The Mystery of Mary Stuart

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.

Meanwhile, after Mary’s surrender at Carberry, the counsel of Lethington prevailed. She was hurried to Loch Leven, after two dreadful days of tears and frenzied threats and entreaties, and was locked up in the Castle on the little isle, the Castle of her ancestral enemies, the Douglases. There she awaited her doom, ‘the fiery death.’

IX

THE EMERGENCE OF THE CASKET LETTERS

I. First hints of the existence of the letters

The Lords, as we have seen, nominally rose in arms to punish Bothwell (whom they had acquitted), to protect their infant Prince, and to rescue Mary, whom they represented as Bothwell’s reluctant captive. Yet their first success, at Carberry Hill, induced them, not to make Bothwell prisoner, but to give him facilities of escape. Their second proceeding was, not to release Mary, but to expose her to the insults of the populace, and then to immure her, destitute and desperate, in the island fortress of the Douglases.

These contradictions between their conduct and their avowed intentions needed excuse. They could not say, ‘We let Bothwell escape because he knew too much about ourselves: we imprisoned the Queen for the same good reason.’ They had to protect themselves, first against Elizabeth, who bitterly resented the idea that subjects might judge princes: next, against the possible anger of the rulers of France and Spain; next, against the pity of the mobile populace. There was also a chance that Moray, who was hastening home from France, might espouse his sister’s cause, as, indeed, at this moment he professed to do. Finally, in the changes of things, Mary, or her son, might recover power, and exact vengeance for the treasonable imprisonment of a Queen.

The Lords, therefore, first excused themselves (as in Lethington’s discourses with du Croc) by alleging that Mary refused to abandon Bothwell. This was, no doubt, true, though we cannot accept Lethington’s word for the details of her passionate behaviour. Her defenders can fall back on the report of Drury, that she was at this time with child, as she herself informed Throckmorton, while Nau declares that, in Loch Leven, she prematurely gave birth to twins. Mary always had a plausible and possible excuse: in this case she could not dissolve her marriage with Bothwell without destroying the legitimacy of her expected offspring. Later, in 1569, when she wished her marriage with Bothwell to be annulled, the Lords refused assent. In the present juncture, of June, 1567, with their Queen a captive in their hands, the Lords needed some better excuse than her obstinate adherence to the husband whom they had selected for her. They needed a reason for their conduct that would have a retro-active effect: namely, positive proof of her guilt of murder.

No sooner was the proof wanted than it was found. Mary was imprisoned on June 16: her guilty letters to Bothwell, the Casket Letters, with their instigations to Darnley’s murder and her own abduction, were secured on June 20, and were inspected, and entrusted to Morton’s keeping, on June 21. To Morton’s declaration about the discovery and inspection of the Casket and Letters, we return in chronological order: it was made in December, 1568, before the English Commissioners who examined Mary’s case.

The Lords were now, with these letters to justify them, in a relatively secure position. They could, and did, play off France against England: both of these countries were anxious to secure the person of the baby Prince, both were obliged to treat with the Lords who had the alliance of Scotland to bestow. Elizabeth wavered between her desire, as a Queen, to help a sister Queen, and her anxiety not to break with the dominant Scottish party. The Lords had hanged a retainer of Bothwell, Blackader, taken after Carberry, who denied his guilt, and against whom nothing was proved: but he had a Lennox jury. Two other underlings of Bothwell, his porter Powrie and his ‘chamber-child’ Dalgleish, were taken and examined, but their depositions, as reported by the Lords themselves, neither implicated Mary, nor threw any light on the date at which the idea of an explosion was conceived. It was then believed to have been projected before Mary went to bring Darnley from Glasgow. This opinion reflected itself in what was conceivably the earlier forged draft, never publicly produced, of the long ‘Glasgow Letter’ (II.) Later information may have caused that long letter to be modified into its present shape, or, as probably, induced the Lords to fall back on a partly genuine letter, our Letter II.

The Lords did by no means make public use, at first, of the Letters which they had found, and were possibly garbling. We shall later make it clear, it is a new point, that, on the very day of the reading, the Lords sent Robert Melville post haste to Elizabeth, doubtless with verbal information about their discovery. Leaving Edinburgh on June 21, the day of the discovery, Melville was in London on June 23 or 24, dispatched his business, and was in Berwick again on June 28. He carried letters for Moray in France, but, for some reason, perhaps because the letters were delayed or intercepted, Moray had to be summoned again. Meanwhile the Lords, otherwise, kept their own counsel.[212] For reasons of policy they let their good fortune ooze out by degrees.

On June 25, Drury, writing from Berwick, reports that ‘the Queen has had a box,’ containing papers about her intrigues with France. ‘It is promised Drury to have his part of it.’ This rumour of a ‘box’ may refer to the capture of the Casket.[213] On June 29, Drury again wrote about the ‘box,’ and the MSS. in it, ‘part in cipher deciphered.’ Whether this ‘box’ was the Casket, a false account of its contents being given to Drury, is uncertain. We hear no more of it, nor of any of Mary’s own papers and letters to her: no letters to her from Bothwell are reported.

The earliest known decided reference to the Letters is that of the Spanish Ambassador, de Silva, writing from London on July 12, 1567. He says that du Croc, the French Ambassador to Mary, has passed through town on his return from Scotland. The French Ambassador in London, La Forest, reports to de Silva that Mary’s ‘adversaries assert positively that they know she had been concerned in the murder of her husband, which was proved by letters under her own hand, copies of which were in his [whose?] possession.’[214] Major Martin Hume writes, in his Preface to the Calendar, ‘The many arguments against their genuineness, founded upon the long delay in their production, thus disappear.’

It does not necessarily follow, however, that the letters of which du Croc probably carried copies (unless La Forest merely bragged falsely, to vex his Spanish fellow diplomatist) were either wholly genuine, or were identical with the letters later produced. It is by no means certain that Lethington and Sir James Balfour had not access, before June 21, to the Casket, which was in Balfour’s keeping, within Edinburgh Castle. Randolph later wrote (as we have already seen) that the pair had opened a little ‘coffer,’ with a green cloth cover, and taken out the band (which the pair had signed) for Darnley’s murder.[215] Whether the Casket was thus early tampered with is uncertain. But, as to du Croc’s copies of the Letters, the strong point, for the accusers, is, that, when the Letters were published, in Scots, Latin, and French, four years later, we do not hear that any holders of du Croc’s copies made any stir, or alleged that the copies did not tally with those now printed, in 1571-1573, by Mary’s enemies. This point must be kept steadily in mind, as it is perhaps the chief objection to the theory which we are about to offer. But, on November 29, 1568, when Mary’s accusers were gathered in London to attack her at the Westminster Conference, La Forest’s successor, La Mothe Fénelon, writes to Charles IX. that they pretend to possess incriminating letters ‘escriptes et signées de sa main;’ written and signed by her hand. Our copies are certainly not signed, which, in itself, proves little or nothing, but Mary’s contemporary defenders, Lesley and Blackwood, urge that there was not even a pretence that the Letters were signed, and this plea of theirs was not answered.

My point, however, is that though La Forest, according to de Silva, had copies in July 1567, his successor at the English Court, doubtless well instructed, knows nothing about them, as far as his despatch shows. But he does say that the accusers are in search of evidence to prove the Letters authentic, not forged.[216] He says (November 28) to Catherine de’ Medici, that he thinks the proofs of Mary’s accusers ‘very slender and extremely impertinent,’ and he has been consulted by Mary’s Commissioners.[217]

Of course it is possible that La Mothe Fénelon was not made acquainted with what his predecessor, La Forest, knew: but this course of secretiveness would not have been judicious. For the rest, the Court of France was not in the habit of replying to pamphlets, like that which contained copies of the Letters. It is unlikely that the copies given to La Forest were destroyed, but we have no hint or trace of them in France. Conceivably even if they differed (as we are to argue that they perhaps did) from the Letters later produced, the differences, though proof of tampering, did not redound to Mary’s glory. At the time when France was negotiating Alençon’s marriage with Elizabeth, and a Franco-English alliance (January-July, 1572), in a wild maze of international, personal, and religious intrigue, while Catherine de’ Medici was wavering between massacre of the Huguenots and alliance with them, it is far from inconceivable that La Forest’s copies of the Letters were either overlooked, or not critically and studiously compared with the copies now published. To vex Elizabeth by criticism of two sets of copies of Letters was certainly not then the obvious policy of France: though the published Letters were thrust on the French statesmen.

The letters of La Mothe Fénelon, and of Charles IX., on the subject of Buchanan’s ‘Detection,’ contain no hint that they thought the Letters, therein published, spurious. They only resent their publication against a crowned Queen.[218] The reader, then, must decide for himself whether La Forest’s copies, if extant, were likely to be critically scanned and compared with the published Letters, in 1571, or in the imbroglio of 1572; and whether it is likely that, if this was done, and if the two copies did not tally, French statesmen thought that, in the circumstances, when Elizabeth was to be propitiated, and the Huguenots were not to be offended, it was worth while to raise a critical question. If any one thinks that this course of conduct – the critical comparison of La Forest’s copies with the published copies, and the remonstrance founded on any discrepancies detected – was the natural inevitable course of French statecraft, at the juncture – then he must discredit my hypothesis. For my hypothesis is, that the Letters extant in June and July, 1567, were not wholly identical with the Letters produced in December, 1568, and later published. It is hazarded without much confidence, but certain circumstances suggest that it may possibly be correct.

To return to the management of the Letters in June-July, 1567. The Lords, Mary’s enemies, while perpetually protesting their extreme reluctance to publish Letters to Mary’s discredit, had now sent the rumour of them all through Europe. Spain, and de Silva, were at that time far from friendly to Mary. On July 21, 1567, de Silva writes: ‘I mentioned to the Queen [Elizabeth] that I had been told that the Lords held certain letters proving that the Queen [Mary] had been cognisant of the murder of her husband.’ (The Letters, if they prove anything, prove more than that.) ‘She told me it was not true, although Lethington had acted badly in the matter, and if she saw him she would say something that would not be at all to his taste.’ Thus Elizabeth had heard the story about Letters (from Robert Melville, as we indicate later?) and – what had she heard about Lethington?[219] On June 21, the very day of the first inspection of the Letters, Lethington had written to Cecil.[220] On June 28, Lethington tells Cecil that, by Robert Melville’s letters, he understands Cecil’s ‘good acceptance of these noblemen’s quarrel’ for punishment of Darnley’s murder and preservation of the Prince, ‘and her Majesty’s’ (Elizabeth’s) ‘gentle answer by Cecil’s furtherance.’[221] Yet, to de Silva, Elizabeth presently denounced the ill behaviour of Lethington in the matter, and, appearing to desire Mary’s safety, she sent Throckmorton to act in her cause. To the Lords and Lethington, by Robert Melville, she sent a gentle answer: Melville acting for the Lords. To Mary she averred (June 30) that Melville ‘used much earnest speech on your behalf’ (probably accusing Lethington of fraud as to the Letters), ‘yet such is the general report of you to the contrary … that we could not be satisfied by him.’[222] Melville, we must remember, was acting for the Lords, but he is described as ‘heart and soul Mary’s.’ He carried the Lords’ verbal report of the Letters – but he also discredited it, blaming Lethington. Why did he not do so publicly? At the time it was unsafe: later he and Lethington were allies in the last stand of Mary’s party.

We do not know how much Elizabeth knew, or had been told; or how much she believed, or what she meant, by her denunciation of Lethington, as regards his conduct in the affair of the Letters. But we do know that, on June 30, the Lords gave the lie, as in later proclamations they repeatedly did, to their own story that they had learned the whole secret of Mary’s guilt on June 21. On June 30, they issued, under Mary’s name, and under her signet, a summons against Bothwell, for Darnley’s murder, and ‘for taking the Queen’s most noble person by force to her Castle of Dunbar, detaining her, and for fear of her life making her promise to marry him.’[223] The Lords of Council in Edinburgh, at this time, were Morton (confessedly privy to the murder, and confessedly banded with Bothwell to enable him to marry Mary), Lethington, a signer of the band for Darnley’s murder; Balfour, who knew all; Atholl, Home, James Makgill, and the Justice Clerk, Bellenden – who had been in trouble for Riccio’s murder.[224] The same men, several guilty, were spreading privately the rumour of Mary’s wicked Letters: and, at the same hour, were publicly absolving her, in their summons to Bothwell. As late as July 14, they spoke to Throckmorton of Mary, ‘with respect and reverence,’ while alleging that ‘for the Lord Bothwell she would leave her kingdom and dignity to live as a simple damsel with him.’ Who can believe one word that such men spoke?

They assured Throckmorton that du Croc ‘carried with him matter little to the Queen’s’ (Mary’s) ‘advantage:’ possibly, though not certainly, an allusion to his copies of the Letters of her whom they spoke of ‘with respect and reverence,’ and promised ‘to restore to her estate’ – if she would abandon Bothwell.[225]

‘I never saw greater confusion among men,’ says Throckmorton, ‘for often they change their opinions.’ They were engaged in ‘continual preaching and common prayer.’ On July 21, they assured Elizabeth that Mary was forced to be Bothwell’s wife ‘by fear and other unlawful means,’ and that he kept his former wife in his house, and would not have allowed Mary to live with him for half a year. Yet Mary was so infatuated that, after her surrender, ‘he offered to give up realm and all, so she might enjoy him.’ This formula, we shall see later, the Lords placed thrice in Mary’s mouth, first in a reported letter of January, 1567 (never produced), next in a letter of Kirkcaldy to Cecil (April 20), and now (July 21).[226]

At this time of Throckmorton’s mission, Lethington posed to him thus. ‘Do you not see that it does not lie in my power to do that I would fainest do, which is to save the Queen, my mistress, in estate, person, and in honour?’ He declared that the preachers, the populace, and the chief nobles wished to take Mary’s life.[227] Lethington thus drove his bargain with Throckmorton. ‘If Elizabeth interferes,’ he said in sum, ‘Mary dies, despite my poor efforts, and Elizabeth loses the Scottish Alliance.’ But Throckmorton believed that Lethington really laboured to secure Mary’s life and honour. His true object was to keep her immured. Randolph, as we saw, accuses him to his face of advising Mary’s execution, or assassination. By his present course with Throckmorton he kept Elizabeth’s favour: he gave himself out as Mary’s friend.