasion. Elizabeth sent the Earl of
Bedford as her embassador, with a present of a baptismal font of
gold, which had cost a sum equal to five thousand dollars. The
baptism took place at Stirling, in December, with every possible
accompaniment of pomp and parade, and was followed by many days of
festivities and rejoicing. The whole country were interested in the
event except Darnley, who declared sullenly, while the preparations
were making, that he should not remain to witness the ceremony, but
should go off a day or two before the appointed time.

The ceremony was performed in the chapel. The child was baptized
under the names of "Charles James, James Charles, Prince and Steward
of Scotland, Duke of Rothesay, Earl of Carrick, Lord of the Isles,
and Baron of Renfrew." His subsequent designation in history was
James Sixth of Scotland and First of England. A great many
appointments of attendants and officers, to be attached to the
service of the young prince, were made immediately, most of them, of
course, mere matters of parade. Among the rest, five ladies of
distinction were constituted "rockers of his cradle." The form of
the young prince's cradle has come down to us in an ancient drawing.

[Illustration: PRINCE JAMES'S CRADLE.]

In due time after the coronation, the various embassadors and
delegates returned to their respective courts, carrying back glowing
accounts of the ceremonies and festivities attendant upon the
christening, and of the grace, and beauty, and loveliness of the
queen.

In the mean time, Bothwell and Murray were competitors for the
confidence and regard of the queen, and it began to seem probable
that Bothwell would win the day. Mary, in one of her excursions, was
traveling in the southern part of the country, when she heard that he
had been wounded in an encounter with a party of desperadoes near the
border. Moved partly, perhaps, by compassion, and partly by
gratitude for his services, Mary made an expedition across the
country to pay him a visit. Some say that she was animated by a more
powerful motive than either of these. In fact this, as well as almost
all the other acts of Mary's life, are presented in very different
lights by her friends and her enemies. The former say that this visit
to her lieutenant in his confinement from a wound received in her
service was perfectly proper, both in the design itself, and in all
the circumstances of its execution. The latter represent it as an
instance of highly indecorous eagerness on the part of a married lady
to express to another man a sympathy and kind regard which she had
ceased to feel for her husband.

Bothwell himself was married as well as Mary. He had been married but
a few months to a beautiful lady a few years younger than the queen.
The question, however, whether Mary did right or wrong in paying this
visit to him, is not, after all, a very important one. There is no
doubt that she and Bothwell loved each other before they ought to
have done so, and it is of comparatively little consequence when the
attachment began. The end of it is certain. Bothwell resolved to
kill Darnley, to get divorced from his own wife, and to marry the
queen. The world has never yet settled the question whether she was
herself his accomplice or not in the measures he adopted for
effecting these plans, or whether she only submitted to the result
when Bothwell, by his own unaided efforts, reached it. Each reader
must judge of this question for himself from the facts about to be
narrated.

Bothwell first communicated with the nobles about the court, to get
their consent and approbation to the destruction of the king. They
all appeared to be very willing to have the thing done, but were a
little cautious about involving themselves in the responsibility of
doing it. Darnley was thoroughly hated, despised, and shunned by them
all. Still they were afraid of the consequences of taking his life.
One of them, Morton, asked Bothwell what the queen would think of the
plan. Bothwell said that the queen approved of it. Morton replied,
that if Bothwell would show him an expression of the queen's approval
of the plot, in her own hand-writing, he would join it, otherwise
not. Bothwell failed to furnish this evidence, saying that the queen
was really privy to, and in favor of the plan, but that it was not
to be expected that she would commit herself to it in writing. Was
this all true, or was the pretense only a desperate measure of
Bothwell's to induce Morton to join him?

Most of the leading men about the court, however, either joined the
plot, or so far gave it their countenance and encouragement as to
induce Bothwell to proceed. There were many and strange rumors about
Darnley. One was, that he was actually going to leave the country,
and that a ship was ready for him in the Clyde. Another was, that he
had a plan for seizing the young prince, dethroning Mary, and
reigning himself in her stead, in the prince's name. Other strange
and desperate schemes were attributed to him. In the midst of them,
news came to Mary at Holyrood that he was taken suddenly and
dangerously sick at Glasgow, where he was then residing, and she
immediately went to see him. Was her motive a desire to make one more
attempt to win his confidence and love, and to divert him from the
desperate measures which she feared he was contemplating, or was she
acting as an accomplice with Bothwell, to draw him into the snare in
which he was afterward taken and destroyed?

The result of Mary's visit to her husband, after some time spent with
him in Glasgow, was a proposal that he should return with her to
Edinburgh, where she could watch over him during his convalescence
with greater care. This plan was adopted. He was conveyed on a sort
of litter, by very slow and easy stages, toward Edinburgh. He was on
such terms with the nobles and lords in attendance upon Mary that he
was not willing to go to Holyrood House. Besides, his disorder was
contagious: it is supposed to have been the small-pox; and though he
was nearly recovered, there was still some possibility that the royal
babe might take the infection if the patient came within the same
walls with him. So Mary sent forward to Edinburgh to have a house
provided for him.

[Illustration: VIEW OF EDINBURGH.]

The situation of this house is seen near the city wall on the left, in
the accompanying view of Edinburgh. Holyrood House is the large square
edifice in the fore-ground, and the castle crowns the hill in the
distance. There is now, as there was in the days of Mary, a famous
street extending from Holyrood House to the castle, called the Cannon
Gate at the lower end, and the High Street above. This street, with
the castle at one extremity and Holyrood House at the other, were
the scenes of many of the most remarkable events described in this
narrative.

The residence selected was a house of four rooms, close upon the city
wall. The place was called the Kirk of Field, from a kirk, or
church, which formerly stood near there, in the fields.

This house had two rooms upon the lower floor, with a passage-way
between them. One of these rooms was a kitchen; the other was
appropriated to Mary's use, whenever she was able to be at the place
in attendance upon her husband. Over the kitchen was a room used as a
wardrobe and for servants; and over Mary's room was the apartment for
Darnley. There was an opening through the city wall in the rear of
this dwelling, by which there was access to the kitchen. These
premises were fitted up for Darnley in the most thorough manner. A
bath was arranged for him in his apartment, and every thing was done
which could conduce to his comfort, according to the ideas which then
prevailed. Darnley was brought to Edinburgh, conveyed to this house,
and quietly established there.

The following is a plan of the house in which Darnley was lodged:

[Illustration: PLAN OF THE HOUSE AT THE KIRK O' FIELD.

M. Mary's room, below Darnley's. K. Kitchen; servants'
room above. O. Passage through the city wall into the kitchen. S.
Stair-case leading to the second story. P. Passage-way.]

The accommodations in this house do not seem to have been very
sumptuous, after all, for a royal guest; but royal dwellings in
Scotland, in those days, were not what they are now in Westminster
and at St. Cloud.

The day for the execution of the plan, which was to blow up the house
where the sick Darnley was lying with gunpowder, approached.
Bothwell selected a number of desperate characters to aid him in the
actual work to be done. One of these was a Frenchman, who had been
for a long time in his service, and who went commonly by the name of
French Paris. Bothwell contrived to get French Paris taken into
Mary's service a few days before the murder of Darnley, and, through
him, he got possession of some of the keys of the house which Darnley
was occupying, and thus had duplicates of them made, so that he had
access to every part of the house. The gunpowder was brought from
Bothwell's castle at Dunbar, and all was ready.

Mary spent much of her time at Darnley's house, and often slept in
the room beneath his, which had been allotted to her as her
apartment. One Sunday there was to be a wedding at Holyrood. The
bride and bridegroom were favorite servants of Mary's, and she was
intending to be present at the celebration of the nuptials. She was
to leave Darnley's early in the evening for this purpose. Her enemies
say that this was all a concerted arrangement between her and
Bothwell to give him the opportunity to execute his plan. Her
friends, on the other hand, insist that she knew nothing about it,
and that Bothwell had to watch and wait for such an opportunity of
blowing up the house without injuring Mary. Be this as it may, the
Sunday of this wedding was fixed upon for the consummation of the
deed.

The gunpowder had been secreted in Bothwell's rooms at the palace. On
Sunday evening, as soon as it was dark, Bothwell set the men at work
to transport the gunpowder. They brought it out in bags from the
palace, and then employed a horse to transport it to the wall of some
gardens which were in the rear of Darnley's house. They had to go
twice with the horse in order to convey all the gunpowder that they
had provided. While this was going on, Bothwell, who kept out of
sight, was walking to and fro in an adjoining street, to receive
intelligence, from time to time, of the progress of the affair, and
to issue orders. The gunpowder was conveyed across the gardens to the
rear of the house, taken in at a back door, and deposited in the room
marked M in the plan, which was the room belonging to Mary. Mary
was all this time directly over head, in Darnley's chamber.

The plan of the conspirators was to put the bags of gunpowder into a
cask which they had provided for the occasion, to keep the mass
together, and increase the force of the explosion. The cask had been
provided, and placed in the gardens behind the house; but, on
attempting to take it into the house, they found it too big to pass
through the back door. This caused considerable delay; and Bothwell,
growing impatient, came, with his characteristic impetuosity, to
ascertain the cause. By his presence and his energy, he soon remedied
the difficulty in some way or other, and completed the arrangements.
The gunpowder was all deposited; the men were dismissed, except two
who were left to watch, and who were locked up with the gunpowder in
Mary's room; and then, all things being ready for the explosion as
soon as Mary should be gone, Bothwell walked up to Darnley's room
above, and joined the party who were supping there. The cool
effrontery of this proceeding has scarcely a parallel in the annals
of crime.

At eleven o'clock Mary rose to go, saying she must return to the
palace to take part, as she had promised to do, in the celebration of
her servants' wedding. Mary took leave of her husband in a very
affectionate manner, and went away in company with Bothwell and the
other nobles. Her enemies maintain that she was privy to all the
arrangements which had been made, and that she did not go into her
own apartment below, knowing very well what was there. But even if we
imagine that Mary was aware of the general plan of destroying her
husband, and was secretly pleased with it, as almost any royal
personage that ever lived, under such circumstances, would be, we
need not admit that she was acquainted with the details of the mode
by which the plan was to be put in execution. The most that we can
suppose such a man as Bothwell would have communicated to her, would
be some dark and obscure intimations of his design, made in order to
satisfy himself that she would not really oppose it. To ask her,
woman as she was, to take any part in such a deed, or to communicate
to her beforehand any of the details of the arrangement, would have
been an act of littleness and meanness which such magnanimous
monsters as Bothwell are seldom guilty of.

Besides, Mary remarked that evening, in Darnley's room, in the course
of conversation, that it was just about a year since Rizzio's death.
On entering her palace, too, at Holyrood, that night, she met one of
Bothwell's servants who had been carrying the bags, and, perceiving
the smell of gunpowder, she asked him what it meant. Now Mary was
not the brazen-faced sort of woman to speak of such things at such a
time if she was really in the councils of the conspirators. The only
question seems to be, therefore, not whether she was a party to the
actual deed of murder, but only whether she was aware of, and
consenting to, the general design.

In the mean time, Mary and Bothwell went together into the hall where
the servants were rejoicing and making merry at the wedding. French
Paris was there, but his heart began to fail him in respect to the
deed in which he had been engaged. He stood apart, with a countenance
expressive of anxiety and distress. Bothwell went to him, and told
him that if he carried such a melancholy face as that any longer in
the presence of the queen, he would make him suffer for it. The poor
conscience-stricken man begged Bothwell to release him from any
further part in the transaction. He was sick, really sick, he said,
and he wanted to go home to his bed. Bothwell made no reply but to
order him to follow him. Bothwell went to his own rooms, changed
the silken court dress in which he had appeared in company for one
suitable to the night and to the deed, directed his men to follow
him, and passed from the palace toward the gates of the city. The
gates were shut, for it was midnight. The sentinels challenged them.
The party said they were friends to my Lord Bothwell, and were
allowed to pass on.

They advanced to the convent gardens. Here they left a part of their
number, while Bothwell and French Paris passed over the wall, and
crept softly into the house. They unlocked the room where they had
left the two watchmen with the gunpowder, and found all safe. Men
locked up under such circumstances, and on the eve of the
perpetration of such a deed, were not likely to sleep at their posts.
All things being now ready, they made a slow match of lint, long
enough to burn for some little time, and inserting one end of it into
the gunpowder, they lighted the other end, and crept stealthily out
of the apartment. They passed over the wall into the convent gardens,
where they rejoined their companions and awaited the result.

Men choose midnight often for the perpetration of crime, from the
facilities afforded by its silence and solitude. This advantage is,
however, sometimes well-nigh balanced by the stimulus which its
mysterious solemnity brings to the stings of remorse and terror.
Bothwell himself felt anxious and agitated. They waited and waited,
but it seemed as if their dreadful suspense would never end. Bothwell
became desperate. He wanted to get over the wall again and look in at
the window, to see if the slow match had not gone out. The rest
restrained him. At length the explosion came like a clap of thunder.
The flash brightened for an instant over the whole sky, and the
report roused the sleeping inhabitants of Edinburgh from their
slumbers, throwing the whole city into sudden consternation.

The perpetrators of the deed, finding that their work was done, fled
immediately. They tried various plans to avoid the sentinels at the
gates of the city, as well as the persons who were beginning to come
toward the scene of the explosion. When they reached the palace of
Holyrood, they were challenged by the sentinel on duty there. They
said that they were friends of Earl Bothwell, bringing dispatches to
him from the country. The sentinel asked them if they knew what was
the cause of that loud explosion. They said they did not, and passed
on.

Bothwell went to his room, called for a drink, undressed himself, and
went to bed. Half an hour afterward, messengers came to awaken him,
and inform him that the king's house had been blown up with
gunpowder, and the king himself killed by the explosion. He rose with
an appearance of great astonishment and indignation, and, after
conferring with some of the other nobles, concluded to go and
communicate the event to the queen. The queen was overwhelmed with
astonishment and indignation too.

The destruction of Darnley in such a manner as this, of course
produced a vast sensation all over Scotland. Every body was on the
alert to discover the authors of the crime. Rewards were offered;
proclamations were made. Rumors began to circulate that Bothwell was
the criminal. He was accused by anonymous placards put up at night in
Edinburgh. Lennox, Darnley's father, demanded his trial; and a trial
was ordered. The circumstances of the trial were such, however, and
Bothwell's power and desperate recklessness were so great, that
Lennox, when the time came, did not appear. He said he had not force
enough at his command to come safely into court. There being no
testimony offered, Bothwell was acquitted; and he immediately
afterward issued his proclamation, offering to fight any man who
should intimate, in any way, that he was concerned in the murder of
the king. Thus Bothwell established his innocence; at least, no man
dared to gainsay it.

Darnley was murdered in February. Bothwell was tried and acquitted in
April. Immediately afterward, he took measures for privately making
known to the leading nobles that it was his design to marry the
queen, and for securing their concurrence in the plan. They
concurred; or at least, perhaps for fear of displeasing such a
desperado, said what he understood to mean that they concurred. The
queen heard the reports of such a design, and said, as ladies often
do in similar cases, that she did not know what people meant by such
reports; there was no foundation for them whatever.

Toward the end of April, Mary was about returning from the castle of
Stirling to Edinburgh with a small escort of troops and attendants.
Melville was in her train. Bothwell set out at the head of a force of
more than five hundred men to intercept her. Mary lodged one night,
on her way, at Linlithgow, the palace where she was born, and the
next morning was quietly pursuing her journey, when Bothwell came up
at the head of his troops. Resistance was vain. Bothwell advanced to
Mary's horse, and, taking the bridle, led her away. A few of her
principal followers were taken prisoners too, and the rest were
dismissed. Bothwell took his captive across the country by a rapid
flight to his castle of Dunbar. The attendants who were taken with
her were released, and she remained in the Castle of Dunbar for ten
days, entirely in Bothwell's power.

[Illustration: DUNBAR CASTLE--The Residence of Earl Bothwell.]

According to the account which Mary herself gives of what took place
during this captivity, she at first reproached Bothwell bitterly for
the ungrateful and cruel return he was making for all her kindness to
him, by such a deed of violence and wrong, and begged and entreated
him to let her go. Bothwell replied that he knew that it was wrong for
him to treat his sovereign so rudely, but that he was impelled to it
by the circumstances of the case, and by love which he felt for her,
which was too strong for him to control. He then entreated her to
become his wife; he complained of the bitter hostility which he had
always been subject to from his enemies, and that he could have no
safeguard from this hostility in time to come but in her favor; and
he could not depend upon any assurance of her favor less than her
making him her husband. He protested that, if she would do so, he
would never ask to share her power, but would be content to be her
faithful and devoted servant, as he had always been. It was love, not
ambition, he said, that animated him, and he could not and would not
be refused. Mary says that she was distressed and agitated beyond
measure by the appeals and threats with which Bothwell accompanied his
urgent entreaties. She tried every way to plan some mode of escape.
Nobody came to her rescue. She was entirely alone, and in Bothwell's
power. Bothwell assured her that the leading nobles of her court were
in favor of the marriage, and showed her a written agreement signed by
them to this effect. At length, wearied and exhausted, she was finally
overcome by his urgency, and yielding partly to his persuasions, and
partly, as she says, to force, gave herself up to his power.

Mary remained at Dunbar about ten days, during which time Bothwell
sued out and obtained a divorce from his wife. His wife, feeling,
perhaps, resentment more than grief, sued, at the same time, for a
divorce from him. Bothwell then sallied forth from his fastness at
Dunbar, and, taking Mary with him, went to Edinburgh, and took up his
abode in the castle there, as that fortress was then under his power.
Mary soon after appeared in public and stated that she was now
entirely free, and that, although Bothwell had done wrong in carrying
her away by violence, still he had treated her since in so respectful
a manner, that she had pardoned him, and had received him into favor
again. A short time after this they were married. The ceremony was
performed in a very private and unostentatious manner, and took place
in May, about three months after the murder of Darnley.

By some persons Mary's account of the transactions at Dunbar is
believed. Others think that the whole affair was all a preconcerted
plan, and that the appearance of resistance on her part was only for
show, to justify, in some degree, in the eyes of the world, so
imprudent and inexcusable a marriage. A great many volumes have been
written on the question without making any progress toward a
settlement of it. It is one of those cases where, the evidence being
complicated, conflicting, and incomplete, the mind is swayed by the
feelings, and the readers of the story decide more or less favorably
for the unhappy queen, according to the warmth of the interest
awakened in their hearts by beauty and misfortune.





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Previous: Rizzio



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