An Accidental Tragedy

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An Accidental Tragedy Page 30

by Roderick Graham


  On 19 June an event may have occurred which has given rise to many volumes of debate. Morton claimed that on that evening he was dining with Lethington when a servant told him that Thomas Hepburn, John Cockburn and George Dalgleish had all been seen in Edinburgh. They were all Bothwell’s men and on the wanted lists, so Morton despatched servants to arrest them. Thomas Hepburn made his escape, but left his horse behind; John Cockburn was arrested. Dalgleish was found with ‘divers evidences and parchments’ but denied that he had any other documents. Morton disbelieved him and he was kept overnight in the Tolbooth in the ‘jayne’4 – a cage too small to stand up in and too short to lie down in. At the Tower of London a similar cage was called ‘little ease’, and as ‘tiger cages’ the same devices were used by both sides in the Vietnam War. After a night in the ‘jayne’ there was no need for further torture and the next day Dalgleish eagerly took Robert Douglas, Morton’s agent, to his lodging where he pulled a silver casket from under his bed. It was taken to Morton at eight o’clock that night. The casket had belonged to Bothwell but had been in the keeping of Balfour at the castle. Bothwell had sent for it at the time of Carberry but the treacherous Balfour had let it come into the hands of Dalgleish. Next morning, in the presence of Atholl, Mar, Glencairn, Lethington and five other lords, the lock was forced. The casket was found to contain ‘letters, contracts, sonnets, and other writings’. Morton kept it himself. He gives no account of these witnesses taking the trouble to read or even cursorily examine the contents, although they were all men desperate to blacken Mary and Bothwell’s reputations, and they would all want to read the contents at length before making any statements about them. It was to become one of the most celebrated time bombs in the story of Mary Stewart, and by the time the casket’s contents were made public, George Dalgleish, who alone could verify or deny Morton’s story, had conveniently been executed.

  These letters seemed to show Mary’s complicity in her seizure by Bothwell and her guilty involvement in Darnley’s murder, and they were now in the hands of her enemies. The opposition was, however, confused. On 1 July the Lords still maintained that Bothwell had forcibly ravished the queen when they might have claimed that they had equally damning evidence to the contrary.

  On 23 June 1567, Elizabeth wrote to Mary, who was now allowed to receive mail in Loch Leven:

  It has always been held in friendship that prosperity provideth but adversity proveth friends. We understand by your trusty servant Robert Melville of your estate, and as much as could be said for your marriage. To be plain with you our grief has not been small thereat; for how could a worse choice be made for your honour than in such haste to marry such a subject who, beside his other lacks, public fame has charged with the murder of your late husband, besides touching yourself in some part, though we trust on that behalf falsely!

  She then commiserated with Mary’s plight and assured her that she would do all in her power for her honour and safety, and to let Mary’s nobility know that she had Elizabeth’s backing. In other words, ‘If you will be so stupid as to marry a murderer who incriminates you, what did you expect?’

  She sent Throckmorton north with her careful instructions: ‘He is to urge concord between their sovereign and them – also to declare that as a sister sovereign their queen cannot be detained prisoner or deprived of her princely state.’ He was also to warn the Scots that it did ‘not appertain to subjects to reform their prince, but to deal by advice and counsel’. He was given freedom, as an ambassador for Elizabeth, to reprove Mary for her faults, his embassy legitimising such lèse-majesté. Elizabeth was always careful to stress the inviolability of an anointed sovereign. The Scots were warned against forming an alliance with France.

  Throckmorton – for whom one cannot but have sympathy in his task – was also given a memorandum by Cecil: the facts of Bothwell’s guilt were to be established; Mary was to commission the nobility to proceed against Bothwell; parliament had to be recalled; all Bothwell’s lands were to be given to Mary for Prince James’s education; the succession was to be ‘renovated and confirmed’ – presumably according to the Treaty of Edinburgh; the Reformed religion was to be established – excepting ‘none but the Queen’s person’; and, finally, four or six councillors were to attend the queen monthly. Throckmorton was given no guidance as to how he was to persuade the rebel lords to undertake all this, but these instructions conform precisely with Cecil’s passionate desire for a legitimate Protestant regime acting under the law. He then added, as a postscript to the memorandum, the Latin text ‘Athalia 4 regum, interrempta par Joas Regem’. This is a reference to 2 Chronicles 22–3 in the Old Testament, in which Athaliah, Queen of Israel, was murdered by the high priests and nobility in the fourth year of her reign for her slaughter of the ‘seed royal of Judah’, rending her clothes and crying ‘Treason, treason!’ She was replaced with the boy-prince Joash under a regency until he took the throne on attaining his majority. So Throckmorton was to uphold the rigour of the law, but if anything else should happen to occur, Cecil would not be astonished and at least there was a biblical precedent.

  Throckmorton replied, presumably in a private conversation, that he agreed with Cecil that Prince James would be better off in England, and that he was worried about the growing split of the nobility into Mary’s partisans and the proponents of a possible regency. He added that he would accompany the French ambassador to ‘see his countenance’. James Melville gave an account of how the sides were coalescing, with Morton, Hume, Atholl, Lethington and Sir James Balfour on one side – the King’s Party – and their enemies, the Hamiltons and Huntly – the Queen’s Party – on the other. ‘The lords who were refused in friendship drew themselves together at Dumbarton, under the pretext to procure by force of arms their sovereign’s liberty . . . which they would not have done if they could have been accepted in society with the rest’.

  Another reason for Throckmorton wishing to keep close to the French ambassador was his knowledge that Moray, still in France, had been seeking help from the Cardinal of Lorraine and putting pressure on Catherine de Medici. Throckmorton, now at Ware, some twenty miles from London, and sending dispatches as he travelled, still defined Mary’s liberty as the main ‘mark to shoot at’. By Ferry Bridge in Yorkshire he noted that Argyll, Fleming, Seton and Boyd had joined with the Hamiltons and Huntly and that Dumbarton Castle was at the disposal of Bothwell himself – should he ever return. Then in Berwick, where he complained that his lodging would make a better jail than a resting place, Throckmorton met Lethington. When asked how the Lords stood, Lethington smiled, shook his head and said, ‘It were better for us you would let us alone, than neither to do us or your selves good, as I fear in the end it will prove.’ Throckmorton had heard a rumour that Mary had been given the offer of a peaceful reclusion in a French abbey with her aunt, and that Prince James would accompany her ‘at the French devotion’, leaving Scotland to be governed by a council of regents. But since neither the French ambassador nor any other diplomat was to be allowed access to Mary, this was clearly nonsense. There was nothing for it but for Throckmorton ‘to leap on horseback and go to Edinburgh’. Here he received another letter from Elizabeth telling him to assure Mary that her best course was to send Prince James to her in England, where he would be treated as her own child and ‘become acquainted with her country’. Throckmorton also very quickly learned that ‘no prince’s ambassador, nor stranger, should speak with her [Mary] until the Earl of Bothwell be apprehended’. His task was indeed unenviable.

  Meanwhile, Mary was recovering from the considerable trauma of her capture. On 14 July Throckmorton reported that she now had five or six ladies in attendance, that three or five gentlewomen and two of her serving women had been restored to her and that she was now taking what exercise she could on the confines of the island. She was still able to supervise her absent household and gave authority for Throckmorton to come to Edinburgh – he was, in fact, already there. It seems very likely that this information was false an
d that Throckmorton had been given a rosy picture in the hope of ameliorating Elizabeth’s wrath – Mary still had only the two ladies she had brought from Holyrood. However, some of her seductive charm was returning and, coupled with close proximity to Mary’s undoubted beauty, young Lord Ruthven proceeded to make a fool of himself.

  One morning he burst into her bedchamber at four o’clock in the morning, threw himself on his knees and begged her to marry him in exchange for his organising her escape. This was not a surprise, since he had previously sent her a love letter, and this night Mary had concealed her chamber-women behind the tapestries to act as witnesses. This presupposes that Ruthven had told them of his intention and having summoned up his courage – probably with drink – he made his bid. Mary was four months pregnant, still married to Bothwell and with a very uncertain future, but Ruthven was young and stupidly impetuous. Mary indignantly refused him, reported his behaviour to Lady Douglas and Ruthven was recalled. This story was told to Nau by Mary during her captivity and may simply be a pathetic tale told by a prematurely ageing beauty nostalgically recalling, ‘Of course they were all in love with me!’ It does, however ring true of the Ruthven personality.

  Throckmorton was not allowed access to Mary but duly reported the improvement in her condition, as well as her total intractability towards any abandonment of Bothwell. The women of Edinburgh were ‘most furious and impudent against the Queen’ and Throckmorton was fearful for his own safety among them. All were holding their breath while the Lords made up their minds as to what move to make next; some nobles were starting to consider what Mary’s attitude to them might be if she gained her liberty. They all had an eye on the calendar, since Mary was only five months away from the age of twenty-five, when she could withdraw her grants of possession for their lands and, therefore, income. Throckmorton had given the Lords Elizabeth’s requests for Mary’s release and the prosecution of Bothwell, and they, in the best traditions of diplomacy, asked for time to consider.

  Mary saw Robert Melville about 16 July, by which time Throckmorton had suspicions that Mary would be forced to abdicate. There is a quite believable story that he wrote to Mary telling her that a signature obtained under duress was legally invalid. Melville wrapped Throckmorton’s letter around his sword and, thus hidden by the scabbard, delivered it to her. Mary, however, gave him her proposals to the Lords. Could she be moved to Stirling to be near her son? Could she have some more of her gentlewomen, an apothecary, a ‘modest minister’, an embroiderer and a page? She asked to be allowed to see ambassadors and said that if the Lords would not treat her as their queen, then would they please treat her as the late king’s daughter and the young prince’s mother? She refused to renounce Bothwell, since this would make her forthcoming child a bastard. She also claimed to be ‘seven weeks gone with child’. This implies that she conceived the child safely after her marriage to Bothwell, but it is most likely that she was adjusting the dates forward – the reality being that the child was conceived out of wedlock at Dunbar, which would make her nearly three and a half months pregnant.

  The problem of her child’s legitimacy was brutally solved some time before 24 July, when she miscarried twins of an unknown sex. The fact that the two foetuses were large enough to be seen by her chamber-women – there was no midwife present – seems to make it clear that their conception had taken place at Dunbar.

  Given her condition after this event – she suffered postnatal haemorrhage – the next move by the Lords was extremely unfeeling. They had finally decided to cut the Gordian knot and she was visited by Lindsay, accompanied by notaries, who was under precise instructions. Lindsay brought letters formally accusing her of being an accessory to Darnley’s murder and of having had relations with Bothwell out of wedlock. There were also three documents which she was required to sign. The first was an instrument of abdication, declaring that she was ‘so vexed, broken and unquiet’ by the efforts of government that she could no longer continue, and of her own free will and ‘out of motherly love’ would place the crown and the power of government in the hands of her son. Since she would be admitting that governing had broken her, it would hardly seem a loving act to lay such a burden on James’s infant shoulders, but the drafters of the document had no time for such niceties. The document would clear the way for James’s coronation. The second document appointed Moray to the office of regent until James’s seventeenth birthday, while in the third document, Mary was to appoint a council of regents – Châtelherault, Argyll, Morton, Glencairn and Mar – to await Moray’s return to Scotland or to assist him if he so wished. The Lords had been thorough. Lindsay asked Mary to read the documents, but his attitude made it clear that it did not much matter whether she read them or not. Some sources claim that she did not, in fact, read them at all.

  Mary, who was still in bed and very weak from loss of blood, quite naturally refused to sign and the atmosphere changed dramatically. It was hinted that if she did not sign she could be taken from the castle and drowned in the lake – echoing her fears when in the Provost’s house in Edinburgh – or taken to ‘some island in the middle of the sea, there to be kept unknown to the world, in close custody for the rest of her life’. Mary demanded ‘very earnestly’ to answer the points in the letters before a parliament. Lindsay said he had no power to negotiate, and the notaries read the instruments to her. They then asked her what her decision would be and she again refused to sign. However, Mary had now moved from her bed to a chair and realised that, in the world of realpolitik, the crown was no longer hers and that either her abdication would take it away legally, or her murder would take it away violently. With nowhere left to turn, she signed the papers, asking the notaries to witness that she had signed under duress. She was remembering Throckmorton’s smuggled letter of advice. The long chain of conspiracies and of smuggled correspondence had started. It would continue until her death.

  It was at this point that she was moved from the Douglas apartments into the medieval tower and was deprived of paper, pens and ink. As in the past in times of crisis, Mary fell ill. This appears to have been a form of jaundice or hepatitis, which caused a swelling, and ‘a deep yellow tint spread over her whole body’. The swelling was probably a form of deep vein thrombosis occurring after childbirth. She was allowed a surgeon, who treated her with a heart stimulant and bleeding until she recovered. This illness and her now-stricter isolation cut her off from knowledge of events in Edinburgh and Stirling.

  Throckmorton met first with Lethington, who immediately told him that any attempt by England to gather support for Mary would put her life in danger. Then he met the Lords – booted and spurred, ready to ride for Stirling – to whom he appealed for a delay in the coronation since it was not for the good of the state to put the government in the hands of a child. He was told, ‘The realm could never be worse governed than it was, for either the Queen was advised by the worse counsel or by no counsel’, and the Lords summarily departed. Throckmorton now suggested to Cecil, vainly as it turned out, that he return to London since there was now nothing for him to do. This would save him an embarrassment since the Lords had invited him to attend the coronation and his compliance with this invitation would seem to lend Elizabeth’s endorsement of the event. His dilemma was solved on 26 July when he received a long letter from Elizabeth, bidding him to stay in Edinburgh and to continue insisting on Mary’s freedom. He was to tell Mary how much ‘we mislike their [the Lords’] doing’. In the letter Cecil crossed out ‘their’, and replaced it with ‘her’, thus altering the whole tone of the communication. Throckmorton was to tell the Lords ‘we will take plain part against them, to revenge their sovereign, for example to all posterity . . . You may assure them we detest the murder of our cousin the king, and mislike the marriage of the queen with Bothwell as much as any of them. But think it not tolerable for them . . . to call her . . . to answer to their accusations by way of force; for we do not think it consonant in nature that the head should be subject to the foot.’ Finally,
he was expressly forbidden to attend the coronation ‘by any means’.

  Melville wrote to Elizabeth on 29 July 1567 and reported that Mary had said ‘she would rather herself and the prince were in your realm than elsewhere in Christendom’. More importantly, on the same day in the parish church of Stirling the 13-month-old boy was crowned as James VI, and the Scottish nobility touched the crown as a sign of their fealty. The rebels were firmly in control: Morton and Erskine of Dun took the oath for the boy, Ruthven and Lindsay affirmed Mary’s abdication and Knox delivered a sermon on a text from 2 Kings verses 1 and 2, in which the eight-year-old Josiah was crowned and ‘did what was right in the sight of the Lord’. The one point of dispute was that James was anointed by a priest, at which ‘Knox and the other preachers repined’, but the coronation party made a solemn procession to the castle with Atholl carrying the crown, Morton the sceptre, Glencairn the sword and Mar, as the royal governor, the new king. Knox, along with the justice clerk and Campbell of Kinzencleuch, were recorded as witnesses to the ceremony. In Edinburgh, James was proclaimed King of Scotland ‘with joy, dancing and acclamations’, and ‘throughout Scotland there were widespread bonfires, shooting off of cannon and ringing of church bells’. Douglas of Loch Leven, with a vicious lack of tact, fired off cannon, lit bonfires and his whole household danced in the gardens. Mary, in her tower prison, fearfully asked the cause of the celebrations and some of the household unfeelingly told her that ‘in her bravadoes her authority was abolished and she no longer had the power to avenge herself on them’. In turn Mary told them that they now had a king who would avenge her and, this time with considerable justification, fell on her knees and ‘wept long and bitterly’. It could be said that she was no longer Queen of Scots, but when she wrote to Throckmorton in mid August from her ‘prison en la tour de Locklivin’ she signed herself ‘Marie R’. Previously her signature had been simply ‘MARIE’ but from now on she asserted her position as queen.

 

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