Mary
who reigned (or ought to reign) below, whose woes (like her gifts) were
somewhat more palpable to the carnal sense. A Mary who, having every
comfort and luxury (including hounds and horses) found for her by the
English Government, at an expense which would be now equal to some
twenty thousand a year, could afford to employ the whole of her jointure
as Queen Dowager of France (probably equal to fifty thousand a year
more), in plotting the destruction of the said government, and the
murder of its queen; a Mary who, if she prospered as she ought, might
have dukedoms, and earldoms, fair lands and castles to bestow on her
faithful servants; a Mary, finally, who contrived by means of an angel
face, a serpent tongue, and a heart (as she said herself) as hard as
a diamond, to make every weak man fall in love with her, and, what was
worse, fancy more or less that she was in love with him.

Of her the Jesuits were not unmindful; and found it convenient, indeed,
to forget awhile the sorrows of the Queen of Heaven in those of the
Queen of Scots. Not that they cared much for those sorrows; but they
were an excellent stock-in-trade. She was a Romanist; she was "beautiful
and unfortunate," a virtue which, like charity, hides the multitude of
sins; and therefore she was a convenient card to play in the great game
of Rome against the Queen and people of England; and played the poor
card was, till it got torn up by over-using. Into her merits or demerits
I do not enter deeply here. Let her rest in peace.

To all which the people of England made a most practical and terrible
answer. From the highest noble to the lowest peasant, arose one
simultaneous plebiscitum: "We are tired of these seventeen years of
chicanery and terror. This woman must die: or the commonweal of England
perish!" We all know which of the two alternatives was chosen.

All Europe stood aghast: but rather with astonishment at English
audacity, than with horror at English wickedness. Mary's own French
kinsfolk had openly given her up as too bad to be excused, much less
assisted. Her own son blustered a little to the English ambassador;
for the majesty of kings was invaded: whereon Walsingham said in open
council, that "the queen should send him a couple of hounds, and that
would set all right." Which sage advice (being acted on, and some deer
sent over and above) was so successful that the pious mourner, having
run off (Randolph says, like a baby to see the deer in