"Resume the ancient pledges of your good nature; bind your relations to yourself; give me the satisfaction before I die that, seeing all matters happily settled again between us, my soul, when delivered from this body, may not be constrained to display its lamentations before God for the wrong which you have suffered to be done me here below; but, rather, that being happily united to you, it may quit this captivity to set forward towards him, whom I pray to inspire you happily upon my very just and more than reasonable complaints and grievances.
"At Sheffield, this 8th of November, one thousand five hundred and eighty-two.
"Your very disconsolate, nearest relation, and affectionate cousin,
"MARIE E."
But no appeal, however deeply it might possibly touch the heart of the Tudor Queen, could turn her from that one purpose which, in her ever-changing policy, remained forever fixed, of preventing the possibility of Mary's returning to public life. With all her unwomanly qualities, however, it cannot be presumed that she was always insensible to the pathos of her captive's language, or even to the better impulses of her own heart. She was not, as certain tyrants seem to have been, cruel from the mere love of inflicting pain. The fierce outbursts of anger and the arbitrary commands with which she overawed Parliament when other means of carrying her point failed, did not prevent her from being sincerely interested in procuring the happiness of her people; and it is not wholly without cause that she has received, from a portion of her subjects, the title of "Good Queen Bess." But woe to him who stood between her and her interest. Her ambition would not be thwarted by any inconvenient delicacy or dictate of conscience. Whether in her more peaceful hours she practised "modest stillness and humility," is irrelevant to the present question; it is beyond doubt however, that when the blast of jealousy, suspicion, or hatred, blew in her ears she knew how to "imitate the action of the tiger." It must in truth be admitted that her position in relation to the Scottish Queen, was a difficult one; but it should, in equal truth, be admitted that her own dishonesty was cause of the most part of her trouble. To have within her realm the one whom a large portion of her subjects considered by right Queen of England, and through whom the Pope and the Catholic powers hoped to see the island restored to the obedience of the Holy See, was eminently calculated to make her life uncomfortable. She was conscious that she was an object of hatred to many who had power to do her no end of mischief. But she must have foreseen these troubles when she elected to detain Mary a prisoner. At any rate she must soon have learned that so long as she chose to be the jailer of the most beautiful, accomplished and renowned woman in Europe, she could not hope for a peaceful career. Who so foolish as to think that Mary would not use all her energy to regain her liberty, or that powerful parties at home and abroad would not make the captive's cause their own? Certainly not the crafty Elizabeth. Yet a simple act of justice--the release of the prisoner whom she unjustly and ungenerously detained--would have removed the cause of half her anxieties. Elizabeth's troubles, therefore, were voluntarily assumed, and were part of the price which she was content to pay for the gratification of having in her power the woman and queen whose superior beauty, and title to the throne of England, had long before aroused her undying hatred. It is childish and ridiculous for historians to excuse Elizabeth's harshness on the plea that Mary's plotting and intriguing rendered severe treatment necessary. The same argument would justify the bandit in maltreating his victim who would be so ungrateful as to attempt escaping from his custody.
CHAPTER XI.
THE BEGINNING OF THE END.
The spacious park of Sheffield, in which Mary's prison was situated, beautiful as was the natural scenery of river, mountain and cultivated slope, that extended far beyond it, could offer no antidote to the "dura catena, et misera paena," in which she languished. Her mind had already been stored with pictures of the choicest rural scenery in France, and of the rugged grandeur of Aberdeen and Perthshire; and the variegated charms on which she could now gaze from her prison window only served to produce that sad pleasure which we feel in renewing memories of joys that have forever departed. Well, has Mr. Samuel Roberts (in his feeling lines in reference to her stay at Sheffield Lodge) presumed that she gazed upon the "lovely scene" "through tears":--
Alone, here oft may Scotia's beauteous queen,
Through tears have gazed upon the lovely scene,
Victim of villainy, of woman's hate,
Of fiery zeal, of wiles and storms of state;
Torn from her throne, her country and her child,
And cast an exiled monarch in this wild,
She here was taught, what youthful beauty ne'er
While seated on a throne, had deigned to hear,
To say submissive, at the closing scene,
"'Tis well that I have thus afflicted been;"
Then calmly on the block, in faith, resign
Three heart-corrupting crowns, for one divine.
Reader,--the ways of God are not like thine.
In August, 1584, Shrewsbury was released of his charge. He had served long and faithfully in a capacity that was repulsive to his instincts; and after fifteen full years of close acquaintance with the captive Queen, he was able to assure Elizabeth "that if the Queen of Scotland promise anything she will not break her word."