memory, must regret that she had not fortitude to resist every attempt to compel her to unite herself to so wicked and audacious a man. In order to regain her liberty, she promised to be directed by the advice of her council; and in that deceitful council, Bothwell knew he had nothing to fear. The fatal marriage took place on the 15th of May, 1567; and many of the nobles, by whose treacherous advice this disgraceful event had been chiefly brought about, and who had sworn to employ their swords against all who should oppose it, immediately rebelled. As Bothwell was justly and universally detested, and as the rebels pretended that it was only against him, and not against their sovereign, that they had taken up arms, troops flocked to them from all quarters. Mary immediately raised an army, and war raged for some time between her and her faithless subjects. But, weary of her harassing situation, and receiving from the rebel nobles the most solemn promises not only of personal safety, but of their honour, service, and obedience, the unhappy queen delivered herself into the hands of these wicked enemies, and persuaded Bothwell to flee from the danger which threatened his life. These promises were instantly broken by the rebellious nobles, who, after insulting their sovereign in the most cruel manner, hurried her as a prisoner to Loch

leven castle, and committed her to the care of her natural brother's mother, who stripped her of all her royal ornaments, and dressed her in a coarse brown stuff, by order of the perfidious rebellious lords. These lords now proceeded to commit the greatest enormities. They robbed the palace of Holyrood House of its rich furniture and decorations; converted the queen's plate into money, and got possession of her jewels, which were of great value. These excesses, however, lost them the confidence of the people; and an association was formed in favour of the queen, though, unhappily, without success; for those in whom she most confided betrayed her, and sought only her ruin. At the head of these perfidious friends was her natural brother, whom she had created earl of Murray, and on whom she had continually bestowed honours and favours. Whilst Mary was in this miserable imprisonment, she was compelled to resign the crown to her infant son, James the Sixth, at that time but two years old; and, after she had been thus unjustly deprived of all her rights, the treacherous earl of Murray assumed the regency. In this great distress, Mary's fortitude and presence of mind did not forsake her; and the unbounded ambition of the regent, with his unnatural cruelty towards her, began at last to open the eyes of the nation, and to gain

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her many real friends. She had often meditated an escape from her prison, and at length accomplished it by means of a young gentleman, George Douglas, brother to her keeper. On the 2d of May, 1568, about seven o'clock in the evening, when her keeper was at supper with his family, George, getting possession of the keys of the castle, hastened to her apartment, and conducted her out of prison. Having locked the gates of the castle, they immediately entered a boat, which was waiting for them; and, being rowed across the lake, the lord Seton received the queen, with a chosen band of horsemen in complete armour. That night he conveyed her to his house at Niddrie, in West Lothian, where she rested a few hours, and then set out for Hamilton. The escape of the queen threw her enemies into the greatest consternation; many forsook the regent openly, and more made their submission privately to Mary, or concealed themselves to see which party should be successful. Mary soon found herself at the head of an army of six thousand men; the regent also raised an army to oppose her; and a battle was fought at Langside, near Glasgow, on the 13th of May, 1568, in which her last hopes were blasted by defeat. The unfortunate queen fled towards Kirkcudbright, where, finding a place of momentary safety, she

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deliberated on the best plan for her to follow; and, in opposition to the advice of all her friends, she hastily formed the resolution of taking refuge in England. The archbishop of St. Andrew's, in particular, accompanied her to the border; and when she was just going to quit her own kingdom, he laid hold on her horse's bridle, and on his knees entreated her to return, but in vain. Mary proceeded with the firmest reliance on the friendship of queen Elizabeth, which had been offered to her, when she was a prisoner at Lochleven, and of the sincerity of which she had not a doubt. That queen, however, who had not forgotten that Mary had formerly assumed the title and arms of queen of England, now feared her talents, and was envious of her beauty. She therefore, under many pretences, and contrary to all faith, and the common rights of hospitality, kept Mary a close prisoner for nineteen years; encouraged her rebellious subjects to accuse her publicly of the murder of her husband; allowed her no opportunity of vindicating her honour; and even employed men to blast her fame, by writing against her. Under this unexampled weight of misery, Mary preserved the magnanimity of a queen, and practised with sincerity the duties of a Christian. Her sufferings, her dignified affability, her gentleness of disposition, gained her great po

pularity in England, especially amongst the Roman Catholics; and as she made many attempts to recover her liberty, and carried on a constant correspondence with foreign nations, Elizabeth at last became so much afraid of her, that she determined to cut her off at all hazards. With this view, she prevailed upon her parliament to pass an act, which might make Mary answerable for the crimes of those who should call themselves her partisans; and upon that unjust statute she was tried as a traitor, concerned in a conspiracy planned by a man named Babington. Though the trial was conducted in a manner which would have been unlawful even had she been Elizabeth's subject, and though no certain proof appeared of her connection with the conspirators, yet she was condemned to suffer death, to the great astonishment of all Europe. This heroic queen received her sentence with great composure, saying to those by whom it was brought, "The news you bring must be welcome, since it announces the termination of my miseries; nor do I reckon that soul to be worthy of the joys of immortality, which can shrink under the sufferings of the body, or be afraid of the stroke that sets it free." On the evening before her execution, for which she prepared herself with religious solemnity and perfect resignation, she ordered all her servants to appear