The Press.
London, England, 1856-08-16 00:00:00

THE PRESS.

not without his good points. He was a man
of high personal courage, and, compared with
the wretches who surrounded him, of immaou-
late honesty. Even his enemies confess that
he never took English gold, and never be-
trayed his associates. His own retainers
adored him, and Queen Mary at one time
placed the highest confidence in his vigour
and loyalty. He was not one of those whom
nothing apparently can save from guilt. He
had in him the elements of goodness, and
under happier auspices might have proved a
virtuous and able supporter of Queen Mary's
throne. Had he been the Queen's second
husband, both their fates might, indeed, have
been widely different. _ . .

In accordance with this view of his charac-
ter, Professor Aytoun has described him as
indulging in various tender and simple re-
miniscences of his early life, when he was yet
unseared by guilt, and unbroken by disasters.
The following lines are very musical and
poetical:

Fair is the sight, yet strange to me;
No memories I recall,
While gazing on the headland cliffs,
And waves that leap and fall;
No visions of my boyish days
Or manhood's sterner prime
Arise from yonder watery waste,
To cheer me fur a time.
For I was reared among the hills,
Within a Border home,
Where, sweeping from their narrow glens,
The mountain torrents come;
And well I know the bonny braes
Where the first primrose blows,
And shrinking tufts of violets
Rise from the melting snows,
Ere yet the hazel leaf is out,

Or birches grow their green,
Or, on the sad and sullen ash,
A kindling bud is seen.
0 Hermitage, by Liddel's side,
My old ancestral tower !
Were I again but lord of thee
Tot owning half the power
That in my days of reckless pride
I held, but cast away—
I would not leave thee, Border keep,
Until my dying day!
Wise was Buccleuch, and Cessford too,
Who stoutly held their own,
And little cared, amidst their clans,
For threat from either throne.
They range at will the mountain paths,
They hear the falcon ory,
And here, within a loathly cell,
A fettered slave am I.
Who owns thee now, fair Hermitage ?
Who sits within my hall?
What banner flutters in the breeze
Above that stately wall ?
Does ye' the courtyard ring with tramp
Of horses and of men ;
Do bay of hounds and bugle•note
Sound merry from the glen ?
Or art thou, as thy muter is,
A rent and ruined pile,
Once noble, but deserted now
By all that is net vile ?
What matters it? These eyes of mine
Shall never see thee more;
Still in my thought must thou abide
As stately as of yore,
When, Warden of the Marches three,
In Mary's right I came,
To still the rugged Border feuds,
And trample out the flame.
Tice' sentiments assigned to Bothwell are
always appropriate, and managed so skilfully
as to excite our sympathy with the speaker's
misfortunes without lessening our detestation
of his crimes. It i 3 necessary to the interest
of a poem that the principal character should
not be wholly beyond the pale of human re-
gard ; and this the Professor has effected in
the case of Bothwell without the violation of
historical truth.

Of the language and versification we need
only say they are worthy the author of "Lays
of the Scottish Cavaliers." The one is as
vigorous and pure as the other is sustained
and spirited. The Professor's poetry is romantic
and soul-stirring, and perhaps more pleasing
on a cursory perusal—which is all that the
multitude can afford to poetry—than works of
much loftier pretension. Without being
exactly original, the ideas and images which
he employs, recast in the mint of his own
genius, strike upon our minds with the
force of novelty. Without reaching the
sublime, he is often solemn and affecting; and
his imaginative power is of a high order, with-
out attaining that point at which men call it
inspiration. After one or two short extracts

SATURDAY,

in confirmation of these views we shall pass on
to the historical aspect of the poem :

I've heard that poison sprinkled flowers
Are sweeter in perfume
Than when, untouched by deadly dew,
They opened in their bloom ;
I've hear I that men, condemned to die,
Have quaffed the fatal wine
With keener relish than the juice
Of the untampered vine ;
I've heard that with the witches' song,
Though harsh and rude it be,
There blends a wild mysterious strain
Of weirdest harmony,
So that the listener far away
Must needs approach the ring,
Where, on the savage Lapland moors,
The demon chorus sing.
And I believe the devil's voice
Sinks deeper in the ear
Than any whispers sent from heaven,
However soft and clear.

Again

Pardon ! I sought it not from men;
I would not take it at their hand!
I owned no judge, no master then;
I was the lord within the land.
Pardon ! the word was made for slaves,
Not for a Sovereign Prince like me.
Lost is the man who pardon craves
From any baser in degree.
alai") There is a peak of guilt so high,
That those who reach it stand above
The sweep of dull humanity,
The trail of passion and of love.
The lower clouds that dim the heaven
Touch not the mountain's hoary crown,
And on the summit, thunder•riven,
God's lightning only smites them down !
This last metaphor is just the reversal of the
famous one in Goldsmith's " Deserted
Village."
The two main points for our consideration
in the historical narrative are these—Was
Mary innocent of the murder of Darnly? Was
she a consenting party to her abduction by
Bothwell? Both are decided by Professor
Aytoun iu favour of the Queen. Without pre-
tending ourselves to have studied the subject
with the same closeness, and consequently to
have reached the same plenitude of conviction,
we fully acknowledge that the preponderance
of evidence is on the side of her innocence.
There is no legal evidence whatever to impli-
cate her in her husband's death. And the only
thing which can at all draw suspicion upon her
is her subsequent conduct,—her apparent want
of sorrow, and her refusal to bring Bothwell to
trial. But she 'could not be expected to feel
any genuine grief for the loss of Darnley, how-
ever shocked at the horrible nature of his
death. He had violated every bond of
conjugal love or manly sympathy by assisting
at the murder• of Riccio. He had been de-
tected in a plot for deposing herself; and he
had neglected and insulted her by conduct
which no woman can forget. On the other
hand, Bothwell had ever been her• faithful ser-
vant. He had shed his blood in her• cause,
and his whole character up to that time had
been such as to render him an unlikely agent
in a secret and diabolical murder of a sick and
defenceless man. That public rumour attri-
buted the deed to him would concern Mary
but little. Did it not also accuse herself?
When calumny is once raging through the
land, stimulated by fear and superstition, as
in Scotland then and in England at the time
of the Popish plot, the clamour of the popu-
lace is worse than worthless That Mary did
not succumb to that we think greatly to her
honour. Had she refused to listen to the
advice of men like the French Ambassador
and others of cool judgment and experience,
her• conduct would have been justly deemed
suspicious. But as soon as she became con-
vinced that it was mall% necessary to bring
Bothwell to trial, the thing was done. And
that Bothwell was able to come attended by
four thousaad gentlemen and secure an ac.
quittal was not the fault of Mary, but of the
turbulent state of the period. We may ob-
serve, however, that the evident popularity of
Bothwell, even after Darnley's death, is no
small justification of Mar•y's confidence. In
addition to this, we have the death-bed con-
fession of Bothwell, acquitting Mary of ail
participation in the c►ime. This is often
stated to be a forgery ; but then, as Professor
Aytoun well says, it is strange that it should
never have been heard of till after Mary's
death. For what other• purpose could it have
been forged than to exculpate her and pro-

AUGUST 16, 1856.

mote the chance of her liberation? When
she was dead, what was the use of it? Why
commit so dangerous a crime for nothing?
Those who were anxious only to clear her
memory would not have been the kind of per-
sons likely to commit forgery. But even if the
confession be given up, the weight of evidence
is still in Mary's favour.
The only real argument in favour of her
complicity with Bothwell in the matter of the
abduction rests on certain love•letters and
sonnets, which Tytler and Goodall demon-
strated to be forgeries nearly a hundred years
ago. The letters brought forward at the trial
its Mary's own writing were in French, and
some Scotch copies afterwards got abroad pur-
porting to be a translation of them. Mr.
Goodall was the first, we believe, who pointed
out that the French was in reality a transla-
tion from the Scotch, and not the Scotch from
the French, thus demonstrating the artifice
resorted to beyond all controversy, But, says
the Professor :
Tf any one should still entertain a doubt as to that,
let him remember that the letters, if genuine, must have
been in the hands of Murray and Morton six months be-
fire the act for Bothwell's forfeiture was passed, and that,
according to their tenor, the narrative of the act was false.
This is one of the moat remarkable instances in history
tending to show that deliberate villany leads to inextricable
contradictions. If the letters said to be written by Mary
to Bothwell were genuine—if they had even been forged
at so early a period—is it conceivable that Murray, with
such evidence in his hands, would, as Regent, have passed
an act which expressly acquits Mary of all complicity with
Bothwell? Be it remembered, also, that at the time when
that act was passed, the Queen's cause was by no means
desperate. A large party of the nobility and barons were
convinced of her innoc .nce, indignant at the treachery
which had been used towards her, and determined to rein-
state her on the throne ; and therefore the dominant
faction was little likely to omit any opportunity of casting
a stain upon her character.

In regard to the passion said to have been en
tertained by Mary for Bothwell, the Professor
quotes the following:—
_ _ .

But take Melville's account of what followed the
nuptials : " When 1 returned to Edinburgh, I dealt with
Sir James Balfour not to part with the Castle, whereby he
might be an instrument to save the Prince and the Queen,
who was so disdainfully handled, and with such reproachful
language, that, in presence of Arthur Areskine, I heard
her uk for a knife to stab herself, or else, said she, I shall
drown myself." Five days after the marriage, Drury,
writing to Cecil, said, " The opinion of divers is that the
Queen is the most changed woman in face, that in so
little a time, without extremity of sickness, they have
seen ;" and on the very day after the marriage, she said to
De Croc, the French Ambassador, " that he must not be
surprised if he saw her sorrowful, for she could not rejoice,
nor ever should again : all she desired was death." Such
were the manifestations of the vehement and passionate
love which some historians would have us to believe that
Mary felt for Bothwell!

Professor Aytoun has produced a fine poem
and an able argument, and " Bothwell" will
assuredly take its stand among the classics of
Scotch literature.

The Huguenot Exiles ; or, the Times of
Louis XIV. Au Historical Romance.
London: Sampson Low and Co.
At first sight it would appear that the story of
the Huguenots driven from France ought to
give a good basis for an historical novel.
Hairbreadth escapes, thrilling adventures,
contrasts of character, and romantic enthu-
siasm, might naturally be looked for in its
pages; but, on closer reflection, it would be
seen that the choice of such a subject, to an
English or American pen, must have serious
difficulties. For, in order to have the colour
of truth, the action of the story should sparkle
with the points of French character. Its
dramatis persona should have the fiery valour
of French men, and the sentimental delicacy
of French women. A series of characters
taken from the ordinary types of society, as it
exists in any country, would not be suitable
for such a novel. In " Cinq Mars " (perhaps
the best of French historical novels) the tone,
style, and mannerism are thoroughly French;
and in " I Promessi Sposi " the characters are
not only Italian, but thoroughly Romanist,
after the peculiar conception of Manzoni
It would be most difficult, as we apprehend,
for an English author to compose a truthful
historical fiction on the story of the Hugue-
nots. Scott's "Quentin Durward" repre-
sented a mediaeval period, when chivalry was
Common to Germany, France, and England,
and the military life of that period was the