Mary had been Darnley's wife only a few months, when a painful conviction was forced upon her of the error she had committed in so far as regarded her own happiness, in uniting her fortunes with a youth so weak, headstrong, and inexperienced. The homage, whether real or affected, which before his marriage Darnley paid to Mary,--his personal graces and accomplishments,--and the care he took to keep as much as possible in the background, the numerous defects of his character, had succeeded in securing for him a place in Mary's heart, and, what he considered of greater importance, a share of her throne. But as soon as the object of his ambition was obtained, the mask was thrown aside. He broke out into a thousand excesses,--offended almost all the nobility,--and forgetting, or misunderstanding the kind of men he had to deal with, cherished a wild and boyish desire to make his own will law. He changed from the Protestant to the Catholic religion; but the Catholics had no confidence in him, whilst John Knox and the Reformers lifted up their voices loudly against his apostasy. He was addicted to great intemperance in his pleasures; was passionately fond of his hounds and hawks, grossly licentious, and much given to drinking. Upon one occasion, his indulgence in this latter vice made him so far forget himself, that at a civic banquet where the Queen and he were present, he dared to speak to her so brutally, that she left the place in tears.[116] But there were other causes, besides the imperfections of Darnley's character, which served to sow dissension between him and his young wife. It would be wrong to say that they were mutually jealous of each other's love of power, for this would be to put Mary on an equality with her husband, who was Queen in her own right, while Darnley had no title to any authority beyond what she chose to confer on him. In the first ardor of her affection, however, she permitted him, with the confiding generosity of sincere attachment, to carry every thing his own way; and he was too conceited and selfish to appreciate as it deserved, the value of the trust she thus reposed in him. "All honour," says Randolph, "that may be attributed unto any man by a wife, he hath it wholly and fully,--all praise that may be spoken of him, he lacketh not from herself,--all dignities that she can endow him with, are already given and granted. No man pleaseth her that contenteth not him. And what may I say more? She hath given over unto him her whole will, to be ruled and guided as himself best liketh."[117] This was nothing more than the conduct naturally to be expected from a woman who warmly loved her husband, and who, in the ingenuous integrity of her heart, believed him worthy of her love. Had this indeed been the case, no evil consequences could have resulted from the excess of kindness she lavished on him; but with all his fair exterior, Darnley was incapable of understanding or estimating aright the