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THE YORK CONFERENCE OPENED ON 4 October 1568. The first four days were taken up with preliminary formalities: on the 5th, Moray and his colleagues agreed to the form of the oath to be sworn by the commissioners, but this was objected to on the next day by Mary’s commissioners, Herries saying he was willing to swear to nothing but what was just and true, but not to swear to all he knew to be true:1in other words, he was prepared to tell the truth, but not the whole truth. Some historians have inferred from this that he did not believe Mary to be innocent, but it may be that she did not wish her commissioners to disclose intimate information that might touch her honour. Nor might they have wanted to reveal unpalatable truths about Bothwell that might compromise Mary’s position. In the event, they did swear an oath on 7 October, but affirmed as they did so that Mary was a sovereign princess who acknowledged no judge; they also referred to Elizabeth’s promise to them to restore Mary. In turn, Moray and the other Scottish commissioners swore to declare the cause why they had taken up arms against their Queen and deposed her.
As Mary was the plaintiff, her commissioners were heard first. On 8 October, they laid her complaints against Moray and the Confederate Lords, accusing them of taking up arms against their lawful sovereign, deposing and incarcerating her, usurping the Regency and compelling her to seek justice from her royal cousin. Furthermore, they had ruined her reputation by “feigned and false reports.” In answer, Moray claimed that the Lords had been intimidated into signing the Ainslie’s Tavern Bond by the presence of Bothwell’s armed retainers; that Mary had relinquished sovereign power to the traitor Bothwell; and that after Carberry Hill, she had rigorously menaced all who had taken part against Bothwell, which had left the Lords with no option but to imprison her until Darnley’s murderers had been brought to justice. He insisted that she had abdicated voluntarily, which was a blatant lie, and that his Regency had been ratified by Parliament.2
The next day, Mary’s commissioners restated her case in writing, in what became known as the Book of Complaints. When this was submitted, Moray asked for time in which to frame a reply. His own complaint was submitted in writing on 10 October.
Between sessions, there was a great deal of “off the record” discussion between the various commissioners; Norfolk, as chairman, had made it his business to sound out all the principals. On 9 October, Moray privately asked him if the English commissioners had the authority to pronounce on Mary’s guilt, and, if she were found guilty, whether she would be delivered up to the Scots for punishment or kept in prison in England. He said that, until the present, he had preferred to conceal Mary’s infamy—regardless of the fact that he had sent Elizabeth a copy of the Act of Parliament accusing his sister of Darnley’s murder—but before he took the irrevocable step of charging her with murder and producing his evidence, he must know how, if he proved his charges, he and his colleagues would be protected from Mary’s vengeance. Consequently, he would not accuse her until he had a written guarantee that, if found guilty, she would not be restored, and Elizabeth would recognise the government of King James.
Norfolk should have informed Mary’s commissioners of Moray’s concerns, but instead he secretly forwarded the Regent’s requests immediately to London, then adjourned the conference in order to give Elizabeth and her Privy Council time to consider them. Clearly, Moray did not want to produce the Casket Letters if there was any chance of Mary returning to Scotland.
The next day, the English commissioners sent a report to Queen Elizabeth, informing her that the Regent had as yet said nothing publicly about Darnley’s murder, since he was was waiting for her reassurance that his evidence was sufficient to condemn Mary; again, Moray was trying to secure a judgement before presenting his evidence. To this end, Maitland, MacGill, Buchanan and Wood had privately, and most irregularly, shown the English commissioners “such matter as they have to condemn the Queen of Scots of the murder of her husband,” viz. a copy of the Ainslie’s Tavern Bond and a warrant allegedly signed by Mary on 19 April 1567 approving it, the two marriage contracts from the Casket Documents, Mary’s two letters (Casket Letters VI and VII) apparently consenting to her abduction, Casket Letter I, Casket Letter II—“one horrible and long letter of her own hand, containing foul matter and abominable to be either thought of or to be written by a prince”—“divers fond ballads” and another letter that purportedly proved that Mary had incited the quarrel on 8 February 1567 between Darnley and Lord Robert Stewart, in the hope that Stewart would kill Darnley; no copy of this letter has survived. As for Casket Letter II and the love “sonnets,” they did, according to Norfolk, discover such inordinate love between [Mary] and Bothwell, her loathing and abhorrence of her husband that was murdered, in such sort as every good and godly man cannot but detest and abhor the same.
The Lords had sworn and affirmed that these letters and poems were all written by Mary’s hand. Much swayed by the evidence, the English commissioners observed that the matter contained in them [was] such as could hardly be invented or devised by any other than by herself, for that they discourse of some things which were unknown to any other than to herself and Bothwell; and it is hard to counterfeit so many, so the matter of them, and the manner how these men came by them, is such, as it seemeth, that God, in Whose sight murder and bloodshed of the innocent is abominable, would not permit the same to be hid or concealed.
Norfolk and his colleagues enclosed for their sovereign’s perusal a paper on which they had noted the chief and special points of the said letters, written, as they say, with her own hand, to the intent it may please Your Majesty to consider of them, and so to judge whether the same be sufficient to convict her of the detestable crime of the murder of her husband, which, in our opinions and consciences, if the said letters be written with her own hand, is very hard to be avoided.3
Copies of these documents should also have been made available to Mary’s commissioners, but political considerations took priority over legal niceties throughout this inquiry, and the Lords were determined that Mary should not have the opportunity to comment on their evidence before Elizabeth had seen it. Moreover, this evidence was so contentious that the English commissioners dared not draw any conclusions until they knew what Elizabeth’s view would be. Although they had professed to be shocked by the letters, they had made it clear that any condemnation of Mary would depend upon whether the letters had in fact been written by her.
This was a crucial point. The paper that was sent to Elizabeth by her commissioners survives in the Cotton MSS. in the British Library, and contains extracts in Scots from Casket Letters I and II. Therefore the letters shown to Norfolk, Sussex and Sadler must have been in Scots. However, the Lords were ready “to swear and take their oaths” that these letters were the originals in Mary’s own hand.4As she normally wrote in French and was not very proficient in Scots, and as there is technical evidence (such as errors in translation) that the original Casket Letters were in French, these letters in Scots could not have been written by Mary.
Moray had also taken the trouble to send copies of the Casket Letters to Cecil, and later noted that these were delivered to the Secretary on 15 October.
Moray was not the only one to indulge in underhand practices. By 11 October, Maitland had leaked a copy or copies of at least one of the Casket Letters to Mary, perhaps with the help of his wife, Mary Fleming, and sent a note asking how he could best assist her. She replied that he should pacify Moray, speak a word in her favour to Norfolk, look upon Leslie as her friend, and use all his influence to “stay these rigorous accusations.”5Maitland, more than most people, must have known the truth about the Casket Letters. Had they been genuine, it is unlikely that he would have wished to help Mary. But he himself was probably implicated heavily in Darnley’s murder, and his conscience now seems to have been troubling him. He would have sent the letters to Mary so that she could prepare her defence against them. Mary, for her part, naturally did not want such shocking and defamatory accusations against her to be made public.
Maitland also made it his business to warn Mary’s commissioners that the Lords had shown their evidence to Elizabeth’s commissioners.
On 12 October, Mary’s commissioners asked the English commissioners for time to frame a reply to Moray’s response to the charges. Then they rode off to Bolton to tell Mary what Maitland had told them. That day, Norfolk wrote to the Earl of Pembroke, giving him to believe he thought the letters to be genuine. But Norfolk, for reasons of self-interest, did not want them to be made public: Elizabeth was childless, and if she died, Mary might well become Queen of England. She would not readily forgive those who had helped to publicly brand her an adulteress and murderess.
When Herries and his colleagues returned to York on 13 October, Norfolk asked them to apply to Mary to have their remit extended, so that they could “treat, conclude and determine of all matters and causes whatsoever in controversy between her and her subjects.” The next day, Moray reiterated his answer to the Book of Complaints, reserving his right to “eik” (add to or amplify) his statement.
Meanwhile, Mary had been complaining to Sir Francis Knollys of the clandestine proceedings at York, and told him that, if the Lords “will fall to extremity, they shall be answered roundly and to the full, and then we are past all reconciliation.” On 15 October, Knollys warned Norfolk that Mary was aware of what was going on behind her back.
On the 16th, Mary’s commissioners delivered their formal written reply to Moray’s written complaint of 10 and 14 October. They said that, if Bothwell was the murderer of the King, that circumstance had been unknown to Mary at the time of their marriage, and that the Lords who afterwards accused him of that crime had urged her to marry him; furthermore, the marriage had taken place after his acquittal. Later, these same Lords had never made any serious attempt to apprehend Bothwell. At Carberry Hill, misled by Grange’s fair words, Mary had entrusted herself to the honour and loyalty of her Lords, but had been miserably deceived. It was stressed that she had abdicated only after being threatened with execution.
This, of course, was the truth, and it complicated matters. That day, Norfolk wrote to Cecil that this cause was the doubtfulest and dangerest that ever I dealt in; if you saw and heard the constant affirming of both sides, not without great stoutness, you would wonder! You shall find in the end [that] as there be some few in this company that mean plainly and truly, so there be others that seek wholly to serve their own private turns.
Norfolk himself would shortly be numbered among the latter. Later that day, whilst hawking at Cawood, Maitland sought him out in private and informed him that the Casket Letters had almost certainly been forged, since many people could imitate Mary’s handwriting; he had even occasionally done it himself. This revelation, startling as it was, was but a preamble to the real purpose of the meeting. For Maitland had thought of a solution to the present impasse, and suggested to a highly receptive Norfolk that it might be to his advantage to consider marriage with the Queen of Scots; he was certain that, if she married the premier English Protestant peer, the Lords would be willing to restore her to her throne. Later on, Mary, or her heir, might inherit the English crown, Maitland’s dream of an Anglo-Scottish dynastic alliance would become reality, and he himself would prosper under a grateful sovereign, having expunged his earlier crimes.
The fact that Norfolk was prepared to contemplate such a marriage—or was dazzled by the prospect of the crown of Scotland and also, perhaps, that of England—suggests that he was not as shocked by the Casket Letters as some historians have believed. He was possibly reassured by Maitland’s revelation that they had been forged; on the other hand, he may not have cared too much, given what he stood to gain by this proposed union. Indeed, he would give everyone cause to believe he still thought Mary guilty.
However, Norfolk was also aware that there was a clause in his commission that threatened anyone contemplating marrying Mary with a traitor’s death. It was this that held him back from giving Maitland a final answer. However, he did reveal that Elizabeth had no intention of restoring Mary or finding her guilty; all she desired, he told Maitland, was an excuse to keep the Queen of Scots a prisoner in England. Then, if in the future she wished to restore her, there would be no bar to her doing so. Maitland told Norfolk he should inform Moray of Elizabeth’s intentions, for if Moray thought there was any chance of Mary’s restoration, he would not dare to produce any evidence against her. This would have suited Maitland very well.6
Maitland saw to it that a rumour of the proposed marriage was disseminated amongst the commissioners at York, and one morning a hopeful Leslie presented himself at Norfolk’s lodging, asking the Duke to confirm the bruit that he bore a certain goodwill towards Queen Mary. Around this time, Norfolk—who now had a very good reason for wanting Mary cleared of murder— took Maitland’s advice and told Moray that, “albeit the Queen had done, or suffered harm to be done, to the King her husband,” for the sake of her son, he did not wish to see “our future Queen,” accused or dishonoured. He said that, although he had been sent to hear Moray’s accusation, neither he nor Elizabeth would pass any sentence on her, and he urged Moray not to use the Casket Letters as evidence. Moray told no one of this except Maitland and Melville;7he was now more uncertain than ever as to whether he dared produce the Casket Letters before the commission.
Elizabeth was becoming increasingly unhappy about the way things were going at York. There were too many intrigues behind the scenes, which were causing unnecessary delays. Moray, although he was determined to keep Mary out of Scotland, seemed reluctant to produce any evidence against her. By 16 October, Elizabeth was thinking of adjourning the conference to Westminster, where she and Cecil could keep a close watch on things, and on that day, she sent orders to Norfolk to adjourn the proceedings so that she could lay the issues he had raised before the Privy Council; she also summoned representatives of each party to London “to resolve her of certain difficulties that did arise” between them. She also wanted to find out why Moray and his colleagues forbore “to charge the Queen with guiltiness of the murder.” Three days later, the Queen’s orders and summons reached York, and it was agreed that Maitland, MacGill, Leslie and Kilwinning should go to London. They left on 22 October.
Mary, meanwhile, had been telling Knollys that she “would not greatly mislike” a marriage with a kinsman of Elizabeth. Knollys reported this to Cecil on 20 October, so Mary must have heard from her commissioners of the rumours about Norfolk, who was Elizabeth’s kinsman on her mother’s side. Knollys added that, in his opinion, the Queen could not detain Mary with honour “unless she be utterly disgraced to the world, and the contrary party maintained.” Knollys was now spending many pleasant hours teaching Mary English, and despite his puritanism, was obviously becoming ensnared by her charms.
On 20 and 21 October, the commissioners discussed whether or not Moray should have the Regency, Herries and his friends arguing that the office should have gone to Chatelherault (who was then in London), as heir presumptive after James and the nearest to Mary in blood. Moray retorted that it was for Parliament to choose a governor.8Fearful of the political consequences of his prolonged absence from Scotland, he also urged that the proceedings of the commission be expeditiously concluded.
Mary had now abandoned the idea of a reunion with Bothwell, and on 21 October, authorised her commissioners to consent to the dissolution of their marriage.9At the same time, messengers were sent to Denmark to obtain Bothwell’s agreement to this. Mary had quickly decided that marrying Norfolk would be a sensible solution to her problems, and had already begun to correspond with him. Despite the danger, he was willing to be persuaded, and before long they were addressing each other in very affectionate terms.
After the representatives had left for London, Sussex wrote to Cecil with an incisive summation of the unavoidable outcome of the inquiry:
This matter must at length take end, either by finding the Scotch Queen guilty of the crimes that are objected against her, or by some manner of composition with a show of saving her honour. The first, I think, will hardly be attempted for two causes: the one, for that, if her adverse party accuse her of the murder by producing her letters, she will deny them, and accuse most of them of manifest consent to the murder, hardly to be denied, so as, upon trial on both sides, her proofs will judicially fall best out, as it is thought. I think the best in all respects for the Queen’s Majesty [Elizabeth], if Moray will produce such matter as the Queen’s Majesty may find judicially the Scotch Queen guilty of the murder of her husband, and therewith detain her in England at the charges of Scotland.
Therefore Mary must either be found guilty, “or the matter must be huddled up with a show of saving her honour.”
Sussex went on to say that, if Mary would confirm Moray’s Regency, the Regent would forbear to accuse her and repeal the Act of Parliament declaring her guilty of Darnley’s murder. He added that the Hamiltons wanted her restored because they hated Moray.
Thus do you see how these two factions, for their private causes, toss between them the crown and public affairs of Scotland, and care neither for the mother nor child, but to serve their own turns.
In short, Sussex was disgusted by “the inconstancy and subtleness of the people with whom we deal.”10
Sussex was in effect saying that, even though he (and no doubt most other people) knew that the Scottish Lords were guilty of Darnley’s murder, and that Mary’s testimony would probably demonstrate this, it would be better for Elizabeth if Moray were to produce his letters and give her an excuse to keep Mary in custody. It was really immaterial whether or not Mary was innocent: English interests must be protected. It was therefore imperative that Mary should not be given a chance to appear before the commission to state her case. Clearly, Sussex had little faith in the authenticity of the Casket Letters. Yet, if his summation was correct, it mattered little whether they were genuine or not.
At the same time, Mary was writing to Elizabeth to say that she hoped presently to see a good end to the inquiry, “whereof we may be perpetually indebted to you.”11A day later, she wrote to inform her supporter, the Earl of Cassilis, in Scotland, of “the good proceedings” at York, where nothing had as yet been proved against her. But, unknown to Mary, Elizabeth’s attitude towards her was toughening. On 24 October, Cecil reported that she would not allow the Queen of Scots to be advanced to greater credit than she deserved. It may well be that Elizabeth had heard the rumours about the Norfolk marriage, which she would certainly have seen as a threat to herself; moreover, Norfolk was supposed to be impartial, and should not be inviting accusations of treason by courting the Scottish Queen. As for Mary, this was proof that she would not scruple to plot against Elizabeth. Norfolk himself told Moray he had heard that Elizabeth regarded the continued existence of Bothwell as a useful safeguard against Mary remarrying. Norfolk’s duplicity was probably the deciding factor in Elizabeth’s revoking of the conference to Westminster.
A further sign of her displeasure came on 30 October, when her Council agreed that Moray should be given the assurance he required, in order to make him press his charges against Mary. Confident of success, the Council decided that Mary should be imprisoned in Tutbury Castle once the conference was over. They also agreed that the English commission should be enlarged.
The representatives of both parties had now arrived at Hampton Court. It had been decided that Elizabeth would see Herries and Kilwinning first and make vague promises of desiring “some good end” to the inquiry. Then she would see Maitland and MacGill and tell them that, if they brought a charge of murder against Mary, and “if it may certainly appear to Her Majesty and her Council that the said Queen was guilty, then Her Majesty will never restore her to the crown of Scotland, but will make it manifest to the world what she thinketh of the cause.”12
Leslie, no fool, had already guessed Elizabeth’s intentions, and informed Mary that her cousin’s “determined purpose” would be to wait until Moray and his colleagues had uttered “all they could to your dishonour, to the effect to cause you to come in disdain with the whole subjects of this realm, that ye may be the more unable to attempt anything to her disadvantage.” He warned her that, when the Lords had produced their evidence, Elizabeth would not pass any judgement, but would “transport you up in the country and retain you there till she thinks time to show you favour, which is not likely to be hastily, because of the fear she has herself of your being her un-friend.” Mary’s optimism now began to fade.
In Denmark, Captain John Clerk had been doing his best to gain access to Bothwell, but without success; he also had a commission to arrest Paris, and on 30 October, was lucky enough to track him down, along with one William Murray, Mary’s former Chamberlain. On that day, Clerk gave Bothwell’s keeper, Peter Oxe, a receipt for the two men, whom he planned to take back with him to Scotland to face trial and punishment.13On 20 November, Clerk wrote to inform Cecil of the arrest of Paris, so clearly his arrest was considered to be of the greatest importance. Here was a key witness to Darnley’s murder, who could give evidence before the commissioners. Yet Paris was never called upon to do this. In fact, he was not brought home to Scotland until long after the inquiry had ended. The inference must be that Paris knew too much about the Lords’ involvement in Darnley’s murder.
Elizabeth had certainly heard the rumours about Norfolk’s plan to marry Mary14when, on 3 November, she informed him that, “to take away the delay of time,” the next session of the inquiry would be held at Westminster15 with the Privy Council and the principal peers of the realm being required to attend. Mary was told that the adjournment had been made so that “her restitution may be devised with surety to the Prince her son and the nobility that have adhered to him.” For all that, it would be to Mary’s disadvantage to have the inquiry moved 250 miles away from Bolton.
When Norfolk arrived at court soon afterwards, Elizabeth played a game of cat and mouse, quizzing him about the rumour that he hoped to marry the Queen of Scots. Lying in his teeth, he denied it, saying “he never meant to marry such a person, where he could not be sure of his pillow”—a reference to Darnley being suffocated—and would rather go to the Tower.16But Elizabeth was not deceived. However, she bided her time, waiting to see what the Duke would do.
Moray arrived at Hampton Court around 13 November, and was received in private by Elizabeth, a privilege that had been denied to his accuser, Mary, as her commissioners were not slow to point out to her. With Moray lodged at Kingston-upon-Thames, Elizabeth was to remain at Hampton Court throughout the inquiry, monitoring the proceedings from a tactical distance. On 21 November, Cecil wrote in a private memorandum that “the best way for England, but not the easiest,” was for Mary to “remain deprived of her crown and the state continue as it is.”
On 22 November, Mary instructed her commissioners to complain to Elizabeth of the manifest unjustness of admitting Moray to her presence, and not herself. She told them that, if Elizabeth would not consent to receive her in person in the presence of the English nobility and the foreign ambassadors, and give her the chance to answer all that “may or can be alleged against us by the calumnies of our rebels,” they must “break the conference and proceed no further therein.”17
The next day, Chatelherault descended on Hampton Court and protested that the Palace of Westminster was a judicial venue, “where causes civil and criminal used to be treated.” Elizabeth told him that she had no intention of acting as a judge, and that the Painted Chamber, in which the conference was to be held, was not a place where judgements were given.
The additional English commissioners, whose names were announced on 24 November, were Cecil, the Earls of Leicester, Warwick, Arundel, Pembroke, Essex and Bedford, William Parr, Marquess of Northampton, Sir Nicholas Bacon, Keeper of the Great Seal, Sir Walter Mildmay and the Lord High Admiral, Edward Fiennes, Lord Clinton. All were Protestants and hostile to Mary, but the Catholic Earls of Northumberland and Westmorland were also summoned to attend.
The enlarged commission reconvened at Westminster on 25 November. Before the commissioners were sworn and their complaints resubmitted, Leslie declared that his Queen would not be bound by any judgement as she was a sovereign princess. The English commissioners assured him that they did not intend to proceed judicially.
Nevertheless, their attitude towards Mary was noticeably harsher. On that day or the next, they saw Moray in private and told him that, after all the evidence had been presented, they would report to their mistress what they found to be true, and that she would then pronounce what appeared to her to be true. They also gave the Regent a formal undertaking that, if he produced his proofs, and if Mary was found guilty, Elizabeth would recognise James as King of Scotland, and himself as Regent, and would either hand Mary over to the Scots for trial, or keep her securely in England.
Armed with this, Moray at last ventured to make his sensational allegations in public. On 26 November, protesting that he was acting only under necessity and most unwillingly, he presented his “Eik,” or amplification, in which he declared, “Whereas in our former answer we kept back the chiefest cause and grounds whereupon our actions and whole proceedings were founded, seeing our adversaries will not content themselves, but by their obstinate and earnest pressing, we are compelled for justifying of our cause to manifest the naked truth.” It was a dramatic moment that must have held everyone in the Painted Chamber spellbound, waiting for what would come next.
Moray went on:
It is certain, as we boldly and constantly affirm that, as James, sometime Earl of Bothwell, was the chief executor of that horrible and unworthy murder perpetrated in the person of King Henry of good memory, so was she [Mary] of the foreknowledge, counsel, device, persuader and commander of the said murder to be done, maintainer and fortifier of the executors thereof, by impeding and stopping of the inquisition and punishment due for the same according to the laws of the realm, and consequently, by marriage with the said Bothwell, universally esteemed chief author of the murder. Wherethrough they began to use and exercise an uncouth and cruel tyranny in the whole state of the commonwealth, and (as well appeared by their proceedings), intended to cause the innocent Prince, now our Sovereign Lord, [to] shortly follow his father, and so to transfer the crown from the right line to a bloody murderer and godless tyrant. In which respect, the estates of the realm of Scotland, finding her unworthy to reign, discerned her demission of the crown.
This last contradicted what Moray had said at York: that Mary had abdicated voluntarily.
The Eik was presented on a Friday, just before the commissioners were due to leave for Hampton Court for the weekend, which would give them time to digest and ponder its shocking contents. Yet although they saw Elizabeth at Hampton Court, Friday’s dramatic event was not discussed.
The commissioners met again at Westminster on Monday, 29 November, when Moray again recited his accusations, and his Eik was delivered in writing to Mary’s commissioners, who immediately withdrew to discuss it. When they returned, they said they thought it strange that Moray and his colleagues should make such accusations in writing against their Queen, who had always been so generous to them, and asked for time in which to consider their answer. At this point, Lennox presented himself before the commission, in defiance of Elizabeth’s orders, and submitted “in writing, briefly but rudely, some part of such matter [against Mary] as he conceived to be true, for the charging of the Queen of Scots with the murder of his son,” which the English commissioners did not think worthy of much consideration.
The next day, Mary’s commissioners asked for yet more time in which to prepare an answer to Moray’s Eik. Herries presented this on 1 December, asserting that it was not the punishment of Darnley’s murder that had moved the Lords to rebellion, but the desire to usurp their sovereign’s authority before she could revoke the grants she had made to them in her youth. After reading his statement, Herries asked the English commissioners to consider how dangerous it was for subjects to bring false accusations against their sovereign, and told them that it would soon appear that some of those who were now accusing Mary were themselves privy to the making of bonds for the murder of Darnley. In making these accusations, Herries was exceeding his brief, for Mary had told him and his colleagues merely to demand that she be allowed to appear in person and, if this was refused, to withdraw from the conference. Herries concluded by saying that he and his fellow commissioners could say no more until they had received further instructions from their Queen, and both he and Leslie protested that, as Moray was allowed to appear at the conference, Mary should not only be allowed to attend, but also be permitted to defend herself in person against Moray’s accusations before Queen Elizabeth, her nobility and the foreign ambassadors.
Some of the English commissioners went to Hampton Court on 2 December to see Elizabeth. They returned with a summons for Mary’s commissioners to attend the Queen there the next day. Herries and his team duly presented themselves, and gave Elizabeth a written request for Mary to appear in person at the conference, repeating the protest they had made the previous day about the inequitable treatment of their mistress and the Regent. Elizabeth told them she would give them an answer on the following day.
On 4 December, Elizabeth told Mary’s commissioners that she agreed it was “very reasonable that [Mary] should be heard in her own cause,” but she insisted that, “for the better satisfaction of herself,” the Regent must first present his proofs. Before she could answer their request “on every point,” therefore, or decide where, when and in whose presence Mary should testify, she had to confer with the Scottish commissioners. That same day, Elizabeth told her own commissioners and the Privy Council that she would not receive Mary as long as she was defamed by accusations.
Herries and Leslie were so pessimistic about the outcome of Elizabeth’s discussion with the Lords that they began to think that the best way to bring the inquiry to a conclusion without further damaging Mary’s reputation was to negotiate a compromise, or “appointment,” with the Lords. Rashly, without waiting for Mary to sanction such a course, they saw Elizabeth again in private and suggested it to her, offering to come to terms with Moray. Elizabeth told them sternly that, now that Moray had laid such charges against Mary, their proposal was inconsistent with their mistress’s honour. It should have been clear to them that an obvious desire on their part to avoid responding to the charges would be interpreted as proof that the Queen of Scots was guilty. It would be far better to have Moray’s evidence subjected to public scrutiny and seen to be unfounded, then he and his accomplices could be punished for “so audaciously defaming” their sovereign. Herries and Leslie thereupon withdrew, stressing to Elizabeth that the idea of a compromise came not from their mistress but was only “of their own consideration, partly gathered of the desire they had to have things quietly ended, partly also upon [Mary’s] disposition that this whole cause should be ended by the Queen’s Majesty with some appointment.”
Within hours of this interview, Mary’s commissioners were summoned back to see the Queen and her Privy Council, and were told by Elizabeth that she did not think Mary’s honour was sufficiently endangered to justify her appearing in person to defend herself. After all, no proofs had so far been shown against her (although Elizabeth well knew they soon would be), and she did not wish unnecessarily to subject Mary to a 250-mile journey in driving snow. Of course, Elizabeth did not want Mary winning hearts and minds by her charms and her protestations of innocence, for that would undermine Moray’s attempt to present the Casket Letters as credible evidence.
Elizabeth warned Mary’s commissioners that, if they were not allowed to answer on their Queen’s behalf, or failed to do so, it might be thought that the charges against her were not without foundation. Furthermore, she feared it might be degrading for Mary, as a sovereign princess, to have to deny such charges, and anyway, she herself thought that Moray’s case would not stand up to scrutiny, and that Mary’s name would be cleared without there being any need to resort to such desperate measures. Herries and Leslie, much dismayed, insisted that it would be better for Mary to appear in person, but Elizabeth adamantly refused to allow this.
When the conference reconvened on 6 December, the English commissioners were preparing to convey to Moray Elizabeth’s misliking of the accusations he had made against Mary, but before Moray had even arrived, Mary’s commissioners, belatedly following their instructions, announced that they were formally withdrawing from the inquiry on the grounds that Elizabeth had rejected Mary’s plea to be heard in person. Before leaving, they made a formal protest to the English commissioners that, “in case Your Lordships proceed in the contrary, then whatever has been, or shall be done hereafter, shall not prejudge in any way our sovereign’s honour, person, crown and estate; and we, for our part, dissolve and discharge this present conference, having special command thereto by our said sovereign.”
As Mary was no longer represented, the inquiry should have immediately been terminated, but it was enabled to continue by virtue of a calculated objection on the part of the English commissioners to the form of protest offered by Mary’s commissioners, which they said did not reflect Elizabeth’s true meaning. This objection, which was the inspiration of Cecil and was not entered into the Journal of the conference, gave Moray time in which to produce his evidence. Mary’s commissioners were not even aware as yet that the inquiry was continuing in their absence.
After Herries and company had left the Painted Chamber, Lord Keeper Bacon told Moray that Queen Elizabeth thought it strange that he should accuse his sovereign of “so horrible a crime,” and told him that the commission was ready to hear his answer. This was the cue for Moray, with a display of reluctance, to exhibit his proofs. He produced the Book of Articles, the depositions of some key witnesses, the Act of Parliament condemning Mary, and Lennox’s Narrative, and left all these documents, except the Book of Articles,18for the English commissioners to digest overnight. Given the falsehoods, distortions and inconsistencies in these “proofs,” Moray must have known he could count on the complacent discretion of the English Lords, who had no doubt received their instructions from Cecil.
The next day, 7 December, the Book of Articles was read out to the depleted commission. Afterwards, Moray appeared with his colleagues, and said he trusted that the English commissioners were now satisfied that the Lords were not guilty of the crimes with which they had been charged. Obviously testing the water, he said he also “required to know whether Your Lordships were not now satisfied with such things as they had seen; and if they were not, that it would please them to show if in any part of those Articles they conceived any doubt, or would hear any other proof, which they trusted needed not, considering the circumstances thereof were notorious to the world.”
To Moray’s dismay, the English commissioners made it clear that they did not intend to offer any opinion on his evidence, which made it appear that the proofs offered so far were probably insufficient for their purpose. After a hurried discussion in private, the Scottish commissioners, “with fresh protestations of loyalty and affection” to Queen Mary, produced documentary evidence of Bothwell’s trial and acquittal, and finally, the silver casket itself, the two marriage contracts, one in Scots, one in French, and Casket Letters I and II, both in French. There is no evidence that these were left for the English commissioners to peruse overnight.
On the 8th, Moray offered in evidence the remaining Casket Letters and the love poem, all in French, a journal of events from the birth of Prince James to the Battle of Langside, now known as Moray’s Journal, and the depositions of Hay, Hepburn, Powrie and Dalgleish. The English commissioners had copies made of the Casket Letters, compared them to the originals to ensure they were properly transcribed, then gave the originals back to Moray, who had now concluded his evidence. There is no record of the reactions of the English commissioners to these documents.
In publicly producing the Casket Letters, Moray had taken an irrevocable step that precluded any future reconciliation or compromise with Mary, which is what Cecil had been aiming at all along. The Regent and Elizabeth now shared a common determination to prevent the restoration of the Queen of Scots.