ion, and
supplies no help in a hanging matter.

The opinion of historians inclines, on the whole, in her favour.
About fifty writers have considered the original evidences
sufficiently to form something like an independent conclusion.
Eighteen of these condemn Mary, thirty pronounce her not guilty; two
cannot make up their minds. Most of the Catholics absolve, and among
Protestants there is an equal number for and against. The greater
names are on the hostile side. They do not carry weight with us,
because they decided upon evidence less complete than that which we
possess. Four of the greatest, Robertson, Ranke, Burton, Froude, were
all misled by the same damaging mistake. The equal division of the
Protestants shows how little any religious bias has had to do with the
inquiry; so that the overwhelming majority on the Catholic side
requires explanation.

There have been two reasons for it. Many found it difficult to
understand how a woman who died so edifying a death could have been a
murderess. It would be easy to find many instances of men in that age
who led holy lives and died with sincerity, but who, in the matter of
homicide, had much in common with the Roman triumvirs, or the heroes
of the French Revolution. But persons disposed to admit that
difficulty would naturally be impressed by an argument of much greater
force. The man who produced the famous letters, the Chancellor
Morton, was a notorious villain. He had kept guard at Holyrood while
his friends slew Riccio. Further, many have admitted, many more are
now ready to admit, that some portion of the letters is forged. In
that case, how can we accept evidence which the forgers have supplied?
How can we send Mary to the scaffold on the testimony of perjured
witnesses? Either we must say that the proofs are genuine throughout,
and that Morton did not suffer them to be tampered with, or we must
absolve Mary. Nobody, I think, at the present day, will deny that the
letters, as we have them, were tampered with. Therefore we must hold
Mary to be not guilty. Everybody can see the force of this argument,
and the likelihood that it would impress those who expect to find
consistency in the lives and characters of men, or even of women.

On 20th June, 1567 Morton captured Dalgleish, one of Bothwell's men,
who had helped to kill Darnley. In order to escape torture--he did not
escape capital punishment--Dalgleish delivered up a silver gilt casket
which h