by Michael Hone
She had married him for his alpha-male protection, a woman unable to free herself from male dominance, as were stronger, more resilient spirits: Elizabeth, Catherine de’ Medici, Caterina Sforza and Eleanor d’Aquitaine, the last three who loved their men, but had an existence beyond them, a rarity then (as it is to an unwholesome degree today). At any rate, her marriage led directly to the last, sad chapter in her life.
The Scottish lords not only feared for their lives and possessions, even Mary came to fear for her life and the life of her son, in front of Bothwell who, like Darnley, not only saw himself as King of Scotland and England but also, unlike Darnley, had the experience and courage to bring it about. The nobles therefore united in an effort to rid themselves of Bothwell and, afterwards, Mary too. They amassed troops they sent in Bothwell’s pursuit, who had taken refuge in a castle. Bothwell was cornered, but because he had troops too, both sides decided on a parlay, the result of which would be a safe escort for Bothwell out of the country, and Mary would return to Edinburgh with her son, accompanied by the lords. But before leaving the castle Bothwell gave Mary a complete list of all the lords responsible for Darnley’s murder, most of whom were at the head of the troops waiting for her outside the castle. On the list Bothwell had included his own name.
In the streets of Edinburgh Mary was greeted with the cries, ‘’Kill the whore!’’ It was her crowning of thorns. The crucifixion could begin.
As the people and the nobles were against her, the moment had come to be rid of her for good. The first step was her abdication. Known to few, Mary was pregnant, and due to her manhandling, she aborted. Physically weak and in mental anguish, the lords met with her. She was accused of having aided Bothwell in the murder of Darnley (accused by the men facing her, who were the co-perpetrators) and accused of conspiracy with France to reestablish Catholicism in Scotland. The lords demanded that she abdicate. When she refused, it is purported that one of them placed a knife against her throat and threatened to slit it. Totally alone, she signed away her kingdom. In one of histories immense surprises, it was her future murderess who saved her life. When Elizabeth learned of Mary’s capture, incarceration, miscarriage and the threat on her life, she vowed to declare war on Scotland, which she might well have done had her secretary of state Cecil not intervened. But thanks to Elizabeth’s outburst, the question of Mary’s trial and death died in the egg.
Fear suddenly changed camp. With Mary alive Bothwell could liberate her. She could then destroy them all. After killing Rizzio and nearly killing her at the same time, and then threatening to do so after her miscarriage, it was certain that if Mary were to be freed by her husband her vengeance would be total.
In the meantime Bothwell was successful in raising an army and finding ships, while in England Elizabeth broke off diplomatic relations with Scotland. But although she couldn’t admit it publicly, Elizabeth was thrilled with the new events. Mary, the Catholic who never ceased to proclaim her right to the English throne, was vanquished. As for Mary, she may have truly loved Bothwell and believed that he would save her. For the moment, though, she was obliged to agree with whatever the lords requested of her, including her abdication and her replacement by her baby James as the new King of Scotland. One wonders how much love a boy could have for a mother when told from infancy that she had killed his father, that she had conceived the baby of another while his father still lived, and that she had strove for her own pleasure and comfort, caring little for her country and for James himself? Later, however, James, now King of Scotland, would attempt to rehabilitate the reputation of his mother. He would seek, find and then destroy all letters accusing her of complicity in the death of her husband and James’s father, Darnley.
Then a coup de théâtre: Boswell sailed to Copenhagen, a station on his way back to Scotland. He was recognized by a woman he had known, promised to marry, and then jilted. A noble, she complained to the King of Denmark. Bothwell was imprisoned. Everyone knew he had a price on his head for the assassination of Darnley who had been, after all, King of Scotland. It was also known that Bothwell had amicable relations with Sweden, against whom Denmark was at war. The coups de théâtre were to continue.
Bothwell
Mary, still only 24 and imprisoned in the castle of Lochleven, gained weight, took a lord’s 18-year-old son as a lover and, it was said, bore his child. The nobles decided that everyone, including Elizabeth and the Scottish people, would be happy to see her beheaded for Darnley’s death. She was therefore duly charged with his murder. At the same time, the chief noble, Moray, was proclaimed regent. Moray was none other than one of Mary’s father’s nine bastards. He was, thusly, Mary’s half-brother. As Mary couldn’t have acted alone in Darnley’s murder, the lords (themselves responsible, we must never forget), rounded up their enemies and had them found guilty, along with Mary. They were beheaded and quartered and hung from the walls of various castles throughout Scotland. Relations between Scotland and England warmed and … Mary escaped.
Aided by her boy lover and his noble friends, she was disguised and, during a festival, extracted on horseback. The escape had been well planned and on route she was joined by a surprising number of lords and men who felt they could use her to replace the clique headed by the new regent, Moray. Both sides met in battle and Moray’s won. Mary now had the choice between fleeing to France or England. Placing her faith in Elizabeth, she chose the latter and, as we know, her head would be the price of such folly.
Mary, who saw herself taking tea with the queen in London, instead was met by English troops and given courteous residence in Carlisle Castle, her new prison. She would join Elizabeth, she was told, once the accusation of her role in Darnley’s murder was disproved. The Scots turned over letters to the English, written by Mary and proof that she had not only known of Darnley’s death before hand, but had planned it with Bothwell. How many of the letters were forged or doctored or presented out of context is unknown. But Elizabeth now had the proof she needed to rid herself of a rival. Mary, placing misguided faith in a fellow woman, told Elizabeth she welcomed the chance to clear her good name. It’s true that Elizabeth had made such proclamations of her love for Mary and had shown such disdain for what the lords in Scotland had done to her, that even the Devil would have taken Elizabeth for an angel. With Mary in her hands, Elizabeth had a key piece with which she could play chess with the Scots, manipulating them with the threat of placing Mary back on the throne of Scotland, with all the consequences that would have on Scottish lords, i.e., their own beheading and quartering.
Years passed, at the end of which there were major events. The Duke of Norfolk was charged to head a commission to judge Mary’s innocence or guilt in Darnley’s murder. While doing this Norfolk became convinced that Mary could not only be found not guilty, but that she could be reinstated as Queen of Scotland. Norfolk then envisaged himself as marrying her.
Mary learned of Norfolk’s plans and agreed to them as a way out of her imprisonment. She thusly requested a divorce from Bothwell, on grounds that he was a bigamist and a rapist. Then the Scottish regent, her half-brother Moray, was assassinated. The assassin escaped to France and although Mary claimed she had nothing to do with his murder, she nonetheless saw to it that the assassin received a pension!
Elizabeth immediately realized that these events put her throne in the greatest danger it had ever known. How Norfolk and Mary thought they could escape Elizabeth’s vengeance is beyond understanding. Elizabeth summoned Norfolk and asked him outright if he planned to marry Mary. Norfolk asked in turn how such a thing could be possible when he could never be sure of his pillow, meaning that he, like Darnley, could be smothered at any time. He said that he would prefer the Tower to such an alternative, which is exactly where Elizabeth sent him. But Elizabeth continued to face grave danger: her age-old enemies, France and Spain, were against her, many in England favored Norfolk, and in Scotland others, outraged by a Scottish queen being an English prisoner, were now backing Mary. Even Pius V foun
d the moment propitious to excommunicate the Protestant Elizabeth.
Elizabeth fought back in several ways. She had Darnley’s father, Lennox, who was convinced of Mary’s guilt in the death of his son, named regent in place of the assassinated Moray. She then requested that the Danish king Frederick put Bothwell to death, reminding him that Bothwell was a regicide. Frederick had Bothwell thrown into a filthy cell where he went mad and eventually died covered in his own excrement. Since his death, Scotland has never ceased requesting his return, the last time in 1976. Denmark has never consented. As for Norfolk, he was found guilty of treason and beheaded.
Although Darnley was little valued during his life, those responsible for his death--nearly all of the lords at the time--were tracked down or ended up by confessing, or finished by being accused by others, or were uncovered due to compromising letters. They were beheaded or murdered or committed suicide: in some way they all, or nearly all, ended up paying for the crime, down to Mary herself, whose exact role is unknown to this day, and whose participation goes from having planned the execution to having been totally unaware of it.
The final act was the Babington Plot.
What is incredible about the Babington Plot--so incredible that one cannot be blamed for doubting the information that has come down to us--is that it was the brainchild of Elizabeth’s spymaster and founder of MI5/6 Francis Walsingham, who wanted to entrap the perpetrators by at first encouraging them, an incredible plot organized by Protestant Walsingham to bring low the enemies of Elizabeth, the queen he worshipped.
Walsingham
In 1581 James VI turned 15 and from then on ruled Scotland. As stated in the previous chapter, he had his reasons for turning his back on his mother Mary. It may have been his defection to her cause that pushed Mary to turn to Babington.
Walsingham had a man recruited in France to assassinate Queen Elizabeth, John Savage, a seminarist, recruited by a priest in Walsingham’s service, Gilbert Gillford. Savage had been a boy in whose brain Gillford sowed the seed of discontent--the whole in the name of their Catholic God (and in the name of Walsingham to lure Mary to her destruction).
The plot would have Babington’s name because, ironically, Babington, scarcely more than a lad, a simple messenger-go-between, was the first to spill the beans. Mary was condemned because it was Babington who asked her for permission to contact John Savage who would ‘’undertake the tragical execution’’ of Queen Elizabeth, and Mary agreed, in writing.
One easily gets the impression that of the conspirators there were more in Walsingham’s pay than genuine plotters. At any rate, the fatal moment came when Babington sent Mary a letter hidden in a waterproof pouch, itself hidden in a barrel of beer, the brewer a Walsingham agent. The letter, damningly detailed, told Mary of the preparations for the Catholic invasion of England, of the plans to liberate Mary herself, and the certainly of Elizabeth’s assassination, as six men, among them Savage, had been chosen to accomplish it. Finally, the letter asked for Mary’s consent to the operation. Mary gave her consent, condemning them all to an early grave.
When Walsingham sent men to arrest them, Babington was able to escape into the woods like Booth after the assassination of Lincoln. Like Booth, he hid in a barn where he donned serf clothing, cut his hair and tainted his skin with walnut oil. He and his co-conspirators were nonetheless caught, tortured and tried (although few were still capable of walking due to their being racked). As usual for the times, in England as abroad, they were hung until nearly dead, their privates were cut off before their eyes, they were disemboweled--most still alive--then beheaded and quartered.
Anthony Babington
After 19 years of captivity Mary was found guilty of plots to assassinate the Queen of England. Although Elizabeth had been shocked to learn of her ‘’dear sister’s’’ involvement, she refused to sign Mary’s death warrant. The Parliament, on the other hand, had had more than enough of nearly twenty years of hemming and hawing. It ordered her execution. Indecisive as usual, Elizabeth couldn’t see herself setting a precedent by having a monarch executed, no matter how guilty. Although Elizabeth would later swear that she hadn’t done so, and that orders had been given behind her back, she was forced to end Mary’s life, pressured as she was by Parliament, her councilors and the English public.
Just before dying Mary wrote to Henri III and claimed she was being put to death for her Catholic faith and the truth of her right to the English throne.
She calmly met her end. Three blows were necessary to sever her head from her body, but the first had mercifully killed her. She was placed in a lead coffin and buried. Mary’s son, thanks to Elizabeth and grateful to Elizabeth, would become King of England as James I after Elizabeth’s passing.
The planets had aligned in a way never seen, before or afterwards, to produce the singular destiny of this woman whose loveless son would finally combine--perhaps forever--two enemy nations. She had known brief fulfillment in France, but as fame comes through adversity, she added her star to those of Eleanor d’Aquitaine, Lucrezia Borgia, Caterina Sforza and Catherine de’ Medici, ancient wonders each, proof that women need ask men for nothing; proof of their ability to rule and thrive and cause us all to wonder.
CARAVAGGIO
1572 – 1610
Caravaggio – self-portrait
Caravaggio was noted for his use of chiaroscuro to such a point as to be thought, by some, to be its inventor. Chiaroscuro is the contrast, often very strong, between light and dark, enforcing the three-dimensionality of objects. Around 90% of Caravaggio’s life resided in the oscuro, the bleakness of which made his biography far more difficult than the chapter on Cellini in this book. Despite the dark side of Cellini, the fact that he had murdered several men (stalking and knifing them from behind) and the even more disconcerting fact that he was a confirmed sadist towards women (confirmed by his own autobiography!), the chiaro portions of Cellini’s life were by far the more important. Like Caravaggio, Cellini was an artist of genius, but one--and this was the winning point, for me, concerning Cellini--who worshipped the boys he loved. Throughout Cellini’s autobiography we find these panegyrics that leave no doubt as to the erotic nights and equally languorous days spent with his young--at times incredibly young--lovers: ‘’We are never apart, day or night,’’ ‘’We loved each other more than if we had been brothers,’’ ‘’My passionate love for the boy,’’ ‘’The prettiest face of anyone I have ever met in my whole life,’’ ‘’He’s amazingly beautiful, and the great love he’s shown me made me love him in return--almost more than I could bear,’’ ‘’His beautiful smile would have driven the gods themselves mad,’’ ‘’Extreme personal beauty’’ and ‘’The most handsome young fellow in Rome.’’
What was engaging concerning Caravaggio was the chiaro of his first paintings, the eroticism found in the close-ups of certain works--here I’m thinking of his The Musicians--which show the boys’ faces in the very throes of immanent orgasm, the eyes glazed over, the lips sensually parted, the tongue just visible and lascivious. Or the boys’ shirts, in this and in other paintings--always boys, as his first painting of a woman came only in 1597 with his Repentant Magdalene--shirts at times undone to the waste, open on skin glistening through effort, perhaps sexual, the nipples erect, the underarms reeking of pheromones, the odor of sex so invasive that one can guess at the traces of sperm smeared somewhere over the lower belly.
The Musicians and The Martyrdom of Saint Matthew.
But I was enthralled too by the obscuro, the blood gushing from the jugular of the virile male in his Judith and Holofernes, as the knife is halted forever in mid-distance, as it cuts through the throat. Or the nearly naked soldier in The Martyrdom of Saint Matthew, sent to murder the saint so that the king of Ethiopia could have access to Matthew’s niece: the horror being that one so young and virile would dare destroy one so old and helpless. Then there’s the Sacrifice of Isaac in which the withered mind of Abraham pushes him to slit the throat of his screaming son,
his hand stayed at the last moment by an angel. And David and the Head of Goliath, David holding up Goliath’s severed head, the self-portrait of Caravaggio himself, one eye clearly dead, the other harboring a lingering thread of life. The Beheading of John the Baptist is of disgusting reality: his executioner, muscular and shiny with sweat, the ultimate in homoeroticism, leans over the saint whose head he holds firmly against the floor, while blood spurts from the severed throat. (Caravaggio signed himself--Michelangelo--in the saint’s blood, the only time he ever signed one of his works of art.) But the worst is The Martyrdom of Saint Ursula: A withered old man, unable to achieve his ends with a young woman, shoots her in the breast with an arrow at pointblank range. Ursula looks down at the wound, as if in wonder that she has been pierced and that blood is flowing. It makes me, too, wonder if the painting inspired the makers of the film Munich in which men come upon a female terrorist who, to escape death, offers herself naked. She’s shot three times in the breast from close range and, like Ursula, looks down at the blood that begins to trickle from the wounds, as intrigued at the saint, and remains so until a final bullet is lodged in her brain, the most disgusting, oppressive death scene I’ve seen in my entire life--with the exception of real footage taken during wars and revolutions.
The Beheading of Holofernes and The Martyrdom of Saint Ursula (please excuse the poor quality of the images).