But the seeds of dissension were still alive. A new Cabinet had been formed in which hitherto discordant elements were mechanically united. Atholl, Huntly and Bothwell held prominent places; and Moray, who, by a plausible story, had exonerated himself from responsibility in the Rizzio murder, was taken into confidence. Maitland was afterwards admitted to his former post of Secretary. Darnley was furious against Moray and Maitland; against Bothwell he had no complaint, a circumstance worth noting. He was displeased with Mary because she allowed herself to be influenced by Moray and Maitland, whom he believed to be traitors. There may, perhaps, be some justification for the unfortunate Darnley's conduct at this juncture. It is possible that his brief complicity with the late conspirators had taught him a lesson which Mary, who was clement and forgiving almost to a fault, had yet to learn, namely, the deep treachery of some in whom she was putting her trust. Be this as it may, Darnley soon began to reap the bitter fruits of his mad crime. The nobles that he had left in the lurch cordially hated him; the Queen, whom he had so grievously betrayed, while she did what she could to please and pacify him, could not entrust him with the power he desired. He became the source of keen and uninterrupted grief to Mary, which added to her partial loss of health since the birth of her son, and the political dangers that threatened her independence, made her wish for death. She was brought to the point of death by an illness with which she was stricken during a visit to the remote border hamlet of Jedburgh, in October, 1566, but recovered to drag on her weary life. Her health and spirits, however, seem to have been considerably broken. "The Queen breaketh much," wrote Drury, "and is subject to frequent fainting fits." Melville, her close acquaintance, says, "she was somewhat sad when solitary." The French Ambassador gives his opinion as to the cause of her troubles: "I do believe the principal part of her disease to consist of a deep grief and sorrow, nor does it seem possible to make her forget the same. Still she repeats these words: 'I could wish to be dead.'"
The touch of care had blanched her cheek, her smile was sadder now;
The weight of royalty had pressed too heavy on her brow.
CHAPTER VI.
THE TRAGEDY OF KIRK O'FIELD AND ITS SEQUEL.
Darnley left the court in one of his sullen moods in December, 1566, and shortly after was stricken with smallpox at Glasgow. Notwithstanding his past ingratitude and infidelity, Mary, on hearing of his misfortune, sent her own physician to attend him, and a little later, having proceeded to Glasgow herself, brought him back with her to Edinburgh. Not yet being free from infection, he was placed in a house known as the Kirk O'Field, on the outskirts of the city. Mary visited him frequently and, as far as could be judged from outward signs, a complete reconciliation was effected. But the evil genius of the Stewarts again held sway. On February 10th, about 3 o'clock in the morning, the Kirk O'Field was blown into the air with gunpowder, and the mortal career of Darnley, who had just turned his twentieth year, was brought to a tragic close. Suspicions pointed to Bothwell as the author of the crime. The Earl of Lennox, Darnley's father, sued for a trial. Bothwell promptly offered himself up, and, being tried before his peers, was acquitted.
I have now arrived at the most complicated question in Mary's history, and before offering an opinion on the events that ensued, I shall mention some of them in chronological order.
Bothwell was acquitted on April 12th; on April 24th, Mary, while returning from a visit to her child at Stirling, was intercepted by him, and--willingly or unwillingly--carried off to the Castle of Dunbar. Twelve days afterwards, a promise of marriage having first been obtained from her, she was brought back to Edinburgh by Bothwell and lodged in the Castle. Eight days later she was married to Bothwell in Holyrood, before a Protestant minister.
These events have all along been interpreted in two widely different senses. One interpretation makes Mary an accomplice in the murder of her husband; the other makes her an innocent but injured woman. The historians hostile to her, catching their inspiration from the pages of George Buchanan, maintain that previously to Darnley's murder, she was familiar beyond due measure with Bothwell; that when she visited Darnley at Glasgow, it was as the agent of Bothwell to enveigle the intended victim to where he could be conveniently dispatched; that the reconciliation was feigned on her part; that when the murder was accomplished, she used her authority to shield Bothwell; and, finally, that she was carried off by him according to her own desire.
I admit that from a slight study of her life one is apt to be impressed with the thought, that the Mary Stewart of this period is not the Mary Stewart of earlier, or even later times. Something unusually weak, which leaves the suspicion of guilt, seems to characterize her conduct. I believe, however, that the more fully the sources of information are studied, the clearer will it appear that no evidence on which she can be justly convicted, has yet been adduced; but that, on the contrary, the conviction will grow in the minds of sincere enquirers, that she was first gravely injured, and next gravely calumniated, for party ends. It should be borne in mind that an accused person must be presumed innocent until his guilt is proved. This is a principle recognized in all law, and one that has something exceptionally strong to recommend it in the present case.
Until the death of Darnley, no word had been uttered against Mary's character as a woman. On the contrary, her praises were sounded on all sides, and even those who were leagued with her foes sometimes bore testimony to her virtues. The Privy Council itself, shortly before Darnley fell ill, spoke of him as one "honoured and blessed with a good and virtuous wife." But when lying served the purpose, especially in a struggle against a Papist "idolatress," who would scruple at it? Men who could unctuously quote Scripture, while engaged in the most disgraceful and unlawful work, and could, as Skelton thinks, perjure themselves with a good conscience, could hardly be expected to lose an opportunity of blackening the character of an unsanctified woman, for the glory of God and the advancement of Calvinism.