the letters of Mary and the Council were meant to suggest. To defend Mary
we must suppose that she, and the innocent members of Council, were
constrained by the guilty members to approve of what was written, or were
wholly without guile. The secret was open enough. According to Nau, Mary’s
secretary, she had remarked, as she left Kirk o’ Field at midnight, ‘Jesu,
Paris, how begrimed you are!’ The story was current. Blackwood makes Mary
ask ‘why Paris smelled so of gunpowder.’ Had Mary wished to find the
guilty, the begrimed Paris would have been put to the torture at once. The
sentinels at the palace would have been asked who went in and out after
midnight. Conceivably, Mary was unable to act, but, if her secretary tells
truth as to the begrimed Paris, she could have no shadow of doubt as to
Bothwell’s guilt. A few women were interrogated, as was Nelson, Darnley’s
servant, but the inquiry was stopped when Nelson said that Mary’s servants
had the keys. Rewards were offered for the discovery of the guilty, but
produced only anonymous placards, denouncing some who were guilty, as
Bothwell, and others, like ‘Black Mr. James Spens,’ against whom nothing
was ever proved.
[Illustration: PLACARD OF MARCH 1567. MARY AS A MERMAID]
It were tedious and bewildering to examine the gossip as to Mary’s private
demeanour. If she had Darnley buried beside Riccio, she fulfilled the
prophecy which, Lennox tells us, she made over Riccio’s new-made grave,
when she fled from Holyrood after the murder of the Italian: ‘ere a
twelvemonth was over, a fatter than he should lie beside him.’ What she
did at Seton and when (Lennox says that, at Seton, she called for the tune
_Well is me Since I am free_), whether she prosecuted her amour with
Bothwell, played golf, indulged in the unseasonable sport of archery or
not, is matter of gossip. Nor need we ask how long she sat under
candle-light, in darkened, black-hung chambers.[183] She assuredly made no
effort to avenge her husband. Neither the strong and faithful
remonstrances of her ambassador in France, nor the menace of Catherine de
Medicis, nor the plain speaking of Elizabeth, nor a petition of the godly,
who put this claim for justice last in a list of their own demands, and
late (April 18), could move Mary. Bothwell ‘ruled all:’ Lethington,
according to Sir James Melville, fell into the background of the Court. He
had taken nothing by the crime, for which he had signed the band, and it
is quite conceivable that Bothwell, who hated him, had bullied him into
signing. He may even have had no more direct knowledge of what was
intended, or when, than Moray himself. He can never have approved of the
Queen’s marriage with Bothwell, which was fatal to his interests. He was
newly married, and was still, at least, on terms with Mary which warranted
him in urging her to establish Protestantism--or so he told Cecil. But to
Bothwell, Mary was making grants in money, in privileges, and in beautiful
old ecclesiastical fripperies: chasubles and tunicles all of cloth of
gold, figured with white, and red, and yellow.[184] Lennox avers, in the
Lennox Papers, that the armour, horses, and other effects of Darnley were
presented by Mary to Bothwell. Late in March Drury reported that, in the
popular belief, Mary was likely to marry him.
From the first Lennox had pleaded for the arrest and trial of Bothwell and
others whom he named, but who never were tried. Writers like Goodall have
defended, Laing and Hill Burton have attacked, the manner of Bothwell’s
Trial (April 12). Neither for Lennox nor for Elizabeth, would Mary delay
the process. As usual in Scotland, as when Bothwell himself, years before,
or when John Knox still earlier, or when, later, Lethington, was tried,
either the accused or the accuser made an overwhelming show of armed
force. It was ‘the custom of the country,’ and Bothwell, looking dejected
and wretched, says his friend, Ormistoun, was ‘cleansed’ in the promptest
manner, Lennox merely entering a protest. The Parliament on April 19
restored Huntly and others to forfeited lands, ratified the tenures of
Moray, and offended Mary’s Catholic friends by practically establishing
the Kirk. On the same night, apparently after a supper at Ainslie’s
tavern, many nobles and ecclesiastics signed a band (‘Ainslie’s band’). It
ran thus: Bothwell is, and has been judicially found, innocent of
Darnley’s death. The signers therefore bind themselves, ‘as they will
answer to God,’ to defend Bothwell to the uttermost, and to advance his
marriage with Mary. If they fail, may they lose every shred of honour, and
‘be accounted unworthy and faithless Traytors.’
A copy of the names of the signatories, as given to Cecil by John Read,
George Buchanan’s secretary, ‘so far as John Read might remember,’ exists.
The names are Murray (who was not in Scotland), Argyll, Huntly, Cassilis,
Morton, Sutherland, Rothes, Glencairn, Caithness, Boyd, Seton, Sinclair,
Semple, Oliphant, Ogilvy, Ross-Halkett, Carlyle, Herries, Home,
Invermeath. ‘Eglintoun subscribed not, but slipped away.’[185] Names of
ecclesiastics, as Lesley, Bishop of Ross, appear in copies where Moray’s
name does not.[186] It is argued that Moray may have signed before leaving
Scotland, that this may have been a condition of his license to depart.
Mary’s confessor told de Silva that Moray did not sign.[187] That the
Lords received a warrant for their signatures from Mary, they asserted at
York (October, 1568), but was the document mentioned later at Westminster?
That they were coerced by armed force, was averred later, but not in
Kirkcaldy’s account of the affair, written on the day following. No
Hamilton signs, at least if we except the Archbishop; and Lethington, with
his friend Atholl, seems not even to have been present at the Parliament.
On April 21 (Monday), Mary went to Stirling to see her son, and try to
poison him, according to a Lennox memorandum. On the 23rd, she went to
Linlithgow; on the 24th, Bothwell, with a large force, seized her, Huntly,
and Lethington, at a disputed place not far from Edinburgh. He then
carried her to his stronghold of Dunbar. Was Mary playing a collusive
part? had she arranged with Bothwell to carry her off? The Casket Letters
were adduced by her enemies to prove that she was a party to the plot. As
we shall see when examining the Letters if we accept them they leave no
doubt on this point. But precisely here the darkness is yet more obscured
by the enigmatic nature of Mary’s relations with Lethington, who, as
Secretary, was in attendance on her at Stirling and Linlithgow. It will
presently be shown that, as to Lethington’s policy at this moment, and for
two years later, two contradictory accounts are given, and on the view we
take of his actions turns our interpretation of the whole web of intrigue.
Whether Mary did or did not know that she was to be carried off, did
Lethington know? If he did, it was his interest to ride from Stirling, by
night, through the pass of Killiecrankie, to his usual refuge, the safe
and hospitable house of Atholl, before the abduction was consummated.
Bothwell’s success in wedding Mary would mean ruin to Lethington’s
favourite project of uniting the crowns on the head of Mary or her child.
It would also mean Lethington’s own destruction, for Bothwell loathed him.
To this point was he brought by his accession to the band for Darnley’s
murder. His natural action, then, if he knew of the intended abduction,
was to take refuge with Atholl, who, like himself, had not signed
Ainslie’s band. If Lethington was ignorant, others were not. Bothwell had
chosen his opportunity with skill. He had an excellent excuse for
collecting his forces. The Liddesdale reivers had just spoiled the town of
Biggar, ‘and got much substance of coin (corn?), silks, and horses,’ so
wrote Sir John Forster to Cecil on April 24.[188] On the pretext of
punishing this outrage, Bothwell mustered his forces; but politicians less
wary than Lethington, and more remote from the capital, were not deceived.
They knew what Bothwell intended. Lennox was flying for his life, and was
aboard ship on the west coast, but, as early as April 23, he wrote to tell
his wife that Bothwell was to seize Mary. A spy in Edinburgh (Kirkcaldy,
by the handwriting), and Drury in Berwick, knew of the scheme on April 24,
the day of the abduction. If Mary did not suspect what Lennox knew before
the event, she was curiously ignorant, but, if Lethington was ignorant, so
may she have been.[189]
What were the exact place and circumstances of Mary’s arrest by Bothwell,
whether he did or did not offer violence to her at Dunbar, whether she
asked succour from Edinburgh, we know not precisely. At all events, she
was so far compromised, actually violated, says Melville,[190] that, not
being a Clarissa Harlowe, she might represent herself as bound to marry
Bothwell. Meanwhile Lethington was at Dunbar with her, a prisoner ‘under
guard,’ so Drury reports (May 2). By that date, many of the nobles,
including Atholl, had met at Stirling, and, despite their agreement to
defend Bothwell, in Ainslie’s band, Argyll and Morton, as well as Atholl
and Mar, had confederated against him, Atholl probably acting under advice
secretly sent by Lethington. ‘The Earl Bothwell thought to have slain him
in the Queen’s chamber, had not her Majesty come between and saved him,’
says Sir James Melville, who had been released on the day after his
capture between Linlithgow and Edinburgh.[191] Different rumours prevailed
as to Lethington’s own intentions. He was sometimes thought to be no
unwilling prisoner, and even to have warned Atholl not to head the
confederacy against Bothwell (May 4).[192] Mary wrote to quiet the banded
Lords at Stirling (about May 3), and Lethington succeeded in getting a
letter delivered in which he expressed his desire to speak with Cecil,
declaring that Mary meant to marry Bothwell. He had only been rescued from
assassination by Mary, who said that, ‘if a hair of Lethington’s head
perished, she would cause Huntly to forfeit lands, goods, and life.’[193]
Could the Queen who protected Lethington be in love with Bothwell?
Mary, then, was, in one respect at least, no passive victim, at Dunbar,
and Lethington owed his life to her. He explained that his letters,
apparently in Bothwell’s interest, were extorted from him, ‘but
immediately by a trusty messenger he advertised not to give credit to
them.’[194] Meantime he had arranged to escape, as he did, later. ‘He will
come out to shoot with others, and between the marks he will ride upon a
good nag to a place where both a fresh horse and company tarries for
him.’[195] Lethington made his escape, but not till weeks later, when he
fled first to Callendar, then to the protection of Atholl; he joined the
Lords, and from this moment the question is, was he, under a pretext of
secret friendship, Mary’s most deadly foe (as she herself, Morton, and
Randolph declared) or her loyal servant, working cautiously in her
interests, as he persuaded Throckmorton and Sir James Melville to believe?
My own impression is that Mary, Morton, and Randolph were right in their
opinion. Lethington, under a mask of gratitude and loyalty, was urging,
after his escape, the strongest measures against Mary, till circumstances
led him to advise ‘a dulce manner,’ because (as he later confessed to
Morton)[196] Mary was likely to be restored, and to avenge herself on him.
Mary, he knew, could ruin him by proving his accession to Darnley’s
murder. His hold over her would be gone, as soon as the Casket Letters
were produced before the English nobles: he had then no more that he could
do, but she kept her reserve of strength, her proof against him. His bolt
was shot, hers was in her quiver. This view of the relations (later to be
proved) between Lethington and the woman whose courage saved his life,
explains the later mysteries of Mary’s career, and part of the problem of
the Casket Letters.
Meanwhile, in the first days of May, the Queen rushed on her doom. Despite
the protestations of her confessor, who urged that a marriage with
Bothwell was illegal: despite the remonstrances of du Croc, who had been
sent from France to advise and threaten, despite the courageous
denunciation of Craig, the Protestant preacher, Mary hurried through a
collusive double process of divorce, proclaimed herself a free agent,
created Bothwell Duke of Orkney, and, on May 15, 1567, wedded him by
Protestant rites, the treacherous Bishop of Orkney, later one of her
official prosecutors, performing the ceremony.[197] To her or to
Lethington’s own letter of excuse to the French Court, we return later.
Mary, even on the wedding-day, was miserable. Du Croc, James Melville, and
Lethington, who had not yet escaped, were witnesses of her wretchedness.
She called out for a knife to slay herself.[198] Mary was ‘the most
changed woman of face that in so little time without extremity of sickness
they have seen.’ A Highland second-sighted woman prophesied that she
should have five husbands. ‘In the fifth husband’s time _she shall be
burned_, which death divers speak of to happen to her, and it is said she
fears the same.’ This dreadful death was the legal punishment of women who
killed their husbands. The fires of the stake shone through Mary’s dreams
when a prisoner in Loch Leven. Even Lady Reres, now supplanted by a sister
of Bothwell’s, and the Lady of Branxholme, ‘both in their speech and
writing marvellously rail, both of the Queen and Bothwell.’[199]
A merry bridal!
Mary’s defenders have attributed her sorrow to the gloom of a captive,
forced into a hated wedlock. De Silva assigned her misery to a galling
conscience. We see the real reasons of her wretchedness, and to these we
must add the most poignant, Bothwell’s continued relations with his wife,
who remained in his Castle of Crichton. He, too, was ‘beastly suspicious
and jealous.’ No wonder that she called for a knife to end her days, and
told du Croc that she never could be happy again.
Meanwhile the Lords, from the first urged on by Kirkcaldy, who said (April
26) that he must avenge Darnley or leave the country, were banded, and
were appealing to Elizabeth for help, which she, a Queen, hesitated to
lend to subjects confederated against a sister Queen. Kirkcaldy was the
dealer with Bedford, who encouraged him, but desired that the Prince
should be brought to England. Robert Melville dealt with Killigrew (May
27). Bothwell, to soothe the preachers, attended sermons, Mary invited
herself to dinner with her reluctant subjects; the golden font, the
christening gift of Elizabeth, was melted down and coined for pay to the
guard of musketeers (May 31). Huntly asked for leave to go to the north.
Mary replied bitterly that he meant to turn traitor, like his father. This
distrust of Huntly is clearly expressed in the Casket Letters.[200] On May
30, Mary summoned an armed muster of her subjects. On June 6, Lethington
carried out his deferred scheme, and fled to the Lords. On the 7th, Mary
and Bothwell retired to Borthwick Castle. On June 11, the Lords advanced
to Borthwick. Bothwell fled to Dunbar.[201] The Lords then retired to
Dalkeith, and thence, on the same night, to Edinburgh. Thither Mary had
sent a proclamation, which is still extant, bidding the citizens to arm
and free her, not from Bothwell, but from the Lords. An unwilling captive
would have hurried to their protection. The burgesses permitted the Lords
to enter the town. Mary at once, on hearing of this, sent the son of Lady
Reres to the commander of Edinburgh Castle, bidding him fire his guns on
the Lords. He disobeyed. She then fled in male apparel to Dunbar,
Bothwell meeting her a mile from Borthwick (June 11). On June 12, the
Lords seized the remains of the golden font, and the coin already struck.
On the 13th, James Beaton joined Mary and Bothwell at Dunbar, and found
them mustering their forces. He returned, with orders to encourage the
Captain of the Castle, but was stopped.
Next day (14th) the Lords made a reconnaissance towards Haddington, and
Atholl, with Lethington, rode into Edinburgh, at the head of 200 horse.
Lethington then for three hours dealt with the Keeper of the Castle, Sir
James Balfour, his associate in the band for Darnley’s murder. Later,
according to Randolph, they opened a little coffer of Bothwell’s which had
a covering of green cloth, and was deposited in the Castle, and took out
the band. Was this coffer the Casket? Such coffers had usually velvet
covers, embroidered. Lethington won over Balfour, who surrendered the
Castle presently. This was the deadliest stroke at Mary, and it was dealt
by him whose life she had just preserved.
Next day the Lords marched to encounter Bothwell, met him posted on
Carberry Hill, and, after many hours of manœuvres and negotiations, very
variously reported, the Lords allowed Bothwell to slip away to Dunbar (he
was a compromising captive), and took Mary, clad unqueenly in a ‘red
petticoat, sleeves tied with points, a velvet hat and muffler.’ She
surrendered to Kirkcaldy of Grange: on what terms, if on any, is not to
be ascertained. She herself in Nau’s MS. maintains that she promised to
join in pursuing Darnley’s murderers, and ‘claimed that justice should be
done upon certain persons of their party now present, who were guilty of
the said murder, and were much astonished to find themselves discovered.’
But, by Nau’s own arrangement of his matter, Mary can only have thus
accused the Lords (there is other evidence that she did so) _after_
Bothwell, at parting from her, denounced to her Morton, Balfour, and
Lethington, giving her a copy of the murder band, signed by them, and
bidding her ‘take good care of that paper.’ She did ‘take good care’ of
some paper, as we shall see, though almost certainly not the band, and not
obtained at Carberry Hill.[202] She asked for an interview with Lethington
and Atholl, both of whom, though present, denied that they were of the
Lords’ party. Finally, after parting from Bothwell, assuring him that, if
found innocent in the coming Parliament, she would remain his loyal wife,
she surrendered to Kirkcaldy, ‘relying upon his word and assurance, which
the Lords, in full Council, as he said, had solemnly warranted him to
make.’ So writes Nau. James Beaton (whose narrative we have followed)
merely says that she made terms, which were granted, that none of her
party should be ‘invaded or pursued.’[203] Sir James Melville makes the
Lords’ promise depend on her abandonment of Bothwell.[204]
Whatever be the truth as to Mary’s surrender, the Lords later excused
their treatment of her not on the ground that they had given no pledge,
but on that of her adhesion to the man they had asked her to marry.
According to Nau, Lethington persuaded the Lords to place her in the house
then occupied by Preston, the Laird of Craigmillar, Provost of Edinburgh.
She asked, at night, for an interview with Lethington, but she received no
answer. Next morning she called piteously to Lethington, as he passed the
window of her room: he crushed his hat over his face, and did not even
look up. The mob were angry with Lethington, and Mary’s guards dragged her
from the window. On the other hand, du Croc says that Lethington, on
hearing her cries, entered her room, and spoke with her, while the mob was
made to move on.[205] Lethington told du Croc that, when Mary called to
him, and he went to her, she complained of being parted from Bothwell. He,
with little tact, told her that Bothwell much preferred his wife. She
clamoured to be placed in a ship with Bothwell, and allowed to drift at
the wind’s will.[206] Du Croc said to Lethington that he hoped the pair
would drift to France, ‘where the king would judge righteously, for the
unhappy facts are only too well proved.’ This is a very strong opinion
against Mary. Years later, when Lethington was holding Edinburgh Castle
for Mary, he told Craig that, after Carberry ‘I myself made the offer to
her that, if she would abandon my Lord Bothwell, she should have as
thankful obedience as ever she had since she came to Scotland. But no ways
would she consent to leave my Lord Bothwell.’[207] Lethington’s word is of
slight value.
To return to Nau, or to Mary speaking through Nau, on June 16 Lethington
did go to see her: ‘but in such shame and fear that he never dared to lift
his eyes to her face while he spoke with her.’ He showed great hatred of
Bothwell, and said that she could not be allowed to return to him: Mary,
marvelling at his ‘impudence,’ replied that she was ready to join in the
pursuit of Darnley’s murderers: who had acted chiefly on Lethington’s
advice. She then told him plainly that he, Morton, and Balfour had chiefly
prevented inquiry into the murder. _They_ were the culprits, as Bothwell
had told her, showing her the signatures to the murder band, when parting
from her at Carberry. She reminded Lethington that she had saved his life.
If Lethington persecuted her, she would tell what she knew of him. He
replied, angrily, that she would drive him to extremities to save his own
life, whereas, if matters were allowed to grow quiet, he might one day be
of service to her. If he were kept talking, and so incurred the suspicion
of the Lords, her life would be in peril. To ‘hedge,’ Lethington used to
encourage Mary, when she was in Loch Leven. But he had, then, no
‘assurance’ from her, and, on a false alarm of her escape, mounted his
horse to fly from Edinburgh.[208] Thus greatly do the stories of Mary and
of Lethington differ, concerning their interview after Carberry. Perhaps
Mary is the more trustworthy.
On June 17, 1567, John Beaton wrote to his brother, Mary’s ambassador in
Paris. He says that no man was allowed to speak to Mary on June 16, but
that, in the evening, she asked a girl to speak to Lethington, and pray
him to have compassion on her, ‘and not to show himself so extremely
opposed to her as he does.’[209] Beaton’s evidence, being written the day
after the occurrences, is excellent, and leaves us to believe that, in the
darkest of her dark hours in Scotland, insulted by the populace, with
guards placed in her chamber, destitute of all earthly aid, Mary found in
extreme opposition to her the man who owed to her his lands and his life.
And why was Lethington thus ‘extremely opposed’? First, Mary, if free,
would join Bothwell, his deadly foe. Secondly, he knew from her own lips
that Mary knew his share in Darnley’s murder, and had proof. While she
lived, the sword hung over Lethington. He, therefore, insisted on her
imprisonment in a place whence escape should have been impossible. He is
even said to have advised that she should be secretly strangled. Years
later, when time had brought in his revenges, and Lethington and Kirkcaldy
were holding the Castle for Mary, her last hope, Lethington explained his
change of sides in a letter to his opponent, Morton. Does Morton hate him
because he has returned to the party of the Queen? He had advised Morton
to take the same course, ‘being assured that, with time, she would recover
her liberty (as yet I have no doubt but she will). I deemed it neither
wisdom for him nor me to deserve particular ill will at her hands.’ This
was a frank enough explanation of his own change of factions. If ever Mary
came to her own, Lethington dreaded her feud. We shall see that as soon as
she was imprisoned, Lethington affected to be her secret ally. Morton
replied that ‘it was vain in Lethington to think that he could deserve
more particular evil will at Mary’s hands than he had deserved
already.’[210]
Lethington could not be deeper in guilt towards Mary than he was, despite
his appearance of friendship. The ‘evil will’ which he had incurred was
‘particular,’ and could not be made worse. In the same revolution of
factions (1570-73) Randolph also wrote to Lethington and Kirkcaldy asking
them why they had deserted their old allies, Morton and the rest, for the
Queen’s party. ‘You yourselves wrote against her, and were the chiefest
causes of her apprehension, and imprisonment’ (at Loch Leven), ‘and
dimission of her crown.... So that you two were her chiefest occasion of
all the calamities, _as she hath said_, that she is fallen into. You, Lord
of Lethington, _by your persuasion and counsel to apprehend her, to
imprison her, yea, to have taken presently the life from her_.’[211] To
this we shall return.
When we add to this testimony Mary’s hatred of Lethington, revealed in
Nau’s MS., a hatred which his death could not abate, though he died in her
service, we begin to understand. Sir James Melville and Throckmorton were
(as we shall see) deluded by the ‘dulce manner’ of Lethington. But, in
truth, he was Mary’s worst enemy, till his bolt was shot, while hers
remained in her hands. Then Lethington, in 1569, went over to her party,
as a charge of Darnley’s murder, urged by his old partisans, was hanging
over his head.