by Alison Weir
In August, Mary embarked on what was ostensibly a progress to the Highlands, but in fact turned out to be a military campaign to destroy the might of the Gordons. This was thought by some to be at the instigation of Lord James, who was proclaimed Earl of Moray that August and was intent on reclaiming the Moray estates, but Mary herself was a prime mover in the matter, and not without provocation: Huntly’s son, Sir John Gordon, had been imprisoned for brawling in Edinburgh, and the Huntly clan were determined to avenge the insult. Moreover, Lord John, who had since escaped, was now threatening to abduct the Queen and force her to marry him. After Mary had been refused entry to Inverness Castle, Huntly surrendered, but soon afterwards broke into open rebellion. At the Battle of Corrichie, near Aberdeen, on 28 October, the Gordons were defeated by an army led by the new Earl of Moray: Huntly dropped dead on the battlefield, from either a heart attack or a stroke, and Sir John was later beheaded; the Queen, watching at Moray’s insistence, screamed and fainted when the executioner bungled his work. She was also present when Huntly’s embalmed corpse was tried and condemned for treason before Parliament in 1563 in Edinburgh. The Huntly estates were then declared forfeit, and the late Earl’s heir, Lord George Gordon, who had played no part in the rebellion, was tried for treason and condemned to death, but Mary defied Moray and refused to sign the warrant, so he was imprisoned at Dunbar instead. Morton was made Lord Chancellor in place of Huntly.
The fall of the Gordons left the Protestant party all the more powerful. Moray had now eliminated or neutralised several of his enemies. Yet Bothwell remained a thorn in his side. At the end of August, Bothwell had escaped from his prison in Edinburgh Castle by prising loose a bar from his window and climbing down the castle rock;21then he had made for Hermitage Castle, one of his strongholds in the Borders. From there, he wrote to Mary to “find out what the Queen’s real thoughts and intentions were towards me,”22 but Randolph reported in September, “Anything he can do or say can little prevail. Her purpose is to put him out of the country.”23Bothwell, however, “discovered that she knew well enough that I had been accused only through motives of personal hatred and envy, but that, for the time being, she was quite unable to give me any help or assistance. But she sent a message to say that I was to do the best I could for myself.”24
Moray demanded that Bothwell surrender himself on pain of indictment for treason, but Bothwell deemed it prudent to leave Scotland. “I decided to take ship to France, but a tempest drove me to England.” Washed up on the Northumbrian coast, he remained in hiding until 7 January, when he was taken prisoner and confined in Tynemouth Castle. It was at this time that Moray and Maitland—and Randolph—began to be concerned about Mary’s dealings with Bothwell. On 22 January, Randolph reported that the Lords “suspect the Queen to be more favourable to Lord Bothwell than there be good cause,” and that they did not want him to return to Scotland. It was probably with their connivance that, in February 1563, on Queen Elizabeth’s orders, he was sent to London, where he was imprisoned in the Tower. At the end of May, he was released on parole, but not immediately allowed to leave England.25At this time, Anna Throndssen was granted a safe-conduct by the Scottish government to return to Norway.
By December 1563, Bothwell was in Northumberland, a free man. From now on, he would loyally work for Mary in secret, for it was too dangerous for him to do so openly: he had numerous enemies in Scotland. According to Randolph, Bothwell secretly visited Mary at Dunbar in February 1564, then rode to London carrying letters for her. During 1564, Randolph reported several more secret meetings with Mary in Scotland. All of this implies that Mary was beginning to find Moray’s tutelage irksome, and that she was seeking new counsellors. There is no suggestion in any of Randolph’s reports, or elsewhere, that she was emotionally involved with Bothwell at this time, or considering him as a future husband.
In November 1562, Lennox had been released from the Tower and allowed to join his wife at Sheen, on condition that he undertook never to “enter into any private bond or practice with any state without the Queen’s licence.”26 Lady Lennox was also required to promise that she would never again attempt to marry Lord Darnley to the Queen of Scots. Soon afterwards, the Earl and Countess, and in particular Lord Darnley, who had returned from wherever he had been hiding, were back in favour at court, where Elizabeth could keep an eye on them. Alvaro de Quadra reported to Philip II: “Many people think that, if the Queen of Scots does marry a person unacceptable to this Queen, the latter will declare as her successor the son of Lady Margaret, whom she now keeps in the palace and shows such favour to as to make this appear probable.”27Darnley’s new status at court is evident from the fact that, in June 1564, he was deputed to receive the new Spanish ambassador, Guzman de Silva, and conduct him to his first audience with the Queen.28
Meanwhile, there had been a major court scandal in Scotland. Pierre de Boscotel de Chastelard, a gallant French aristocrat and descendant of the Chevalier Bayard, was an accomplished musician and poet who had come from France in Mary’s entourage in 1561, but soon afterwards returned in the company of his patron, the son of the Constable of France. Late in 1562, he made his way back to Scotland and, when he passed through London, let it be known that he was going north “to see his lady love.”29
That lady was Mary herself, for whom Chastelard had apparently conceived a rash and inordinate affection, and she received him with such warmth that he believed his feelings were reciprocated. Thereafter he was often at court; the Queen obviously enjoyed his company and danced with him during the New Year festivities. Soon he was addressing passionate love sonnets to her. The English agent, Thomas Randolph, who was hostile to Mary and had an appetite for scurrilous gossip, claimed afterwards that she permitted too great a degree of familiarity with “so unworthy a creature and abject a varlet,”30and Knox, who later wrote an account of the affair, disapproved, relating how “Chastelard was so familiar in the Queen’s cabinet that scarcely could any of the nobility have access to her.” She “would lie upon Chastelard’s shoulder, and sometimes privily she would steal a kiss of his neck. And this was honest enough, for it was the gentle entreatment of a stranger.” Nevertheless, it was highly unusual conduct in a queen.
Some writers have argued that Mary’s unwise encouragement of Chastelard’s attentions was merely part of the ritual game of courtly love, which was accepted behaviour at the French court, but not understood in Scotland. However, when virtuous matrons accepted the homage and addresses of an admirer, they did not normally permit such physical intimacy, and it appears that, by her indiscreet and imprudent dealings with Chastelard, Mary was indeed in danger of compromising her much-vaunted honour.
One evening early in 1563, Chastelard went beyond the bounds of decorum when he secreted himself under the Queen’s bed at Holyrood. After he was discovered by her grooms, he was soundly reprimanded and banished from Scotland on Mary’s orders.
Undeterred and unhindered, Chastelard followed the Queen on a progress into Fife, where, at Rossend Castle near Burntisland, he again forced his way into her bedchamber while two of her ladies were about to disrobe her, then tried to embrace her; he later claimed he had come to beg forgiveness, but others, including the Queen herself, believed he intended to rape her. Moray, hearing her cries for help, rushed into the room and laid hold of Chastelard. This time, since her honour had been so outrageously compromised and her security threatened, the Queen was in no mood to be merciful, but when she cried, “Thrust your dagger into the villain!” Moray wisely refused, insisting that Chastelard be publicly tried and condemned to death.31Mary wondered fearfully if Moray would let Chastelard speak in his defence, to which her half-brother coldly replied, “I shall do, Madam, what in me lieth to save your honour.”32
On 22 February, after the Queen had refused several pleas for a pardon, Chastelard was beheaded in the market-place at St. Andrews. Mary, against her will, was forced by Moray to be present. The condemned man refused any spiritual comfort on the scaffold, but ins
tead recited Ronsard’s “Ode to Death,”33then, looking directly at the Queen, he cried out, “O cruel dame!” Knox, anxious to emphasise the scandalous nature of the affair, pointed out that “dame” in this context meant “mistress,” and commented, “What that complaint imported, lovers may divine.” Knox also recounted how Chastelard “begged licence to write to France the cause of his death, which was for having been found in a very suspicious position. And so received he the reward of his dancing, for he lacked his head, that his tongue should not utter the secrets of our Queen.”
In March, however, Maitland informed de Quadra that Chastelard had confessed he had been sent by Mary’s Protestant enemies in France to “sully the honour of the Queen” and so wreck her chances of marrying Don Carlos; he had meant to remain all night underneath her bed “and go out in the morning so that he could escape after being seen.” According to Chastelard, a “Madame de Curosot” and others whose names Mary would not allow Maitland to entrust to paper had given him his instructions.34In Paris, the Venetian ambassador learned from the Guises that Chastelard had been sent by “Madame de Cursolles,”35and the story was independently corroborated by the Spanish ambassador in Paris.36“Madame de Cursolles” was probably a code name for the wife of the Huguenot leader, Admiral Gaspard de Coligny.37
If this is true, then, to a degree, Chastelard had succeeded in his mission and “thereby injured Her Majesty,”38for the whole distasteful episode left Mary’s reputation somewhat tarnished. She had shown herself not only lax in her conduct, but also vengeful and vicious, belying Brantôme’s claim that she never had “the heart to see poor criminals fall under the sword of justice.” And, not for the last time, she had unwisely preferred a foreigner above her nobles. Even if her involvement had been entirely innocent, she had, by her foolish behaviour, laid herself open to criticism by her enemies.
Thereafter, to preserve her reputation, the Queen ordered Mary Fleming to sleep in her bedchamber.
Mary had also lost credit with the Catholics. By this time, the Pope was having serious doubts about her commitment to the Catholic cause, and he was given further reason for concern after Easter when she had Archbishop Hamilton imprisoned for saying Mass. Later that year, she approved further legislation benefiting the Protestant Church, while in March 1564, she publicly proclaimed her resolve to maintain religion as she had found it on her return to Scotland. In June that year, the Pope wrote again, urging Mary to promote the Catholic Church in Scotland, but although she replied in October assuring him of her devotion to the faith, in December her Parliament passed another Act against the Mass. Mary had also told the Cardinal of Lorraine that she would send representatives to the Council of Trent, but she failed to keep her word. It was little wonder that King Philip was wary of marrying his son to her.
In the spring of 1563, Mary sent Maitland to London to press her rights to the English succession. There were, however, three obstacles in her way: her continued refusal to ratify the Treaty of Edinburgh, her determination to marry Don Carlos, and the antipathy of most of the English towards her. Elizabeth had fretted for a long time about the prospect of Mary allying with a great Catholic power; now, she came up with a solution that would assure her own security and the friendship of Scotland.
For four years, Elizabeth had been carrying on a very public affair with her Master of Horse, Lord Robert Dudley, to whom Mary had disparagingly referred as “her horsemaster.” Dudley was the son and grandson of traitors, and when, in 1560, his wife was found dead with her neck broken, rumour, probably unjustifiably, credited him with her murder and there was a huge scandal, which put paid to his chances of ever marrying Elizabeth, who would never allow herself to be adjudged guilty by association. Nevertheless, their relationship continued, and there was endless speculation as to whether they were really lovers.
Now Elizabeth conceived the idea of making a great personal sacrifice and proposing as a husband for the Queen of Scots Lord Robert, of whose loyalty she was assured and who could be trusted to promote England’s interests in Scotland. Lord Robert, however, was against the plan from the first, and horrified at the prospect of having to abandon his ambition to be King Consort of England. But Elizabeth was adamant, and, without naming any names, told Maitland that, if Mary would allow her to choose a husband for her, she might proclaim her her heir. The astute Maitland soon guessed that she was referring to Dudley, but could hardly believe it, since Dudley was so far below Mary in rank and had a dubious reputation. Even Randolph, who had been instructed to pave the way for public acceptance of Dudley in Scotland, was praying that he would not have to disclose to Mary the identity of the husband that Elizabeth was proposing for her. But Elizabeth wanted to keep Mary guessing.
In the autumn of 1563, Don Carlos fell down a staircase and fractured his skull, causing paralysis and blindness. His physicians performed a trepanning operation that restored his faculties but left him insane and subject to violent fits, during one of which he tried to murder his father. None of this was made public, but it was soon known that he was in poor health, and King Philip began to ward off all attempts to negotiate a marriage for his son. At the same time, England and France were doing their best to block a match between Don Carlos and Mary, and she began to realise that her expectations might be frustrated, although she did not entirely give up hope of a happy conclusion.
By February 1564, Mary, at the suggestion of Moray and Maitland,39was toying with the idea of marrying Lord Darnley, in the hope of winning the support of the English Catholics. On 14 April, Randolph expressed to Cecil the opinion that she would “at length let fall her anchor between Dover and Berwick, though perchance not in the port that you wish she should.”40Darnley would be a means to the English succession, and, as far as Mary was concerned, as a Catholic, might support her in her private wish to restore the old faith, and help her to gain the political independence she craved. From now on, “the Queen was beset with reports about him [and] a correspondence was carried on between them on both sides.”41
In March, Mary was informed by a cringing Randolph that it was Dudley, not Darnley, whom Elizabeth was offering as a husband. Although she received the news patiently and agreed to consider the matter, there can be no doubt that she was deeply affronted and, despite the fact that Moray, Maitland and Knox were in favour of the match, she secretly tried to reopen negotiations for a marriage with Don Carlos. But King Philip finally dashed her hopes in August because of his son’s mental state, much to the relief of Queen Elizabeth and the Protestant party in Scotland.
Marriage with Darnley seemed the only alternative, and Mary began seriously to consider it. On 19 September, Sir William Kirkcaldy of Grange informed Randolph that the Scots would never accept Dudley, “but if ye will earnestly press it, ye may cause us to take Lord Darnley.”42However, Darnley and his family were English subjects and required Elizabeth’s permission to visit Scotland, and it was not likely that that would be forthcoming, for she was no fool and had guessed what was afoot. Fortunately, in June 1563, Elizabeth had written asking Mary to reverse the attainder on Lennox and allow him to return to be restored to his estates and settle his affairs in Scotland.43 Hitherto, Mary had refused this request, but now she relented and informed Lennox that he might come; in some alarm, Elizabeth backtracked and secretly wrote urging Mary to refuse him entry to her kingdom, but Mary had given her word and would not go back on it. Elizabeth had to concede defeat in order to avoid giving offence, and granted Lennox a licence to leave England for three months, although she would not allow Lady Lennox or Darnley to accompany him, but kept them in England as hostages for his good behaviour.
In September, Lennox rode north. Considering his former reputation in Scotland, his reception by his Queen was exceptionally cordial. His rivals, the Hamiltons, were not pleased to see him, but on 27 September, at Mary’s behest, he and Chatelherault made a public and utterly insincere show of reconciliation. On 9 October, his restoration in blood was publicly proclaimed in Edinburgh, and
it was confirmed by Parliament in December.44 Lennox managed to win over the Protestants by displaying a renewed interest in the reformed faith and by giving extravagant gifts to members of the Privy Council. He also began cultivating the Catholic nobility. In all these doings, he was preparing the ground for Mary’s marriage to his son, who, rumour said, would soon follow him to Scotland, along with Lady Lennox. Randolph reported that there was “a marvellous good liking of the young Lord,” and that it was “in all men’s mouths” that the Queen had decided to marry him.45
On 18 September, Mary had sent Sir James Melville to England to restore good relations with Elizabeth and secretly further Mary’s marriage plans. Melville noted that Elizabeth and Dudley were “inseparable” and concluded, quite incorrectly, that Elizabeth had had second thoughts about offering Dudley to Mary. Dudley himself sought him out and declared he had no wish to marry the Queen of Scots, and that the whole idea was a ploy of Cecil’s calculated to get rid of him. Elizabeth herself asked Melville if Mary had made up her mind about marrying Dudley, but he answered that such an important decision could not be made until there had been a meeting between the representatives of both monarchs; arrangements were to be made for such a conference to take place at Berwick.
Melville paid a visit to the Spanish embassy and made one last futile attempt to revive the idea of a marriage with Don Carlos, then wrote to Mary confirming that there was no hope of it. Melville also had “a secret charge” to see Lady Lennox in secret “to procure liberty for [Darnley] to go to Scotland, under the pretext of seeing the country and conveying his father back again to England.”46The Countess welcomed Melville warmly and gave him expensive gifts for Mary, Moray and Maitland, “for she was in good hope that her son would speed better than [Dudley].”47