The Betrayal of Mary, Queen of Scots
Page 20
Mary was both strengthened and weakened by the arrival of a son. She had performed her duty and continued the line, the great role of a monarch and a queen. But a boy, even one who couldn’t yet lift his head, was worth more than a woman, and if the lords deposed her for her son, there would be significant support in the country for a regency from those lords who thought they would gain power and favour from Moray. And even though Darnley was generally disliked, if he was to throw himself behind a regency, the lords might take him up once more. But Darnley, at his moment of greatest power, behaved most irrationally – and said he was leaving Mary to live abroad. He was behaving so oddly that the Privy Council wrote to Catherine de’ Medici to note that he was insane and to ask for her support in preventing him from setting up a royal court in exile. In the end, he remained in Scotland, hanging around, going out late, causing trouble.
The baby prince was sent off to Stirling, as was often the case for royal children, accompanied by four hundred soldiers, arriving at a nursery sumptuously furnished with tapestries and gold and silver accoutrements. Plans were made for a great christening and both commoners and nobles seemed united in their enthusiasm for the child.
Mary was still very ill after her difficult birth. In July, she travelled for some sea air and then on to Traquair, home of the captain of her guard. There, she began to suspect that she was pregnant again. Although it was very soon, Mary had the symptoms of early pregnancy for she was sick and dizzy. Darnley told her she had to accompany him hunting and she whispered in his ear that she thought she was once more with child. He shouted roughly, ‘Never mind, if we lose this one, we can make another.’6 The company was stunned. It was obvious to everyone that Darnley had not a shred of esteem left for his wife. In fact Mary was not pregnant but simply unwell. Darnley, though, clearly didn’t care whether she was ill or pregnant. The French ambassador, Philibert du Croc, tried to talk to Darnley to moderate his behaviour but came away feeling it was a hopeless case. He could see no likelihood of ‘good understanding between them’ because ‘the King will never humble himself as he ought’ and the ‘Queen can’t perceive any one nobleman speaking with the King, but presently she suspects some contrivance between them’.7
In only five years, Mary had been constantly challenged – by Arran and Bothwell, by Moray and the rebels, and by Morton and the Douglases – as well as facing plenty of minor rebellions along the way. She was naturally concerned about plots to harm those about her, whether it was Joseph Rizzio, other confidants or even her son. In England, Elizabeth’s ministers were likewise terrified that their own queen could be threatened and killed, hence their paranoid panic with spies and attempt to create sedition in neighbouring countries. Mary felt the same, but she bore all the fear herself for she could trust no one. As Darnley’s friend Ker had waved a gun at her and another had offered to stab her, she naturally fretted that his associates still wanted to kill her. Now he had a son, his position was secure. If Mary died, he could be regent for the child – and he and his family would have all the power. It was obvious that life would be better for Darnley if his wife had died in childbirth. Mary saw plots all about her and this was because some of them were real.
Mary had come to lay particular trust in Bothwell. He was Lieutenant of the Borders and she relied on him to keep this most troublesome region under control. Bothwell had a superficial gloss of sophistication: he was well read, had travelled widely and could speak French. But he was a man who settled every dispute with his fists, an old-style feudal lord always looking for a fight. He had constant affairs with young servants and anyone he could persuade to be his mistress (and we have already heard of one of his abduction fantasies about the queen). Some way from Darnley’s male-model looks, he was smaller than Mary at five-feet-six, called ugly by most of the courtiers, because he had unappealing features and a large nose that had been broken a few times in scuffles. He was strong and fast, a skilled horseman and quite a good military commander. And his plain appearance actually worked to his advantage; in Mary’s history, handsome men like Darnley and Moray had betrayed her, whereas the plain men like Rizzio were devoted. Most importantly of all, he had known Mary for years and she lay great store by friendship over time. Although she had made the gestures of forgiving those who had plotted against her, in her heart she was still afraid of them. Bothwell, who had been innocent of the Rizzio conspiracy and helped her escape, was now firmly lodged in her mind as a loyal man she could trust, come what may.
In early October, the queen had to travel to Jedbergh, near the border with England, to hold a court, accompanied by Moray and the rest of her circle. Bothwell was resting nearby at a castle, after fighting near the border had left him severely wounded. They all set off to pay him a brief visit in the day. When Mary returned, she fell severely ill. She was suffering convulsions and vomiting, in one spate sixty times, and, on one terrifying day, lay almost dead for half an hour. Within a week, she was lying stiff and cold, her limbs contorted. Her doctor bandaged her tightly and then poured wine into her mouth and forced her to swallow and Mary began to show signs of recovery – one of the few times when the practices of sixteenth-century doctors had a beneficial effect. The Privy Council blamed Darnley for her state and decided that his obsession with power and being crowned and his ill-treatment of the queen had caused all the problems. First Rizzio, now Darnley was the scapegoat. And Mary was losing her spirit. She told Moray that with Darnley, she could never have a happy day in her life.8 ‘I do believe the principal part of her disease to consist of a deep grief and sorrow,’ reported the French ambassador. She often cried, ‘I could wish to be dead.’9
She may have had a stomach ulcer or perhaps symptoms of porphyria, but her illness was definitely influenced by her low spirits. For Maitland, ‘the root of it is the king’ – she had raised him, but ‘he has recompensed her with such ingratitude and misuses himself so far towards her that it is heartbreak for her to think he should be her husband’.10 Bothwell came to her often to visit. He was a faithless lothario who saw the queen as a means to power, like they all did, and aimed to exploit her trust in him by playing the swain, attempting to make her fall in love with him. Darnley could still be executed – or the marriage annulled. And then she would need another husband. Bothwell thought himself the perfect candidate. He quite fancied himself as king.
Mary thought she might die and was directing her thoughts to her child. Anyone was better than Darnley as the baby’s protector and so she turned to her cousin queen, vowing that after her death ‘the special care of the protection of our own son’ was to be given to Elizabeth, who should see James as her child. Elizabeth, she knew, respected monarchy and would protect his life. Elizabeth assented to the proposal and Mary wrote to thank her ‘dearest sister’ for doing so.11 The offer of James entirely won Elizabeth’s heart and a ready-made son in the wings was helpful for her efforts at fighting off potential husbands. The Queen of England was frustrated with her own advisors and their obsession with marriage – and Mary’s letter was perfectly timed. Elizabeth suggested she might abandon the Treaty of Edinburgh and begin with another one, that was focused on ‘amity’12 and would declare Mary heir apparent, as long as Mary accepted she would lose any claim if Elizabeth had children. She would also have to promise not to attempt the English throne and each party would recognise the other as a lawful queen. What Mary had wanted for so long had finally been achieved.
By the close of the year, Mary’s advisors had had enough of Darnley. He was highhanded and rude, threatened whatever action he pleased and his debauched behaviour gave a bad impression of Scotland to the overseas ambassadors – quite apart from being a blackmail risk. They shared the queen’s suspicions that he was plotting with other men against her. The idea of Darnley as regent for James after Mary’s death was hateful to them. The Lennoxes would have all the power. Moray and Arran would be much reduced – as would Morton, Maitland, Argyll and Huntly – as well as Bothwell, whom Darnley hated.
Mary feared divorce because she did not want to undermine the position of her son, ‘otherwise her Highness would rather endure all torments and abide the perils that might chance her’. Her advisors talked of arresting Darnley and then their talk took a dark turn, saying Moray would ‘look through his fingers’ at what they might do – implying that a criminal act against Darnley would occur, which Moray would be aware of and condone, if not actively be engaged in. Mary refused to hear of it. ‘Let us guide the matter amongst us,’ said Maitland. He added that they would do ‘nothing that was not good and approved by Parliament’.14
But while Mary returned to her rooms, they made a further promise to each other: signing a bond that Darnley should be got rid of. The bond does not survive, so we can see it only through the various and conflicting testimonies, but those declared as signatories included Argyll, Huntly, Bothwell and Maitland. Moray was present, although he may not have signed. Maitland was keen on legal measures, such as divorce or even arrest for treason. But for both, Darnley would have to be forced to cooperate. As one document signed by various lords lays out, if there was not a divorce on the basis of consanguity or adultery they might then ‘get him convicted of treason because he consented to her Grace’s imprisonment’ (they meant after Rizzio’s death; the original wording was ‘hir Grace’s retentioun in ward’). This was a good idea, but unfortunately too many other nobles were involved in that episode and a treason trial for Darnley might drag them all into it. And so they ended ‘or what other ways to dispatch him, which altogether her Grace refuses as is widely known’.15
Mary was unhappy with Darnley and did fear he might be plotting to kill her, but she was staunchly against anything violent or his ‘dispatch’. Why did they keep telling her of their plots to kill him when they knew she would not entertain it? As even the Spanish ambassador in London, Diego Guzman de Silva (who had replaced Quadra) had said, ‘the displeasure of the Queen of Scotland with her husband is carried so far, that she was approached by some who wanted to induce her to allow a plot to be formed against him, which she refused’.16 Not only were they telling Mary their plans, but they were also allowing the information to get back to London and the Spanish ambassador – and if Silva knew, then Cecil did too. We have to ask, what possible benefit was it to them that Cecil should know this? The plotters wanted support from England. And they also wanted Cecil and everybody across Europe to know that Mary knew of the plots. She was being framed.
Moray hated Darnley and he rightly saw Darnley’s declaration that he had too much land as a threat to his property. With Darnley out of the way, Moray could assume power, for Mary would hopefully be dissuaded from remarrying for a while, now that she had a legitimate heir. But Moray’s problem was that even if his friends dispatched Darnley, he would still have Mary, resistant, not Protestant and increasingly ill-disposed to listen to him. After the Chaseabout raid and his failure to rescue her from the post-Rizzio imprisonment, she did not trust him.
The ideal situation for Moray would be both Mary and Darnley dead – for then he could assume the role as regent. But there was no way he was going to kill the queen or persuade anyone else to do it. That would be going too far. But implicate her in the murder of Darnley – so that she was confused, hated, withdrew, put everything in his hands and let him be regent for baby James? Win–win. The question of who benefits leads directly to Moray. He hated Darnley, he had come up with the divorce idea, he was pushing forward the plans and his ‘looking through his fingers’ had been mentioned to Mary as a way of encouraging her to agree to something on the other side of the law. But there was no way that such a shocking event as the death of the king was not going to be investigated, with culprits hanged and all the foreign ambassadors demanding vengeance (they might have despaired of Darnley’s behaviour but killing a king was an affront to all authority and monarchy). What Moray needed to do was to make sure the suspicion was thrown onto anyone but him. And if he threw it onto his sister, he would gain all he desired.
Moray had already rebelled against his sister and tried to seize the throne from her, criticising the foreigners at court, Darnley, Catholicism and questions about selling church lands and the distributions of benefices. These grievances were still with him, as everyone knew. In the plot to kill Darnley, Bothwell and the Douglases, along with Morton, would do the dirty work. But even though he would absent himself from the situation, as with the Rizzio murder, people would think he had been involved. So he had to divert their attention – and Mary was the perfect scapegoat.
The christening was to be a great celebration, with the Privy Council offering the queen £12,000 for the ceremony – nearly £4 million today. On 17 December, the prince was finally christened in the chapel royal of Stirling Castle, in a Catholic ceremony that caused much upset among the lords. He was borne from the royal apartments to the chapel by the Count of Brienne, on behalf of the King of France, and the Countess of Argyll stood in for Elizabeth I. The Queen of England had sent a marvellous gold font, weighing exactly ‘three hundred and thirty-three ounces’ – and had got it to Scotland despite a gang of professional thieves who had tried to steal it in Doncaster.17 The proud mother gave the nobility gold and silver outfits at her own expense. Mary presided over the balls and banquets that declared James’s magnificence to the world, with fireworks and masques written by George Buchanan (who later turned his pen on Mary in crueller ways). One particular guest was pointedly missing. Darnley remained in his rooms at Stirling, sulking. Philibert du Croc, the kind-hearted French ambassador who had been told by Catherine de’ Medici not to deal with the queen’s husband because she thought him treacherous, believed that Darnley did not want all the envoys to see how low was his status and reputation at court, while the Parisian lawyer Claude Nau (who worked for the Guise family and would later be Mary’s confidential secretary) thought that Darnley suspected Elizabeth’s envoy would not recognise him as King of Scotland and was resentful that she was a godparent. Perhaps Darnley was trying to threaten, to suggest what might happen if he withdrew his assent to the child’s legitimacy, test his power. Whatever the truth, he humiliated Mary publicly and he also undermined Elizabeth by not recognising her proxy. As du Croc fretted, ‘His bad behaviour is incurable’.18
Mary finally decided to pardon Morton and the others who had plotted against Rizzio – with the exception of Andrew Ker and George Douglas – and did so on Christmas Eve. Morton and most of his associates blamed Darnley for ruining their plot and betraying them. By inviting them back, she was exposing her husband to risk – and Darnley knew it. He was petrified and swept off to Glasgow, where the Lennox family were strong, hoping for better treatment. Left behind, Mary was listening to legal experts continue to talk of the possibility of divorce or annulling the marriage on the grounds of consanguity, pre-existing relation (tricky, as everyone of royal blood was related), or adultery. The latter was difficult to use in such cases and the former would be up to the Pope – who could very well say no. As step-cousins, Mary and Darnley were hardly closely related. On 6 January, Maitland had married Mary Fleming, one of the four Marys, and this brought him closer into the queen’s trusted circle. Her secretary of state, her half-brother, her close friends
– they were all telling her they would deal with Darnley, but in legal ways.
While in Glasgow, a Lennox stronghold, Darnley fell ill and ‘livid pustules broke out’ painfully over his whole body. He also lost his hair. It was said he had smallpox, but more likely it was syphilis – and he had had breakouts before. (When his skull was analysed much later at the Royal College of Surgeons, it revealed ‘traces of a violent syphilitic disease’.19) This was yet more humiliation for Mary, evidence that he had been louche and might even have given her and her beloved son the dreadful disease.
Mary heard her husband was planning to steal Prince James and set up as a great monarch without her – and on 14 January she promptly had James taken from Stirling to live with her at Holyrood. Darnley begged Mary to visit him but she refrained, saying she had fallen and injured herself, although she did send her personal doctor to him. He was seriously ill – but not dying, although the possibility of that gave heart to many around him.
Bothwell – unscrupulous, misogynist and violent – had convinced Mary that he had her best interests at heart and was attempting to secure her affections as well. Emboldened by the queen’s trust and convinced of his brilliant effect on women, he felt that his only block to complete power over Mary was Darnley. And thus he agreed to take on the actual business of the plot initially driven by Moray.
Mary’s friends told her Darnley was planning her death. The dreaded Andrew Ker had returned from England and was crowing about the revenge he was going to take. He had been issued a pardon, probably by Darnley, without Mary’s say-so and he was a clear Darnley supporter. The queen was afraid of her husband.