She was, however, not without friends. In the west the Hamilton faction was rumoured to be gathering forces, hopefully without provoking the Lords to act against Mary. The Queen’s Party did, however, prevent the heralds from declaring the abdication and the coronation of James. On the day of that coronation a formal bond was made at Dumbarton by Hamilton, Archbishop of St Andrews, Argyll, Huntly, Arbroath, Galloway, John Leslie, Bishop of Ross, Herries and others, demanding Mary’s freedom. In England, Elizabeth’s wrath was growing and Cecil feared that she might take recourse to open war, although he confided to Throckmorton that her reasons were, firstly, that she wanted public opinion to realise that she could not condone the imprisonment of a monarch, and, secondly, that she did not want this to be a precedent which could be used against her.
As soon as Moray arrived in Edinburgh on 12 August, Throckmorton met him and Moray told him that he would accept the regency, albeit with diplomatic reluctance. With Moray came de Lignerolles as ambassador from France, who openly admitted that he was going through the motions of seeking Mary’s liberty for the sake of diplomatic nicety. Mary was a sovereign queen, his king’s sister-in-law, and there was a long tradition of amity between the two countries. He had no intention of seeking access to Mary, and as soon as he had delivered his message to the Lords he would immediately return to France.
Three days later, on 15 August, Moray, accompanied by Atholl, Morton and Lindsay, visited Mary. After supper Moray talked alone with his half-sister for two hours in a bizarre reversal of their meeting at Reims in March 1561, only six years previously. At that time Moray, still merely Lord James, had been sent out to ‘grope the Queen’s mind’, and together they established the conditions under which Mary might return to rule as queen in Scotland. Now he was to demonstrate the reasons why she could not continue as queen and why he would replace her as regent. There are two widely differing accounts of the meeting.
The first version was given by Moray to Throckmorton: ‘He [Moray] behaved himself rather like a ghostly father unto her than as a counsellor.’ Mary was forced to confront the fact that she had taken charge of a reasonably prosperous country with good relations with France and England which had established a Reformed religion and was slowly accepting this Reformation; in which past divisions among the nobility were reluctantly closing as they became ready to accept a central rule from a strong monarch; and in which trade with England and Continental Europe was prospering. Instead of a strong monarch, Scotland got a beautiful girl who preferred her own courtly pleasures, who antagonised England by a wilful marriage and who was now being ignored by the French queen – appalled at Mary’s possible involvement in a royal murder – and who, by negligence, had brought her country to the brink of civil war. Moray left her that night ‘in the hope of nothing but God’s mercy’. Unsurprisingly, Mary wept bitterly.
Next morning she sent for Moray, who told her that he would do all in his power to preserve her and begged her to keep the lowest of profiles and with the utmost modesty – not a virtue of which she had great stock – to assure the Lords that ‘she harboured no thoughts of revenge towards those who had sought her reformation and preservation’. Her response was typically emotional, and she embraced and kissed Moray, begging him to accept the regency. Moray said somewhat hypocritically that this meeting had ‘cut the thread of love betwixt the Queen and him for ever’.
An alternative account of the meeting was given to Nau by Mary some ten years later. Moray arrived on the shore of the loch arrogantly mounted on one of Mary’s own horses, and to her delight fell off it into Loch Leven. How she saw this tumble from her close prison is a mystery. Moray behaved with less than the courtesy expected of one dining with his sovereign, and afterwards she had to remind him of the duty he owed to his queen. He asked her advice as to whether he should accept the regency, since other candidates might not treat Mary with such kindness. She reminded him that she held the only just authority under God and that those who were intent on usurping it would have no qualms over replacing him. She reminded Moray, ‘He who does not keep faith where it is due, will hardly keep it where it is not due.’ All his talk of protection for Mary she took to be dissimulation. Mary asked for the return of the rings she herself had purchased or had been given her by Henri II. Moray refused, saying that the Lords would need to keep the jewels in case she used them to finance a rescue. Nau commented: ‘Here you may notice the impudence of this miserable creature, who did not hesitate to turn the queen’s private property against herself.’
As always, the truth must lie between the two versions, with both people remembering only what they believed to have been said, and with what intent. Moray was understandably angry with his irresponsible half-sister and regretted ever going to France to fetch her, while Mary, with her fingers in her ears metaphorically, heard nothing but unjustified criticism of a monarch who was, by right of God, above criticism.
Six days later, on 22 August 1567, Moray was declared Regent of Scotland at the High Cross in Edinburgh ‘by heralds and trumpets’. He swore, under the king, to maintain the true religion, to hold a parliament and not to have any contact with Mary without the advice of the Privy Council. De Lignerolles left for France with the usual collection of silverware, and Throckmorton duly reported the events to Elizabeth, who replied giving him permission to tell the Hamilton faction of her support. The Queen’s Party once again refused to allow the heralds to make the declaration in the west of the country.
When Mary heard that Moray had summoned a parliament for 15 December she saw an opportunity to plead her case in public and wrote to Moray at length. She reminded him that she had treated him as a true brother, not as a bastard, and that she had entrusted him with the entire government of the realm since it had come under her authority. She demanded permission for a hearing before the parliament, promising that if that parliament required it she would ‘resign the authority which God had given her over them’.
Moray refused the permission and the Privy Council of 4 December confirmed the existence of papers ‘in her own hand’ implicating Mary in Darnley’s murder and even accusing her of plotting the death of the infant James. News of the Craigmillar Bond started to leak out and Lethington is reputed by Drury to have burnt all existing copies, except for the one which ‘concerns the Queen’s part, kept to be shown’. To tie up the now-rapidly unravelling ends of Mary’s imprisonment and Moray’s regency, the parliament of 15 December set about legitimising the actions of the rebel Lords. Darnley’s murder, Bothwell’s revolt at Carberry and Mary’s detention at Loch Leven were ‘in the said queen’s own default’. Bothwell was described as ‘the chief executor of the said horrible murder’, but this accusation was ‘in no way prejudicial to the issue of our sovereign lord’s mother, lawfully come from her body to the crown of the realm, nor their heirs’. A request was made to hear of the letters that had passed between Bothwell and Mary, but they were not produced, although parliament was assured that the letters proved ‘she was privy art and part of the actual devise and deed of the forenamed murder of the king, her lawful husband’. Parliament also noted ‘the demission and over giving of the crown and regiment of this realm made by the queen’s grace, our sovereign lord’s dearest mother, by virtue of her letters of commission and procuration signed with her hand, and under her Privy Seal of the date of 24 July’. The parliament wisely also ratified all the gifts of land made by Mary, thus avoiding the possibility that she might revoke them on her birthday. Mary was no longer Queen of Scots and she herself declared, ‘we are so vexed and wearied that our body, spirit and fancies are altogether become unable to travail in that rowme [situation]. And therefore we have demitted and renounced the office of government of this our realm.’
Clumsily wishing to ensure that such things never happened again, the parliament moved against women in general: ‘In no times coming any women shall be admitted to the public authority of the realm or function in public government within the same.’
Lord
Herries objected to the letters of abdication, claiming them to be invalid, and he wanted to visit Mary to hear her wishes in person. He led a minority of members in refusing to sign the Act of Abdication. It was, however, passed, along with forty-one other acts stiffening the grip of the Reformation, a Confession of Faith re-affirming the belief in Calvinist doctrines and more extreme acts against the Catholics. The Hamilton faction did not attend the parliament.
Moray spent two days in Edinburgh Castle, where he gave the keepership to Grange, then set about his regency by seizing whatever had belonged to Bothwell, immediately forcing Patrick Wilson, now declared a regicide, to deliver up the castle of Dunbar after a brief siege. This act had more than territorial significance since it was at Dunbar that the bulk of Mary’s jewellery was kept, and, as she had rightly suspected, Moray took possession of it all, including her rings. Mary had seen this happen before, to Diane de Poitiers at the death of Henri II and to herself at the death of François II. In those cases the gems became royal property, but now Moray gave some to his wife and kept the remainder for his own use.
In September Moray met with the Lords, who presented him with some gilt plate and questioned his intentions towards Bothwell, to which Moray replied that they ‘could not merchandise for the bear’s skin before they had him’. Throckmorton also noted that the Hamiltons had ‘a convention in the west country’ and on 5 September Bedford told Cecil that Moray meant to take up arms against them. However, by 15 September Moray had met Argyll with the Hamiltons for discussions. These must have been fruitless, since on 17 September the Hamiltons demanded the liberty of the queen and the bringing to justice of Darnley’s murderers. They avowed their allegiance to James as prince but not as king, and pledged to seek ‘the relief of the lords that took this in hand’. They had now levied 400 footmen and had the promise of 9,000 more. The battle lines were being drawn up, although on 14 October Moray assured Cecil, ‘the state of the realm draws to a great quietness’. The undercurrent of the secret casket letters – rapidly becoming less and less secret – came to the surface on 16 September, when Moray signed a receipt before the Privy Council for the casket. Along with Morton he declared the letters to be genuine.
Moray also had to face one of the ever-present problems of government: he was now ‘very bare of money’ and undertook the disposition of Mary’s jewels, selling some to the ever-acquisitive Elizabeth. Mary herself, however, was becoming reconciled to her imprisonment, ‘wax[ing] fat’; ‘instead of choler she makes show of mirth and has already drawn divers to pity her’. This seems to make clear that she always had a propensity to put on weight, which previously she had controlled by vigorous exercise, but now, deprived of that, she was gaining weight rapidly. From June onwards parcels of clothing and other goods started to arrive for the prisoner queen, now joined by Mary Seton, although it was clear that the luxury of her past wardrobe would never be matched again. There were the materials for her embroidery and lengths of material as well as new shoes, handkerchiefs, and underwear. She also received an alarm clock and parcels of false hair for her coiffure. Like all prisoners, for Mary the hope of release was constant, but she was afraid of events which might be taking place outside her prison.
The confessions of the lesser Darnley plotters were extracted and they were barbarously executed. These confessions showed that Bothwell, now safely abroad and imprisoned, was the principal instigator and that his wife, the ex-queen, was his co-conspirator. It was all very satisfactory and the signatories to the Craigmillar Bond could sleep safely in their beds. The nobility even considered the possibility of Mary marrying again – she was still the wife of Bothwell, but that uncomfortable fact could easily be obviated – and several suitors among the nobility were considered, although it is unlikely that Mary herself was consulted.
She was still a close prisoner with thoughts of escape. However, Mary did not want to escape from Loch Leven to reclaim her power as a sovereign, but rather to be free to once again enjoy her life as a princess. She had written to Catherine de Medici and to Elizabeth asking both for help and had managed to get the letters smuggled out, but neither sovereign was inclined to risk a war to rescue a queen accused of murdering her husband. Mary’s own resources for escape were slight, and even the writing of the letters involved her making ink with the soot from her chimney. She had beguiled a boatman to carry her letters, but everyone else was under close supervision and her captors were as much prisoners as Mary herself. She had, however, the willing assistance of George Douglas, the younger brother of Sir William, and when he was ordered off the island by his brother, as a result of one of the many Douglas family rows, he managed to contact Lord Seton, a close ally of Mary’s.
Mary’s first attempted escape, in late spring, involved disguising herself as a laundress while Mary Seton acted as a decoy on the island. However, one of the boatmen suspected the identity of the six-foot-tall servant and made to pull off the scarf hiding her face. Mary instinctively put her hands up to the scarf, giving herself away – a laundress’s hands are red and roughened with continual washing, but these hands were pure white with elegantly long fingers. Although she was returned to captivity the boatmen did not reveal her attempted escape to anyone else.
Mary now used Willy Douglas, a young orphan, as a courier, but he was slipshod and even dropped secret letters meant for Mary, which were found by the laird’s daughter. The girl promised to keep the matter quiet if Mary took her with her, but Mary, scenting a possible trap, told her that she had no plans to escape. Willy, who had been rewarded with gold pieces by Mary, was now accused of planning an escape and sent away from the island. Surprisingly, Sir William and Lady Douglas took no steps to increase security, but boasted to Mary’s face that they would take good care of her. Meanwhile, George Douglas and Lord Seton had established a body of armed men in the shoreside village of Lochleven and waited for news. Young Willy was allowed to return, bringing Mary news that the escape was planned for 2 May.
There was an unplanned fracas when some servants raised a false alarm as a joke, which turned sour when one of Sir William’s men grabbed an arquebus – which he claimed to have thought was loaded only with paper – and fired it into the crowd, injuring two bystanders. The actual plan involved Mary jumping from a seven- or eight-foot-high wall into a garden. One of her gentlewomen tried the jump first – ‘for she thought it a matter of duty’ – and seriously injured ‘one of the joints of her foot’. This plan was promptly abandoned.
On 2 May 1568 Willy organised a Feast of Unreason at which he took the part of the Abbot of Unreason, insisting that Mary follow him wherever he went. With this he managed to disrupt all the routines on the island and to divert attention from behaviour that otherwise would have sent out serious alarm signals. A large troop of horsemen under James Hamilton of Ormiston was seen passing through the village on the shore, and Mary kept Lady Douglas in conversation until suppertime in order that she would not notice them. Sir William had seen Willy chaining and pegging all the island’s boats – bar one – but Mary managed to divert his attention as well. Mary had received a pearl from George Douglas via a heavily bribed boatman as a signal that everything was now in place.
Sir William served Mary supper by himself and then left her in the charge of ‘a person called Drysdale’, who later absented himself for a game of handball. Mary withdrew from the two daughters of the house, telling them that she wished to pray, which she did ‘very devoutly’ before disguising herself with a hood, as did one of her domestics. Mary’s ladies in waiting, in particular Mary Seton, Jane Kennedy and a Frenchwoman, Marie de Courcelles, were all privy to the plan. Meanwhile, Willy, while serving Sir William, pocketed the key to the great gate, and crossed the courtyard with Mary, in sight of several servants, then passed through the gate, which he locked behind him, throwing the key into a nearby cannon. Mary was seen by some washerwomen whom Willy cautioned to keep quiet, and she got into the boat. Here, the boatman advised her to lie on the bottom boards in
case of gunshots. The crossing from imprisonment to freedom took only a very few minutes. She was met by George Douglas and John Beaton, who had horses for her and the loyal Willy Douglas. Two miles further on, Lord Seton and the Laird of Riccarton joined her escort and conveyed her across the River Forth at Queensferry. On the south side of the river she was greeted by Claude Hamilton, second son of Châtelherault, with twenty more horses, and arrived safely at Seton’s palace in the village of Niddry about midnight.
For all the foregoing account we depend on Mary’s reminiscences to Claude Nau and, typically, she recalls how waiting for her at Niddry was not news of the politics of Scotland but ‘dresses and all other necessaries befitting her sex and dignity’. Since her personal wardrobe was in the hands of Moray and the Confederate Lords, these must have been borrowed clothes. From Niddry Castle she then travelled the twenty-five miles west to Hamilton, where she could be sure of safety from the Lords, although Throckmorton mistrusted the motives of the Hamilton faction: ‘Those who provided the means of escape did so with no other intention than to seize the government of the realm.’
Meanwhile, at Lochleven Castle, the Douglas daughters quickly discovered that Mary was missing, and Sir William realised that the most important prisoner in Scotland had escaped from his personal care. His theatrical, though unsuccessful, attempt at suicide by stabbing himself was duly noted and no revenge was taken against him. He does not give the impression of being a man of great intelligence, but he had been in the difficult position of having to please his half-brother Moray while, at the same time, behaving honourably to Mary just in case she returned to power. Like so many men faced with the situation of a coup d’état, he was sensibly cautious about making his choice of sides too obvious. Three days later he sent Mary’s belongings after her and she was once again reunited with some of her possessions.
An Accidental Tragedy Page 31