21
THERE IS NO EVIDENCE, APART from the later libels of Lennox and Buchanan, that Mary was involved in an illicit affair with Bothwell at this time. Had she been carrying on so blatantly with him in the way Buchanan described, Drury—ever avid for malicious gossip—would have got to hear of it. Nevertheless, Mary’s increasing reliance upon Bothwell, and the favour she had shown to him since Darnley’s murder had given rise to speculation that she would marry him. She must have been aware of this speculation, and of the fact that Bothwell’s wife had filed for divorce, but that does not mean to say that she meant to marry him, as her enemies later alleged; in fact, events would show rather the opposite.
In the minds of many, Mary’s association with the man who was the chief suspect in Darnley’s murder, and the rumours of her conduct during what was supposed to be her mourning period, condemned her as being as guilty as he, and her failure to heed the warnings of her friends to bring him to justice and pursue his accomplices had exposed her to growing public opprobrium. That she was ill, both in mind and body, and therefore predisposed to lean upon a strong man who offered her succour and had doubtless convinced her of his innocence, was not widely known. Countless monarchs had connived at murder, but most had played the game by the rules and executed a few scapegoats to appease public opinion. Mary, almost certainly being innocent, did not realise what was required of her, and was too scrupulous to accuse those whose guilt was merely the subject of rumour and calumny, even though it was in her interests to do so.
By contrast, Darnley’s reputation—never very good during his lifetime— had been miraculously rehabilitated, as people remembered his youth and his terrible end. The crimes he had committed were forgotten, as was his unpopularity. Ironically, he, a Catholic who had plotted the overthrow of the Protestant establishment in Scotland, became a tragic figurehead in their conspiracy against Bothwell, which is the measure of the success of the propaganda campaign against Bothwell and the Queen.1Had Mary acted decisively at this point, she could have saved her reputation and her throne. But she did not, and, for reasons of their own, her chief advisers did not press the matter, and may well have blocked any attempts on the Queen’s part to institute a more rigorous inquiry into the murder. Without their support and help, her hands were tied.
Even if Mary was convinced of Bothwell’s innocence, as seems likely, she must have realised that Darnley’s murder had been planned by people in high places with a vested interest in getting rid of him. There is no evidence that she suspected Morton and the Douglases, but they would have been obvious suspects, since Darnley had betrayed them and Scottish nobles were renowned for their vengeful blood feuds. Neither is there any evidence that, at this stage, Mary believed that Moray and Maitland were behind the murder, although, given what had happened at Craigmillar, she may have had her suspicions. It would have taken a less scrupulous and more ruthless statesman than she to bring any of these Lords to justice, and, lacking any hard evidence against them, Mary was not the person to risk falsely accusing them. It is uncertain anyway that she was capable of decisive action at this time, and her incapacity made it possible for Bothwell and her other Councillors to bend her to their will.
According to Sir John Forster at Alnwick,2on 10 April 1567, Lennox, having left Glasgow with 3,000 men of his affinity, arrived at Linlithgow, only to be informed that he was permitted to take just six supporters with him to Edinburgh, where Bothwell’s trial was to take place two days hence. This was quite correct: the law allowed the accused to appear at the bar with four attendants, while six were permitted to the accuser. But Lennox had also heard that Edinburgh was already packed with 4,000 of Bothwell’s armed supporters, and believed it would be suicide for him to set foot in the city. This is where the Queen’s inertia showed to her greatest disadvantage for, had she been in control, she should have ensured that the law applied to Bothwell too. But the indications are that she was by now somewhat intimidated by Bothwell, and powerless, in her weakened state, to gainsay him. Thus she laid herself open to accusations of collusion.
Too late, Lennox appealed to his new ally, Moray, for advice, but Moray had already left for England. Lennox therefore decided to send a protest that he dared not enter Edinburgh for fear of his life, and on the following day, he fell back on Stirling.
From there, he wrote to the Queen, alleging that he was ill and unable to travel to Edinburgh to accuse Bothwell, and asking her to imprison the accused and postpone the trial, that he might have “sufficient time” to obtain such evidence as the truth shall be known. Otherwise the suspect persons continuing still at liberty, being great at court and about Your Majesty’s person, comforts and encourages them and theirs, and discourages all others that would give evidence against them. So that, if Your Majesty suffer this short day of law to go forward, I assure Your Majesty you shall have no just trial.
Lennox also asked Mary to invest him with the power to arrest “such persons as he should be informed were present at the murder of his son.”3These were entirely unreasonable demands: Lennox had urged an early trial, and was now complaining about it; he was also demanding the imprisonment of men who had not yet been found guilty, and against whom no shred of evidence had come to light, as well as the right arbitrarily to apprehend those whom he, a mere private subject, suspected. Not surprisingly, his requests were ignored, and he had no choice but to retreat to Glasgow.
At 6 a.m. on 12 April, Queen Elizabeth’s messenger, John Selby, Provost Marshal of Berwick, arrived at Holyrood with her letter urging a postponement of Bothwell’s trial, only to be informed that Queen Mary was not to be disturbed at this early hour.
He therefore returned between 9 and 10 a.m., “when all the Lords and gentlemen were assembled taking their horses,” ready to ride to the Tolbooth. “Then, thinking his opportunity aptest,” he tried to enter the palace, only to find that Bothwell’s followers had guessed his mission and were bent on denying him entry “in very uncourteous manner, not without some violence offered.” Selby, “seeing he could not be permitted to have recourse, as all other persons, whatsoever they were, he requested that some gentleman of credit would undertake faithfully to deliver his letter to the Queen, which none would seem to undertake.”
Thomas Hepburn, Parson of Oldhamstocks, presently appeared, “who told him that the Earl Bothwell had sent him with this message, that the Earl, understanding he had letters for the Queen, would advise him to retire him to his ease or about some other his business, for the Queen was so molested and disquieted with the business of that day, he saw no likelihood of any meet time to serve his turn till after the assize.” Cockburn of Skirling then came out, and “took occasion to reprehend and threaten” Selby “for bringing English villains as sought to procure the stay of the assize, with words of more reproach.”
At that moment, Bothwell emerged with Maitland, and “all the Lords and gentlemen mounted on horseback.” Maitland came over to Selby, “demanding him the letter, which he delivered. The Earl Bothwell and [Maitland] returned to the Queen and stayed there within half an hour, the whole troop of Lords and gentlemen still on horseback attending his coming.” When they returned, Maitland “seemed willing to have passed by Selby without any speech, but he pressed towards him and asked him if the Queen’s Majesty had perused the letter, and what service it would please Her Majesty to command him back again.” Maitland answered that, “as yet, the Queen was sleeping, and therefore he had not delivered the letter, and that there would not be any meet time for it till after the assize,” and told Selby to wait. Just at that moment, however, a servant of du Croc, who was standing beside Selby, pointed up to where the Queen and Mary Fleming were looking out of a window.4Maitland had obviously been lying, but it is unlikely that he showed Mary the letter, for he and Bothwell both had good reasons for wanting the trial to be over before Lennox could track down further witnesses. Nevertheless, the treatment meted out to Queen Elizabeth’s emissary had outrageously breached diplomatic niceties, and there was now no chance of any postponement.
“So, giving place to the throng of people that passed, which was great and, by the estimation of men of good judgement, above four thousand gentlemen besides others, the Earl Bothwell passed with a merry and lusty cheer, attended on with all the soldiers, being two hundred, all arquebusiers, to the Tolbooth.”5
The record of Bothwell’s trial is missing from the official archive known as the Books of Adjournal, but a copy survives in the hand of Justice Clerk Bellenden.6Argyll presided, as Justice-General, and he and Huntly were the chief judges,7being attended by four assessors, Lindsay, Robert Pitcairn, Commendation of Dunfermline James MacGill and a Protestant lawyer, Henry Balnaves.8The jury was composed of Andrew Leslie, Earl of Rothes; George Sinclair, Earl of Caithness; Gilbert Kennedy, Earl of Cassilis; Lord John Hamilton, second son of Chatelherault; James, Lord Ros; Robert, Lord Sempill; John Maxwell, Lord Herries; Laurence, Lord Oliphant; John, Master of Forbes; John Gordon of Lochinvar; Robert, Lord Boyd; James Cockburn of Langton; John Somerville; Mowbray of Barnbougle and Lord Ogilvy of Boyne.9
Buchanan claims that the judges were “picked out to acquit,” but this was hardly a packed jury; according to Bothwell’s own account, “there were some who were more enemies than friends.” Blackwood says they were all of Moray’s faction, but while this is certainly true of Argyll and the assessors, it is an exaggeration in the case of the jury. Rothes, Boyd, Sempill, Forbes and Herries were all at one time or another at odds with Bothwell, or his active enemies, while Hamilton, like Herries, was a staunch Queen’s man, and hated Bothwell for his treatment of Arran. Caithness was Moray’s adherent. The rest were either friendly towards Bothwell or neutral. Morton had craftily excused himself from the jury on the grounds that the King was his kinsman. Lennox’s representative, Robert Cunningham, did not object to any of the jurors.10
The trial lasted seven hours, from noon to 7 p.m. The proceedings opened with the Queen’s advocates producing her letter of 28 March summoning Lennox to bear witness against the accused, then Bothwell’s indictment was read out, accusing him of being “art and part of the odious, treasonable and abominable slaughter” of the King on 9 February last; Buchanan later pointed out that this should have read 10 February, and asserted that the error had been made intentionally in the knowledge that Bothwell could not have been found guilty of a murder committed on the 9th.11 Bothwell then chose two procurators (attorneys), David Borthwick and Edmund Hay. Lennox was called, but his servant Robert Cunningham appeared in his stead, and, declaring that his master’s absence was through fear for his life, lodged a protest that Lennox had not been given sufficient time to prepare his case, and therefore any judgement given by the assize would be in error. Bothwell’s procurators answered that Lennox had desired a “short and summary process,” and produced his letters to prove it, as well as the Order in Council and the Queen’s letter showing that she had complied with this request.
Cunningham produced copies of Lennox’s letters to the Queen, including the one naming Bothwell, Balfour and others as the chief suspects. This was the only evidence offered for the plaintiff, and of course it amounted to nothing. Bothwell claims that he “brought forward” his “own sound witnesses to testify where I had been on the night in question,” and that their evidence was upheld, but there is no mention of them in the official record. The jury retired from the court, “and after long reasoning had by them upon the said dittay and points thereof, they [returned and] acquitted the said James, Earl of Bothwell of art and part of the slaughter of the King, and by their chancellor [foreman], Caithness, protested that no evidence in its support had been brought by the pursuer.” Buchanan states that, despite the verdict, the court had conceded that, “if anyone should later accuse [Bothwell] in proper form and law, this trial would be no impediment.”
Despite de Silva’s assertion that most jurors refused to vote “as they considered the trial was not free,”12Melville later stated that the jurors had acquitted Bothwell, “some for fear, some for favour, and the greatest part in expectation of advantage.” In a letter to Sir Nicholas Throckmorton,13Robert Melville afterwards expressed the view that Bothwell had overawed the assize at his trial, and Drury alleged that the Earl’s arquebusiers “kept the door that none might enter but such as were more for one side than the other.”14 The presence of Bothwell’s huge following was certainly intimidating, but even if they had not been there, the outcome would have been the same, for no evidence had been offered against him. Yet the whole affair was undoubtedly a travesty of justice, for had Lennox been granted the time he needed to procure witnesses and evidence, he might well have constructed a better case against Bothwell. But too many people were determined that that should never be allowed to happen. Leslie claims that Morton, Sempill and Lindsay, “with their adherents and affinity, especially procured, and with all diligence laboured, his purgation and acquittal.” As only Sempill sat on the jury, this suggests that these three were perhaps behind Bothwell’s intimidation of Lennox prior to the trial.
Bothwell walked from the Tolbooth a free man. The Court Recorder wrote that the Earl “was made clean of the said slaughter, albeit that it was heavily murmured that he was guilty thereof,”15and the general opinion was that he had not been “cleansed of the crime, but, as it were, washed with cobbler’s blacking.”16According to Buchanan, after “this jolly acquittal,” “suspicion was increased and retribution seemed only to be postponed.”
Having named Morton, Ruthven, Lindsay, Sempill, Maitland and MacGill as “some who were more enemies than friends,” Bothwell states that, “when my enemies and other opponents heard that I had been completely acquitted and had won the day, they at once came round begging me not to proceed against them for all the false charges they had brought against me. But their words did not reflect in any way the thoughts in their hearts, as I have since had reason to know.”17Their support during his trial, which had been given in the interests of their own self-preservation, had led Bothwell to believe that they were still his allies.
As he left the Tolbooth, Bothwell defiantly “fixed a cartel to the door,” on which was written a challenge, “wherein he offered to fight in single contest against any gentleman undefamed that durst charge him with the murder.”18 He then sent a town crier around Edinburgh to proclaim the verdict and had placards and letters bearing his own seal and repeating his challenge posted around the city, daring all comers to meet him in combat to “be taught the truth.”19
Bothwell claims that “not a man took up my challenge,” but in fact, on the following day, he received three anonymous answers: one calling him “the chief author of the foul and horrible murder,” while the second named James, Robert and Gilbert Balfour, Archibald Beaton, Spens, Borthwick and Sandy Durham as devisers with him of the murder, and Ormiston, Beanston, Hepburn, Hay, the Blackadders, Cullen, Wilson and four others as active accomplices; at the foot of this were three lines linking Mary with Bothwell in murder and adultery:
Is it not enough the poor King is dead,
But the wicked murderers occupy his stead,
And double adultery has all this land shamed?
The third answer, which was stuck to the Mercat Cross, stated, “There is none that professes Christ and His Evangel that can with upright conscience part Bothwell and his wife, albeit she prove him an abominable adulterer and worse, as he has murdered the husband of her he intends to marry, whose promise he had long before the murder.”20
Since these answers were all anonymous, there was nothing that Bothwell could do about them.
On 14 April, Parliament met. The Queen was not present on this occasion,21 but two days later, she made her first public appearance since Darnley’s death, going in procession to the Tolbooth, accompanied by Argyll, Morton, Huntly, Bothwell and others, and surrounded by arquebusiers instead of the bailies of Edinburgh, as was customary. Bothwell, as Lord Admiral, rode before the Queen, bearing her sceptre. Melville says that, having been acquitted, Bothwell “remained still the greatest favourite at court,” and when Parliament appointed the Lords of the Articles, who were responsible for preparing the business of the Estates, his name was among them, along with those of Morton, Argyll, Huntly and twelve others.22
Parliament’s business began in earnest on the 17th. Dunbar Castle was formally secured to Bothwell as a reward for his great and manifold service to the Crown, but there is no record of his acquittal being ratified, as he later asserted in his memoirs.23
Moray had reached London on 16 April. The next day, according to de Silva,24 he “was with the Queen for a long time, but I have not been able to learn what passed. It is announced that he will go by Germany to Genoa, or else by way of France, where some people think he will remain.” On the 19th, Moray visited de Silva at his house, and it was on this occasion that he told him that he had left Scotland because he feared “something unpleasant might befall him” through the machinations of Bothwell. He referred disparagingly to the delay in punishing Darnley’s murderers, and, “although he did not name any particular person, it was easy to understand by his discourse that he considers Bothwell to be guilty.”
De Silva asked Moray if the statement about the divorce between Bothwell and his wife was true, and he said it was. As he tells the story, it appears to be a somewhat novel form of divorce, as it is on the petition of the wife. They had been married hardly a year and a half, and she alleges adultery. I asked him whether there had been any ill treatment or quarrel to account for the divorce, to which he replied that there had been none, but that the wife had taken proceedings at the instance of her brother Huntly, who, to curry favour with Bothwell, had persuaded her to do so, and, at Bothwell’s request, the Earl was to be restored to his position in the Parliament.
This, of course, is at variance with Drury’s earlier report that Huntly misliked the divorce and had had to be persuaded to agree to it.
Moray told de Silva “he had heard that the divorce would be effected in order that the Queen might marry Bothwell, but he did not believe it, considering the Queen’s position and her great virtue, as well as the events which have taken place. It really seems improbable, she being a Catholic, and the divorce for such a reason as that alleged.” We may infer from this that, despite what was later written about Mary under Moray’s auspices, he still had a good opinion of her.
De Silva later discussed the matter with the French ambassador, but the latter was “certain that, if the divorce is effected, the Queen will marry [Bothwell].”
The Scottish Parliament met for its last day of business on 19 April, when the Queen finally ratified the Acts of the Reformation Parliament of 1560; since she had hitherto refused to do so, her capitulation on this issue has been seen as a concession to the Protestant establishment in return for its support for her marriage to Bothwell, but there is no credible evidence that Mary had any intention of marrying Bothwell at this time. Her ratification may well have been the result of Bothwell taking advantage of her weakened state to pressurise her into it, on the basis that—as Buchanan believed—this measure would go some way towards soothing public opinion after the Earl’s acquittal.
Parliament also confirmed grants of land and restitutions to Huntly, Sir Richard Maitland, David Chalmers and others, as well as Moray’s title to his earldom and Mar’s governorship of Stirling Castle. An Act was passed making it a capital offence to set up or even read seditious placards, and eleven forfeitures, including Morton’s, were reduced; nine benefited members of the Gordon family.25This has been seen as an attempt by Mary to buy support for Bothwell’s divorce, but as it had been her intention since 1565 to formally restore Huntly to his lands, she could hardly exempt the rest of his family from the general reversal of attainders.
The distribution of favours by Parliament to several persons implicated in Darnley’s murder suggests that Bothwell and the other Protestant Lords were now in control and that the Queen virtually did as she was bidden. Bothwell’s word was more or less law, and according to a letter written by Kirkcaldy of Grange to Bedford on 8 May,26“the most part of the nobility, for fear of their lives, granted sundry things against their honours and consciences.”
On the day Parliament rose, Drury reported that the man who had cried for vengeance in the night had been arrested and “shut up in a prison which they call, for the loathsomeness of the place, the foul thief’s pit.”27He also reported the secret murder and burial of “a servant of James Balfour (who was at the murder of the King), supposed upon very lively presumptions for utterance of some matter, either by remorse of conscience or other folly, that might tend to the whole discovery of the King’s death.” The implication was, of course, that Balfour had murdered him. Drury added that Balfour, “for some fear he conceives, keeps his house, especially in the night, under great watch and guard.”28In the wake of the placards that continued to link him to Darnley’s murder, Balfour doubtless feared reprisals on the part of a vengeful citizenry.
Bothwell had decided that the time was now ripe to bring his plans to fruition. On the evening of the day when Parliament rose, he gave a supper for the Lords. The venue is disputed, but most accounts state it took place at Ainslie’s Tavern in Edinburgh, the site of which is now unknown. TheBook of Articles asserts that the supper was held in Bothwell’s lodging in Holyrood Palace, in an obvious attempt to imply the Queen’s collusion, but this was probably not big enough to accommodate such a large company.
The purpose of this supper was not just the celebration of Bothwell’s acquittal. When the guests were suitably replete with food and wine, Bothwell produced a bond and asked them to subscribe to it. This bond was to serve as proof of their support for Bothwell against his enemies, and, more importantly, for his marriage to the Queen. The latter part of it read:
Weighing and considering the time present, and how our sovereign the Queen’s Majesty is now destitute of an husband, in the which solitary state the commonwealth of this realm may not permit Her Highness to continue and endure, but at some time Her Highness may be inclined to yield unto a marriage; and therefore, in case the former affectionate and hearty service of the said Earl done to Her Majesty from time to time and his other good qualities and behaviour may move Her Majesty so far to humble herself as preferring one of her native-born subjects unto all foreign princes, to take to husband the said Earl, we, and every one of us undersubscribing, upon our honours and fidelity, promise not only to advance and set forward the marriage with our votes, counsel, fortification and assistance in word and deed at such time as it shall please Her Majesty to think it convenient; but in case any would presume directly or indirectly, openly or under whatsoever colour or pretence, to hinder, hold back or disturb the same marriage, we shall in that behalf esteem, hold and repute the hinderers, adversaries or disturbers thereof as our common enemies and evil willers; and, notwithstanding the same, take part and fortify the said Earl to the said marriage, so far as it may please our Sovereign Lady to allow.29
The last sentence suggests that Bothwell’s plans hinged upon Mary’s consent to the marriage, which had yet to be given. It would have been logical for him to wait until he was cleared of Darnley’s murder before approaching her, and he desired the support of the Lords not only as an insurance for the future, but also as ammunition with which to persuade the Queen to the marriage. If it had the consent of her nobility, she might well give serious consideration to it.
The surprising thing is that most of the Lords present at the supper, both Protestant and Catholic, signed the bond. The original bond, on which there were supposed to be 28 or 29 signatures, no longer exists, but the lists of signatories on the surviving copies do not agree, so it is not possible to be absolutely certain as to who the signatories were. The copy attested by Balfour lists Archbishop Hamilton and the Bishops of Ross, Aberdeen, Galloway, Dunblane, Brechin, Orkney and the Isles,30the Earls of Argyll, Huntly, Morton, Cassilis, Sutherland, Errol, Crawford, Caithness and Rothes, and Lords Boyd, Glamis, Ruthven, Sempill, Ogilvy, Herries and Fleming. Ruthven, however, is known not to have signed.
The list made by Buchanan’s clerk, John Reed, for Cecil in 1568,31which was compiled from memory, differs: Moray’s name heads the list of earls, although he was out of the country at the time and Mary’s confessor later confirmed to de Silva that Moray had not signed the original Bond;32Errol, Crawford, Glamis, Ruthven and Fleming do not appear, and Glencairn (who was not in Edinburgh just then), Seton, Sinclair, Oliphant, Home, Ross of Halkhead, Carlyle and Innermeith are added.33Home was Bothwell’s rival and is unlikely to have signed. Maitland’s signature is not included in either list, and Mar’s was not sought. Lord Eglinton, a Catholic supporter of the Queen, “subscribed not but slipped away,”34while Melville rejected “the large offers made by the Earl of Bothwell when he desired me to subscribe with the rest of his flatterers” and “chose rather to lay myself open to his hatred and revenge.”
Bothwell claimed in his memoirs that the Lords “came to me entirely of their own account and did me the honour of offering their support and friendship”; they told him “that they would never agree to [the Queen] marrying a foreigner, [and] said that I was the most worthy of her in the kingdom. They had thought it over and had decided to do all they could to bring about such a marriage.” Yet in 1568, the Lords told Elizabeth’s Commissioners that they had not signed the bond until Bothwell had produced a warrant from the Queen authorising them to do so.35
However, it is more likely that Bothwell persuaded them to sign either by getting them drunk, or by bribery, promises of patronage to come or intimidation. It was alleged that his 200 arquebusiers had surrounded the tavern and could be seen through the windows, but Grange does not mention them, or the Queen’s warrant, in a letter sent to Bedford the following day, reporting the events of the evening before.36Nau was probably correct when he wrote that “some helped [Bothwell] honestly through friendship, others from fear, being in dread of their lives; others dissembled, meaning through him to carry out their own secret ends and private designs.” More sinisterly, though, he claims that the Queen’s enemies, “having used [Bothwell] to rid themselves of the King, designed to make [him] their instrument to ruin the Queen”; they had therefore signed the bond to induce her to marry Bothwell “so that they might charge her with being in the plot against her late husband and a consenting party to his death.” This later became the accepted Catholic view of the matter, and may not be far from the truth.
The following day, according to Buchanan, some Lords regretted signing the bond and frankly declared that, if they had not believed that it would please the Queen, they would never have assented. For besides that the business was not very honest, there was always the danger that (as they remembered with her former husband) a quarrel might occur and Bothwell might be thrown aside. Then they themselves might become criminals for having betrayed the Queen and compelled her to enter into an unworthy marriage. Therefore, before the matter was settled, they thought it necessary to ascertain her wishes and obtain a statement signed by her own hand to the effect that what they had done in respect of the marriage was agreeable to her. This was easily obtained, and it was entrusted to the Earl of Argyll.
This account gives the lie to the allegation made in 1568, by Buchanan and others, that the Queen’s warrant had been produced the previous evening; furthermore, there is no evidence that Argyll ever had in his possession any statement of approval signed by Mary on 20 April.
On that day, Mary went to Seton for the fourth time since Darnley’s death. As she had gone there on the three previous occasions for the sake of her health, it is reasonable to suppose that that was the reason for this visit. Later that day, she was joined there by Bothwell, Maitland and Patrick Bellenden.37Bothwell had with him the Ainslie’s Tavern Bond, and when he arrived, he wasted no time in showing it to the Queen and proposing marriage to her.38In a letter to the Bishop of Dunblane, she made it clear that this was the first time he had paid suit to her, saying that “he began afar off to discover his intentions to us, and to essay if he might, by humble suit, purchase our good will, to which our answer was in no degree correspondent to his desire.”39
In rejecting Bothwell out of hand, Mary was taking into consideration the fact that he was married, a heretic and a mere subject, and that their marriage would fatally prejudice future relations with England. More crucially, such a union would, for Mary, be political suicide, for, since Bothwell was still believed by many to be Darnley’s chief assassin, she would risk being deemed guilty by association if she married him. Already tongues were wagging about them, and in the present climate she dared not expose herself to further scandal.
Bothwell took the Queen’s refusal in good part, and changed the subject, laying forth “his plans to punish the Liddesdale thieves.”40
Bothwell claims that the Lords “discussed the matter at once with the Queen, to see how our marriage could take place before the solemn assembly of Church and Parliament.”41Maitland and Bellenden were at Seton on behalf of the Lords and the Council. Maitland, who, under cover of giving Bothwell his support, was possibly engineering his ruin by giving the Lords a pretext to move against him, advised Mary that “it had become absolutely necessary that some remedy should be provided for the disorder into which the public affairs of the realm had fallen for want of a head.” This in itself is an admission that Mary herself had lost political control. Maitland informed Mary that the Lords “had unanimously resolved to press her to take Bothwell for her husband. They knew that he was a man of resolution, well adapted to rule, the very character needed to give weight to the decisions and actions of the Council. All of them therefore pleaded in his favour.” Significantly, Leslie claims that those who later found fault with the marriage “were then the principal inventors, practisers, persuaders and compassers of the same.”
According to Nau, who seems to be exaggerating somewhat, “this poor Princess, inexperienced in such devices, was circumvented on all sides by persuasions, requests and importunities, both in general memorials signed by [the Lords’] hands and presented to her in full Council, and by private letters.” Yet Mary remained adamant, even in the face of a second petition by Maitland and Bellenden. “She reminded them of the reports which were current about the death of the late King, her husband,” but Maitland replied that Lord Bothwell had been legally acquitted by the Council. They who made this request to her did so for the public good of the realm, and as they were the highest of the nobility, it would be for them to vindicate a marriage brought about by their advice and authority. In the end, Her Majesty asked them to assemble the Estates in order that the question might be considered. Thus vehemently urged in this matter, and perceiving that Bothwell was entirely cleared from the crime laid to his charge, [and] suspecting, moreover, nothing more than what appeared on the surface, she began to give ear to their overtures, without letting it be openly seen. She remained in this state of hesitation partly because of the conflicting reports which were current at the time, partly because she had no force sufficiently strong to punish the rebels by whom (if the truth must be told) she was rather commanded than consulted, and ruled rather than obeyed.42
Sir William Kirkcaldy of Grange was hailed as the greatest soldier of his day: Nau calls him “a very brave gentleman,” while Melville says “he was meek like a lamb in the house, but like a lion in the fields”; yet his heroic reputation belies the fact that he had been a spy in the pay of the English since 1546, and was also dishonest, treacherous and a born intriguer. Grange had been at university in Paris with Thomas Randolph, who had become a long-standing friend, and he had years ago embraced the reformed faith. As a committed Anglophile, he loathed Bothwell—he had been conspicuous by his absence from Ainslie’s Tavern—and was hostile towards Mary, although she was unaware of this, and seems to have regarded him as a latter-day knight errant. Grange, for his part, was convinced that Mary had been an accessory to Darnley’s murder. Nau later asserted that Moray had “chiefly trusted the Laird of Grange with the execution of [his] designs, and Grange was the tool of Moray and [Maitland].”
Anything written by Grange therefore has to be treated with caution. On 20 April, almost certainly mindful of the instructions left him by Moray, he wrote to Bedford:
It may please you to let me understand what will be your sovereign’s part concerning the late murder among us. Albeit Her Majesty was slow in our last troubles, and lost favour, we bore to her yet; if she will pursue revenge for the murder, she will win the hearts of all honest Scotsmen again. And, if we understand she would favour us, we shall not be long in revenging it.
The next section in the letter relates the business of Parliament, and Grange alleges, incorrectly, that the Queen caused ratify in Parliament the cleansing of Bothwell. She intends to take the Prince out of Mar’s hands and put him in Bothwell’s keeping, who murdered his father. The night Parliament was dissolved, Bothwell called most of the noblemen to supper, to desire their promise in writing and consent to the Queen’s marriage, which he will obtain; for she has said she cares not to lose France, England and her own country for him, and shall go with him to the world’s end in a white petticoat before she leaves him. Yea, she is so far past all shame that she has caused make an Act of Parliament against all that set up any writing that speaks anything of him. Whatever is unhonest reigns presently in our court.
Grange ended by asking Bedford to have copies of the placards answering Bothwell’s challenge printed for distribution on the Continent.43Clearly, he and his English paymasters had been actively involved in the smear campaign against Bothwell, and it may well have been Grange who had sent Drury copies of the placards. In August, Bedford was to petition Queen Elizabeth to send Grange “a token of remembrance” for the intelligence he had furnished to the English government.44
Grange’s letter, with its request for English support, is proof that some design was intended against Bothwell and Mary by the Lords. It is peppered with lies and distortions, and the famous “white petticoat” quote attributed to Mary, of which so much has been made by so many historians, is probably no more than a malicious invention, designed to inflame public opinion in England against a queen whom Grange and his masters wanted overthrown. No one else reported these remarks, and it is highly unlikely that Mary uttered them for Grange’s ear alone. The fact that Grange later changed sides and became one of the Queen’s stoutest adherents shows that he came in time to understand how badly she had been calumniated by men like himself.