“His treatment of the queen, to whose bounty he was so much indebted, was unbrotherly and ungrateful.” To the charge of ingratitude, I can only reply, by repeating what I have said in the text, that all the honours which she conferred on him were not too great a reward for the important services which he had rendered her. How often have persons been celebrated for sacrificing parental as well as brotherly affection to the public good! The probable reasons for Murray’s interview with the queen in Lochleven have been stated by Mr Laing. History, i. 119–121. Were I to speak of what was incumbent on him as a christian brother with the view of bringing her to a just sense of the iniquity of her conduct, I would use language which, I am afraid, would not be understood by many readers, and which many professed christians seem to forget, when they talk on this subject. Any exertions which were necessary to save his sister’s life were not wanting on the part of Murray. To restore her to the government, or even, as matters then stood, to restore her to liberty, he was not bound by any ties either of a public or private kind. Had he amused her with the hopes of this, he might have escaped the charge of harshness, but his conduct would have been more unbrotherly.
“But he deceived and betrayed Norfolk with a baseness unworthy of a man of honour.” To this harsh censure I oppose the opinion of Mr Hume, who will not be suspected of partiality to the regent. “Particularly,” says he, in a letter to Dr Robertson, written after the publication of his History of Scotland, “I couldalmost undertake to convince you that the earl of Murray’s conduct with the duke of Norfolk was no way dishonourable.” Stewart’s Life of Robertson: History, i. 158. See also, in confirmation of this, “Part of a letter from the earl of Murray to L. B.,” inserted in vol. ii. Append. [No. xxxiii].
“His elevation to such unexpected dignity [the reader will observe that it was unexpected] inspired him with new passions, with haughtiness and reserve: and instead of his natural manner, which was blunt and open, he affected the arts of dissimulation and refinement. Fond, towards the end of his life, of flattery, and impatient of advice, his creatures, by soothing his vanity, led him astray, while his ancient friends stood at a distance, and predicted his approaching fall.” Certainly the facts stated by Dr Robertson in the preceding part of his narrative, do not prepare the mind of his reader for these charges. The severity of the regent’s virtues had, indeed, been mentioned, and it had been asserted that his deportment had become distant and haughty. The authority of Sir James Melvil was referred to in support of this statement; and I am satisfied that it was upon his testimony chiefly that the historian proceeded, when he gave the above account of Murray’s conduct during the latter part of his life. I submit to the reader the following remarks on the degree of credit due to the authority of Melvil.
In the first place, there is every reason to think, either that Melvil’s Memoirs have been unfaithfully published by the editor, or that the narrative which the author of them has given of affairs, from the queen’s marriage with Bothwell to the death of the earl of Murray, is incorrect and unfaithful. I shall not take it upon me to determine which of these is the most probable supposition, but am of opinion that either the one or the other must be admitted. The charge which was brought against queen Mary of participation in the murder of her husband, with all the proofs produced in support of it, is suppressed, and studiously kept out of view in the Memoirs. There is not one word in them respecting the celebrated letters to Bothwell, although they formed the grand vindication of the regent and his friends. The same inference may be drawn from the ridiculous account given of the appearance made by the regentbefore the commissioners at York, when he presented the nameless accusation against Mary (Memoirs, 96, 97, Lond. 1683); an account which is completely discredited by the journals of both parties, and which neither Hume nor Robertson thought worthy of the slightest regard. It is observable, that Melvil could not be ignorant of the real transaction, as he was present at York; and that the design of this, as well as of the subsequent part of his narrative, is to represent the regent as weakly suffering himself to be duped and misled by designing and violent counsellors. Mr Laing has adverted to both of these things as discreditable to the Memoirs. History, ut supra, i. 118.—I shall produce only one other instance of the same kind. Speaking of the queen’s marriage with Bothwell, Melvil says: “I cannot tell how nor by what law he parted with his own wife, sister to the earl of Huntly.” Mem. 80. Is it credible, that one who was in the midst of the scene, and acquainted even with the secrets of state at that time, could be ignorant of that which was proclaimed to all the world? If it should be alleged that Melvil, writing in his old age, might have forgotten this glaring fact, (the excuse commonly made for his inaccuracies,) I am afraid that the apology will detract as much from the credibility of his Memoirs as the charge which it is brought to repel.
2. In estimating the degree of regard due to the censures which Melvil has passed on the regent’s conduct, we must keep in view the political course which he himself steered. Sir James appears to have been a man of amiable dispositions, whose mind was cultivated by the study of letters; but those who have carefully read his Memoirs must, I think, be convinced that his penetration was not great, and that his politics were undecided, temporizing, and inconsistent. He was always at court, and always tampering with those who were out of court. We find him exposing himself to danger by dissuading his mistress from marrying Bothwell, and yet countenancing the marriage by his presence; acting as an agent for those who had imprisoned the queen, and yet intriguing with those who wished to set her at liberty; carrying a common message from the king’s lords to the earl of Murray upon his return out of France, and yet secretly conveying another message tending to counteract the design of the former; supporting Murray in the regency, andyet trafficking with those who wished to undermine his authority. I do not call in question the goodness of his intentions in all this: I am willing to believe that a desire for the peace of the country, or attachment to the queen, induced him to go between, and labour to reconcile, the contending parties. But when parties are discordant—when their interests, or the objects at which they shoot, are diametrically opposite, to persevere in such attempts is preposterous, and cannot fail to foster and increase confusions. Who believes that the Hamiltons were disposed to join with the king’s party? or that the latter, when unassured of the assistance of England, were averse to a junction with the former? Yet Melvil asserts both of these things. Mem. 85, 86, 90. Who thinks that there was the smallest feasibility in what he proposed to the regent as “a present remedy for his preservation?” or believes that Maitland would have consented to go into France, and Kircaldy to deliver up the castle of Edinburgh? The regent heard him patiently; he respected the goodness of the man; but he saw that he was the dupe of Maitland’s artifices, and he followed his own superior judgment. For rejecting such advices as this (and not the religious proverbs, and political aphorisms, which he quoted to him from Solomon, Augustine, Isocrates, Plutarch, and Theopompus) has Melvil charged him with refusing the counsel of his oldest and wisest friends. Mem. 102–104.
3. What were the errors committed by the regent which precipitated his fall? There are two referred to by Melvil; the imprisonment of the duke and lord Herries, and the accusation of Maitland and Balfour. Mem. 100, 101. In vindication of the former step, I have only to appeal to the narrative which Dr Robertson has given of that affair. Vol. ii. p. 266–299. With respect to the latter, Sir James Balfour was “the most corrupt man of that age,” (ibid. p. 367,) and Maitland was at that time deeply engaged in intrigues against the regent, ibid. p. 307. There is not a doubt that both of them were accessory to the murder of Darnley, (Laing, i. 28, 135, ii. 22); they were arrested and accused at this time at the instance of Lennox, and in consequence of the recent confession of one of Bothwell’s servants; and Maitland was preserved by the queen’s friends assembling in arms for his rescue, which compelledthe regent to adjourn his trial. Ibid. ii. 37. Appendix, No. 28, p. 298–9.
4. Who were the unworthy favourites by whose flattery and evil counsel the regent was led astray? Dr Robertson mentions “captain Crawford, one of his creatures.” This is the same person whom he afterwards calls “captain Crawford of Jordanhill, a gallant and enterprising officer,” who distinguished himself so much by the surprise of the castle of Dumbarton. History, ii. 307, 331, comp. Laing, ii. 297, 298; and Douglas’s Baronage of Scotland, 429. Morton, Lindsay, Wishart of Pittarow, Macgill of Rankeillor, Pitcairn abbot of Dunfermline, Balnaves of Hallhill, and Wood of Tilliedavy, were among the regent’s counsellors.
5. Who were his old friends who lost his favour? They could be no other than Balfour, Maitland, Kircaldy, and Melvil himself. Of the two former I need not say a word. Kircaldy of Grange was a brave man, and had long been the intimate friend of the regent; but he was already corrupted by Maitland, and had secretly entered into his schemes for restoring the queen. Robertson, ii. 307. Of Melvil I have already spoken; nay, he himself testifies that the regent continued to the last to listen to his good advices. “The most part of these sentences, (says he,) drawn out of the Bible, I used to rehearse to him at several occasions, and he took better with these at my hands, who he knew had no by‑end, than if they had proceeded from the most learned philosopher. Therefore at his desire I promised to put them in writing, to give him them to keep in his pocket; but he was slain before I could meet with him.” Mem. 104. How this is to be reconciled with other assertions in the Memoirs, I leave others to determine. It required no great sagacity in the ancient friends of the regent to “predict his approaching fall,” when repeated attempts had already been made to assassinate him, and when some of them were privy to the conspiracy then forming against his life; and it says little for their ancient friendship, that they “stood at a distance,” and allowed it to be carried into execution.
There are three honourable testimonies to the excellence of the regent’s character, which must have weight with all candid persons. The first is that of the great historian De Thou. He notonly examined the histories which both parties had published of the transactions in Scotland, which made so much noise through Europe, but he carefully conversed with the most intelligent and candid Scotsmen, papists and protestants, whom he had the opportunity of seeing in France. When that part of his history which embraced these events was in the press, he applied to his friend Camden for advice, acquainting him that he was greatly embarrassed, and apprehensive of displeasing King James, who, he understood, was incensed against Buchanan’s History. “I do not wish (says he) to incur the charge of imprudence or malignity from a certain personage who has honoured me with his letters, and encouraged me to publish the rest of my history with the same candour, and regard for truth.” Camden, in reply, exhorted him to study moderation, and told him the story which he had received from his master, imputing the disturbances in Scotland chiefly to the ambition of Murray. Durand, Histoire du XVI. Siecle, tom. vii. contenant la Vie de Monsieur De Thou, p. 226–231. But notwithstanding the respect which he entertained for Camden, and the desire which he felt to please James, De Thou found himself obliged, by a sacred regard to truth, to reject the above imputation, and to adopt in the main the narrative of Buchanan. I shall quote, from his answer to Camden, the character which he draws of Murray. Having mentioned the accusation brought against him, of ambitiously and wickedly aiming at the crown, he says: “This is constantly denied by all the credible Scotsmen with whom I have had opportunity to converse, not even excepting those who otherwise were great enemies to Murray on a religious account; for they affirm, that, religion apart, HE WAS A MAN WITHOUT AMBITION, WITHOUT AVARICE, INCAPABLE OF DOING AN INJURY TO ANY ONE, DISTINGUISHED BY HIS VIRTUE, AFFABILITY, BENEFICENCE, AND INNOCENCE OF LIFE; and that, had it not been for him, those who tear his memory since his death would never have attained that authority which they now enjoy.”—“Res ipsa loquitur: nam demus, quod ab diversa tradentibus jactatur, Moravium ambitione ardentem scelerate regnum appetisse, quod tamen constanter negant omnes fide digni Scoti, quoscunque mihi alloqui contigit, etiam ii quibus alioqui Moraviusob religionis causam summe invisus erat; nam virum fuisse aiebant, extra religionis causam, ab omni ambitione, avaritia, et in quenquam injuria alienum, virtute, comitate, beneficentia, vitæ innocentia, præstantem; et qui nisi fuisset, eos, qui tantopere mortuum exagitant, hodie minime rerum potiturus fuisse.” Epistolæ de Nova Thuani Histor. Editione Paranda. p. 40, in tom. i. Thuani Histor. et tom. vii. cap. v. p. 5. Buckley, 1733.
A second testimony of a very strong kind in favour of the regent is that of archbishop Spotswood. He must have conversed with many who were personally acquainted with Murray; he knew the unfavourable sentiments which James entertained respecting him, which had been published in Camden’s Annals; and he had long enjoyed the favour of that monarch; yet, in his history, he has drawn the character of the regent in as flattering colours as Buchanan himself has done. The last testimony to which I shall appeal is the Vox Populi, strongly expressed by the title of The Good Regent, which it imposed on him, and by which his memory was handed down to posterity. Had he, elated by prosperity, become haughty and reserved, or, intoxicated with flattery, yielded himself up to unprincipled and avaricious favourites, the people must soon have felt the effects of the change, and would never have cherished his name with such enthusiastic gratitude and unmingled admiration.