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But hark! quick steps approach! Oh! words most dear!
What welcome news my faithful Maries bear!*
'The trial's o'er-and innocence prevails!
While Mary's heart its proud acquittal hails.
My noblest subjects met to try the cause,

And o'er the charge in anxious conference pause;
But found each conscious, dark accuser fled!

Thence a new brightness beams round Bothwell's head:
Nor will the cowards who attack'd his fame,
By aught of valourous deed redeem their shame;
Bothwell in vain now dares them to the field,
With truth his armour, innocence his shield.
Trembling they shrink before the high appeal,
And all the terror guilt can teach them feel.
Then now shall Bothwell in this welcome hour
Receive new honours from his Sovereign's power;
And when I go, in conscious injury bold,
The assembled council of my realm to hold,

SIR, Although I trust to be shortly with you, yet have I thought good to write somewhat in the mean time. I had no audience before this day (8th March, 1566-7), which was after I had dined with my Lord of Murray, who was accompanied with my Lord Chancellor (Huntley), the Earl of Argyle, my Lord Bothwell, and the Laird of Livingstone (Secretary Maitland.) I found the Queen's Majesty in a dark chamber, so I could not see her face, but by her words she seemed very doleful, and did accept my Sovereign's letters and message in a very thankful-manner, as I trust will appear by her answer, which I hope to receive in two days, and I think will tend to satisfy the Queen's Majesty as much as this present can permit, not only for the Treaties of Ireland, but also the Treaty of Leith. Touching news, I can write no more than is written by others. I find great suspicions, and no proof, nor appearance of apprehension. Yet, although I am made believe, I shall, or I depart hence, receive some information. My Lord of Lennox hath sent to request the Queen, that such persons as were named in the bill (placard) should be taken. Answer is made him, that if he or any will stand to the accusation of any of them, it shall be done; but not by the virtue of the bill or his request. I look to hear what will come from him to that point. His lordship is among his friends beside Glasgow, where he thinketh himself safe enough, as a man of his told me. I see no troubles at present, nor the appearance thereof, but a general misliking amongst the Commons, and some others, which the detestable murder of their King, a shame as they suppose to the whole nation. The preachers say, and pray openly to God, that it will please him both to reveal and revenge it, exhorting all men to prayers and repentance.

Your most bounden to obey,

H. KYLLYGREW.-Chalmers, p. 209.

If it was wrong in the Queen to receive Bothwell at the period mentioned in the above letter, surely it was equally so in the first nobles of the land; and Mary could not but be confirmed in her opinion of Bothwell's innocence by their conduct on this occasion.

"Mary of Guise (Mary's mother) had pursued with her daughter the plan she had seen successfully pursued in the Royal Family of France, of establishing in the Court a little school, of which all the members should be equally associated as sister pupils. For this purpose she selected four girls, nearly of her daughter's age, each bearing the name of Mary, of whom the first was Mary Beaton, a neice of the Cardinal; the second, Mary Fleming, the daughter of Lord Fleming; the third was Mary Livingston, whose father was one of the curators of the Queen's person; the fourth was Mary Seaton, whose father, Lord Seaton, was faithfully devoted to the Royal Family."-Miss Benger's Life of Mary, p. 55.

These ladies were long the faithful companions of their unfortunate mistress.

Bothwell shall bear the symbol of command,
And Scotland's sceptre fill his faithful hand.
But Oh! what agony to mix with those
Whose hearts against me base suspicions close,
Or who by falsehood's darker power delight
My fame, my hope, my happiness to blight;
Though I their meaning still disdain to see,
Nor own scorn's daring finger points at me.
Ah! could ambition's restless sons but know
What thorns are twin'd around a Sovereign's brow,
How would they shun the desolating scene,

Where struts that splendid wretch, a King or Queen!
Yet once with joy I bore that envied name,
"Twas when a child I first to Gallia came,

For, well you know, so Henry's power ordain'd,
My presence everywhere the slave unchain'd! +
Then my young heart with virtuous triumph-burn'd,
Since wheresoe'er my royal footsteps turn'd,
Lo! at my sight, the dungeons op'd to day,
Not fading flowers, but blessings mark'd my way.
And pining captives, at my word releas'd,
With lauding lips my regal train increas'd,
From wretches sav'd from death my welcome came,
For want's pale victims learnt to hail my name;
And, while their shouts arose in loud excess,
I bless'd the rank that gave the means to bless,
Nor thought my lips would e'er deplore the day
That to my hand should give unbounded sway;
But pleas'd the learning you enjoin'd I shared,
And my young mind for power supreme prepared..
Yet even then 'twas mine with boding heart,
Back from the world's vain joys awhile to start,
And leave that cloister with unwilling feet, t
Where pure religion held her shelter'd seat.

Brief! but blest hours! when, in that sacred dome,
With holy sisters Mary found a home;

"Bothwell on that occasion carried the sceptre before the Queen, a circumstance this which has given occasion to calumnious remark, as if the sceptre might not have been placed in his hand by Secretary Maitland, as a cause of censure."-Chalmers, p. 214.

I am sorry to differ with Mr. Chalmers, but I must beg leave to observe, that I think it quite consistent with Mary's generous indignation, and usually spirited conduct when her feelings were wounded and her dignity offended, to give the extremest possible proof of her resentment of a wrong offered to any one she loved, and of her conviction that the object so beloved had been grossly injured. I, therefore, believe that she chose to give the sceptre to the hand of Bothwell.

+"She found herself, by Henry's orders, invested with the sacred prerogatives of Sovereignty. To whatever place she came, after her arrival at Brest, the prison gates were opened to all criminals, save those convicted of heresy and treason; and for her sake the most miserable outcasts were restored to life, to hope, to liberty."-See Miss Benger, p. 122.

"Mary was placed with her Maries in a convent, dedicated, says Conæus to the Virgin, in which were usually placed girls of royal and illustrious descent." "She was there subjected to strict rules of discipline, and regularly accustomed to join the nuns in their devotional exercises and ascetic humiliations; and so readily did she comply with whatever was required by her spiritual directors, that they began to cherish ambitious hopes of the royal pupil, and to boast that she had a religious vocation."-"The nuns officiously proclaimed their convic

When my young voice I learnt in choirs to raise,
With timid zeal breath'd forth my Maker's praise,
From saints and martyrs my examples sought,
Practis'd whate'er severe ascetics taught;
And mortal Sovereigns view'd as empty things,
While bow'd to earth before the KING of kings!
Oh! that I now could seek those walls once more;
Again, lov'd France! behold thy matchless shore!
Not to that throne whence I by death was hurl'd-
Not to the pleasures of the passing world
Would I return. I for that cloister pine,
Where once to watch, to weep, to pray was mine!
Where more I wish'd, though yet untried the scene,
To die a martyr than to live a Queen.

But fate impell'd me from the convent's walls

To scenes of turmoil and to regal halls;
Bade me as Scotland's Queen to ruin run,
And here be Queen and martyr both in one.
Visions of danger, and of death away!
Nor swell the terrors of the present day!

But though destructive storms may round me blow,
I'll ne'er to seek inglorious shelter go,
Nor court, whatever ills may o'er me come,
The selfish safety of the cloister'd dome.
For my child's sake I'll every danger dare,

The royal robes, though lin'd with scorpions, wear;
Still grasp the sceptre though its touch impart
Torpedo thrills of anguish through my heart;
And, be that heart by man's injustice riven,

I'll clasp the CROSS and trust protecting HEAVEN.

tion, that the little Mary Stuart would be a Saint upon earth."-"The King, not Jiking the suggestion, demanded that his daughter-in-law should be transferred to apartments in the palace."

"According to Conæus the execution of this mandate drew from Mary more tears than she had shed on leaving Scotland."-See Miss Benger's Life of Mary, pp. 181, 182.

LINES TO

OH! there is a thought that will sting us to madness!

A pang that once felt can be never forgot;

A grief that surpasses all others in sadness,

Alas! I have felt it, ah! would I had not.
Oh! yes, 'tis to find that our life's dream is past,
No sunshine of bliss to illumine the shore;
Dark, dark is the path, and with sorrow o'ercast;

And Hope, the sweet cherub, can flatter no more.

F.

SKETCHES OF SOCIETY AND MANNERS IN LONDON AND PARIS.

From SIR CHARLES DARNLEY, Bart. to the MARQUIS DE VERMONT.

LETTER XXI.

Paris.

MY DEAR MArquis, THOUGH in the expectation which I had formed of the supposed prevalence of general gaiety in private society I have been much disappointed, I find myself indemnified by the cheerful appearance of the streets of Paris.

The festivities of your church are again kept as fêtes, and the very name of a fête seems quite sufficient to rouse the native vivacity of the French into all its wonted exuberance. The first occasion on which I witnessed one of these scenes of national hilarity was on the arrival of the Jour de l'An, or, as we call it, New Year's Day. In England, children, tradesmen's boys, watchmen, postmen, and milkmen, under the name of Christmas-box (a name derived from the box, which, in ancient times, was carried round at this season to collect the contributions of the affluent for the relief of the poor,) exact from us an annual oblation; so in France, I am told, persons of every description make a practice to begin the year with making presents to all those to whom they are attached by the ties of blood, or by those of friendship; while such marks of good-will are often extended to the commonest acquaintance.

I arrived here not long before the 1st of January, and, on the morning of that day, a gentle tap at the door of the room in which I was dressing drew my attention, and when I desired the person who knocked to walk in, I was surprised by an unexpected visit from the young and pretty daughter of my landlord, who was elegantly dressed on the occa sion, and carried in her hand a nosegay formed of such few flowers as could be collected at that season; of which, avec toute la grace françoise, she requested my acceptance as her etrenne, or New Year's Gift. When I went into the streets I found all the shops in this great city, and

more particularly those in the Palais Royal, decked out in a rich variety of showy merchandize, while crowds were thronging into them in order to supply themselves with the presents expected by their respective friends, for this is an indispensable duty; and, if nothing better can be afforded, a plate of oranges, or a box of bons-bons, testifies the good wishes of those whose circumstances are such as to prevent their making a more costly offering. The milliners on this occasion displayed. all the whims and novelties of the prevailing fashions, and their counters were covered with laces and silks, as well as with gold and silver tissues, tastefully arranged and recommended to the attention of their visitors. The jewellers, goldsmiths, and watchmakers, exhibited every possible specimen of expensive trinket and ingenious machinery. In the glass-shops were seen the most beautiful proofs of the perfection to which the manufactory has lately been brought in France; and in one of these depôts I observed, among other curiosities, a flight of stairs, every part of which was made of that brittle material. The pastrycooks, who apparently had more custom than any of their neighbours, offered an ample choice of cakes in every possible shape, and a still greater abundance of sugar-plums, containing printed mottos, devices, and appropriate verses. The purchasers and spectators formed, themselves, no trifling addition to this lively scene; and, while the whole town appeared to be pouring out its population in all directions, the Palais Royal continued, from the dawn of day till a late hour at night, to be so thronged with persons of both sexes, and of all ages, conditions, and nations of the earth, that it was a task of extreme difficulty to make one's way through the motley multitude there assembled.

Some

came to make bona fide purchases, some were seeking adventures, some

were watching for an opportunity of picking the pockets of their richer neighbours, some were viewing with an envious eye those tempting baubles which they could not afford to purchase, and all were busily employed. In the evening, the ci-devant Theatre des Varietés, now converted into a coffee-house and splendidly lighted, was thrown open to the public; while a theatrical exhibition was presented on the stage, for the amusement of the constantly increasing crowds, who came thither to finish their day. They were seated in different parts of the room, taking tea, coffee, ices, lemonade, and punch; and formed the most picturesque groups imagin able.

A different kind of ceremony was observed on the 21st of the same month (January,) when in expiation of the murder of Louis XVI. (of which this day is the anniversary) a solemn mass was performed for the repose of his soul, and other religious rites, at the Cathedral Church of St. Denys. The members of the Royal Family all attended on the occasion, and I saw them go by in great state, filling two carriages, each drawn by six horses, and escorted by a detachment of cavalry. They were followed by several private equipages, all with four horses, and attended by servants in court liveries. I cannot think that your government displays its accustomed prudence in thus re-calling to the mind of the people, that the death of Louis XVI. still rankles in the mind of his surviving relatives. The Parisians even on such an occasion could not restrain their propensity to indulge in badinage, and it was said, in allusion to this ceremony, "Autrefois on jouoit les EAUX à St. Cloud, à présent on joue les os à St. Denys."

On Mardi-gras (or, as we call it, Shrove Tuesday,) that holiday was kept in a livelier manner. All Paris was in motion at an early hour; the streets and public walks, and particularly the Boulevards, were crowded with pedestrians, equestrians, and persons in equipages of every sort and kind, from the smart English barouche to the old country cabriolet. Masks were permitted by the police to be worn on this day, and many of the mob availed them

selves of the privilege by assuming various characters. Among harle quins, columbines, mountebanks, lawyers, sailors, &c. &c. a fellow, dressed as an English aid-de-camp, made his appearance, riding on the neck of a half-starved horse, andwearing a blue great coat, with a red sash, and a low cocked hat and feather, over which he held an umbrella suspended: he was followed by another mask also on horseback, who personated an English groom. I am grieved to say, that nothing seemed to please the crowds so much as these caricatures of the British ; and this is not the first time that I have had occasion to remark, with regret, how greedily your countrymen seize every opportunity of attempting to throw ridicule on the family of John Bull; it must be confessed, that in the immense numbers of idle wanderers from our shores, not a few afford ample materials for the pencil of your caricaturists. So prodigious were the multitudes which this sight had attracted, that all the vigilance of the police proved insufficient to prevent the occurrence of serious accidents; and I saw an unfortunate boy (who had been either trampled on by the crowd or run over by a carriage,) conveyed senseless on a hurdle to the hospital. Finding that, on a moderate calculation, half the inhabitants of Paris had come abroad to view the show, I imagined that what they came to see must be splendid indeed; and my expectations were increased by hearing on all sides," avez vous vu le beuƒ gras?" while he who could answer the question in the affirmative, seemed to become a person of no little importance, and to be considered as an object of envy. Much therefore was I disappointed, when, after waiting for some hours in the Place Vendome, I saw the procession pass through that fine square. It began with a party of gens d'armes on horseback, (for I find nothing can be done here without the presence of the military,) and they were followed by a band of musicians, clad in fantastic dresses, who, as they marched along, played the popular air of "Vive Henri IV." Then came a corps of ancient warriors, wearing coats of mail, and helmets

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