Tudors Versus Stewarts

by Linda Porter

  After eleven years, he might have considered returning at some point anyhow, but he could not sit by at Fontainebleau while a Hamilton assumed the reins of power in Edinburgh. And Francis I, who had been tardy in his response to the implications of James V’s death, grew alarmed by the direction that the earl of Arran was apparently following. The French king liked neither religious reform nor, more importantly, the spreading tentacles of Henry VIII. An English marriage for Mary Queen of Scots needed to be prevented. It was thus a combination of Matthew Stewart’s own desire to play a role in Scotland and the anxiety of Francis I that sent the earl of Lennox home as Francis’s own ambassador. He arrived at the beginning of April 1543 with just two ships and a small company of twenty men, having evaded the English warships trying to waylay him in the Irish Sea. It was a low-key beginning to what would be a dramatic fourteen months for an ambitious young man.

  Lennox’s return altered the balance of power in Scotland, giving Cardinal Beaton a new ally and hope in his struggle to wrest power from Arran. It also provided Mary of Guise with a further weapon in her armoury of deception as she flirted with the handsome earl, alarming Henry VIII, whose decision to send Sadler back as ambassador shortly before Lennox arrived was at least in part prompted by concern that Arran and the ‘assured lords’ would now waver in their support for the English marriage. These fears were to be fully realized later in the year, but even before four weeks had passed, Lennox’s capacity to cause trouble was evident. In the Scottish parliament of late April 1543, Lennox refused to acknowledge Arran as governor and second person of the realm. For this truculence, Arran ordered him to surrender Dumbarton Castle, his ancestral home and the most formidable fortress of western Scotland. Lennox then fled to the Highlands, where he had a significant number of supporters, and opened negotiations with Beaton. By late July he had sufficient forces to face down Arran at Linlithgow and offer protection to Mary of Guise and the infant queen. His success at this point effectively made the Treaty of Greenwich a dead letter, though public rejection of the diplomacy was still some way off.

  The earl himself, however, still lacked a clear body of supporters, or, indeed, any coherent policy of his own. He probably spent much of 1543 testing the waters, though this cannot be conclusively proved, entering into secret correspondence with Henry VIII early on. It has been said that he was neither a competent rebel nor effective politician at this time, though in the shifting currents of Scottish politics and with a remorseless if deluded English king still seeking to impose his rule on Scotland, it is hardly surprising that Matthew Stewart did not cover himself with glory. There was no reason why he should have been cleverer than anyone else and he was out of touch with his native land. He did, as has been pointed out, manage for a while not to alienate either the French or English factions in Scotland, something of a feat in itself.14 In fact, the Douglases and the earl of Glencairn, originally supporters of England, had left open lines of communication to him. And then, in the autumn of 1543, his luck suddenly changed altogether. The French government sent six ships, bearing two new ambassadors and the papal legate, Grimani, together with munitions and money to the tune of £83,600 (more than £37 million today). Lennox was no doubt pleased by the diplomatic support, but he liked the arms and money much more, and duly stored them away in the fastness of Dumbarton Castle, where no one else could get at them.

  At last, he could proceed from a position of real strength. But he trusted no one and, increasingly, no one in Scotland or France trusted him as he manoeuvred for political advantage. Mary of Guise and Beaton, always a formidable alliance, implored Francis I to ‘recall the earl of Lennox, whom they now found to grow factious, and by appearance a troubler of the state.’15 He continued in this mode into 1544, when a new agreement, the Treaty of Greenside, was brokered between Lennox and Arran’s government in a last-ditch attempt to bring the recalcitrant earl to obey Arran and profess his loyalty to Mary Queen of Scots. Lennox, however, could not be contained. He continued to assault Hamilton strongholds, taking both the Bishop’s Palace in Glasgow and the abbey of Paisley, and in March 1544 he had still not given up entirely on the hope of marrying Mary of Guise, a hope which that indefatigable dissembler was unlikely to crush conclusively. But such a union was never to be. By the spring of 1544, Matthew Stewart knew that his future lay elsewhere, for the time being in a different country and with an entirely different wife. The Scottish nobleman who was a naturalized Frenchman would become, instead, an Englishman and loyal subject of Henry VIII.

  The prize was Margaret Tudor’s only daughter, Lady Margaret Douglas, sole offspring of the unhappy marriage between James IV’s widow and the earl of Angus. Lennox knew he was running out of options in Scotland: ‘he is now brought to such a straight as I think he must needs condescend to such covenants as your highness will appoint, for he knoweth that the French king cannot trust him and the Governor and he will never agree,’ wrote the shrewd earl of Hertford to his monarch on 12 April 1544.16 Switching his allegiance to Henry VIII was dictated in part by pragmatism but there were notable advantages to the offer of the hand of the niece of the king of England, who had a legitimate claim to its throne. Though Margaret was not mentioned in the Act of Succession of 1544 and Henry had always been loath to acknowledge his sister’s children as possible heirs to his throne, Margaret’s proximity to the Crown could not be denied. Unlike Henry’s two daughters, Margaret Douglas’s descent was unblemished. Henry knew very well her value to him and had kept her unmarried, as he did his elder daughter, Mary. He was never going to give her away lightly, though he does seem to have been rather fond of his niece and surprisingly tolerant of her romantic escapades. Margaret’s weakness for men close to the two queens consort that Henry executed did not demonstrate the best of judgement. Anne Boleyn’s uncle had been imprisoned in the Tower of London and died there for daring to consider an engagement with Margaret Douglas and in 1541 Margaret became entangled with Charles Howard, one of Queen Katherine Howard’s many siblings. Sent off once more to Sion Abbey (though by then without its nuns following the dissolution of the monasteries), Margaret had been reproved by Archbishop Cranmer for ‘lightness of behaviour’ and warned that a third such escapade would have the gravest of implications.

  How much Matthew Stewart knew of his intended bride’s racy past is unclear. Perhaps he found it titillating. Certainly, with all the chivalric aplomb of a gentleman of his time, he declared himself in love with Margaret Douglas before they even met. She was an attractive prospect both dynastically and personally, her beauty and popularity at the English court having been remarked upon by the French ambassador in 1543. Though no firmly identified portrait of her from this period survives, a miniature in the Royal Collection, which may be her, suggests that she had the red hair of the Tudors and an intelligent face. And she was also a Douglas, which meant that the earl of Lennox was allying himself with one of the most powerful and durable of Scottish families in marrying her, though Margaret and her father were not on good terms. But at the time she married Lennox, Margaret appeared to be one of the greatest heiresses in Scotland, as well as a serious claimant to the English throne. She was not Mary of Guise, but a highly acceptable alternative. And Lennox realized that he was on the back foot in Scotland.

  The wedding of Lady Margaret Douglas and the earl of Lennox was the society event of the year in 1544. It took place on 29 June in the splendid surroundings of St James’s Palace (while Henry was deep in preparations for his last tilt at glory in France) and was attended by the king and Queen Katherine Parr, in whose household Margaret served as one of her chief ladies-in-waiting. One week later, Lennox was naturalized as an English subject. Pragmatic as the origins of their marriage may have been, the Lennoxes do seem to have quickly developed a deep and abiding love for each other. Henry VIII had professed himself anxious that his niece should not be married against her will, though one wonders what the outcome might have been if Margaret had rejected Lennox. But though she might have allowe
d her emotions to run away with her just three years earlier, Margaret was no longer a heady girl. She was a woman of twenty-nine, very old for a first marriage by the standards of the day, and she knew that she was unlikely to be made a better offer. Matthew Stewart connected her with her Scottish heritage and together they might forge a partnership that would enhance their prospects in both Scotland and England. It is unlikely, however, that they foresaw just how crucial a role they might play in British history.

  For the present, however, they had to be content with grants of property in London and in the north of England, at Temple Newsam, outside Leeds, which would be both a refuge and a headquarters for them in difficult times to come. Nor did they spend much time in each other’s company. Lennox was bound now to Henry VIII and the English king was swift to call in his debts. The earl was to be his spearhead in Scotland, reclaiming Dumbarton Castle if he could tempt other, wavering Scots to serve Henry as he had done. It was also hoped he could raise the Highlands and Islands against the Scottish government, though this idea did not succeed. In cajoling and bribing other Scottish noblemen and generally stirring up trouble, however, Lennox met with considerable success – an aspect of the ‘rough wooings’ that has tended to be overlooked in favour of more colourful tales of rapine and plunder. Matthew Stewart, with his claim to the Scottish throne still very much alive and his new wife keen to lend him all her support, did not come badly out of the violence and uncertainty of the 1540s. The same could not be said for his one-time ally, Cardinal David Beaton, the other key figure of this period.

  * * *

  OPPOSITION TO THE marriage of Mary Queen of Scots to Prince Edward Tudor had crystallized (as Beaton wished) around the determined, if devious, figure of the Scottish cardinal. Age had not diminished his zeal against heretics or his hatred of the English. David Beaton was not entirely a churchman of the old order since he appears to have appreciated the need for some sort of reform, but, like many younger sons thrust into the Church at the time, he was primarily interested in secular rather than spiritual power. Something of this can be seen in his portrait, which shows him resplendent in his cardinal’s robes. Yet Beaton looks slightly ill at ease. It is the image of a man who does not trust readily, wary of the wider world. This was, though, a world he knew well. As a diplomat and negotiator who had spent four years in France, he was a stalwart supporter of the Auld Alliance. But he and Mary of Guise were not always natural or comfortable allies, since both wanted power for themselves. As his attempts to hold the centre ground of Scottish politics fell apart in 1543–4, the queen dowager made her own, ultimately unsuccessful, bid for power. Though he had been a prime mover against the English marriage of his infant monarch, Beaton seems not to have appreciated adequately the fury of Henry VIII’s response, or the personal danger to himself that might ensue from his being the architect of rejection. Belatedly, he understood, too, that he could not expect any real help from France, with Francis I fighting against both Charles V and Henry VIII and chastened by his experience with the earl of Lennox. A French military commander was sent to Scotland but refused to acknowledge Beaton’s authority and the two men had to be prevented from physically assaulting one another. Beaton, despite being fifty years old and a cardinal of the Church, was not noted for turning the other cheek. In the end, he hastened his own doom.

  By 1546, the cardinal was isolated and unpopular. Henry VIII wanted him dead and there were those in Scotland happy to get rid of him. At the beginning of the year, he made what was to prove a disastrous move, though it was in keeping with his own beliefs and vision of his authority. He pursued the Protestant preacher, George Wishart, a reformer with influential friends who saw him as a beacon of hope. Wishart was, though, a firebrand with little care for the law and an increasing recklessness about his own safety. Among those attracted to his uncompromising stance was a young priest called John Knox, radicalized by the fate of his mentor. For Beaton could not sit by in his archbishopric of St Andrews while Wishart roamed nearby towns and countryside preaching in open defiance of the anti-heresy laws.

  Wishart had run into difficulties in the preceding decade in England, where Cranmer found him too extreme, and he had then spent some time on the continent, probably in Switzerland, where his beliefs and vehement style of preaching seem to have been shaped. Some found him inspiring but others were less impressed by the violence of his rhetoric. Beaton simply could not stomach him and when Wishart arrived in Fife, he was sailing too close to the wind. Arrested and brought to trial at the beginning of March 1546, at St Andrews, Wishart was given little chance to defend himself properly against a raft of accusations brought against him. Defiant to the last, he was hanged and burned immediately after Beaton pronounced the death sentence on him. Wishart’s furious supporters plotted revenge against the man they regarded as his murderer.

  The motives of those involved in Beaton’s assassination were not simply confined to religious differences. The archbishop had fallen out with a number of lairds in Fife who had known him for years; there were property disputes and growing ill feeling which added to the mix of hostility and resentment. Grudges, dismay at Wishart’s fate and an underlying pro-English sentiment among the conspirators all contributed to a determination to be rid of this proud prelate. And even at a time when it was widely accepted that Scotland’s leading churchmen were more interested in secular power than spiritual devotion, Beaton’s ostentatious lifestyle made him vulnerable. He lived like a lord, had eight children by his mistress, Marion Ogilvy (with whom, it should be made clear, he seems to have had a monogamous relationship over many years that would have been viewed as a marriage if Catholic clergy had been permitted wives), and was a conscientious parent. The marriage of his daughter, Margaret, at Arbroath just a month before he died was apparently an affair befitting a princess.

  Beaton returned to St Andrews from a council meeting in Edinburgh on 28 May 1546. Although the garrison at the castle numbered about a hundred men, there appears to have been collusion between the conspirators, who had been planning to dispose of Beaton for some time, and those who were supposed to defend him. There were also workmen in the castle, making it easier for people who actually had no business to be there to slip in and out unremarked. By the time the small band of attackers had penetrated the inner close of the castle, there was no escape for David Beaton. Alone except for a servant, he tried, unsuccessfully, to barricade himself in his chamber and plead for his life, reminding his assassins that he was a priest. For his murderers, this was something he had too long forgotten. One of the assassins, James Melville, told him that he sought his death ‘because thou hast been, and remain, an obstinated enemy against Christ Jesus and his holy Evangel’. Stabbed several times, Beaton fell, saying, ‘I am a priest, I am a priest. Fye, fye, all is gone.’17 And so it was, at last, for a man whose life had begun in the previous century, in what was still the medieval kingdom of Scotland, a land for which, despite his worldliness and ambition, he had striven as diplomat and statesman. In his final moments, he tried to take refuge in a religious identity flagrantly disregarded over many years but it would be wrong to think that it had never meant anything to him at all.

  The murderers showed him no respect in death. The body was hung over the castle walls for the populace to see and the chronicler Pitscottie, admittedly a source often more colourful than reliable, recounts a final indignity – one of the assassins loosened his breeches and urinated in the corpse’s mouth.

  Beaton’s death removed a major figure from Scottish politics and was a conclusive break with the past. It also had considerable repercussions outside Scotland, for Beaton was a European figure. Officially, the English adopted a low-key response, calling it a lamentable crime and a reflection on the state of Scotland. But Bishop Thirlby, writing to William Paget, Henry VIII’s secretary, from Ratisbon in Germany, was much more ebullient, telling of ‘my gladness at your tidings of the Cardinal of Scotland. It is half a wonder here’, he continued, ‘that ye dare be so
bold to kill a cardinal.’ Philip of Spain’s ambassador to France relayed to his master the French conclusion ‘that the King of England caused the murder’ because Beaton had opposed the English marriage of Mary Queen of Scots.18

  So Beaton was gone but not forgotten and St Andrews Castle remained in the hands of men regarded as rebels for another year. Arran could neither pursue the murderers nor retake the stronghold without assistance and his own son, the boy he hoped might marry the Queen of Scots now the English match was a dead letter, was being held hostage by the insurgents. For a brief period, as the war between England and France was finally ended by a treaty in 1546 that also brought a halt to hostilities in Scotland, the ‘rough wooings’ ceased. But in England the reign of Henry VIII was drawing to a close, though, as would soon become apparent, this did not presage an easier relationship between Scotland and its southern neighbour.