Mary, Queen of Scots (38 page)

Although you make me feel some grief in a matter that toucheth you, and to preserve and keep you to her whom alone you belong, if a body may claim to himself that which is won by [word illegible, deleted] well, faithfully, yea, entirely loving, as I do and will do all my life, for pain or hurt, whatsoever may happen to me thereby.

In recompense whereof, and of all the evils that you [have] been cause of to me, remember the place hereby. I desire not that you keep promise with me tomorrow, but that we may be together, and that you give no credit to the suspicions that you shall have without being assured thereof. And I ask no more of God but that you might know all that I have in my heart, which is yours, and that He preserve you from all evil, at the least during my life, which shall not be dear unto me but as long as it and I shall please you. I go to bed, and give you good night.

Send me word tomorrow early in the morning how you have done, for I shall think long.

The next sentence has long intrigued historians:

And watch well if the bird shall fly out of his cage or without his father [deleted by Cecil, who substituted the word “mate”] make as the turtle shall remain alone for absence, how short soever it be.

This was originally meant to imply that Darnley, mourning the absence of his father, might flee from Kirk o’Field.

In the Scots version, this passage is given as:

Make good watch if the bird escape out of the cage, or without her mate. As the turtle, I shall remain alone for to lament the absence, how short that so ever it be.

Here, the sense and sex of the bird are different; when the bird has flown, the writer will mourn his absence. This is closer to the original French version, which translates as:

Beware lest the bird fly out of its cage, or without its mate, like the turtle dove lives alone to lament the absence, however short it may be.

This implies that it is the writer who will fly away, if driven to do so by her mate, and who will live alone to mourn his absence.
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This passage may well be based on lines of a sonnet written by Ronsard, a poet favoured by Mary, which read:

Que dis-tu, que fais-tu, pensive tourterelle Dessus cet arbre sec?—Viateur, je lamente.

The letter ends:

That that I could not do, my letter should do it with a good will, if it were not that I fear to wake you, for I durst not write before Joseph and Bastien and Joachim, who were but new gone from I began.

The abrupt opening, which suggests that this letter is only part of a longer one, and the discrepancies between the various translations are perhaps evidence that the original text of the letter has been manipulated to incriminate Mary. In fact, there is very little in it to suggest that she incited the quarrel between Lord Robert and Darnley in order to bring about Darnley’s death. Apart from the last two sentences, which may have been added by a forger, this letter could have been written by Mary to Darnley during the first months of their marriage, while they were wrangling about the Crown Matrimonial; this theory is supported by the threat that the writer might fly the cage if provoked too far. Furthermore, the style is reminiscent of that used by Mary in her later letters to the Duke of Norfolk.

Casket Letter III is also said to have been written by Mary to Bothwell at this time, but its opening paragraph shows that this theory cannot be correct:

Monsieur, if the displeasure of your absence, your forgetfulness, the fear of danger so promised by everyone to your so-loved person may give me consolation, can console me, I leave it to you to judge, seeing the unhap [misfortune] that my cruel lot and continual misadventure has hitherto promised me, following the misfortunes and fears, as well of late as of a long time by-past, the which ye do know.

It would have been ludicrous for Mary to write in this vein to Bothwell, since he was in almost daily attendance on her; if this was a genuine letter, then it must have been written at another time.

It continues:

But for all that, I will in no wise accuse you, neither of your little remembrance, neither of your little care, and least of all your promise broken, or of the coldness of your writing, since I am always so far made yours that that which pleases you is acceptable to me, and my thoughts are so willingly subdued unto yours that I suppose that all that comes of your proceeds not be any of the causes foresaid, but rather for such as be just and reasonable, and such as I desire myself. Which is the final order that ye promised to take for the surety and honourable service of the only uphold of my life. For which alone I will preserve the same, and without the which I desire not but sudden death. And to testify to you how lowly I submit me under your commandments, I have sent you, in sign of homage, by Paris, the ornament of the head, which is the chief good of the other members, inferring thereby that, by the seizing of you in the possession of the spoil of that which is principle, the remnant cannot be but subject unto you, and with consenting of the heart. In place whereof, since I have always left it unto you, I send unto you a sepulchre of hard stone, coloured with black, strewn with tears and bones. The stone I compare to my heart, that, as it is carved in one sure sepulchre or harbour of your commandments, and above all of your name and memory that are therein enclosed, as is my heart in this ring, never to come forth, while death grant unto you to a trophy of victory of my bones, as the ring is filled, in sign that you have made a full conquest of me, of my heart, and unto that bones my bones be left unto you in remembrance of your victory and my acceptable love and willing for to be better bestowed than I merit. The enamelling that is about is black, which signifies the steadfastness of her that sends the same. The tears are without number, so are the dreaders to displease you, the tears of your absence, the disdain that I cannot be in outward effect yours, as I am without feignedness of heart and spirit, and of good reason, though my merits were much greater than of the most profit that ever was, and such as I desire to be, and shall take pain in conditions to imitate, for to be bestowed worthily under your regimen. My only wealth receive therefore in all good part the same, as I have received your marriage with extreme joy, the which shall not part forth of my bosom till that marriage of our bodies be made in public, as sign of all that I either hope or desire of bliss in this world. Yet my heart fearing to displease you as much in the reading hereof as I delight me in the writing, I will make end, after that I have kissed your hands with all great affection, as I pray God (O, ye only upholder of my life!) to give you long and blessed life, and to me your good favour, as the only good that I desire, and to ye which I pretend.

I have shown unto this bearer that which I have learned, to whom I remit me, knowing the credit that you give him, as sure does that will be for ever unto your humble, obedient, lawful wife, that forever dedicates unto you her heart, her body, without any change, as unto him that I have made possessor of heart, of which so may hold you assured, yet unto the death shall no ways be changed, for evil nor good shall never make me go from it.
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The original French copy of this letter is endorsed “To prove the affections.” Mary’s enemies offered it as evidence that she was involved in an adulterous relationship with Bothwell. The reference to Paris, which could be an interpolation, indicates that it was sent by Mary to Bothwell, but there are no other clues as to the writer’s identity. It was certainly written by a woman to her lover. The couple are engaged in an illicit affair, perhaps a secret marriage since she refers to herself as his lawful wife, and the writer is longing for the time when the “marriage of our bodies” can be made public; in the meantime, she is lamenting her lover’s absence and forgetfulness. The tone of the letter is self-abasing and wholly submissive. If not entirely forged, it could have been written by Mary to Darnley, before their marriage, or even by another woman, possibly Anna Throndssen, to Bothwell. It could not refer to Mary’s marriage to Bothwell since, from this time onwards, far from being absent, he was constantly in attendance on her. Much of this letter refers to the symbolism in a jewel that the writer has sent to her lover, which represents a tomb, and was probably a
memento mori
, a type of jewel that reminded the wearer of his or her mortality; such jewels were fashionable in the sixteenth century. This jewel has been identified as the black ring set with a diamond that Mary had promised Bothwell in her Will of 1566
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but, since the writer was also sending “the ornament of the head,” which was almost certainly a lock of hair, the jewel is more likely to have been a locket in which her lover could enclose it. The word used in the original French is “bague,” which now means a ring or collar, but was used in Mary’s Will to describe various jewels.

On Saturday, 8 February, Lennox left Glasgow for Linlithgow. It has been conjectured that he was making his way to Holyrood to greet Darnley on the successful conclusion of the latter’s coup against Mary, but Lennox might have been travelling simply with the object of visiting his son, who was now restored to health and favour. He might also have hoped that Darnley would effect a reconciliation between himself and the Queen. According to the Seigneur de Clernault, Lennox was attacked in Glasgow on Sunday evening and was saved from death only by the intervention of Lord Sempill.
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However, as Lennox was then in Linlithgow, this incident must have happened before he left Glasgow on the 8th, if it happened at all, for Lennox makes no mention of it. There has been conjecture that Clernault was attempting to establish an alibi for Lennox in case Darnley’s plans went wrong.

According to de Silva, Darnley had asked to see Moretta, but Mary was still apparently suspicious of Darnley’s motives; she had no intention of giving him any chance to liaise with his friends abroad, and had told him that he could not receive Moretta because the latter’s master, the Duke of Savoy, still bore resentment towards him, Darnley, because of the murder of his former servant David Rizzio. Moretta, too, had asked to see Darnley, ostensibly to discuss horses, but Mary would not let him.
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Mary’s chief reason for preventing their meeting may have been to avoid giving any offence to the English that might prejudice her chances of the succession. Darnley had proved himself untrustworthy and had already publicly proclaimed her a bad Catholic to her allies, and she was not entirely sure that he was not still working against her. Her chief preoccupation at this time was the new concord with England, and on 8 February, she announced that she was at last willing to ratify the Treaty of Edinburgh and would be sending Robert Melville to London to open the negotiations; he left the next day.
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It is hardly likely that, at such a crucial time, Mary would have been contemplating murdering her husband. That night, she dined with Darnley, Bothwell and others at Kirk o’Field.

By 9 February, Sir James Balfour seems also to have left Edinburgh. His departure was perhaps significant. Having seen Darnley installed at Kirk o’Field, at his own suggestion, and Moretta in his Edinburgh house, and having perhaps laid plans with both of them, he may have felt that it was wise to absent himself while those plans came to fruition. Or he was playing a double game with both Darnley and the Lords, and did not wish to stay around to risk betrayal.

Sunday, 9 February was the last Sunday in Lent and therefore a day of carnival and feasting; Mary had a full programme of engagements planned. Darnley began this last day of his convalescence by hearing Mass.
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Later that morning, Moray came to Mary at Holyrood and told her he had received news that his wife was very ill after a miscarriage
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and that he must go to her without delay; with the Queen’s permission, he left Edinburgh immediately for St. Andrews. In view of what was to happen the next night, it is hard to escape the conclusion that Moray was deliberately absenting himself so as to avoid being implicated, especially since he did not return as soon as his wife had recovered. Nau says that he left “after having matured all his plans necessary for his success in seizing the crown and ruining the Queen.” Leslie claims that, on the journey to St. Andrews, Moray told his servant, “This night, ere morning, the Lord Darnley shall lose his life,” but it seems that Leslie was trying to fabricate a case against Moray in the absence of other evidence, for this remark is entirely out of character. Moray was normally cautious and highly secretive and it is beyond credibility that he would have let slip such an indiscreet and incriminating remark to a servant.

Meanwhile, Darnley was having his last medicinal bath, and doubtless looking forward to returning to Holyrood the following morning
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and there resuming full marital relations with Mary.

If Mary’s enemies are to be believed, she took time out on this busy day to write Casket Letter V to Bothwell; this is surprising, as he was in almost constant attendance on her that day. The French version
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is endorsed “Anent the dispatch [dismissal] of Margaret Carwood, which was before her marriage; proves her [Mary’s] affection”; Buchanan, in his
Detectio
, entitles the Scots version, “Another letter to Bothwell concerning the departure of Margaret Carwood, who was privy and a helper of all their love.” Some writers have identified Margaret Carwood with a maid-of-honour who is known to have incurred the Queen’s displeasure at this time by becoming pregnant out of wedlock; this was an embarrassment to Mary because of the severe view that the Kirk took of such matters. However, the letter may not refer to Margaret Carwood at all, for on 8 February Mary granted her a handsome pension, and two days later, on the eve of Carwood’s wedding, paid out a lavish sum for a wedding dress for her. She would not have acted thus towards a servant who had incurred her displeasure. Casket Letter V reads:

My heart, alas! Must the folly of one woman whose unthankfulness toward me ye do sufficiently know, be occasion of displeasure unto you, considering that I could not have remedied thereunto without knowing it? And since that I perceived it, I could not tell it you, for that I knew not how to govern myself therein. For neither in that, nor in any other thing, will I take upon me to do anything without knowledge of your will, which I beseech you let me understand; for I will follow it all my life, more willingly than you shall declare it to me. And if ye do not send me word this night what ye will that I shall do, I will rid myself of it, and hazard to cause it to be enterprised and taken in hand, which might be hurtful to that whereunto both we do tend. And when she shall be married, I beseech you give me one, or else I will take such as shall content you for their conditions; but, as for their tongues, or faithfulness towards you, I will not answer. I beseech you that are opinion of other person, be not hurtful in your mind to my constancy. Mistrust me, but when I will put you out of doubt and clear myself, refuse it not, my dear love, and suffer me to make you some proof by my obedience, my faithfulness, constancy and voluntary subjection, which I take for the pleasantest good that I might receive, if ye will accept it, and make no ceremony at it, for ye could do me no greater outrage, nor give more mortal grief.