An Accidental Tragedy

by Roderick Graham

  On 19 February, however, Randolph was given three days notice by Mary to leave the country as a punishment for having lent Moray 3,000 crowns. Elizabeth was appalled at her ‘strange and uncourteous usage of Randolph’. He left for Berwick and the Earl of Bedford, to whom he revealed the extent of the plot proposed by the exiled lords. They would return to Scotland immediately, grant Darnley the crown matrimonial and outlaw the Mass altogether. This, in spite of Darnley having attended Mass on 7 February. Bedford and Randolph also informed Elizabeth on 6 March that a ‘matter of no small consequence was intended in Scotland’ and that it would happen before 12 March.

  The plotters were gathering in Edinburgh: Morton – who had seen his seals of office given to Rizzio – Boyd and Ruthven – awaiting the return of Moray. Clearly there was no chance of the plot remaining secret, but Mary had heard only rumours and defied the rebels: ‘What can they do, and what dare they do?’ Rizzio himself claimed that the Scots would brag but not fight: ‘They are but ducks, strike one of them and the rest will fly.’ But he took the precaution of raising a personal bodyguard of Italian mercenaries. Lethington, wisely, did not sign the bond but simply let events unfold.

  The events of 9 March 1566 are among the best known in Scottish history. Mary was in her private supper-room with five other close friends: Lord Robert Stewart, her half-brother and Bishop of Orkney; Jane, Countess of Argyll, her half-sister, whose adulterous behaviour had made her marriage a public scandal; her equerry, Erskine; her page, Standen; and David Rizzio. The weather was still cold and a fire had been lit, but since the room was no more than a closet some twelve feet square, and given the voluminous costume of the time, the atmosphere must have been stifling, especially for Mary, who was now six months pregnant. Rizzio, who was a considerable dandy – after his death he was found to own eighteen pairs of velvet hose as well as a private cache of £2,000 sterling – was wearing only a damask night gown with a satin doublet. They were finishing their supper, which, although it was still Lent, contained some meat since the queen’s pregnancy allowed her to break the fast, and were looking forward to music and cards after supper.

  They were all surprised by the entry of Darnley, who now seldom met the queen and certainly was not one of her social circle. He had arrived in the queen’s apartments by a private staircase from his rooms below, and now he left access to the staircase open because he knew that about 150 armed men had entered the building. He showed no affection to Mary, and made no apology to the company, but leant on the arm of the astonished queen’s chair. He had accomplished all that was required of him: to open the private stair and to ensure that his wife remained in her supper-room to witness the forthcoming spectacle.

  The company’s astonishment grew as the Earl of Ruthven entered unsteadily. He was drunk, wearing armour under his robe with a dagger at his side, breathing heavily and red in the face. Mary asked him, ‘What strange sight is this my Lord? Are you mad?’ Ruthven replied blurrily, ‘We have been too long mad. Let it please your Majesty that yonder man Davie come forth of your privy chamber where he hath been overlong.’ Immediately the stifling atmosphere changed from one of embarrassment to one of terror. Mary pleaded for Rizzio to be tried if he had committed any offence, but Ruthven ignored her. Instead, he told Darnley, ‘Sir, take the queen your sovereign and wife to you.’ Mary asked her husband if he knew what was going on, although it was murderously clear, and Darnley mumbled that he had no idea. Rizzio, realising that his life was in danger, had retreated into the window recess and Ruthven made a drunken lunge towards him, causing Robert Stewart to move between them and push Ruthven away. Ruthven shouted, ‘Lay not hands on me, for I will not be handled,’ and drew his dagger.

  This was the signal for the entry of the remaining conspirators – Kerr of Fawdonside, Patrick Bellenden, George Douglas, Thomas Scott and Henry Yair – who rushed into the already crowded room with drawn weapons, knocking over a table. Lady Argyll prevented a possible fire by catching and snuffing out a lighted candle, so that the macabre scene was lit only by firelight. There were now thirteen people in the tiny room and Rizzio had fallen to his knees, clutching the pleats of Mary’s skirts and screaming with fear. Ker prised his fingers free of the fabric with one hand, while, in his other, he held a loaded and cocked pistol to Mary’s pregnant belly. Rizzio ran behind Mary, but George Douglas seized Darnley’s dagger from its sheath and ‘struck him over our shoulders’. The conspirators then dragged the screaming Italian out of the supper-room, across the bedchamber and into the presence chamber, so that Mary was, at least, spared watching the ensuing butchery. Rizzio’s screams of ‘Sauvez ma vie, madame, sauvez ma vie!’ quickly ceased as more blows rained down on the tiny body. Rizzio received over fifty dagger wounds before his butchered and bloody corpse was thrown down a public staircase to land on a chest, where one of the palace porters stripped him of chains, rings and even shoes. Darnley’s dagger was still in the dead man’s chest.

  Back in the supper-room Mary and her guests feared that they would be the next to be murdered, but Ruthven righted one of the overturned chairs, sat on it, wiped his brow and asked for a drink to be brought to him before giving Mary a stern lecture on using favourites – especially foreign favourites – before her own nobility. Mary asked Darnley what he had to do with all this: ‘I took you from a low estate and made you my husband. What offence have I made you that you should have done me such shame?’ Darnley accused her of having cuckolded him with Rizzio, having denied him sexual favours, and of not making him master in his own house. He then launched into a long speech of self-justification, which, sadly, is still familiar in modern times.

  How came ye to my chamber at the beginning, and ever, until within these few months that Davie fell into familiarity with you? Or am I failed in any sort with my body? Or what disdain have you at me? Or what offence have I made you, that you should not use me at all times alike? Seeing that I am willing to do all things that becometh a good husband to do to his wife . . . you promised me obedience at the day of our marriage and that I should be equal with you and participant in all things. I suppose you have used me other wise at the persuasions of Davie.

  Mary turned on Ruthven, who had been a witness to this marital squabble, and called down the wrath of Europe: the King of France, the Cardinal of Lorraine, her uncles in France and even the Pope. Ruthven said he was too unimportant for such great men. Mary continued, ‘If I or my child die, you will have the blame thereof.’ Lamely Ruthven said they had only meant to hang Rizzio and had brought ropes for the purpose, but that now the queen was a prisoner and would be taken to Stirling until the birth of her child. If any attempt were made to rescue Mary, ‘She would be cut into gobbets and thrown from the terrace.’ Ruthven was fond of this threat. Mary asked Darnley where his dagger was, who answered that he knew ‘not well’. ‘Well’, said she, ‘it will be known afterwards.’ She also assured Ruthven and Darnley that, ‘it is within my belly that one day will revenge these cruelties and affronts.’

  This family row could have continued except for the fact that the palace was now in uproar. One of the Maries rushed to Mary with news of the butchery in the presence chamber and Mary shouted, ‘No more tears! I will now think of revenge!’ The earls of Atholl, Bothwell and Huntly, who had quarters in the eastern range of the palace, escaped ‘by leaping down out of a window toward a little garden where the lions were lodged’. Atholl and Lethington took refuge in Atholl’s castle near Dunblane, while Huntly and Bothwell fled to Crichton, Bothwell’s castle in East Lothian. The ‘common bell’ of Edinburgh was rung and the Provost arrived in the forecourt with some hastily summoned burgesses of Edinburgh, but was told by Darnley, leaning out of the window, that all was well.

  Darnley then withdrew and Mary was left alone to consider her situation. By marrying Darnley she had alienated the Moray–Argyll faction to the point of an armed uprising. By relying on foreign Catholic advice from Rizzio she had moved the Morton–Ruthven faction to murder. She knew that M
oray and Argyll were soon to be in Edinburgh, if not already present. If she could neutralise Darnley’s influence and seem to be in control then she could forgive the Chase-about rebels and bring them to her side. With their help and the advice of Lethington – who wisely was nowhere to be seen – she could regain respect and, hopefully, present Scotland with an heir. But her first task was to control her erratic husband and escape from the physical control of the Morton–Ruthven faction.

  Overnight, Darnley drew up orders for the prorogation of parliament, but he was forbidden to see Mary, who was now a virtual prisoner in her own quarters. Next morning, Sunday, 10 March, Melville persuaded the conspirators to allow him to leave the palace so that he could attend the morning service at St Giles and as he did so, Mary shouted from her window for him to raise the town. Since the Provost had been assured by Darnley that all was well and the people ‘were so discontent with the present government that they desired a change’ this came to nothing.

  An example of the lack of privacy enjoyed by royalty occurred later that day when Mary was on her chaise percée, or commode. Lady Huntly presented her with a covered dish, presumably of food, but Patrick Lindsay, who was also present, snatched off the cover to reveal a rope ladder. In the ensuing confusion Mary slipped a letter to Lady Huntly outlining her future plans. There was a suspicion that Mary might try to leave disguised as a servant – unlikely for the tallest woman in the palace – and a bizarrely worded order was given that ‘no gentlewoman should pass forth undismuffled’.

  Domestically the conspirators feared the queen’s influence over Darnley – ‘she will persuade you to follow her will and desire by reason that she has been trained up from her youth in the court of France’ – but she did agree to lie with Darnley again, although he objected to the presence of her gentlewomen. The women were duly sent away, but that night Darnley fell asleep in his own chamber and Mary was spared the coupling. The conspirators noted that ‘the king grew effeminate again’ but they still held a trump card in having Mary as their prisoner.

  Mary finally showed that she had learned some political skills while in France. Now with her own life and that of her child in grave danger, she put them to good use. Darnley had no idea what to do next and realised that he had put himself into the hands of Morton and the conspirators. If he were ever to be proclaimed king it would be as their puppet, but on that Sunday Mary had convinced him that together they could overcome their difficulties. Mary was well experienced in dealing with feeble-minded princes, and Darnley was easily persuaded by Mary, who appealed to his vanity and ambition.

  Next day, Monday, 11 March, Mary summoned the conspirators and, to their astonishment, forgave them for their actions. Moray had arrived in Edinburgh and was dining with Morton when a messenger came from Mary inviting him to receive her pardon; in a scene of high hypocrisy they drew each other into an embrace vowing eternal love. The conspirators realised that their fears of Mary’s French-learned guile were justified but were powerless to act against her. The banished rebels of the Chase-about Raid had arrived in Edinburgh to hear their fate from the Lords of the Articles, but since Darnley had prorogued parliament no Lords of the Articles had been appointed and, in any case, their repentance was unnecessary. Mary met them and forgave them, but, before they could ask for recompense, she fell forward, crying out in pain as her labour started. The midwife, who was now in permanent attendance, was called and the gentlemen dismissed. She also convinced her captors that she could not move from Holyrood until the next day without putting her child in danger. They, being men and terrified of anything to do with childbirth, agreed out of embarrassment. Mary had, of course, been faking the labour pains.

  However, before Mary could take any other action she needed her freedom, and it was a simple matter to persuade Darnley to accompany her, although he tried to have Mary let his father Lennox accompany them. Mary refused, and sent for Stewart of Traquair, the captain of her guard, as well as Erskine and Standen, the latter two having been witnesses to Rizzio’s murder, asking them to make arrangements for her escape that night. Darnley and she went down the private staircase which had allowed access for the conspirators and through the servants’ quarters and wine cellar. The French ambassador reported that ‘pregnant as she was, the queen escaped by climbing down a bell rope’. However romantic his story might have seemed, no one believed him. Ironically, they passed the small newly dug grave of Rizzio before collecting their horses. Mary was given a pillion seat behind Erskine, while Traquair had a Marie, probably Seton, on his horse. Other servants followed, mounting as best as they could. At Seton Castle, twelve miles east of Edinburgh, they were met with more horses and attendants, thanks to the arrangements made by Lady Huntly, as requested in Mary’s smuggled letter. Darnley, at first, took fright on seeing the soldiers at Seton and attempted to ride on, callously ignoring his wife’s condition. In spite of their increased escort, he insisted on galloping, cruelly flogging Mary’s horse and was frequently out of sight of the pregnant queen and the rest of the fugitives. When he had to stop to allow them to catch up he was abusive and insulting towards Mary, saying, ‘If this baby dies we can have more!’ and then riding off alone. Mary well knew that the usual result of a miscarriage was the death of the mother, and any affection between her and Darnley was now quite definitely finished.

  The detail of this journey is given by Claude Nau, secretary to Mary from March 1575. He was the author of The History of Mary Stewart, which is based on details given to him nine years after the events took place. These details inevitably reflect Mary’s total hatred for her late husband, for which one must accept some exaggeration.

  On arriving unexpectedly early at Dunbar Castle, Mary’s party wakened the astonished servants. Mary herself cooked some eggs and the fugitives settled down to breakfast. Mary transferred the wardship of the castle from the Laird of Craigmillar, one of Rizzio’s murderers, to the Earl of Bothwell. The rest of the nobility had now lost patience with Darnley. As Nau wrote: ‘They found the king was a man without any constancy, and all complained of him. Some would not speak to him or associate with him; others (especially Lord Fleming) openly found fault with his conduct towards the queen, his wife . . . [none] of the nobility had accepted him or admitted him as their king.’

  Morton and Ruthven fled to England, and the Chase-about rebels rallied to Mary’s side so that by 18 March 1566 she was able to advance to Haddington, where 4,000 men came to her support. On the next day she rode to Musselburgh to meet the Hamiltons, Atholl, Huntly and Bothwell with further forces. On the same day she re-occupied Edinburgh, where she was carried in a litter by four arquebusiers. Recent events made Holyrood an unwelcome place and apartments in Edinburgh Castle were still in preparation, so Mary took lodgings in the High Street for the time being. On 28 March, she took up residence in the castle. One of the rooms being prepared for her was to be her lying-in room in which she would give birth to her child.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  She wished she had never been married

  Stability was the most urgent need for the country and the Privy Council, led by Moray, Argyll and Glencairn, now included Bothwell and Huntly. Darnley tried to assert himself and advised the removal of Lethington – who was still under a form of loose house arrest – only to be peremptorily overruled by Mary. He threw a petulant fit and stormed out, saying that from now on he would sleep with two loaded and primed pistols by his bed. That night Mary went quietly to his bedroom, presuming correctly that he would be in a drunken stupor, and removed the pistols. She gave a final honour to her murdered servant Rizzio by having his corpse re-interred, according to the Catholic rite, in her chapel at Holyrood.

  Retribution for Rizzio’s death was surprisingly mild. Thomas Scott was hanged, drawn and quartered for the murder. Scott’s bloody fate was shared by Henry Yair, who had killed a Dominican priest shortly after Rizzio’s murder, thinking it had been a signal for a general slaughter. Two other small fry, Mowbray and Harlaw, were brought to t
he scaffold to watch these executions, but were pardoned at the last minute. Morton and Ruthven were now in exile in England – Morton in Alnwick and Ruthven in Newcastle. Ruthven died in May, totally insane, believing that he saw the gates of paradise opening and hosts of angels welcoming him to heaven. In the vain hope of reconciliation the rebel lords sent Mary the bond that Darnley had signed giving his support to the plot in return for the crown matrimonial. On receiving such concrete proof of her husband’s treachery, Mary gave ‘so many great sighs that it was a pity to hear’.

  Darnley now lived in a court largely deserted by his familiars, who realised that any contact with him was poisonous; even his father blamed him for destroying all the Lennox plans. Bizarrely, he continued to hear Mass daily and even washed the feet of the poor on Maundy Thursday. Meanwhile he conceived mad schemes to invade England – or, at least, Scarborough – all of which amused Cecil, whose spies had easily penetrated Darnley’s circle of incompetents.

  Equally incompetent was Christopher Rokesby, sent to Scotland as a secret agent, pretending to be the leader of disaffected English Catholics, and pleading for Mary’s support in a plot to depose Elizabeth. Rokesby was immediately arrested, and among the papers he was carrying were the instructions from Cecil himself in cipher. However, Mary now had to concentrate on giving birth and there the matter rested for the moment. Cecil may have been quite ready to sacrifice Rokesby to test Mary’s intelligence’s defences, and there would be other, more sophisticated, attempts to involve Mary in Catholic uprisings.