“In addition the said Countess once informed me that you wanted to induce Rolson[[78]] to make love to me and attempt to dishonour me, either literally or by scandalous rumours, and that he had instructions to this effect from your own lips; that Ruxby came here about eight years ago to make an attempt on my life after being received by you personally, and that you told him to do all that Walsingham should command and direct.
“That when the Countess was promoting the marriage of her son Charles with one of Lord Paget’s nieces, while you on the other hand wanted to secure her by the exercise of your unlimited and absolute prerogative for a member of the Knollys family, she had raised an outcry against you and declared it was pure tyranny that you should want to carry off all the heiresses of the country according to your own fancy, and that you had disgracefully abused the said Paget, but that in the end the nobility of the kingdom would not stand it, even if you appealed to other than those whom she knew well.
“Il y a environ quatre ou sinq ans que, vous estant malade et moy aussy au mesme temps, elle me dit que vostre mal provenoit de la closture une fistulle que vous aviez dans une jambe: et que son doubte, venant à perdre vos moys, vous mourriez bientost.
“In this she rejoiced on the strength of a vain notion she has long cherished, based on the predictions of one named John Lenton, and upon an old book which foretold your death by violence and the accession of another queen, whom she interpreted to be me. She merely regretted that according to this book it was predicted that the queen who was to succeed you would only reign three years and would die, like you, a violent death. All this was actually represented in a picture in the book, the contents of the last page of which she would never disclose to me.
“She knows that I always looked upon all this as pure nonsense, but she did her utmost to ingratiate herself with me and even to ensure the marriage of my son with my niece Arbella.
“In conclusion I once more swear to you on my faith and honour that all this is perfectly true, and that where your honour is concerned it was never my intention to wrong you by revealing it, and that it should never be known through me, who hold it all to be very false. If I may have an hour’s speech with you I will give more particulars of the names, times, places, and other circumstances to prove to you the truth of this and other things, which I reserve until fully assured of your friendship. This I desire more than ever. Further, if I can this time secure it you will find no relative, friend, nor even subject more loyal and affectionate than myself. For God’s sake, believe the assurance of one who will and can serve you.
“From my bed, forcing my arm and my sufferings to satisfy and obey you.
“Marie R.”
This letter, of course, is concentrated venom. Mary could embroider with her pen as well as with her clever needle. She could entwine and order her imaginings with magnificent effect. She had heaps of fantasy and romance and could employ them more than puckishly. The document is a tour de force of craft and power. Its double aim is unerring. With this one poisoned shaft the writer seeks to destroy the security of the two Elizabeths—so similar in their autocratic natures, their vitality and joy in intrigue. A fiendish delight lurks behind every suggestion aimed at the person and amours of Elizabeth. Even these, taking into account the ghastly suspense of her imprisonment and the wreckage of her mental balance, might be forgiven to Mary. But the statement suggesting Elizabeth’s betrayal of her State secrets to a mere envoy like the Frenchman Simier, while admitting him to the grossest intimacy, is too wickedly sane in its vindictiveness to be forgivable. In her most impulsive, most overwrought moments Lady Shrewsbury would never have dared to suggest a thing so base or so impossible. The letter condemns itself throughout, and undermines the truth of many of the previous wild complaints by Mary of the Countess’s words and deeds. Naturally, every breath of scandal attaching to the Queen’s intercourse with the innumerable persons of the opposite sex with whom her position brought her into contact was treasured and retailed in all directions, and exaggerated versions of every incident would, of course, be transmitted to Mary. To achieve such a letter she had only to collect the titbits, put them into the mouth of one she hated, profess to expose all the rottenness of Elizabeth’s so-called friends, and serve up the whole gallimaufry with a crowning bonne bouche in the assertion of her own innocence, truth, and loyalty. The Arch-Tempter guided her pen in this hour, and that last plea of weakness and despair, “de mon lit, forçant mon bras et mes douleurs pour vous satis fayre et obéir,” is scarcely convincing. The devil was assuredly in it, and she must have saved up all her energy for such a production. Don Bernardino de Mendoza, when alluding in a letter of 1585 to the release of Shrewsbury from his task and his retirement to his estates, declared that he thanked the Queen for delivering him from two devils, the Scottish Queen and his wife:—
“El conde de Shreubury ha partido para ir en Darbissier siendo lugartheniente de dos condados de Darbi y Stafford. Besso los manos a la Regna de Inglaterra, diziendole, hazello por havelle librado de dos diablos, que heran la Regna de Scozia y su muger.”