by Alison Weir
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 ord
ers, 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 Fr
ench. 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.
28
“PRETENDED WRITINGS”
THE CASKET LETTERS NO LONGER exist. They disappeared in 1584, during Mary’s lifetime. After the Westminster conference, Moray took them back to Scotland, then entrusted them to Morton for safe keeping, but after the latter’s death in 1581, they were given by his bastard son to William Ruthven, 1st Earl of Gowrie,1who repeatedly thwarted Queen Elizabeth’s attempts to gain possession of them; she wanted them in order to justify keeping Mary in custody. In 1584, after conspiring against the eighteen-year-old James VI, Gowrie was arrested and executed, and with his forfeiture, the Casket Letters presumably came into the King’s possession. They were never seen again.
Of course, Gowrie himself could have destroyed the letters, but this is unlikely. In 1584, James VI was determined to rehabilitate his mother’s reputation; it was at this time that Buchanan’s condemnatory works were banned by Parliament. James may have felt that it would serve no purpose to rake up old scandals by exhibiting the Casket Letters as forgeries; furthermore, there were then very few people left alive who could have testified that the letters were forgeries. Therefore James may well have feared that their existence would compromise his policy of rehabilitation. It is unlikely that he would have been so zealous to restore the reputation of his mother had he believed that the Casket Letters were genuine, for that would have been to acknowledge that she had connived at the murder of his father. Moreover, if James destroyed the letters in the belief that they were authentic, then he would also have got rid of the highly damaging deposition of Paris, which nevertheless survives.
