With few comforts and no enjoyments, Mary remained closely confined in the Castle of Loch-Leven. Her only resources were in herself, and in the religion whose precepts she was ever anxious not only to profess, but to practise. Though deprived of liberty and the delights of a court, she was able to console herself with the reflection, that there is no prison for a soul that puts its trust in its God, and that all the world belongs to one who knows how to despise its vanities. Yet the misfortunes which had overtaken her were enough to appal the stoutest heart. Her husband had been murdered, she herself forced into an unwilling marriage, her kingdom taken from her, her child raised up against her, her honour defamed, and her person insulted,--all within the short space of four months. History records few reverses so sudden and so complete. Many a masculine spirit would have felt its energies give way under so dreadful a change of fortune; and if Mary was able to put in practice the Roman maxim, _Ne cedere malis, sed contra audentior ire_, it would be to exalt vice and libel virtue to suppose, that she could have been inspired with strength for so arduous a task by aught but her own integrity. It was not these more serious calamities alone whose load she was doomed to bear; there were many petty annoyances to which she was daily and hourly subject. Margaret Erskine, the Lady of Loch-Leven, and widow of Sir Robert Douglas, who fell at the battle of Pinkie one-and-twenty years before, was a woman of a proud temper and austere disposition. Soured by early disappointment, for, previous to her marriage with Sir Robert, she had been one of the rejected mistresses of James V., she chose to indulge her more malignant nature in continually exalting her illegitimate offspring the Earl of Murray above his lawful Queen, now her prisoner. Her servants, of course, took their tone from their mistress; and there was one in particular, named James Drysdale, who held a place of some authority in her household, and who, having had some concern in the murder of Rizzio, and being a bigoted and unprincipled fanatic, entertained the most deadly hatred against Mary, and had been heard to declare, that it would give him pleasure to plunge a dagger into her heart's blood. This savage probably succeeded in spreading similar sentiments among the other domestics; and thus the Queen's very life seemed to hang upon the prejudices and caprices of menials.[141]