CHAPTER VI.

THE TRAGEDY OF KIRK O'FIELD AND ITS SEQUEL.

Darnley left the court in one of his sullen moods in December, 1566, and shortly after was stricken with smallpox at Glasgow. Notwithstanding his past ingratitude and infidelity, Mary, on hearing of his misfortune, sent her own physician to attend him, and a little later, having proceeded to Glasgow herself, brought him back with her to Edinburgh. Not yet being free from infection, he was placed in a house known as the Kirk O'Field, on the outskirts of the city. Mary visited him frequently and, as far as could be judged from outward signs, a complete reconciliation was effected. But the evil genius of the Stewarts again held sway. On February 10th, about 3 o'clock in the morning, the Kirk O'Field was blown into the air with gunpowder, and the mortal career of Darnley, who had just turned his twentieth year, was brought to a tragic close. Suspicions pointed to Bothwell as the author of the crime. The Earl of Lennox, Darnley's father, sued for a trial. Bothwell promptly offered himself up, and, being tried before his peers, was acquitted.

I have now arrived at the most complicated question in Mary's history, and before offering an opinion on the events that ensued, I shall mention some of them in chronological order.

Bothwell was acquitted on April 12th; on April 24th, Mary, while returning from a visit to her child at Stirling, was intercepted by him, and--willingly or unwillingly--carried off to the Castle of Dunbar. Twelve days afterwards, a promise of marriage having first been obtained from her, she was brought back to Edinburgh by Bothwell and lodged in the Castle. Eight days later she was married to Bothwell in Holyrood, before a Protestant minister.

These events have all along been interpreted in two widely different senses. One interpretation makes Mary an accomplice in the murder of her husband; the other makes her an innocent but injured woman. The historians hostile to her, catching their inspiration from the pages of George Buchanan, maintain that previously to Darnley's murder, she was familiar beyond due measure with Bothwell; that when she visited Darnley at Glasgow, it was as the agent of Bothwell to enveigle the intended victim to where he could be conveniently dispatched; that the reconciliation was feigned on her part; that when the murder was accomplished, she used her authority to shield Bothwell; and, finally, that she was carried off by him according to her own desire.

I admit that from a slight study of her life one is apt to be impressed with the thought, that the Mary Stewart of this period is not the Mary Stewart of earlier, or even later times. Something unusually weak, which leaves the suspicion of guilt, seems to characterize her conduct. I believe, however, that the more fully the sources of information are studied, the clearer will it appear that no evidence on which she can be justly convicted, has yet been adduced; but that, on the contrary, the conviction will grow in the minds of sincere enquirers, that she was first gravely injured, and next gravely calumniated, for party ends. It should be borne in mind that an accused person must be presumed innocent until his guilt is proved. This is a principle recognized in all law, and one that has something exceptionally strong to recommend it in the present case.

Until the death of Darnley, no word had been uttered against Mary's character as a woman. On the contrary, her praises were sounded on all sides, and even those who were leagued with her foes sometimes bore testimony to her virtues. The Privy Council itself, shortly before Darnley fell ill, spoke of him as one "honoured and blessed with a good and virtuous wife." But when lying served the purpose, especially in a struggle against a Papist "idolatress," who would scruple at it? Men who could unctuously quote Scripture, while engaged in the most disgraceful and unlawful work, and could, as Skelton thinks, perjure themselves with a good conscience, could hardly be expected to lose an opportunity of blackening the character of an unsanctified woman, for the glory of God and the advancement of Calvinism.

Who, on the other hand, were Mary's accusers? They were those who profited by her overthrow; those who had been known traitors and had been guilty of grievous offences against her; and those who, beyond doubt, have been convicted of caluminating her in many particulars. Of the last mentioned class the most notorious is George Buchanan, a man who owed his life to her clemency, who had been enriched by her warm-hearted liberality, who had penned his most polished verses in praise of her distinguished beauty and virtues, but who, when misfortune fell upon her, sold his venal pen to her enemies, and clothed in classical Latin the calumnies by which they hoped to overthrow her cause and establish their own. Now, students of this period of Scottish history know that Buchanan has been convicted of calumny in many particulars of Mary's life. This is beyond controversy, established by official records of the time. The presumption of calumny, therefore, attaches to his other accusations, and until these are proved to be true from reliable sources, they cannot decide anything against her. Furthermore, Buchanan's "Detectio," which was written to ruin Mary's cause in England, was prepared at the instigation of her enemies, and Buchanan's services were engaged only because he was a good Latinist. "The book was written by him," writes Cecil, "not as of himself, nor in his own name, but according to the instructions given him by common conference of the Lords of the Privy Council of Scotland"--the Moray party. It may also be mentioned that while the English translation of the "Detectio" was fathered by Cecil, and dedicated to Queen Elizabeth, the "Defence" of Mary, written by Bishop Leslie, was suppressed by the authorities at Westminster immediately it appeared.

So much for presumptive argument; but how explain the strange series of events after Darnley's murder?

Mary, after the murder of her husband, was like one who does not know what moment a mine is going to explode under her feet. She had got an inkling, through reports from London, gathered by her Ambassador in Paris, of the plot to murder Rizzio, of the conspiracy against the life of Darnley, and of harm intended to herself. The two first having been so emphatically verified, had she not reason to fear that the next would soon be consummated in her own person? Her support, too, if we except Bothwell, was, at that critical time, slender indeed. Moray, her Prime Minister who, with something akin to the wild goose instinct of approaching storms, always managed to get away whenever any disagreeable work was ready for execution, had left Edinburgh on the eve of the murder and remained absent.

It is commonly asserted by Mary's adversaries that Bothwell's trial was a farce; nor do I deny that it was. But was Mary responsible for the farce any more than Bothwell's peers who acquitted him? One reason why the trial proved a farce was, that Bothwell had too many secrets in his keeping--secrets which, others besides himself, who perhaps were uttering expressions of pious horror at the crime, were about as deeply stained with the blood of Darnley as he. I do not claim that the Queen was perfectly persuaded of Bothwell's innocence. I say, however, that as matters then stood, there were various reasons that well might lead her to believe a plot had been formed against him; some of which were, on the one hand, the treasonable character of many who were now opposed to him, and, on the other, Bothwell's strict loyalty. With regard to this celebrated Earl, it may, I think, be truly said, that whatever his faults or his vices, besides being the most powerful, he had proved himself one of the most loyal of the Scottish nobles. James Hepburn (Earl of Bothwell) had inherited many important offices. He was Lord Admiral of Scotland, Keeper of Edinburgh Castle and of Hermitage Castle, Sheriff of the Western Lothians, and Lieutenant of the Border. No Scottish nobleman of his rank was more sincerely hated by Elizabeth. As early as 1560, Throckmorton, the English Ambassador to Paris, referred to the "glorious, boastful, rash and hazardous" Bothwell as one who should be watched. The sword of Bothwell was never wanting when the cause of his sovereign required its aid. A Protestant in religion, he had stood by Mary of Lorraine in her troubles with the Anglicizing party, and had intercepted a quantity of Elizabeth's gold that had been sent to the Scottish rebels; he had supported Mary herself against the Moray faction who revolted after her marriage with Darnley; and he was one of the first to escape from Holyrood on the night of Rizzio's murder, and arouse the country in her defence. In view of these facts, and of the widespread treachery existing among the nobles, nobody should be surprised if, at the time of the Kirk O'Field tragedy, Bothwell, considered in his public character, stood high in the opinion of the Queen and was regarded as her strongest and surest defence against the dangers by which she was encompassed.

A week after Bothwell's acquittal, a curious deed was accomplished which helps to explain the events that immediately followed. All the influential members except one, who were present at the Parliament held the same day, signed a document known in history as the "Ainslie Tavern Band," by which they engaged to do all in their power to promote a marriage between Bothwell and the Queen. In addition to this, if we accept the testimony of Claude Nau, these nobles sent a deputation to Mary, who represented that, seeing the disturbed condition of the realm, it was necessary that she should marry, and unanimously pressed her to accept Bothwell for husband. Mary refused, and reminded them of the report current about his connection with her late husband's death. The deputies had a ready reply. Bothwell, they said, had been legally acquitted by the Council; besides (to quote Nau), "they who made the request to her do so for the public good of the realm, and as they were the highest of the nobility, it would be for them to vindicate a marriage brought about by their advice and authority."

It is difficult to discover the motives that prompted some of the nobles to sign this objectionable bond. In this, very probably, as in many similar instances, indifferentism, self-interest, or fear of differing from the stronger party, led a number to subscribe. But, if we read the motives of the prime movers in the light of subsequent events, we can discover the old design for Mary's overthrow carried out under a new form. Even James Anthony Froude, one of the last men in the world from whom we should expect to hear it, suggests that several at least of the nobles appended their names in deliberate treachery to the Queen.

But where the treachery? I have already pointed out that the attempts to overthrow Mary's authority had hitherto failed chiefly because she was beloved by the people. To succeed against her, therefore, it was necessary to bring her into disgrace before the Scottish nation; and how could this be more successfully done than by drawing her into a marriage with the man who was widely believed to be the murderer of her husband, and then rising up in apparent indignation against the union?

In view of the facts I have just indicated, it is not surprising that, having fallen into the hands of Bothwell, and having been detained by him, Mary should have made the best of the case by consenting to marry him. I do not pretend to decide how far her consent was obtained by persuasion, or how far by force. Both were used. But it should not be forgotten, that for more than six mouths after the event, the public records of Scotland refer to the intercepting of the Queen by Bothwell as a forcible and treasonable act, and speak of her as having been compelled, through fear and other unlawful means, to give her promise of marriage; and it was only when changed circumstances demanded a change of tactics, that the worthies who had hurled her from the throne began to assert that what had been done by Bothwell had been done with her consent. However, leaving aside the question of violence, see what influence persuasion itself could have had. Bothwell was not without certain favourable qualities. His sterling loyalty and great power were invaluable to one in Mary's difficult circumstances. But if these were insufficient to gain his end, there was the agreement signed by the nobles. "And when," writes Mary, giving an account of her marriage to her friends in France, "he saw us like to reject all his suit and offers, in the end he showed us how far he was proceeded with our whole nobility and principals of our estate, and what they had promised him under their handwrits. If we had cause to be astonished, we remit us to the judgment of the King, the Queen, our uncle, and others our friends." Could Mary, with her sore experience of their turbulency, lightly oppose the will of so many of her nobility as set forth in that celebrated "Band?" She might express doubt as to the genuineness of their signatures; but Bothwell could point out that, although she was already in his power nearly twelve days, not one whose name was subscribed thereto had moved hand or foot to liberate her.

If, placed in these circumstances, without any indication that protracted resistance would result in her rescue, she consented to marry Bothwell, is there not sufficient reason for her action, without the theory of an old and ungovernable passion for the "rugged Border Lord"? It is poor philosophy to invent theories to account for events of which we already see adequate cause. Mary may, or may not, have been infatuated with Bothwell; but that she was must be proved--if proved at all--independently of the fact that she married him. In the presumption, warranted by law, reason and common sense, of her innocence, we can account satisfactorily for her marriage. Why then resort to the presumption, warranted neither by law, reason nor common sense, of her guilt, in order to explain it?

It may seem strange that, whatever her circumstances were, she should have married a man who had a wife living. But it must not be forgotten that the Catholic Archbishop of St. Andrews had declared Bothwell's former marriage invalid on the ground of consanguinity within the forbidden degree, from which no dispensation had been obtained. It is true that at a later date Mary regarded her marriage with Bothwell as invalid;[#] but it cannot be inferred that she contracted it in bad faith, for in the meantime doubts may have arisen as to whether the Archbishop's decision was founded on fact.--A good deal of uncertainty still hangs over the value of this decision. Besides, she must have learned, what does not appear to have occurred to the mind of the Archbishop, that, owing to the ecclesiastical impediment of _raptus_, she was incapable, no matter how earnestly she may have desired it, of contracting valid matrimony with Bothwell, without having first regained his liberty.

[#] I do not think it can be any longer doubted that Mary learned in the course of time to regard her marriage with Bothwell as invalid; and I am surprised that so eminent and enlightened a writer as Mr. Skelton should argue that her "subsequent anxiety to obtain a divorce from Bothwell proves that she continued to believe that the marriage was binding." She was too well versed in Catholic doctrine and in the history of Henry the Eighth's conflict with Rome to hope for a divorce from Bothwell, if she believed the marriage was binding. At any rate, her instructions to Bishop Leslie, whom she sent to Rome in 1575, leave it beyond doubt that it was not a divorce, but merely a declaration that the marriage was null from the beginning, that she asked of the Pope. "Take good heed," she said, "that the Holy Father shall publicly announce that the pretended marriage contracted between me and Bothwell, without any legality but by a pretended procedure is of no (force). For although there are many reasons which, as you know, make it clearly invalid in itself, yet the matter will be much clearer if his Holiness, acting as the most certain lawyer of the Church, will come forward to annul it." (Published from a Cottonian MS. by the late Rev. Joseph Stevenson, S.J., in notes to his preface to Claude Nau's narrative.)

During the nine days that intervened between the times he was brought back to Edinburgh and the day of her marriage, no effort was made to stay the proceedings. Craig, the minister of St. Giles, to whom it fell to publish the marriage banns, courageously declared his disapproval of the union, adding, however, the significant words that "the best part of the realm did approve it, either by flattery or by their silence"--words that show how completely the unfortunate Queen was left under the control of Bothwell.

But as soon as Mary's fortunes were identified with Bothwell's by the bond of marriage, the sound of approaching war was heard. The Confederate lords rose in arms to avenge the murder of the late King (so they said), and to liberate the Queen; and many true friends of Mary's, little suspecting the real purpose of the prime movers, arrayed themselves under their standard. The two armies met at Carberry Hill; no battle ensued. The Confederates promised that if Mary would separate herself from Bothwell and confide in them, they would respect her as their true sovereign. Mary agreed, but once in their power her eyes were opened. She was brought back to Edinburgh, flouted along the way with a banner on which was depicted the effigy of her murdered husband, and exposed to the studied insults of a rabble, half frantic from the fierce harangues of the Knoxonian preachers. The following night she was hurried away, and placed in the lonely castle of Lochleven, situated on a rock in a lake of the same name, in the County of Kinross. And that was how they fulfilled their promises to restore her to her royal estate,--that was her reward for the confidence she had placed in their word.

Froude attempts to justify the action of the Confederates on the ground that Mary, after reaching Edinburgh, refused to give up Bothwell, and that she wrote him a letter which was intercepted that same night, declaring her anxiety to be with him at almost any cost. Of course Froude was not the first to offer this explanation; but no writer who wishes to be classed among respectable historians would now embody that unauthenticated gossip in his narrative in the manner in which Froude has done. Froude evidently relies much on the gullibility of his readers; and not without reason; for how many of those who sweep over his dramatic pages, captivated by the brilliancy of his master style, ever suspect that his statements are reckless and unwarranted?

But did the Confederate lords imprison the Queen because she refused to give up Bothwell? We cannot tell. The alleged letter to Bothwell is the only argument for it, and that letter was never afterwards produced, although the production of it would have been of incalculable value to her enemies. The fact is, the lords gave nobody access to the Queen--not even the English envoy and what she did, or what she desired, we know only through those whose interest it was to make out a case against her.