Mary, Queen of Scots, and the Murder of Lord Darnley

by Alison Weir

  “Every man marvelled at this reconciliation or sudden change,” wrote Knox, while Buchanan averred that “this pretence of kindness was much suspected by all.”38It has been regarded by many, then and since, as a deception on Mary’s part, calculated to divert suspicion from herself when Bothwell’s murder plot came to fruition, and constitutes further circumstantial evidence against her. It is indeed hard to believe that Mary’s love for Darnley had flowered anew, but there may be an innocent explanation for her renewed warmth to him. She could have reached the conclusion that she had to make the best of her marriage as there was no honourable way out of it. She may also have been doing her best to gain Darnley’s confidence in order to either draw from him details of his conspiracy or persuade him to abandon it; after all, his explanation of the revelations of Hiegait and Walker had been less than satisfactory.

  Buchanan claims that, throughout this period, Mary “did not cease to think up every method possible of turning the blame of the crime on her brother James and the Earl of Morton. For when these two, whom she feared and hated, had been eliminated, everything else, she assured herself, would rearrange itself.” Since the Craigmillar conference, Mary had been aware that Moray might “look through his fingers” at an attempt to remove Darnley by unlawful means, and she had grounds for believing that Morton would have supported such a move if she had given her consent to it. Buchanan’s claim was therefore plausible, even if it might not have been true.

  At some point in early February, Mary tried to make peace between Darnley and the Lords, but the latter, already suspicious of what her reconciliation with her husband might portend, refused to co-operate, and warned her that the King would put a knife to her throat and theirs.39

  Mary spent her first night at Kirk o’Field on Wednesday, 5 February.40 Darnley had expressed fears for his safety—perhaps on hearing what the Lords had said—and, to reassure him, she had agreed to stay, and sent one of her women to Holyrood to fetch a fur coverlet for her bed. Buchanan later claimed she slept there that night in order to allay the suspicions of those who might later claim that she had plotted to murder her husband.

  Two days later, on Friday, 7 February, Darnley had a medicinal bath. Mary had shown herself so caring towards him that, “being in his bath, [he] would suffer none to handle him but herself.”41That same day, according to Nelson, the Queen had the King’s rich bed removed from the Old Provost’s Lodging to avoid it being soiled with dirty water from the bath. The Book of Articles also states that the bed and some tapestries were removed on the Friday, and that the bed was replaced by “another worse,” because Mary did not want these valuable items destroyed in the explosion. Lennox states that Darnley’s bed was moved on Sunday the 9th, the day before the King was due to return to Holyrood, and replaced with a meaner sort of bed hung with purple velvet, Mary telling him that “they should both lie in that rich bed the next night at the palace.” Lennox, of course, invested her action with a sinister significance.42We know, however, from the list of items lost in the explosion that was drawn up by Servais de Condé, that Darnley’s rich bed and all the tapestries were destroyed when the Old Provost’s Lodging was blown up. Hence Nelson, Buchanan and Lennox must have been lying.

  On 7 February, obviously still suspicious of Darnley’s activities, Mary wrote again to Sir William Drury at Berwick, repeating her demand for the arrest of Lutini. Drury sent again to Cecil for instructions, having been told by Lutini that “he doubteth much danger, and so affirmeth unto me that, if he return, he utterly despaireth of any better than a prepared death.”43

  Darnley, whose health was rapidly improving and who was obviously unaware that Mary was still investigating his underhand pursuits, wrote that same day to Lennox of the kindness of the Queen:44

  My Lord,

  I have thought good to write unto you by this bearer of my good health, I thank God, which is the sooner come to through the good treatment of such as hath this good while concealed their good will. I mean my love, the Queen, which I assure you hath all this while and yet doth use herself like a natural and loving wife. I hope yet that God will lighten our hearts with joy that have so long been afflicted with trouble. As I in this letter do write unto Your Lordship, so I trust this bearer can certify the like. Thus, thanking Almighty God of our good hap, I commit Your Lordship to His protection.

  From Edinburgh, the VII of February, your loving and obedient son, Henry Rex.

  The messenger told Lennox that, when he was summoned to take the letter, he saw the Queen reading it over Darnley’s shoulder; visibly touched by it, she put her arm around her husband and kissed him “as Judas did the Lord his Master,”45as Lennox put it later.

  Had Darnley undergone a genuine change of heart and abandoned his plotting? It would seem so from this letter, which was a private one to his father, who probably knew all about his treasonous plans. It appears his serious illness had made Darnley think again. However, the reference to thanking God for “our good hap” suggests that Darnley believed that his reconciliation with Mary was advantageous in some way to himself and his father, and it may be inferred that he saw it as a stepping stone to gaining the Crown Matrimonial. An alternative explanation is that Darnley did not write this letter at all, but that it was made up by Lennox in an attempt to portray Mary as trying “to remove all suspicion from herself,” so that “no shadow of suspicion remained in [Darnley’s] mind.”46

  That evening, as Darnley and Mary sat talking, “he promised to give her much information of the utmost importance to the life and quiet of both of them,” and reminded her “of the necessity of cultivating a good understanding with each other, and of guarding against those persons who meddled between them (whose names he said he would reveal), and who had advised him to make an attempt upon her life. The designs of these persons tended to the ruin of both of them. He warned her more particularly to be on her guard against Lethington [Maitland], who, he said, was planning the ruin of the one by the means of the other, and meant in the end to ruin both of them, as he could perceive more clearly than ever by their conduct and counsel.”47 As had been made clear to Mary in Glasgow, Darnley was surprisingly well informed, and there can be little doubt that he had heard rumours or talk that Maitland and others were planning to destroy both the Queen and himself, which was partially true. Of course, it took breathtaking audacity for Darnley to occupy the high moral ground in this respect, since he too had been plotting against Mary, and his conspiracies had evolved long before the Craigmillar conference. As had happened after Rizzio’s murder, Darnley was trying to shift the burden of suspicion on to others, but in this case he seems to have had good reason for doing so.

  Mary spent that Friday night at Kirk o’Field.48By now, rumours of a conspiracy against Darnley were spreading. Melville recalled that “many suspected that the Earl of Bothwell had some enterprise against him,” but shrank from warning him because he was notoriously indiscreet and would tell all to his servants, “who were not all honest.” There was one man, however, who felt compelled to speak out. An English spy in Edinburgh reported to Cecil that, on Saturday, 8 February, a highly agitated Darnley told the Queen that, the previous evening,49her half-brother, Lord Robert Stewart, had come to warn him that, “if he retired not hastily out of that place, it would cost him his life.”50Buchanan claims that Lord Robert told Darnley “of his wife’s treachery,” on condition “that he kept the knowledge to himself and looked to his own safety.”

  Mary summoned her brother that Saturday51and questioned him about what he had said, in the presence of Darnley, Moray and Bothwell, but he “denied that he ever spoke it.”52According to Buchanan, this precipitated a violent quarrel between Darnley and Lord Robert, with both drawing their swords, and Mary begging Moray to intervene. There is, however, no evidence before this date that Lord Robert had been conspiring with Darnley, and it is quite possible that he had heard rumours—similar to those that Darnley had heard himself—of the plot to kill the King. His reluctance to say
any more may reflect his fear that the conspirators might guess who had warned the King and Queen and take revenge on him accordingly; or he may indeed have heard that Mary herself had approved of the plot, and been reluctant to confront her. Buchanan and Paris later alleged that Mary incited the quarrel in the hope that Darnley would be killed in a duel by Lord Robert, but if this was her intention, why did she ask Moray to intervene?

  It has been said that this quarrel could not have taken place because Darnley was a convalescent invalid and too weak to fight. In fact, he was due to complete his treatment the next day with a final medicinal bath, and, as will be seen, was to summon his horses for Monday morning, intending perhaps to ride ten miles to Seton. The likelihood is that he was already up and about by this date.

  A letter in Mary’s “own hand” was produced in 1568 at the inquiry into her guilt at York; it was said to prove “that there was another mean of a more cleanly conveyance devised to kill the King, for there was a quarrel made betwixt him and the Lord Robert by carrying of false tales betwixt, the Queen being the instrument to bring it to pass; which purpose, if it had taken effect, for they were at daggers drawing, it had eased them of the prosecution of this devilish fact, which, this taking none effect, was afterwards most tyrannously executed.”53However, this letter was later withdrawn from the documentary evidence, and has never been seen since, which argues that it was almost certainly a bad forgery. Had it been genuine, it is hardly likely that Mary’s enemies would have failed to offer such compelling evidence in support of their case.

  Casket Letter IV is supposed to have been written by Mary to Bothwell on Friday night, after Darnley had told her of Lord Robert’s warning.54Buchanan entitled it, “Another letter to Bothwell, of her love to him,” and it reads:

  I have watched later there above than I would have done, if it had not been to draw out that that this bearer shall tell you, that I find the fairest commodity to excuse your business that might be offered: I have promised him to bring him tomorrow, if you think it give order thereunto.

  Now, Sir, I have not yet broken my promise with you, for you had not commanded me to send you any thing or to write, and I do it not for offending of you. And if you knew the fear that I am in thereof, you would not have so many contrary suspicions, which nevertheless I cherish as proceeding from the thing of this world that I desire and seek the most, that is, your favour or goodwill, of which my behaviour shall assure me. And I will never despair thereof as long as, according to your promise, you shall discharge your heart to me. Otherwise I would think that my ill luck, and the fair behaviour of those that have not the third part of the faithfulness and voluntary obedience that I bear unto you, shall have won the advantage over me of the second lover of Jason. Not that I do compare you so wicked, or myself to so unpitiful a person.

  The writer is here referring to a tale from Greek mythology, immortalised by Euripides and Seneca. Glauce, the second wife of the hero Jason, was poisoned by his first wife, the famous sorceress Medea, whom he had repudiated. The vengeful Medea also murdered her own two sons by Jason. The inference is supposed to be that Mary feels the same jealousy towards the Countess Jean as Medea did for Glauce, but is not so pitiless as to contemplate poisoning her. If this letter were written to Darnley, however, Mary could be referring to her jealousy of his mistresses. It continues:

  Although you make me feel some grief in a matter that toucheth you, and to preserve and keep you to her whom alone you belong, if a body may claim to himself that which is won by [word illegible, deleted] well, faithfully, yea, entirely loving, as I do and will do all my life, for pain or hurt, whatsoever may happen to me thereby.

  In recompense whereof, and of all the evils that you [have] been cause of to me, remember the place hereby. I desire not that you keep promise with me tomorrow, but that we may be together, and that you give no credit to the suspicions that you shall have without being assured thereof. And I ask no more of God but that you might know all that I have in my heart, which is yours, and that He preserve you from all evil, at the least during my life, which shall not be dear unto me but as long as it and I shall please you. I go to bed, and give you good night.

  Send me word tomorrow early in the morning how you have done, for I shall think long.

  The next sentence has long intrigued historians:

  And watch well if the bird shall fly out of his cage or without his father [deleted by Cecil, who substituted the word “mate”] make as the turtle shall remain alone for absence, how short soever it be.

  This was originally meant to imply that Darnley, mourning the absence of his father, might flee from Kirk o’Field.

  In the Scots version, this passage is given as:

  Make good watch if the bird escape out of the cage, or without her mate. As the turtle, I shall remain alone for to lament the absence, how short that so ever it be.

  Here, the sense and sex of the bird are different; when the bird has flown, the writer will mourn his absence. This is closer to the original French version, which translates as:

  Beware lest the bird fly out of its cage, or without its mate, like the turtle dove lives alone to lament the absence, however short it may be.

  This implies that it is the writer who will fly away, if driven to do so by her mate, and who will live alone to mourn his absence.55This passage may well be based on lines of a sonnet written by Ronsard, a poet favoured by Mary, which read:

  Que dis-tu, que fais-tu, pensive tourterelle Dessus cet arbre sec?—Viateur, je lamente.

  The letter ends:

  That that I could not do, my letter should do it with a good will, if it were not that I fear to wake you, for I durst not write before Joseph and Bastien and Joachim, who were but new gone from I began.

  The abrupt opening, which suggests that this letter is only part of a longer one, and the discrepancies between the various translations are perhaps evidence that the original text of the letter has been manipulated to incriminate Mary. In fact, there is very little in it to suggest that she incited the quarrel between Lord Robert and Darnley in order to bring about Darnley’s death. Apart from the last two sentences, which may have been added by a forger, this letter could have been written by Mary to Darnley during the first months of their marriage, while they were wrangling about the Crown Matrimonial; this theory is supported by the threat that the writer might fly the cage if provoked too far. Furthermore, the style is reminiscent of that used by Mary in her later letters to the Duke of Norfolk.

  Casket Letter III is also said to have been written by Mary to Bothwell at this time, but its opening paragraph shows that this theory cannot be correct:

  Monsieur, if the displeasure of your absence, your forgetfulness, the fear of danger so promised by everyone to your so-loved person may give me consolation, can console me, I leave it to you to judge, seeing the unhap [misfortune] that my cruel lot and continual misadventure has hitherto promised me, following the misfortunes and fears, as well of late as of a long time by-past, the which ye do know.

  It would have been ludicrous for Mary to write in this vein to Bothwell, since he was in almost daily attendance on her; if this was a genuine letter, then it must have been written at another time.

  It continues:

  But for all that, I will in no wise accuse you, neither of your little remembrance, neither of your little care, and least of all your promise broken, or of the coldness of your writing, since I am always so far made yours that that which pleases you is acceptable to me, and my thoughts are so willingly subdued unto yours that I suppose that all that comes of your proceeds not be any of the causes foresaid, but rather for such as be just and reasonable, and such as I desire myself. Which is the final order that ye promised to take for the surety and honourable service of the only uphold of my life. For which alone I will preserve the same, and without the which I desire not but sudden death. And to testify to you how lowly I submit me under your commandments, I have sent you, in sign of homage, by Paris, the ornament o
f the head, which is the chief good of the other members, inferring thereby that, by the seizing of you in the possession of the spoil of that which is principle, the remnant cannot be but subject unto you, and with consenting of the heart. In place whereof, since I have always left it unto you, I send unto you a sepulchre of hard stone, coloured with black, strewn with tears and bones. The stone I compare to my heart, that, as it is carved in one sure sepulchre or harbour of your commandments, and above all of your name and memory that are therein enclosed, as is my heart in this ring, never to come forth, while death grant unto you to a trophy of victory of my bones, as the ring is filled, in sign that you have made a full conquest of me, of my heart, and unto that bones my bones be left unto you in remembrance of your victory and my acceptable love and willing for to be better bestowed than I merit. The enamelling that is about is black, which signifies the steadfastness of her that sends the same. The tears are without number, so are the dreaders to displease you, the tears of your absence, the disdain that I cannot be in outward effect yours, as I am without feignedness of heart and spirit, and of good reason, though my merits were much greater than of the most profit that ever was, and such as I desire to be, and shall take pain in conditions to imitate, for to be bestowed worthily under your regimen. My only wealth receive therefore in all good part the same, as I have received your marriage with extreme joy, the which shall not part forth of my bosom till that marriage of our bodies be made in public, as sign of all that I either hope or desire of bliss in this world. Yet my heart fearing to displease you as much in the reading hereof as I delight me in the writing, I will make end, after that I have kissed your hands with all great affection, as I pray God (O, ye only upholder of my life!) to give you long and blessed life, and to me your good favour, as the only good that I desire, and to ye which I pretend.