CAPTIVITY.--ESCAPE.--FLIGHT.
The next step was to force Mary to abdicate in favour of her infant son.
(To use the child against the parent monarch had long been a favourite
policy with the Scottish rebel lords.) A delegation was sent to her for
that purpose, headed by Lord Lindsay, whom Sir Walter Scott calls "the
rudest baron of that rude age"--fit agent for the tyrranous deed. Moved
partly by fear that refusal would lead to a violent death, and partly by
the previous representation of some of her friends that what she did
under constraint could not bind her if she regained her liberty, Mary
signed the cruel document--
"She wrote the words--She stood erect--a queen without a crown,"
and although prudence would prevent her from uttering them with her
lips, we may be sure that in her heart she spoke the words attributed to
her by the poet:--
"My lords,--my lords," the captive said, "were I but once more
free,
With ten good knights on yonder shore to aid my cause and me,
That parchment would I scatter wide to every breeze that blows,
And once more reign a Stewart queen o'er my remorseless foes."
The next important visit the helpless Queen received in her prison was
from the Earl of Moray. The cautious Earl had been absent in France
during the troublous times that had elapsed since the murder of Darnley,
but no doubt was well pleased with the success with which Morton and his
associates had been advancing his cause. His sister was now dethroned,
the infant James was crowned King, and he himself was named Regent. The
goal of his ambition seemed near. He had returned to Scotland in time to
receive the honours prepared for him, and--whatever his motives
were--before formally accepting the Regency, he visited Mary in
Lochleven Castle. It is thought by many that he paid this visit with a
view to rendering his footing more secure, as he probably hoped that the
prisoner, recognizing the helplessness of her condition, would ask him
to accept the office of Regent. Depressed with the gravity of the trials
she had just passed through, the tender-hearted Queen naturally hoped
that her brother's visit would bear some comfort to her lonely prison.
But she was disappointed. Ambition (if nothing more) had expelled from
Moray's breast those feelings of natural tenderness with which we should
presume every man to be moved towards a humiliated and afflicted sister.
Even his friends are slow to commend his conduct on this occasion.
"That visit" (writes Robertson, in the History of Scotland) "to a
sister, and a queen in prison, from which he had neither any intention
to relieve her, nor to mitigate the rigour of her confinement, may be
mentioned among the circumstances which discover the great want of
delicacy and refinement in that age."
As long as the Queen was confined in Lochleven, her friends in Scotland
were obliged to keep quiet, for it was intimated to them that if they
attempted to liberate her, they would be presented with her head.
The unhappy Queen, cut off from the world in the bloom and beauty of her
youth, looked out from day to day across the dull waters that encircled
her prison-house, and anxiously surveyed the neighbouring hills in
which, she knew, her faithful friends were lingering, in hopes of
discovering some means of effecting her deliverance. After various
ineffectual attempts, a successful plan of escape was at length devised
by the ingenuity of little Willie Douglas, a youth in the household of
the Laird of Lochleven.
Sunday, May 2nd, was the day chosen for what proved to be a successful
attempt to escape. Lords Seton, Beton and George Douglas, with a number
of followers, were lingering about the shore, near the village of
Kinross, ready to receive the Queen and convey her to a place of safety.
Within the castle prison all preliminaries were arranged, but the lowest
point of the wall that Mary could reach was higher than she could
venture to leap from, and the keys of the gate were scrupulously guarded
by the Laird. Let us hear Nau relate how the problem was solved:--
"An hour before supper-time, the Queen retired into her own chamber.
She put on a red kirtle belonging to one of her women, and over it she
covered herself with one of her own mantles. Then she went into the
garden to talk with the old lady whence she could see the people who
were walking on the other side of the loch.
"Everything being now ready, the Queen, who, of set purpose, had caused
the supper to be delayed until that time, now ordered it to be served.
When the supper was finished, the Laird (whose ordinary custom it was to
wait upon her at table), went to sup along with his wife and the rest of
the household, in a hall on the ground story. A person called
Draisdel,[#] who had the chief charge in the establishment, and who
generally remained in the Queen's room to keep her safe, went out along
with the Laird, and amused himself by playing at hand ball.
[#] When Draisdel--the original, no doubt, of Scott's imperturbable
Dryfesdale in "The Abbott"--was informed by the two young girls that the
queen was missing and had probably escaped, "he was amused at this, and
said he would soon find her; he would give her leave to escape if she
could. At one time he whistled, at another he cut capers." Romance
must have been unfair in painting him a phlegmatic steward.
"In order to free herself from the two young girls who remained with
her, Her Majesty in the meantime went into an upper room, above her own,
occupied by her surgeon, on the plea that she wished to say her prayers;
and, indeed, she did pray very devoutly, recommending herself to God,
who then showed His pity and care for her. In this room she left her
mantle, and, having put on a hood, such as is worn by the country-women
of the district, she made one of her domestics, who was to accompany
her, dress herself in the same fashion. The other _femme-de-chambre_
remained with the two young girls to amuse them, for they had become
very inquisitive as to the cause of the Queen's lengthened absence.
"While the laird was at supper, William Douglas, as he was handing him
his drink, secretly removed the key of the great gate, which lay on the
table before him. He promptly gave notice of this to the Queen, in
order that she should come down stairs instantaneously; and immediately
afterwards as he came out of the door he gave the sign to the young
woman who was to accompany Her Majesty, as she was looking towards the
window. This being understood, the Queen came down forthwith; but as
she was at the bottom of the steps she noticed that several of the
servants of the household were passing backwards and forwards in the
court, which induced her to stand for some time the door of the stairs.
At last, however, in the sight of the whole of them, she crossed the
courtyard, and having gone out by the great gate, William Douglas locked
it with the key and threw it into a cannon placed near at hand. The
Queen and her _femme-de-chambre_ had stood for some time close to the
wall, fearing that they should be seen from the windows of the house;
but at length they got into the vessel, and the Queen laid herself down
under the boatman's seat. She had been advised to do this, partly to
escape notice, partly to escape being hit, if a cannon shot should be
sent after her. Several washerwomen and other domestics were amusing
themselves in a garden near the loch when Her Majesty got into the boat.
One of the washerwomen even recognized her, and made a sign to William
Douglas that she was aware of it, but William called out to her aloud,
by name, telling her to hold her tongue.
"As the boat was nearing the other side, William saw one of George's
servants, but failed to recognize him, as he was armed. Apprehending
some fraud, he hesitated to come nearer the shore; at length, however,
the servant having spoken, he landed, and then Her Majesty was met and
welcomed by George Douglas and John Beton, who had broken into the
laird's stables and seized his best horses. Being mounted as best she
might, the Queen would not set off until she had seen William Douglas on
horse also--he who had hazarded so much for her release. She left her
_femme-de-chambre_ behind her, but with direction that she should follow
her as soon as she could have an outfit."
Being joined by her friends on shore, the Queen hurried south, and,
having crossed the Firth at Queen's Ferry, reached Lord Seton's house at
Niddry, about midnight. Thence she proceeded to Hamilton, where she
remained until the 13th of May collecting her forces. The plan was, to
place the Queen in safety in Dunbarton Castle, on the Clyde, and then
muster all her forces for the overthrow of the Regent. It is not
difficult now to see that her friends made a fatal blunder in not
conveying her directly to Dunbarton from Lochleven. In Dunbarton she
would be safe, and her followers could take time to properly organize.
As it was, those who rallied round her standard during her stay at
Hamilton were equal in number to the army under command of the Regent at
Glascow. Her two main supports in the North, Lord Ogilvy and the
powerful Earl of Huntly, had not yet succeeded in joining her; but the
Earls of Argyle, Cassillis, Rothes and Eglinton, Lords Seton, Borthwick,
Somerville, Livingstone, Claud Hamilton, Herries, Boyd, Yester, Ross and
others, were already at her side. Bravery and chivalry were in her
ranks, but organization and efficient generalship were wanting.
The fact that, notwithstanding the persistent and ingenious efforts of
her enemies to utterly defame her, so many nobles (most of whom were
Protestants), hurried to her support as soon as her escape was made
known, draws the following remarks from her Protestant biographer, Mr.
Hosack--
"That in spite of all the efforts of Moray and his faction, and in spite
of all the violence of the preachers, she--the Catholic Queen of
Scotland, the daughter of the hated house of Guise, the reputed mortal
enemy of their religion--should now, after being maligned as the most
abandoned of her sex, find her best friends among her Protestant
subjects, appears at first sight inexplicable. A phenomenon so strange
admits of only one explanation. If, throughout her reign, she had not
loyally kept her promises of security and toleration to her Protestant
subjects, they assuredly would not in her hour of need have risked their
lives and fortunes in her defence."
On their march to Dunbarton the Queen's forces were met by those of the
Regent at Langside, and thrown into confusion. Attended by three brave
nobles--Lords Herries, Fleming and Livingstone--and little Willie
Douglas, she hurried towards the south, and, after a wearisome journey,
reached Dundrennen Abbey, in Galloway. Here she resolved on a step that
was the greatest mistake of her life. The majority of the Scottish
people were loyal to her, and only needed time to muster, but in spite
of the advice, persuasions and entreaties of Lord Herries and her other
attendants, she determined to cross over to England. Elizabeth's recent
expressions of friendship and promises of help had blinded the Scottish
Queen; and her own generous nature, which would have instantly prompted
her to assist, as far as she could, a sister queen in distress, rendered
her for the time incapable of suspecting that Elizabeth could betray her
in her hour of greatest need. She stepped forth from Scottish soil,
never to set foot on it again, and steered across the Firth to the
shores of England.