Life of Mary Queen of Scots, Volume 2 (of 2)

“By the above answer,” says Keith, “I make no doubt but my readers will be ready enough to prognosticate what shall be the upshot of Sir Nicholas Throckmorton’s negotiations with the rebels in favour of our Queen.” There can be no doubt that the same motives (whatever these might be) which led to Mary’s imprisonment, would have equal force in keeping her there. The whole history of this conspiracy may be explained in a few words. When Morton and the other Lords took up arms at Stirling, they were, to a certain extent, sincere; they believed (especially those of them who had been his accomplices) that Bothwell was the murderer of Darnley, and that he was anxiously endeavouring to get the young Prince into his power. This they determined to prevent, and having won over Sir James Balfour, the governor of the Castle, they advanced to Edinburgh. Bothwell retired to Dunbar, taking the Queen along with him. But the Lords knew that Mary entertained no affection for her husband, and they therefore hoped to create a division between them. They accomplished this object at Carberry Hill, and reconducted the Queen to Edinburgh. There, though not sorry that she had parted from her husband, Mary did not express any high approbation of the conduct of Lords who, when she was first seized by Bothwell, did not draw a sword in her defence, and now that she had become his wife, according to their own express recommendation recorded in the bond they had given him, openly rebelled against the authority with which they had induced her to intrust him. Morton recollected at the same time his share in Rizzio’s assassination, and the disastrous consequences which ensued, as soon as Mary made her escape from the thraldom in which he had then kept her for several days. He determined not to expose himself to a similar risk now, especially as he had an army at his command; if he disbanded it, he might be executed as a traitor, – if he remained at the head of it, he might become Regent of Scotland. These were the secret motives by which his conduct was regulated; – having taken one step he thought he might venture to go on with another; he commenced with defending the son, and ended by dethroning the mother.

Four different plans were now in agitation, by adopting any of which it was thought the troubles of the kingdom might be brought to a conclusion. The first was suggested by the Queen’s friends assembled at Hamilton; their proposal was, to restore the Queen to her liberty and throne, having previously bound her, by an express agreement, to pardon the rebel Lords, to watch over the safety of the Prince, to consent to a divorce from Bothwell, and to punish all persons implicated in the murder of Darnley. The other three schemes came from Morton and his party, and were worthy of the source from which they came. The first was, to make the Queen resign all government and regal authority in favour of her son, under whom a Council of the nobility should govern the realm, whilst she herself should retire to France or England, and never again return to her own country. The second was, to have the Queen tried, to condemn her, to keep her in prison for life, and to crown the Prince. The third was, to have her tried, condemned, and executed, – a measure which would have disgraced Scotland in even its most barbarous times, and which nothing but the violence of party feeling could now have suggested.119 The English ambassador, knowing the wishes of his mistress, did not hesitate to assure her that there was no probability of any of the more lenient proposals being adopted; and he took care to remind the Lords, that “it would be convenient for them so to proceed, as that by their doings they should not wipe away the Queen’s infamy, and the Lord Bothwell’s detestable murder, and by their outrageous dealings bring all the slander upon themselves.” At Morton’s request, he likewise suggested to Elizabeth, that it would be proper to send a supply of ten or twelve thousand crowns to aid the Lords in their present increased expenditure; and this he said was the more necessary, because Lethington and others had reminded him that, notwithstanding all her Majesty’s fair words, Murray, Morton, and the rest, “had in their troubles found cold relief and small favour at her Majesty’s hands.”120 No wonder that, in moments when his better nature prevailed, Throckmorton felt disgusted with the double part he was obliged to act, and spoke “honestly and plainly” of it to Melville. “Yea,” says Sir James, “he detested the whole counsel of England for the time, and told us friendly what reasoning they held among themselves to that end; namely, how that one of their finest counsellors (Cecil) proposed openly to the rest, that it was needful for the welfare of England, to foster and nourish the civil wars, as well in France and in Flanders, as in Scotland; whereby England might reap many advantages, and be sought after by all parties, and in the meantime live in rest, and gather great riches. This advice and proposition was well liked by most part of the Council; yet an honest counsellor stood up and said, it was a very worldly advice, and had little or nothing to do with a Christian commonweal.”121

The Earl of Murray was in the meantime anxiously watching the progress of affairs in Scotland, and, though still in France, had so contrived, that he possessed as much influence in the counsels of the nation as Morton himself. The Lords indeed had long been in close correspondence with him. Letters from them were forwarded to him by Cecil, who exchanged frequent communications with Murray; and, on the 26th of June, four days before Throckmorton left London for Scotland, Cecil wrote to the English ambassador at Paris, that “Murray’s return into Scotland was much desired, for the weal both of England and Scotland.”122 But as Murray had attempted to ingratiate himself at the French Court, by exaggerating his fidelity to Mary, he found it impossible to disengage himself immediately from the connexions he had there made, not anticipating so sudden a revolution in the state of affairs at home. He sent, however, an agent into Scotland, of the name of Elphinston, whom he commissioned to attend to his interests, and whom the Lords allowed to visit the Queen at Loch-Leven, though they refused every body else. It is not likely that Morton, who had thus a second time been engaged in setting up a ladder for Murray to ascend by, was altogether pleased to find that he could not obtain the first place for himself. As soon as he determined to force Mary to abdicate the Crown, he saw that he would be obliged to yield the Regency to Murray, supported as that nobleman was, both by his numerous friends in England and Scotland, and the earnest recommendations of Knox and the other preachers, who, in their anxiety to see their old patron once more Lord of the ascendant, “took pieces of Scripture, and inveighed vehemently against the Queen, and persuaded extremities against her, by application of the text.”123 Morton, however, consoled himself with the reflection, that he was in great favour with Murray, and that, by acting in concert with him, he would enjoy a scarcely inferior degree of power and honour.

Preparatory to extorting from her an abdication, the Lords anxiously circulated a report, that the Queen was devotedly and almost insanely attached to Bothwell. They did not venture, it is true, to put this attachment to the test, by publicly offering her reasonable terms of accommodation, which, if she had refused, all men would have acknowledged her infatuation, and deserted her cause; – they brought her to no trial, – they proved her guilty of no crime; all they did was to endeavour to impose upon the vulgar. They asserted that Mary would not agree to prosecute the perpetrators of the murder, after she had already prosecuted them, – and that she would not consent to abandon a husband whom she had already abandoned, and with whom, they themselves had declared, only a few weeks before, she could not, under any circumstances, have lived for many months. Throckmorton, who was willing enough to propagate all the absurd falsehoods they told him, wrote to Elizabeth, – “she avoweth constantly that she will live and die with him; and saith, that if it were put to her choice to relinquish her Crown and kingdom, or the Lord Bothwell, she would leave her kingdom and dignity, to go as a simple damsel with him; and that she will never consent that he shall fare worse, or have more harm than herself.”124 But the numerous party in favour of the Queen openly avowed their disbelief of these reports; and Elizabeth herself, who began to fear that, in sending Throckmorton to the rebel Lords, she had countenanced the weaker side, wrote to her ambassador on the 29th of August in the following terms, which, as they are used by an enemy so determined as Elizabeth, speak volumes in favour of Mary: – “We cannot perceive, that they, with whom they have dealt, can answer the doubts moved by the Hamiltons, who, howsoever they may be carried for their private respects, yet those things which they move will be allowed by all reasonable persons. For if they may not, being noblemen of the realm, be suffered to hear the Queen, their Sovereign, declare her mind concerning the reports which are made of her by such as keep her in captivity, how should they believe the reports, or obey them which do report it?”125

That Mary refused to return to her throne, unless Bothwell was placed upon it beside her, is an assertion so ridiculous, that no time need be lost in refuting it. That she may not have chosen to submit to an immediate divorce from one whom all her nobility had recommended to her as a husband, and by whom she might possibly have a child, is within the verge of probability. She would naturally be anxious to avoid doing any thing which would be equivalent with acknowledging her belief of his guilt, and might have appeared to implicate her in the suspicion attached to him. She had not married Bothwell till he had been judicially acquitted; and were she to consent to be divorced from him before he was again tried, she would seem to confess, that she had previously sanctioned a procedure possessing the show of justice, without the substance.126 There can be no doubt, however, that if Bothwell’s guilt had been distinctly proved to her, and if she could have disunited herself from him without injury to her reputation or her prospects, she would have been the very last person to have objected either to see Darnley’s death revenged, or herself freed from an alliance into which she had been forced against her will.

But the Lords of Secret Council, conscious as they were of the injustice of their proceedings, had gone too far to recede, and were determined not to rest satisfied with any half-measures. On the 24th of July 1567, Lord Lindsay and Sir Robert Melville (brother to Sir James), were commissioned to pass to Loch-Leven, and to carry with them deeds or instruments of abdication.127 These instruments were three in number. By the first, Mary was made to resign the Crown in favour of her son, – by the second, to constitute the Earl of Murray Regent during his nonage, – and, by the third, to appoint a Council to administer the Government until Murray’s return home, and, if he should refuse to accept of the regency, until her son’s majority. It was of course well known to the rebels, that the Queen would not willingly affix her signature to deeds by which she was to surrender all power, and to reduce herself at once to the station of a subject, without receiving in return any promise of liberty, or the enjoyment of a single worldly good. Yet they had the effrontery to aver, that rather than submit to a separation from one with whom “she could not have lived half-a-year to an end,” she preferred becoming a landless and crownless pensioner, on the bounty of such men as Morton and his accomplices.

Were we to single out the day in Mary’s whole life in which it might be fairly concluded that she suffered the most intense mental anguish, we should fix on the 25th of July 1567, the day on which the Commissioners had their audience. Shut up in a gloomy edifice, which, though dignified with the name of a castle, was little else than a square tower of three stories; and instead of a numerous assemblage of obsequious nobles, attended by only three or four female servants; – it must have required a more than common spirit of queenly fortitude to support so great a reverse of fortune.128 But the misery of her situation was now to be increased a hundred fold, by a blow the severest she had yet experienced. When the report first reached her, that it was in contemplation to force her to abdicate her crown, she indignantly refused to believe so lawless an attempt possible. Mary had been all her life fond of power, and proud of her illustrious birth and rank; and there were few subjects on which she dwelt with greater pleasure, than her unsullied descent from a “centenary line of kings.” Was she now, without a struggle, to surrender the crown of the Stuarts into the hands of the bastard Murray, or the blood-stained Morton? Was she to submit to the bitter mockery, introduced in the very preamble to the instrument of demission, which stated, that, ever since her arrival in her realm, she had “employed her body, spirit, whole senses and forces, to govern in such sort, that her royal and honourable estate might stand and continue with her and her posterity, and that her loving and kind lieges might enjoy the quietness of true subjects;” but that, being now wearied with the fatigues of administration, she wished to lay down her sceptre?129 Even though prepared to lay it down, was she also to countenance falsehood, and practise dissimulation?

When the commissioners arrived at Lochleven, Sir Robert Melville, knowing that Lindsay was personally disagreeable to his Sovereign, came to her at first alone. Opening to her his errand, and, addressing her with respect, and professions of attachment (for she had often employed him before about her person, or as her ambassador to foreign courts), he urged every argument he could think of to persuade her to affix her signature to the deeds. She listened to him with calm dignity and unshaken resolution. She heard him describe the distracted state of Scotland – the impossibility of ever prevailing on all parties to submit again to her sway – the virulence of her enemies, and the apparent lukewarmness of her friends. She allowed him to proceed from these more general topics, to others more intimately connected with her own person. She listened to his assurance, that, if she continued obstinate, it was determined to bring her to trial, – to blacken her character, by accusing her of incontinency, not only with Bothwell, but with others, and of the murder of her late husband, and, upon whatever evidence, to condemn and execute her.130 But she remained unmoved, and preserved the same composure of manner, though not without many a secret throb of pain, at the discovery of the utter ingratitude and perfidy of those whom she had so often befriended and advanced. As a last expedient, Melville produced a letter from Throckmorton, in which the ambassador advised her to consult her personal safety, by consenting to an abdication – a somewhat singular advice to be given by one who affected to have come into Scotland for the express purpose of securing her restoration to the throne.131 But she only remarked on this letter, that it convinced her of the insincerity of Elizabeth’s promises of assistance.

Melville now saw that there was no alternative, and that Lindsay must be called in to his assistance. Notorious for being one of the most passionate men in Scotland, Lindsay burst into the Queen’s presence, with the instruments in his hands, and rage sparkling in his eyes. Mary, for the first time, became agitated, for she recollected the evening of Rizzio’s murder, when Lindsay stood beside the gaunt form of Ruthven, instigating him to the commission of that deed of cruelty. With fearful oaths and imprecations, this unmannered barbarian, entitled to be called a man only because he bore the external form of one, vowed, that unless she subscribed the deeds without delay, he would sign them himself with her blood, and seal them on her heart.132 Mary had a bold and masculine spirit; but, trembling under the prospect of immediate destruction, and imagining that she saw Lindsay’s dagger already drawn, she became suddenly pale and motionless, and would have fallen in a swoon, had not a flood of tears afforded her relief. Melville, moved perhaps to contrition by the depth of her misery, whispered in her ear, that instruments signed in captivity could not be considered valid, if she chose to revoke them when she regained her liberty. This suggestion may have had some weight; but almost before she had time to attend to it, Lindsay’s passion again broke forth, and, pointing to the lake which surrounded her confined residence, he swore that it should become her immediate grave, if she hesitated one moment longer. Driven to distraction, and scarcely knowing what she did, Mary seized a pen, and without reading a line of the voluminous writings before her, she affixed her name to each of them, as legibly as her tears would permit. The Commissioners then took their departure, secretly congratulating themselves, that, by a mixture of cunning and ferocity, they had gained their end. Mary, no longer a Queen, was left alone to the desolate solitude of her own gloomy thoughts.133

As soon as Lord Lindsay returned to Edinburgh, and notified the success of his mission, it was determined by Morton and his associates that the Prince should be crowned with as little delay as possible. Sir James Melville, who was considered a moderate man by both parties, was sent to the Lords at Hamilton, to invite their concurrence and presence on the occasion. He was received courteously; but the nobility there would not agree to countenance proceedings which they denounced as treasonable. On the contrary, perceiving the turn which matters were about to take, they retired from Hamilton to Dumbarton, where they prepared for more active opposition. They signed a bond of mutual defence and assistance, in which they declared, that owing to the state of captivity in which the Queen was detained at Loch-Leven, her Majesty’s subjects were prevented from having free access to her, and that it therefore became their duty to endeavour to procure her freedom, by all lawful means, however strong the opposition that might be offered. This bond was signed by many persons of rank and influence, among whom were the Archbishop of St Andrews, the Earls of Argyle and Huntly, and the Lords Ross, Fleming, and Herries.134

On the 29th of July 1567, James was publicly crowned at Stirling. He was anointed by Adam, Bishop of Orkney, in the parish church, and the Earl of Morton took the oath of coronation in the Prince’s name, who was little more than a year old. On returning in procession to the Castle, the Earl of Athol carried the crown, Morton the sceptre, Glencairn the sword, and Mar the new made King. All public writs were thenceforth issued, and the government was established, in the name and authority of James VI.135 The infant King was in the power of his mother’s deadliest enemies; and of course they resolved that neither her religion nor modes of thinking should be transmitted to her son. Buchanan was appointed his principal tutor, and if early precept can ever counteract natural affection, there is good reason to suppose, that, together with her crown, the filial love of her child was taken from Mary.

Only a few days after the coronation, the Earl of Murray returned to Scotland. He came by the way of London, where he concocted his future measures with Cecil and Elizabeth. He had some difficulty in fixing on the course which would be most expedient for him to pursue. He knew that the regency was about to be offered to him; but he also knew how unlawfully his sister’s abdication had been obtained, and that there was a strong party in Scotland who were still bent on supporting her authority. Were he at once to place himself at the head of a faction which might afterwards turn out to be the weaker of the two, he incurred the risk of falling from his temporary eminence lower than ever. He resolved therefore, with his usual caution, to feel his way before he took any decisive step. Sir James Melville was sent to meet him at Berwick; and from him he learned that even Morton’s Lords had by this time split into two parties, and that while one-half were of opinion that Murray should accept of the regency without delay, and give his approval to all that had been done in his absence, the other, among whom were Mar, Athol, Lethington, Tullibardin, and Grange, prayed him to bear himself gently and humbly towards the Queen, and to get as much into her favour as possible, as her Majesty was of “a clear wit, and princely inclination,” and the time might come when they would all wish her at liberty to rule over them.136 Murray, who adopted on this occasion Elizabeth’s favourite maxim, – “Video et taceo,” disclosed his mind to no one, until he ascertained for himself the precise state of affairs, and of public feeling in Scotland.

To be the better informed, he determined on visiting the Queen personally at Loch-Leven. He was accompanied by Athol, Morton, and Lindsay. When Mary saw her brother, a crowd of recollections rushing into her mind, she burst into tears, and it was some time before she could enter into conversation with him. At length she desired that the others would retire, and they had then a long private conference, of which the particulars are not fully known. Mary had flattered herself that she might place some reliance on Murray’s affection and gratitude, but she had egregiously mistaken his character. Having, by this time, secretly resolved to accept the regency at all hazards, his only desire was to impress her with a belief, that he assumed that office principally with the view of saving her from a severer fate, and that he was actually conferring a favour on her by taking her sceptre into his own hands. Reduced already to despair, the Queen listened, with tears in her eyes, to Murray’s representations, and at length became convinced of his sincerity, and thanked him for his promises of protection. Thus the Earl and his friends were able to give out, that Mary confirmed, by word of mouth, what she had formerly signed with her hand, and that she entreated her brother to accept the Government.137 Besides, if she were ever restored to the throne, she would not be disposed to treat with severity one who had been artful enough to persuade her, that, in usurping her authority, he was doing her a service.

On the 22d of August 1567, James, Earl of Murray, was proclaimed Regent; and, in the Tolbooth of Edinburgh, before the Justice Clerk and others, he took the oaths, and accepted the charge. He first, however, made a long discourse, in which, with overacted humility, he stated his own insufficiency, and expressed a desire that the office had been conferred on some more worthy nobleman.138 But his scruples were easily conquered; and, under the title of Regent, he became, in fact, King of Scotland, until James VI. should attain the age of seventeen.139 He proceeded to establish himself in his Government by prudent and vigorous measures. He made himself master of the Castles of Edinburgh and Dunbar, and other places of strength; he contrived either to bring over to his own side, or to overawe and keep quiet, most of the Queen’s Lords; and he severely chastised such districts as continued disaffected. A Parliament was summoned in December, at which the imprisoning and dethroning of the Queen were declared lawful, and, what is remarkable, the reason assigned for these measures had never been hinted at before Murray’s return, – that there was certain proof that she was implicated in the murder of Darnley. This proof was stated to consist in certain “private letters, written wholly with the Queen’s own hand.” They were not produced at the time, but will come to be examined more particularly afterwards. All that need be remarked here, is the sudden change introduced by the Regent into the nature of the allegations against Mary. It had been always given out previously, that she was kept in Loch-Leven, because she evinced a determination to be again united to Bothwell; but now, an entirely new and more serious cause was assigned for her detention.140

CHAPTER VIII.

MARY’S ESCAPE FROM LOCHLEVEN, AND THE BATTLE OF LANGSIDE

With few comforts and no enjoyments, Mary remained closely confined in the Castle of Loch-Leven. Her only resources were in herself, and in the religion whose precepts she was ever anxious not only to profess, but to practise. Though deprived of liberty and the delights of a court, she was able to console herself with the reflection, that there is no prison for a soul that puts its trust in its God, and that all the world belongs to one who knows how to despise its vanities. Yet the misfortunes which had overtaken her were enough to appal the stoutest heart. Her husband had been murdered, she herself forced into an unwilling marriage, her kingdom taken from her, her child raised up against her, her honour defamed, and her person insulted, – all within the short space of four months. History records few reverses so sudden and so complete. Many a masculine spirit would have felt its energies give way under so dreadful a change of fortune; and if Mary was able to put in practice the Roman maxim, Ne cedere malis, sed contra audentior ire, it would be to exalt vice and libel virtue to suppose, that she could have been inspired with strength for so arduous a task by aught but her own integrity.