Clernault arrived in Paris on 27 February and delivered his detailed account of Darnley’s murder. He also spoke with Mondovi and, that same day, the Nuncio sent to Rome a more accurate account of what had occurred at Kirk o’Field. On the 27th or 28th, Elizabeth dispatched Sir Henry Killigrew once more to Scotland to convey her letter to Mary with letters to the Scottish Council. Ostensibly he had come to express Elizabeth’s sympathy on her cousin’s loss, but the real purpose of his mission was to gain an insight into the true state of affairs in Scotland. Leslie later referred to him as “a spy, or rather, a traitor, under the guise of an ambassador,” and Mahon even suggests that he had come to incite the Scots Lords to rebel against and depose their ineffectual but dynastically dangerous Queen, who was showing such favour to Bothwell, a known enemy to England. It may be significant that little is known of Killigrew’s activities in Scotland, and nothing of what he reported to the English government on his return.
Three more placards appeared on church doors, one posted to the door of the Tron House, on the 28th; this referred to a smith who had agreed to testify that he had made the counterfeit keys to Darnley’s lodging. Drury, reporting this to Cecil, also mentioned he had been informed “by divers means” that the Countess of Bothwell was “extremely sick and not likely to live. They will say there she is marvellously swollen.” The innuendo was clear: Cecil was to infer that the Countess Jean had been poisoned by her husband. Drury added, incorrectly, that Balfour had left Edinburgh after the first placard appeared, but of course he had gone just before Darnley’s murder.
According to Drury, Mary had sent twice to Moray, asking him to return to court, for she greatly needed his advice and support at this time, but he, along with Morton and Lindsay, had been meeting secretly with Atholl and Caithness at Dunkeld.61This fledgling coalition of Protestants and Catholics is a measure of how strongly opinion was polarising against Bothwell. Mondovi heard later that “the Earl of Moray, having been called by Her Majesty, would not go.”62Instead, he sent to tell her that “he stayeth himself by my Lady in her sickness.”63The fact that he had left his wife to go to Dunkeld indicates how sick she actually was.
From late February onwards, the placard and smear campaign gained momentum. Bills were posted to St. Giles’s Kirk, the Tolbooth, the Mercat Cross, “the courthouse, on church doors, in the streets, at the crossroads”64 and even on the gates of Holyrood itself. Some bore crude portraits of Bothwell and the legends, “Who is the King’s murderer?” or “Here is the murderer of the King.”65Another doggerel rehearsed the crimes of “Bloody Bothwell.”
Naturally, wild rumours began circulating. One had it that, on the night of the murder, a mysterious figure had flitted through the streets of Edinburgh and aroused four of Atholl’s men, supposedly to warn them of the foul deed about to be committed. It was said that a dying man had seen a vision of Darnley being slain, and that one of Bothwell’s servants had been secretly murdered after hysterically denouncing his master as the King’s killer.66 “Everybody suspected the Earl of Bothwell, and those who durst speak freely to others said plainly that it was he,” wrote Melville, while, according to Buchanan, “no one now doubted who had planned the crime and who had carried it out.” But, wrote de Silva, although grave suspicion attached to Bothwell, no one dared accuse him openly because of his influence and strength.67
The gathering intensity of the campaign suggests that it was carefully coordinated by a group of people committed to bringing down Bothwell and, ultimately, the Queen herself. The success of this propaganda is evident from the rising groundswell of public opinion against Bothwell and Mary, and the feeling that Darnley’s murder had brought “shame to the whole nation.” As the people clamoured for justice and retribution, ministers of the Kirk “prayed openly to God that it will please Him both to reveal and revenge, exhorting all men to prayer and repentance.”68The Queen was alarmed by the libels and rumours, but powerless to stop them, for no one knew for certain who was responsible for them. The placards appeared mysteriously overnight, and their impact on an ignorant populace was immense. “The more they were suppressed, the more the people burst forth in their wrath.”69
Bothwell himself believed, but could not prove, that “several members of the Council, afraid that the Queen and I might catch up with them, banded together in an effort to obstruct us. They used all manner of trickery, posting up bills and placards at night, casting suspicion on me and my friends.”70 Bothwell may well have been correct in his suspicions, for who else knew for certain of his involvement in the murder? As we have seen, he had probably been earmarked from the start as the scapegoat for it. The fact that Drury received prompt information about each placard as it appeared perhaps suggests that there were those in high places who wanted to keep the English government informed about public opinion in Scotland, and it has even been conjectured that the propaganda campaign was orchestrated from England. The Book of Articles claims that “the common people” were responsible for the placards, which is almost certainly an attempt to deflect suspicion from the Lords; some of the placards were undoubtedly written by educated men of letters.
Buchanan was probably correct when he wrote that, “although the conspirators tried to seem contemptuous of these things, they could not hide their uneasiness, so they dropped the investigation of the King’s death and, with much more bitterness, set about pursuing the authors of the libels. They prosecuted the search with great severity, sparing neither expense nor labour. All painters and scriveners were summoned to see if they could possibly detect the authors from the pictures and libels.”
The smear campaign unnerved Hay, who was then with Bothwell at Seton. According to his dying confession, he sensed that he was being shunned for his association with the Earl, and began to suffer agonising qualms of conscience. One day, when they were in private and discussing Darnley’s death, Bothwell asked Hay what he thought “when you saw him blown up.”
“Alas, my Lord,” Hay replied, “Why do you say that? Whenever I hear such a thing, the words wound me to the death, as they should you.”71It is interesting to note that Bothwell was still under the impression that the explosion had caused Darnley’s death; for obvious reasons, no one had thought to disabuse him of the idea, which strongly suggests that the unlikely coalition of nobles that had formed to bring about Darnley’s murder had already disintegrated. Bothwell may not have realised it, but he was on his own now, and politically isolated.
The Queen, however, seemed determined to stand by Bothwell and defy public opinion. Rashly, on 1 March, she bestowed on him further benefits attached to the sheriffdom of Edinburgh and the bailery of Lauderdale.72But, contrary to what people thought, Bothwell had not grown rich in her service: the fact that he had just had to dispose of some land to raise funds shows that his financial position was as precarious as ever, and this latest gift was no doubt given in order to avoid him suffering further embarrassment. But the timing of it was disastrous.
On 1 March, in the midst of this clamour, Mary, still at Seton, replied in the most reasonable and accommodating manner to Lennox:
We have received your letter, and by the same perceive that you have partly mistaken our late letter sent you the 23rd of February, in that point that we should remit the trial of the odious act committed to the time of a Parliament. We meant not that, but rather would wish to God that it might be suddenly and without delay tried, for the sooner the better, and the greater comfort to us. And where you desire that we should cause the names contained in some tickets affixed on the Tolbooth to be apprehended and put in sure keeping, there is so many of the said tickets, and therewithal so different and contrary to others in counting of the names, that we wot not upon what ticket to proceed. But if there be any names mentioned in them that you think worthy to suffer a trial, upon your advertisement we shall so proceed to the cognition taking, as may stand with the laws of this realm; and, being found culpable, shall see the punishment as rigorously executed as the wickedness of the cr
ime deserves. What other thing you think meet to be done to that purpose we pray you let us understand, and we shall not omit any occasion which may clear the matter.73
Mary was assuring Lennox that she had no intention of deferring the trial of anyone arrested for Darnley’s murder until Parliament met. As to his suggestion, there were far too many people named in the placards for it to be realistic for her to apprehend them all, but if he wished to name those whom he believed guilty, and “if he will stand to the accusation of any of them,” she would authorise a private prosecution,74and if this resulted in a conviction, she would ensure that those convicted would be punished. In no sense can she be said to have been protecting Bothwell, for she must have realised that Lennox would name him. In the absence of any evidence, she herself was powerless to summon any suspect to answer before Parliament.
On the night after Mary wrote this letter, the most notorious and damning of all the placards appeared in Edinburgh. It depicted a bare-breasted and crowned mermaid—a mermaid then being a symbol for a siren or prostitute—holding a whip above a hare surrounded by swords; the mermaid was undoubtedly meant to be the Queen, while the hare was Bothwell’s heraldic device. The mermaid was protecting the hare with a whip, but none dared approach it anyway because of the threatening swords. There were two versions of this placard: one is coloured, the other uncoloured with a Latin motto that translates as, “Destruction awaits the wicked on every side.” This motto was taken from a book that may well have been given to Darnley by his uncle, John Stuart, Lord d’Aubigny,75and its use suggests that adherents of the Lennoxes were involved in the smear campaign.
The contents of the earlier placards were by now notorious in London, and on 1 March de Silva wrote to King Philip: “Every day it becomes clearer that the Queen must take steps to prove that she had no hand in the death of her husband, if she is to prosper in her claims to the succession here.”76 Soon, rumours of Bothwell’s guilt had spread to Paris, Madrid and Venice.
Given the mounting crisis, Moray could no longer delay his return to Edinburgh, and he arrived back in early March—certainly before the 8th,77and perhaps by the 3rd, when Forster reported to Cecil that Moray had had Balfour imprisoned in Edinburgh Castle. This cannot be correct, as Balfour attended a meeting of the Privy Council on 11 March.78
There had still been no reaction from Philip II to Darnley’s death. The French ambassador to Spain wrote to the Queen Mother on 3 and 5 March, but said nothing of how the King had received the news, which may indicate that Philip had his own opinions on the matter but did not wish to criticise a Catholic monarch or prejudice Mary’s succession in England.
Pagez arrived in Paris early in March and presented Mary’s letters to Archbishop Beaton and Mondovi.79Soon after his arrival, de Alava reported to King Philip that it was the opinion of many that it was the Queen of Scots who had got rid of Darnley, who would otherwise have killed her. However, de Alava seems not to have believed this, for he had heard from Archbishop Beaton that the murder was controlled from England, where the intention had been to kill the Queen as well.80
On 5 March, Killigrew reached Edinburgh with Elizabeth’s letter for Mary,81who was still at Seton; although she was far from well, she returned to Edinburgh before the 7th in order to welcome him. Buchanan implies that she would not see him immediately because “he arrived too unseasonably ere the stage had been set: the windows open, the candles not yet lit, and all the other apparatus for the play unprepared.” Yet it would not have taken too long for Mary’s mourning chamber to be prepared in this way, for it had been done very quickly on the morning after Darnley’s death, so Buchanan’s allegation seems purely malicious, and it is far more likely that Mary was too exhausted by the ten-mile ride from Seton to make the effort to receive an ambassador with the proper ceremony.
The next day, Killigrew was entertained to dinner by Moray, with Huntly, Argyll, Maitland and Bothwell—who had all been involved in Darnley’s murder—among the guests, and was afterwards conducted to his audience with the Queen. She received him in a chamber so dark that he could not see her face, “but by her words she seemed very doleful, and accepted my sovereign’s letters and message in very thankful manner. I hope for her answer in two days, which I think will gratify the Queen’s Majesty.”82In the event, Elizabeth had to wait rather longer for her answer.
Mahon speculated that someone impersonated Mary on this occasion, but there is no reason to think that, and anyway Killigrew had met her before and would have known her voice. He himself did not question the identity of the woman who received him. The fact that Mary was in a darkened chamber and, according to Buchanan, in bed, is proof that she was still in low spirits and observing her forty days of mourning, and suggests that she had kept the convention whilst at Seton.
In Edinburgh, Killigrew found “great suspicions and no proof, nor appearance of apprehension yet, although I am made believe I shall before I depart hence”; he also detected “a general misliking among the commons and others, which abhor the detestable murder of their King.” He met three of Darnley’s servants, Anthony Standen, Thomas Nelson and Henry Gwynn, who were hoping to return to England as soon as they could obtain passports. Killigrew also noted that Lennox was still in Glasgow, “where he thinks himself safe, as a man of his told me,” among his friends.83
Mary’s failure, or inability, to deal with the problems confronting her was becoming increasingly manifest. On 8 March, de Silva, who had apparently sent Mary a note warning her of a plot against her—probably the same one that had prompted de Alava to warn Beaton—wrote to Philip II expressing surprise that she had not acknowledged it.84Around the same time, Lennox wrote to Cecil asking him to urge Elizabeth to avenge “the shedding of Her Highness’s own innocent blood”;85it was obvious that he had no faith in Mary doing so. By now, having suffered Elizabeth’s outrage and Lady Lennox’s importunings, Cecil had had enough of the Scottish crisis, and on 11 March he told Drury he desired nothing more than to resign.86
Mondovi, however, was still optimistic about Mary. After talking with Pagez, he reported to Rome that the Queen of Scots would now execute the purpose urged on her, which was the deaths of the six leading Scottish Protestant Lords.87This was a strange about-turn, and perhaps Pagez was taking rather much upon himself, or Mary had her suspicions as to who was responsible for Darnley’s murder. But there is no evidence that she was intending at this time to proceed against anyone for any cause, and it may be that Mondovi had drawn the wrong conclusion from his talk with Pagez.
Certainly Archbishop Beaton was deeply concerned about the rumours linking Mary to Darnley’s death, and was moved to unusual frankness and forcefulness in his reply to Mary’s letters of 20 January and 10 and 18 February, which displays remarkable prescience. After insisting that he had known nothing of the questionable activities of his servants Hiegait and Walker, he referred to “the horrible, mischievous and strange enterprise and execution of the King’s Majesty, who, by craft of men has so violently been shortened of his days,” and came straight to the point:
Of this deed, if I would write all that is spoken here and also in England by [of] the dishonour of the nobility, mistrust and treason of your whole subjects, yea, that yourself is greatly and wrongfully calumniated to be the motive principal of the whole of all, and all done by your command, I can conclude nothing [except] that Your Majesty writes to me yourself, that, since it has pleased God to preserve you to take a vigorous vengeance thereof, that, rather than that it be not actually taken, it appears to me better in this world that you had lost life and all.
As Elizabeth I and Catherine de’ Medici had done, Beaton exhorted Mary to forth-show, now, rather than ever of before, the great virtue, magnanimity and constancy that God has granted you, by Whose grace I hope you shall overcome this most heavy envy and displeasure of the committing thereof, and preserve that reputation in all godliness you have gained of long, which can appear no ways more clearly than that you do such justice as the whole wo
rld may declare your innocence, and give testimony for ever of their treason that has committed, without fear of God or man, so cruel and ungodly a murder, whereof there is so much evil spoken that I am constrained to ask you mercy that neither can I nor will I make the rehearsal thereof, which is ever odious. But alas, Madam, this day, all over Europe, there is no subject in head so frequent as of Your Majesty and of the present estate of your realm, which is for the most part interpreted sinisterly.
Beaton’s warning could not have been more candid, and when she got this letter, Mary would know that he had told her the truth and spoken out in her interests. Other letters of his show that he thought her innocent.88
The Archbishop added:
I did thank the ambassador of Spain on your behalf of the advertisement he had made you, suppose it came too late, who yet has desired you to remember Your Majesty that yet he is informed and advertised by the same means as he was of before, that there is yet some notable enterprise against you, wherewith he wishes you to beware in time. I write this far with great regret, by reason I can come in no ways to the knowledge of any particular from his master.89
De Alava’s source was well informed, yet the question must be asked: did the Lords intend any harm to Mary, and how far had they proceeded in their plotting?
It is highly unlikely that Mary had been their intended victim at Kirk o’Field, but almost certain that they had meant to pin the whole responsibility for the crime on Bothwell and thus destroy him. Mary’s trust in Bothwell, and her elevation of him to the position of her chief adviser, was anathema to the Lords, especially Moray. The major crises of Mary’s reign—the Chaseabout Raid and the murders of Rizzio and Darnley—had arisen as a result of threats to Moray’s political dominance, and now here was Bothwell, posing yet another threat. It should not be forgotten that, as well as plotting Rizzio’s murder, the Protestant Lords had planned to imprison their Catholic Queen and rule in the name of her child. Mary’s continuing refusal or inability to proceed against Bothwell for Darnley’s murder, which is what the Lords had probably intended all along, must have gone some way towards sealing her fate, and the mounting public opprobrium against her would have given grounds for a growing conviction that she was not fit to reign.