July 26, 2025 • 43 mins
Celebrated Crimes is a unique series of historical narratives by a young, rising Alexandre Dumas, before he became renowned as the author of DArtagnan or Monte Cristo. The third volume focuses on the tumultuous life and tragic end of Mary Queen of Scots. Dumas meticulously delves into the controversial aspects of her reign, yet maintains a sympathetic perspective towards her. Remembered for her strong ties to France through education and marriage, Marys fate has been a subject of unending debate, especially in light of the role Elizabeth played in her downfall.
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter three of Celebrated Crimes, Volume three by Alexander Dumah,
translated by George Burnham Ives. This LibriVox recording is in
the public domain. Chapter three. Directly after she delivered, Mary
sent for James Melville, her usual envoy, to Elizabeth, and
charged him to convey this news to the Queen of
England and beg her to be godmother to the royal
(00:21):
child at the same time. On arriving in London, Melville
immediately presented himself at the palace, but as there was
a court ball, he could not see the Queen, and
contented himself with making known the reasons for his journey
to the minister Cecil, and with begging him to ask
his mistress for an audience. Next day, Elizabeth was dancing
in a quadrille at the moment when Cecil, approaching her, said,
(00:41):
in a low voice, Queen Mary of Scotland has just
given birth to a son. At these words, she grew
frightfully pale, and looking about her with a bewildered air,
as if if she were about to faint. She leaned
against an arm chair, then, soon not being able to
stand upright, she sat down through her head and plunged
into a mournful reverie. Then one of the ladies of
(01:04):
her court of breaking through the circle which had formed
round the Queen approached her ill at ease, and asked
her of what she was thinking so sadly, ah Madame
Elizabeth replied impatiently, do you not know that Mary Stewart
has given birth to a son, while I am but
a barren stock who will die without offspring. Yet Elizabeth
(01:25):
was too good a politician, in spite of her liability,
to be carried away by a first impulse to compromise
herself by any longer display of her grief. The ball
was not discontinued on that account, and the interrupted quadrille
was resumed and finished. The next day Melville had his audience.
Elizabeth received him to perfection, assuring him of all the
pleasure that the news he brought had cost her, and
(01:47):
which she said had cured her of a complaint from
which she had suffered for a fortnight. Melville replied that
his mistress had hastened to acquaint her with her joy,
knowing that she had no better friend. But he added
that this joy had nearly cost to marry her life,
so grievous had been her confinement. As he was returning
to this point for the third time with the object
of still further increasing the Queen of England's dislike to
(02:07):
marriage be easy Melville, Elizabeth answered him, you need not
insist upon it. I shall never marry. My kingdom takes
the place of a husband for me and my subjects
or my children. When I am dead, I wish graven
on my tombstone. Here lies Elizabeth, who reigned so many years,
and who died a virgin. Melville availed himself of this
(02:29):
opportunity to remind Elizabeth of the desire she had shown
to see Mary three or four years before. But Elizabeth said,
besides her country's affairs which necessitated her presence in the
heart of her possessions, she did not care, after all
she had heard said of her rival's beauty to expose
herself to a comparison disadvantageous to her pride. She contented
herself then with choosing as her proxy the Earl of Bedford,
(02:52):
who set out with several other noblemen for Stirling Castle,
where the young prince was christened with great pomp and
received the name of Charles James. It was remarked that
Darnley did not appear at this ceremony, and that his
absence seemed to scandalize greatly the Queen of England's envoy.
On the contrary, James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell, had the
most important place there. This was because since the evening,
(03:14):
when Bothwell at Mary's Cries had run to oppose the
murder of Rizzio, he had made a great way in
the Queen's favor to her party. He himself appeared to
be really attached, to the exclusion of the two others,
the Kings and the Earl of Murray's. Bothwell was already
thirty five years old, head of the powerful family of Hepburn,
which had great influence in East Lothian and the County
of Berwick. For the rest the violent rough, given to
(03:36):
every kind of debauchery, and capable of anything to satisfy,
an ambition that did not even give himself the trouble
to hide. In his youth, he had been reputed courageous,
but for long he had had no serious opportunity to
draw the sword. If the King's authority had been shaken
by Rizzio's influence, it was entirely upset by Bothwell's the
great nobles, following the Favorites example, no longer rose in
(03:58):
the presence of Darnley, and ceased little by little to
treat him as their equal. His retinue was cut down,
his silver plate taken from him, and some officers who
remained about him made him by their services with the
most bitter vexations. As for the Queen, she no longer
even took the trouble to conceal her dislike for him,
avoiding him without consideration to such a degree that one day,
(04:18):
when she had gone with Bothwell to Olway, she left
there again immediately because Darnley came to join her. The King, however,
still had patience, But a fresh imprudence of Mary's at
last led to the terrible catastrophe that since the Queen's
liaison with Bothwell some had already foreseen. Towards the end
of the month of October fifteen sixty six, while the
(04:38):
Queen was holding a court of justice at Jedborogh, it
was announced to her that Bothwell, in trying to seize
a malefactor called John of Elliott of Park, had been
badly wounded in the hand the Queen, who was about
to attend the council, immediately postponed the sitting till next day, and,
having ordered a horse to be saddled, set out for
Hermitage Castle, where Bothwell was living, and covered the distance
(05:00):
at a stretch, although it was twenty miles and she
had to go across woods, marshes and rivers. Then, having
remained some hours tete a tete with him, she set
out again with the same speed for Jedburgh, to which
she returned in the night. Although this proceeding had made
a great deal of talk, which was inflamed still more
by the Queen's enemies, who chiefly belonged to the Reformed religion,
(05:22):
Darnley did not hear of it till nearly two months afterwards,
that is to say, when Bothwell, completely recovered, returned with
the Queen to Edinburgh. Then Darnley thought he ought not
to put up any longer with such humiliations. But as
since his treason to his accomplices, he had not found
in all Scotland a noble who would have drawn the
sword for him, he resolved to go and seek the
Earl of Lennox, his father, hoping that through his influence,
(05:44):
he could rally the malcontents, of whom there were a
great number, since Bothwell had been in favor. Unfortunately, a Darnley,
indiscreet and imprudent as usual, confided this plan to some
of his officers, who warned Bothwell of their master's intention.
Bothwell did not seem to oppose the journey in any way,
but Darnley was scarcely a mile from Edinburgh when he
felt violent pains. None the less, he continued his road
(06:06):
and arrived very ill at Glasgow. He immediately set for
a celebrated doctor called James Abney, who found his body
covered with pimples and declared without any hesitation that he
had been poisoned. However, others, among them Walker Scott, state
that this illness was nothing else than smallpox, whatever it
may have been. The Queen, in the presence of the
danger her husband ran, appeared to forget her resentment, and,
(06:29):
at the risk of what might prove troublesome to herself,
she went to Darnley, after sending her doctor in advance.
It is true that, if one is to believe in
the following letters dated from Glasgow, which Mary is accused
of having written to bothwell. She knew the illness with
which he was attacked too well to fear infection. As
these letters are a little known and seemed to us
very singular, we transcribed them here. Later we shall tell
(06:52):
how they fell into the power of the Confederate lords,
and from their hands passed into Elizabeths, whose quite delighted,
cried on receiving them God's death. Then I hold her
life and honor in my hands. First letter. When I
set out from the place where I had left my heart,
judge in what a condition I was, poor body without
(07:12):
a soul. Besides, during the whole dinner, I have not
spoken to any one, and no one has dared to
approach me, For it was easy to see that there
was something amiss. When I arrived within a league of
the town. The Earl of Lennox sent me one of
his gentlemen to make me his compliments and to excuse
himself for not having come in person. He has caused
me to be informed moreover, that he did not dare
to present himself before me after the reprimand that I
(07:34):
gave Cunningham. This gentleman begged me, as if on his
own accord, to examine his master's conduct to ascertain if
my suspicions were well founded. I have replied to him
that fear was an incurable disease, that the Earl of
Lennox would not be so agitated if his conscience reproached
him with nothing, and that if some hasty words had
escaped me, they were but just reprisals for the letter
(07:55):
he had written me. None of the inhabitants visited me,
which makes me think they are in his interests. Besides,
they speak of him very fondly, as well as of
his son. The King sent for Joachim yesterday and asked
him why I did not lodge with him, adding that
my presence would soon cure him, and asked me also
with what object I had come, if it were to
(08:15):
be reconciled with him, if you were here, if I
had taken Paris and Gilbert as secretaries, and if I
were still resolved to dismiss Joseph. I do not know
who has given him such accurate information. There is nothing
down to the marriage of Sebastian with which he has
not made himself acquainted. I have asked him to meaning
of one of his letters in which he complains of
(08:36):
the cruelty of certain people. He replied that he was stricken,
but that my presence cost him so much joy that
he thought he should die of it. He reproached me
several times for being dreamy. I left him to go
to supper. He begged me to return. I went back.
Then he told me the story of his illness, and
that he wished to make a will, leaving me everything,
(08:56):
adding that I was a little the cause of his trouble,
and that he attributed it to my coldness. You ask me,
added he, who are the people of whom I complain?
It is of you, cruel one of you whom I
have never been able to appease By my tears and
my repentance. I know that I have offended you, but
not on the matter that you reproach me with. I
(09:18):
have also offended some of your subjects, but that you
have forgiven me. I am young. You say that I
always relapse into my faults, But cannot a young man
like me, destitute of experience, gain it also break his promises,
repent directly, and in time improve. If you will forgive
me yet once more, I will promise to offend you
never again. All the favor I ask of you is
(09:39):
that we should live together like husband and wife, to
have but one bed and one board. If you are inflexible,
I shall never rise again from here. I entreat you
tell me your decision. God alone knows what I suffer,
and that because I occupy myself with you only because
I love you and adore only you. If I have
offended you, sometimes you must bear the reproach for when
(10:01):
someone offends me. If it were granted me to complain
to you, I should not confide my griefs to others.
But when we are on bad terms, I am obliged
to keep them to myself, and that maddens me. He
then urged me strongly to stay with him and lodge
in his house, But I excused myself and replied that
he ought to be purged and that he could not
(10:22):
be conveniently at Glasgow. Then he told me that he
knew I had brought a letter for him, but that
he would have preferred to make the journey with me.
He believed I think that I meant to send him
to some prison. I replied that I should take him
to a Craig Miller, that he would find doctors there.
That I should remain near him, and that we should
be within reach of seeing my son. He has answered
(10:43):
that he will go where I wish to take him,
provided that I grant him what he has asked. He does, not, however,
wish to be seen by any one. He has told
me more than a hundred pretty things that I cannot
repeat to you, and at which you yourself would be surprised.
He did not want to let me go. He wanted
to make me sit up with him all night. As
for me, I pretended to believe everything, and I seem
(11:04):
to interest myself really in him. Besides, I have never
seen him so small and humble, And if I had
not known how easily his heart overflows, and how mine
is impervious to every other arrow than those with which
you have wounded it. I believe that I should have
allowed myself to soften, But lest that should alarm you,
I would rather die than give up what I have
promised to you. As for you, be sure to act
(11:25):
in the same way towards those traitors who will do
all they can to separate you from me. I believe
that all those people have been cast in the same mold.
This one always has a tear in his eye. He
bows down before every one, from the greatest to the smallest.
He wishes to interest them in his favor and make
himself pitied. His father threw up blood to day through
(11:46):
the nose and mouth. I think, with these symptoms mean
I have not seen him yet, for he keeps to
the house. The king wants me to feed him myself.
He won't eat unless I do. But whatever I may do,
you will be deceived by it, no more than I
shall be deceiving myself. We are united, you and I
to two kinds of very detestable people. Mary means Miss
(12:07):
Huntley Bothwell's wife, whom he repudiated at the King's death,
to marry the queen. That Hell may sever these knots then,
and that Heaven may form better ones that nothing can break,
that it may make of us the most tender and
faithful couple that ever was. There is the profession of
faith in which I would die. Excuse my scrawl. You
must guess more than half of it. But I know
(12:29):
no help for this. I am obliged to write to
you hastily while every one is asleep here. But be easy.
I take infinite pleasure in my watch, for I cannot
sleep like the others, not being able to sleep as
I would like. That is to say, in your arms,
I am going to get into bed. I shall finish
my letter tomorrow. I have too many things to tell you.
(12:49):
The night is too far advanced. Imagine my despair. It
is to you I am writing. It is of myself
that I converse with you, and I am obliged to
make an end. I cannot prevent myself, however, from filling
up hastily the rest of my paper. The cursed be
the crazy creature who torments me so much. Were it
not for him, I could talk to you of more
agreeable things. He has not greatly changed, and yet he
(13:11):
has taken a great deal of f But he has
nearly killed me with this fetid smell of his breath.
For how it is still worse than your cousin's. You
guess that it is a fresh reason for my not
approaching him. On the contrary, I go away as far
as I can, and sit on a chair at the
foot of his bed. Let us see if I forget anything.
(13:32):
His father's messenger on the road, the question about Joachim,
the state of my house, the people of my suite,
subject of my arrival, Joseph conversation between him and me,
his desire to please me, and his repentance, the explanation
of his letter Mister Livingstone. Ah, I was forgetting that.
Yesterday Livingstone, during supper, told de Rere in a low
(13:54):
voice to drink to the health of one I knew well,
and to beg me to do him the honor. After supper,
as I was leaning on his shoulder near the fire,
he said to me, is it not true that there
are visits very agreeable for those who pay them and
those who receive them, But however satisfied they seem with
your arrival. I challenge their delight to equal the grief
of one whom you have left alone to day, and
(14:14):
who will never be content till he seize you again.
I asked him of whom he wished to speak to me.
He then answered me by pressing my arm of one
of those who have not followed you, and among those
it is easy for you to guess of whom I
want to speak. I have worked till two o'clock at
the bracelet. I have enclosed a little key which is
attached by two strings. It is not as well worked
(14:37):
as I should like, but I have not had time
to make it better. I will make you a finer
one on the first occasion. Take care that it is
not seen on you, for I have worked at it
before every one, and it would be recognize to a certainty.
I always return, in spite of myself, to the frightful
attempt that you advise. You compel me to concealments and
above all the treacheries that make me shudder. I would
(14:57):
rather die, believe me, than do such things, for it
makes my my heart bleed. He does not want to
follow me unless I promise him to have these self
same bed and board with him as before, and not
to abandon him so often. If I consent to it,
he says he will do all I wish and will
follow me everywhere. But he has begged me to put
off my departure for two days. I have pretended to
agree to all he wishes, but I have told him
(15:18):
not to speak of our reconciliation to any one, for
fear it should make some lords uneasy. At last, I
shall take him everywhere I wish, alas I have never
deceived any one, But what would I not do to
please you? Command? And whatever happens, I shall obey, but
see yourself. If one could not constrive some secret means
of the shape of a remedy, he must purge himself
(15:40):
at Craig Miller and take baths there. He will be
some days without going out. So far as I can see,
he is very uneasy, but he has great trust in
what I tell him. However, his confidence does not go
so far as to allow him to open his mind
to me. If you like, I will tell him everything.
I can have no pleasure in deceiving someone who is trusting. However,
it will be just as you wish. Do not esteem
(16:01):
me the less for that it is you advised it,
and never would vengeance have taken me so far. Sometimes
he attacks me in a very sensitive place, and he
touches me to the quick when he tells me that
his crimes are known, but that every day greater ones
are committed that one uselessly attempts to hide, Since all crimes,
whatever they be great or small, come to men's knowledge
(16:21):
and form the common subject of their discourse. He adds
sometimes in speaking to me of Madame Derr, I wish
her services may do you honor. He has assured me
that many people thought, and that he thought himself that
I was not my own mistress. This is doubtless because
I had rejected the conditions he offered me. Finally, it
is certain that he is a very uneasy about you
(16:42):
know what, and that he suspects even that his life
is aimed at. He is in despair whenever the conversation
turns towards you, Livingstone, and my brother. However, he says
neither good nor ill of absent people. But on the contrary,
he always avoids speaking of them. His father keeps to
his house. I have not yet seen him. A number
of the Hamiltons are here and accompany me everywhere. All
(17:04):
the friends of the other one follow me each time
I go to see him. He has begged me to
be at his rising tomorrow. My messenger will tell you
the rest. Burn my letter. There would be danger in
keeping it. Besides, it is hardly worth the trouble being
filled only with dark thoughts. As for you, do not
be offended if I am sad and uneasy to day
that to please you, I rise above honor, remorse and dangers.
(17:26):
Do not take in bad part what I tell you,
and do not listen to the malicious explanations of your
wife's brother. He is a knave whom you ought not
to hear, to the prejudice of the most tender and
most faithful mistress that ever was. Above all, do not
allow yourself to be moved by that woman. Her sham
tears are nothing in comparison with the real tears that
I shed, and with what love and constancy make me
(17:47):
suffer at succeeding her. It is for that alone that,
in spite of myself, I betray all those who could
cross my love. God have mercy on me and send
you all the prosperity that a humble and tender friend
who awaits from you so soon another reward wishes you.
It is very late, but it is always with regret
that I laid down my pen when I write to you. However,
I shall not end my letter until I shall have
(18:09):
kissed your hands. Forgive me that is so ill written.
Perhaps I do so expressly that you may be obliged
to reread it. Several times I have transcribed hastily what
I had written down on my tablets and my paper
as given out. Remember a tender friend, and write to
her often. Love me as tenderly as I love you,
and remember Madame the rarest words the English, his mother,
(18:31):
the Earl of Argyll, the Earl of Bothwell, the Edinburgh dwelling.
Second letter. It seems that you have forgotten me during
your absence, so much the more that you had promised
me at setting out to let me know in detail
everything fresh that should happen. The hope of receiving your
news was giving me almost as much delight as your
return could have brought me. You have put it off
(18:52):
longer than you promised me. As for me, although you
do not write, I play my part always. I shall
take him to Craig Miller on Monday, and he will
spend the whole of Wednesday there. On that day I
shall go to Edinburgh to be bled there, unless you
arrange otherwise. At least he is more cheerful than usual,
and he is better than ever. He says everything he
can to persuade me that he loves me. He has
a thousand attentions for me, and he anticipates me in everything.
(19:15):
All that is so pleasant for me that I never
go to him, But the pain in my side comes
on again. His company weighs on me so much if
Paris brought me what I asked him, I should soon
be cured. If you had not yet returned. When I
go you know where, write to me. I beg you
and tell me what you wish me to do. For
if you do not manage things prudently, I foresee that
(19:37):
the whole burden will fall on me. Look into everything
and weigh the affair maturely. I sent you my letter
by Beaton, who will set out the day which has
been assigned to bal for it only remains for me
to beg you to inform me of your journey Glasgow
this Saturday morning. Third letter. I stayed you know Where
longer than I should have done if it had not
(19:58):
been to get rid from him something that the bearer
of these presents will tell you. It was a good
opportunity for covering up our designs. I have promised him
to bring the persons you know tomorrow. Look after the rest.
If you think fit alas, I have failed in our agreement,
for you have forbidden me to right you or to
dispatch a messenger to you. However, I do not intend
to offend you. If you knew with what fears I
(20:20):
am agitated, you would not have yourself so many doubts
and suspicions, but I take them in good part, persuaded
as I am, that they have no other cause than love,
Love that I esteem more than anything on earth. My
feelings and my favors are to me sure warrants for
that love, and answer to me for your heart. My
trust is entire on this head. But explain yourself. I
entreat you, and open your soul to me. Otherwise I
(20:43):
shall fear lest by the fatality of my star, and
by the too fortunate influence of the stars on women
less tender and less faithful than I. I may be
supplanted in your heart as Medeia was in Jason's. Not
that I wish to compare you to a lover as
unfortunate as Jason, and to parallel myself with a master
like Medea, although you have enough influence over me to
(21:03):
force me to resemble her each time our love exacts it,
And that it concerns me to keep your heart, which
belongs to me, and which belongs to me only for
I name as belonging to me what I have purchased
with the tender and constant love with which I have
burned for you a love more alive to day than ever,
and which will end only with my life, A love
in short, which makes me despise both the dangers and
(21:25):
the remorse, which will be perhaps its sad sequel. As
the price of this sacrifice, I ask you but one favor.
It is to remember a spot not far from here.
I do not exact that you should keep your promise tomorrow,
but I want to see you to disperse your suspicions.
I ask of God only one thing. It is that
he should make you read my heart, which is less
(21:45):
mine than yours, and that he should guard you from
every ill, at least during my life. This life is
dear to me only in so far as it pleases you,
and as I please you myself. I am going to bed. Adieu.
Give me your news tomorrow morning, for I shall be
un easy till I have it. Like a bird escaped
from its cage, or the turtle dove which has lost
her mate, I shall be alone weeping your absence. Short
(22:07):
as it may be, this letter happier than I will
go this evening where I cannot go, provided that the
messenger does not find you asleep, as I fear, I
have not dared to write it in the presence of
Joseph of Sebastian, and of Joachim, who had only just
left me when I began it. Thus, as one sees,
and always supposing these letters to be genuine, Mary had
(22:28):
conceived for Bothwell one of those mad passions, so much
stronger in the women who are prey to them, that
one the less understands what could have inspired them. Bothwell
was no longer young, Bothwell was not handsome, and yet
Mary sacrificed for him a young husband who was considered
one of the handsomest men in his century. It was
like a kind of enchantment. Darnley, the sole obstacle to
(22:50):
the union, had been already condemned for a long time,
if not by Mary, at least by Bothwell. Then, as
his strong constitution had conquered the poison, another kind of
death was sought for the Queen, As she announces in
her letter to Bothwell, had refused to bring back Darnley
with her and had returned alone to Edinburgh. Arrived there,
she gave orders for the king to be moved in
his turn in a litter, but instead of taking him
(23:11):
to Sterling or Holyrood, she decided to lodge him in
the abbey of the Kirk of Field. The King made
some objections when he knew of this arrangement, However, as
he had no power to oppose it, he contented himself
with complaining of the solitude of the dwelling assigned him.
But the Queen made answer that she could not receive
him at the moment, either at Holyrood or at Sterling,
for fear if his illness were infectious, lest he might
(23:33):
give it to his son. Darnley was then obliged to
make the best of the abode allotted him. It was
an isolated abbey, and little calculated by its position to
dissipate the fears that the king entertained, for it was
situated between two ruined churches and two cemeteries. The only house,
which was distant about a shot from a crossbow, belonged
to the Hamiltons, and as they were Darnley's mortal enemies,
(23:54):
the neighborhood was none the more reassuring. Further towards the
north rose some wretched huts called the thief y Eve's
cross Roads, and going round his new residence, Darnley noticed
that three holes, each large enough for a man to
get through had been made in the walls. He asked
that these holes through which ill meaning persons could get in,
should be stopped up. It was promised that Mason should
be sent, but nothing was done, and the holes remained open.
(24:16):
The day after his arrival at Kirkfield, the King saw
a light in that house near his which lie believed deserted.
Next day he asked Alexander Durham whence it came, and
he heard that the Archbishop of Saint Andrews had left
his palace in and Borough and had housed there since
the preceding evening. One didn't know why. This news still
further increased the King's uneasiness. The Archbishop of Saint Andrews
was one of his most declared enemies. The king, little
(24:39):
by little, abandoned by all his servants, lived on the
first floor of an isolated pavilion, having about him only
this same Alexander Durham, whom we have mentioned already, and
who was his valet Darnley, who had quite a special
friendship for him, and who, besides, as we have said,
feared some attack on his life at every moment, had
made him move his bed into his own apartment, so
that both were sleeping in the sea room. On the
(25:01):
night of the eighth February, Darnley awoke Durham. He thought
he heard footsteps in the apartment beneath him. Durham rose
took a sword in one hand a taper in the other,
and went down to the ground floor. But although Darnley
was quite certain he had not been deceived, Durham came
up again after a moment, saying he had seen no one.
The morning of the next day pass without bringing anything fresh.
(25:23):
The Queen was marrying one of her servants named Sebastian.
He was in avernat, whom she had brought with her
from France and whom she liked very much. However, as
the King sent word that he had not seen her
for two days, she left the wedding towards six o'clock
in the evening and came to pay him a visit,
accompanied by the Contess of Argyll and the Countess of Huntley.
While she was there, a Durham, in preparing his bed,
(25:45):
set fire to his palliasse, which was burned as well
as part of the mattress, so that having thrown them
out of the window, all in flames, for fear lest
the fire should reach the rest of the furniture. He
found himself without a bed and asked permission to return
to the town to sleep. But Darnley, who remembered his
terror the night before, and who was surprised at the
promptness that had made Durham throw all his bedding out
of the window, begged him not to go away, offering
(26:07):
him one of his mattresses or even to take him
into his own bed. However, in spite of this offer,
Durham insisted, saying that he felt unwell and that he
should like to see a doctor the same evening. So
the Queen interceded for Durham and promised Darnley to send
him another valet to spend the night with him. Darnley
was then obliged to yield, in making Merry repeat that
she would send him someone. He gave Durham lea for
(26:28):
that evening. At that moment, Paris, of whom the Queen
speaks in her letters, came in. He was a young
Frenchman who had been in Scotland for some years, and who,
after having served with Bothwell and Satan, was at present
with the Queen, seeing him. She got up, and as
Darnley still wished to keep her. Indeed, my Lord, it
is impossible, said she, to come and see you. I
have left this poor Sebastian's wedding, and I must return
(26:50):
to it, for I promised to come masked to his ball.
The king dared not insist. He only reminded her of
the promise that she had made to send him a servant.
Mary renewed it yet once again, and went away with
her attendants. As for Durham, he had set out the
moment he received permission. It was nine o'clock in the evening.
A Darnley left alone, carefully shut the doors within and
retired to rest, although in readiness to rise to let
(27:13):
in the servant who should come to spend the night
with him. Scarcely was he in bed than the same
noise that he had heard the night before recommenced. This time.
Darnley listened with all the attention fear gives, and soon
he had no longer any doubt but that several men
were walking about beneath him. It was useless to call,
It was dangerous to go out. To wait was the
only course that remained to the king. He made sure
(27:34):
again that the doors were well fastened, put his sword
under his pillow, extinguished his lamp for fear the light
might betray him, and awaited in silence for his servant's arrival.
But the hours passed away and the servant did not come.
At one o'clock in the morning, Bothwell, after having talked
some while with the Queen in the presence of the
Captain of the guard, returned home to Chace's dress. After
some minutes he came out, wrapped up in a large
(27:56):
cloak of a German hussar, went through the guard house
and had the castle gate opened. Once outside, he took
his way with all speed to cook a field, which
he entered by the opening in the wall. Scarcely had
he made a step in the garden than he met
James Balfour, governor of the castle. Well. He said to him,
how far have we got? Everything is ready, replied Balfour,
(28:17):
and we were waiting for you to set fire to
the fuse. That is well, Bothwell answered, but first I
want to make sure that he is in his room.
At these words, Bothwell opened the pavilion door with a
false key, and, having groped his way up the stairs,
he went to listen at Darnley's door. Darnley, hearing no
further noise, had ended by going to sleep. But he
slept with a jerky breathing, which pointed to his agitation.
(28:40):
Little mattered it to Bothwell what kind of sleep it was,
provided that he was really in his room, he went
down again in silence. Then, as he had come up,
and taking a lantern from one of the conspirators, he
went himself into the lower room to see if everything
was in order. The room was full of barrels of
powder and a fuse ready prepared. Wanted but a spark
to set the hole on fire. Bothwell withdrew then to
(29:01):
the end of the garden with Balfour, David Chambers, and
three or four others, leaving one man to ignite the fuse.
In a moment this man rejoined them. There ensued some
minutes of anxiety, during which the five men looked at
one another in silence and as if afraid of themselves. Then,
seeing that nothing exploded, Bothwell impatiently turned round to the engineer,
reproaching him for having no doubt through fear, done his
(29:22):
work badly. He assured his master that he was certain
everything was all right, and as Bothwell impatient, wanted to
return to the house himself to make sure, he offered
to go back and see how things stood. In fact,
he went back to the pavilion, and putting his head
through a kind of air hole, he saw the fuse,
which was still burning. Some seconds afterwards, Bothwell saw him
come running back, making a sign that all was going well.
(29:44):
At the same moment a frightful report was heard. The
pavilion was blown to pieces, the town and the firth
were lit up with a clearness exceeding the brightness daylight.
Then everything fell back into night, and the silence was
broken only by the fall of stones and joysts, which
down as fast as hale and a hurricane. Next day,
the body of the king was found in a garden
(30:05):
in the neighborhood. It had been saved from the action
of the fire by the mattress on which he was lying,
and as doubtless in his terror, he had merely thrown
himself on its bed, wrapped in his dressing gown and
in his slippers. And as he was found thus without
its slippers, which were flung some paces away, it was
believed that he had been first strangled, then carried there.
But the most probable version was that the murderers simply
relied upon powder in auxiliary, sufficiently powerful in itself for
(30:28):
them to have no fear it would fail them. Was
the Queen an accomplice or not? No one has ever
known save her self, bothwell and God. But yes or no.
Her conduct in prudent this time, as always, gave the
charge her enemies brought against her, if not substance, at
least an appearance of truth. Scarcely had she heard the
news than she gave orders that the body should be
(30:49):
brought to her, and having had it stretched out upon
a bench, she looked at it with more curiosity than sadness.
Then the corpse, embalmed, was placed the same evening, without pomp,
by the side of Rizzio's Scottish ceremonial proscribes for the
windows of king's retirement for forty days in a room
entirely closed until light of day. On the twelfth day,
Mary had the windows open, and on the fifteenth set
(31:10):
out with bothwell for setan a country house situated five
miles from the capital, where the French ambassador to roc
went in search of her and made her remonstrances, which
decided her to return to Edinburgh, But instead of the
cheers which usually greeted her coming, she was received by
an icy silence, and a solitary woman in the crowd
called out, God, treat her as she deserves. The names
(31:31):
of the murderers were no secret to the people. Bothwell.
Having brought a splendid coat which was too large for
him to a tailor, asking him to remake it to
his measure, the man recognized it as having belonged to
the King. That's right, said he. It is the custom
for the executioner to inherit from the condemned. Meanwhile, the
Earl of Lennox, supported by the people's murmurs, loudly demanded
(31:53):
justice for his son's death, and came forward as the
accuser of his murderers. The Queen was then obliged to
appease paternal claes and public resentment, to command the Earl
of Argyll, the Lord Chief Justice of the Kingdom, to
make investigations. The same day that this order was given,
a proclamation was posted up in the streets of Edinburgh,
in which the Queen promised two thousand pounds sterling to
whoever would make known the King's murderers. Next day, wherever
(32:16):
this letter had been affixed, another placard was found. Word
of Thus, as it has been proclaimed that those who
should make known the King's murderers should have two thousand
pounds Sterling, I, who have made a strict search, affirmed
that the authors of the murder are the Earl of Bothwell,
James Balfour, the Priest of Flisk, David Chambers, a Blackmaster,
Jean Spence, and the Queen herself. This placard was torn down,
(32:40):
but as usually happens, it had already been read by
the entire population. The Earl of Lennox accused Bothwell, and
public opinion, which also accused him, seconded the Earl with
such a violence that Mary was compelled to bring him
to trial. Only every precaution was taken to deprive the
prosecutor of the power of convicting the accused. On the
twenty eighth March, the Earl of Lennox received noticed that
the twelfth April was fixed for the trial. He was
(33:02):
granted a fortnight to collect decisive proofs against the most
powerful man in all Scotland. But the Earl of Lennox,
judging that this trial was a mere mockery, did not appear. Bothwell,
on the contrary, presented himself at the court, accompanied by
five thousand partisans and two hundred picked fusiliers who guarded
the doors directly he had entered, so that he seemed
to be rather a king who was about to violate
(33:23):
the law than an accused who comes to submit to it.
Of course, there happened what was certain to happen, that
is to say, the jury acquitted Bothwell of the crime
of which everyone, the judges included, knew him to be guilty.
The day of the trial, Bothwell had this written challenge placarded.
Although I am sufficiently clear of the murder of the
king of which I have been falsely accused, Yet the
(33:45):
better to prove my innocence, I am ready to engage
in combat with whomsoever will dare to maintain that I
have killed the king. The day after this reply appeared,
I accept the challenge, provided that you select neutral ground. However,
judgment had been barely given when rumors of a marriage
between the Queen and the Earl of Bothwell were abroad. However,
(34:06):
strange and however madness marriage. The relations of the two
lovers were so well known that no one doubted but
that it was true. But as every one submitted to Bothwell,
either through fear or through ambition, two men only dared
to protest beforehand against this union. The one was Lord
Harry's and the other James Melville. Mary was at Sterling
when Lord Harry's, taking advantage of Bothwell's momentary absence, threw
(34:27):
himself at her feet, imploring her not to lose her
honor by marrying her husband's murderer, which could not fail
to convince those who still doubted it that she was
his accomplice. But the Queen, instead of thanking Harry's for
this devotion, seemed very much surprised at his boldness, and
scornfully signing to him to rise, she coldly replied that
her heart was silent as regarded the Earl of Bothwell,
and that if she should ever remarry, which was not probable,
(34:50):
she would neither forget what she owed to her people
nor what she owed to herself. Melville did not allow
himself to be discouraged by this experience, and pretended to
have received the letter that one of his friends, Thomas Bishop,
had written him from England. He showed this letter to
the Queen, but at the first lines Mary recognized the
style and above all the friendship of her ambassador, and
giving the letter to the Earl of Livingstone, who was present.
(35:13):
This is a very singular letter, she said. Read it.
It is quite in Melville's manner. Livingstone glanced through the letter,
but had scarcely read half of it when he took
Melville by the hand, and drawing him into the embrasure
of a window. My dear Melville said he you were
certainly mad when you just now imparted this letter to
the Queen. As soon as the Earl of Bothwell gets
(35:35):
wind of it, and that will not be long, he
will have you assassinated. You have behaved like an honest man,
it is true, but at court it is better to
behave as a clever man. Go away then as quickly
as possible. It is I who recommend it. Melville did
not require to be told twice, and stayed away for
a week. Livingstone was not mistaken. Scarcely had Bothwell returned
(35:56):
to the Queen, than he knew all that had passed.
He burst out into curses against Melville and sought for
him everywhere, but he could not find him. This beginning
of opposition, weak as it was, none the less disquieted Bothwell,
who sure of Mary's love, resolved to make short work
of things accordingly. As the Queen was returning from Sterling
to Edinburgh. Some days after the scenes we have just related,
(36:17):
Bothwell suddenly appeared at the bridge of Grammont with a
thousand horsemen, and, having disarmed the Earl of Huntley, Livingston
and Melville, who had returned to his mistress, he seized
the Queen's horse by the bridle, and with apparent violence,
he forced Mary to turn back and follow him to Dunbar,
which the Queen did without any resistance, a strange thing
for one of Mary's character. The day following, the Earls
(36:38):
of Huntley, Livingston, Melville and the people in their train
were set at Liberty. Then ten days afterwards, Bothwell and
the Queen, perfectly reconciled, returned to Edinburgh together. Two days
after this return, Bothwell gave a great dinner to the
nobles his partisans in a tavern. When the meal was
ended on the very same table amid half drained glasses
and empty bottles, Lindsey Ruthven Morton Maitland, and a day
(37:00):
or fifteen other noblemen signed a bond which not only
set forth that, upon their souls and consciences, Bothwell was innocent,
but which further denoted him as the most suitable husband
for the Queen. This bond concluded with this sufficiently strange declaration.
After all, the Queen cannot do otherwise, since the Earl
has carried her off and has lain with her. Yet
(37:21):
two circumstances were still opposed to this marriage, the first
that Bothwell had already been married three times, and that
his three wives were living. The second that having carried
off the Queen, this violence might cause to be regarded
as null the alliance which she should contract with him.
The first of these objections was attended to to begin with,
as the one most difficult to solve. Bothwell's two first
(37:42):
wives were of obscure birth. Consequently, he scorned to disquiet
himself about them. But it was not so with a third,
a daughter of that Earl of Huntley, who had been
trampled beneath the horse's feet, and a sister of Gordon
who had been decapitated. Fortunately for Bothwell, his past behavior
made his wife long for a divorce. With an eagerness
as great as his own. There was not much difficulty
then in persuading her to bring a charge of adultery
(38:04):
against her husband. Bothwell confessed that he had had criminal
intercourse with a relative of his wife, and the Archbishop
of Saint Andrew's, the same man who had taken up
his abode in that solitary house at Kirkfield to be
present at Darnley's death, pronounced the marriage null. The case
was begun, pushed on, and decided in ten days. As
to the second opstical, that of the violence used to
the Queen, Mary undertook to remove it herself. For a
(38:27):
being brought before the court, she declared that not only
did she pardon Bothwell for his conduct as regarded her,
but further that, knowing him to be a good and
faithful subject, she intended raising him immediately to new honors.
In fact, some days afterwards she created him Duke of Orkney,
and on the fifteenth of the same month, that is
to Scay scarcely four months after the death of Darnley,
(38:48):
with levity that resembled madness, Mary, who had petitioned for
a dispensation to wed a Catholic prince. Her cousin in
the third degree married Bothwell, a Protestant upstart, who his divorced, notwithstanding,
was still bigamous, and who thus found himself in the
position of having four wives living, including the Queen. The
wedding was dismal, as became a festival under such outrageous auspices. Morton,
(39:12):
Maitland and some base flatterers of Bothwell alone were present
at it. The French ambassador, although he was a creature
of the House of Geese, to which the Queen belonged,
refused to attend it. Mary's delusion was short lived. Scarcely
was she in Bothwell's power than she saw what a
master she had given herself. Gross unfeeling and violent, he
seemed chosen by providence to avenge the faults of which
(39:33):
he had been the instigator or the accomplice. Soon as
fits of passion reached such a point that one day,
no longer able to endure them, Mary seized a dagger
from Erskine, who was present with Melville at one of
these scenes, and would have struck herself, saying that she
would rather die than continue living unhappily as she did.
Yet inexplicable, as it seems, in spite of these miseries,
renewed it without ceasing. Mary, forgetting that she was wife
(39:57):
and queen, tender and submissive as a child, was always
the to be reconciled with Bothwell. Nevertheless, these public scenes
gave a pretext to the nobles who only sought an
opportunity for an outbreak. The Earl of mar the young
Prince's tutor, argyll Athel, glen Cairn, Lyndley Boyd, and even
Morton and Maitland themselves, those eternal accomplices of Bothwell rose,
(40:17):
they said, to avenge the death of the king, and
to draw the son from hands which had killed the
father and which were keeping the mother captive. As to Murray,
he had kept completely in the background during all the
last events. He was in the country of fief when
the king was assassinated, and three days before the trial
of Bothwell, he had asked and obtained from his sister
permission to take a journey on the continent. The insurrection
(40:38):
took place in such a prompt and instantaneous manner that
the Confederate lords, whose plan was to surprise and seize
both Mary and Bothwell, thought they would succeed at the
first attempt. The King and Queen were at table with
Lord Borthwick, who was entertaining them, when suddenly it was
announced that a large body of armed men was surrounding
the castle. Bothwell and Mary suspected that they were aimed at,
and as they had no means of resistance, Bothwell dressed
(41:01):
himself as a squire, Mary as a page, and both
immediately taking horse, escaped by one door, just as the
confederates were coming in by the other. The fugitives withdrew
to Dunbar. There they called together all Bothwell's friends and
made them sign a kind of treaty by which they
undertook to defend the queen and her husband. In the
midst of all this, Murray arrived from France, and Bothwell
(41:22):
offered the document to him as to the others, but
Murray refused to put his signature to it, saying that
it was insulting him to think he need be bound
by a written agreement when it was a question of
defending his sister and his queen. This refusal having led
to an altercation between him and Bothwell, Murray, true to
his system of neutrality, withdrew into his earldom and let
affairs follow without him the fatal decline they had taken.
(41:44):
In the meantime, the Confederates, after having failed at Borthwick,
not feeling strong enough to attack Bothwell at Dunbar, marched
upon Edinburgh, where they had an understanding with a man
of whom Bothwell thought himself sure. This man was James Balfour,
governor of the Citadel, the same who had presided over
the preparation of the mind which had blown up Darnley,
and whom Bothwell had met on entering the garden at Kirkfield.
(42:06):
Not only did Balfour deliver Edinburgh Castle into the hands
of the Confederates, but he also gave them a little
silver cofferer, of which the cipher in f crowned showed
that it had belonged to Francis the Second, and in
fact it was a gift from her first husband, which
the queen had presented to Bothwell. Balfour stated that this
coffer contained precious papers, which, in the present circumstances might
(42:27):
be of great use to Mary's enemies. The Confederate lords
opened it and found inside the three genuine or spurious
letters that we have quoted the marriage Contract of Mary
and Bothwell, and twelve poems in the Queen's handwriting. As
Balfour had said, therein lay for her enemies a rich
and precious find, which was worth more than a victory,
for a victory would yield them only the Queen's life,
(42:48):
while Balfour's treachery yielded them her honor. End of Chapter three,
recording by John Vanstan Savannah, Georgia,
Chapter three of Celebrated Crimes, Volume three by Alexander Dumah,
translated by George Burnham Ives. This LibriVox recording is in
the public domain. Chapter three. Directly after she delivered, Mary
sent for James Melville, her usual envoy, to Elizabeth, and
charged him to convey this news to the Queen of
England and beg her to be godmother to the royal
(00:21):
child at the same time. On arriving in London, Melville
immediately presented himself at the palace, but as there was
a court ball, he could not see the Queen, and
contented himself with making known the reasons for his journey
to the minister Cecil, and with begging him to ask
his mistress for an audience. Next day, Elizabeth was dancing
in a quadrille at the moment when Cecil, approaching her, said,
(00:41):
in a low voice, Queen Mary of Scotland has just
given birth to a son. At these words, she grew
frightfully pale, and looking about her with a bewildered air,
as if if she were about to faint. She leaned
against an arm chair, then, soon not being able to
stand upright, she sat down through her head and plunged
into a mournful reverie. Then one of the ladies of
(01:04):
her court of breaking through the circle which had formed
round the Queen approached her ill at ease, and asked
her of what she was thinking so sadly, ah Madame
Elizabeth replied impatiently, do you not know that Mary Stewart
has given birth to a son, while I am but
a barren stock who will die without offspring. Yet Elizabeth
(01:25):
was too good a politician, in spite of her liability,
to be carried away by a first impulse to compromise
herself by any longer display of her grief. The ball
was not discontinued on that account, and the interrupted quadrille
was resumed and finished. The next day Melville had his audience.
Elizabeth received him to perfection, assuring him of all the
pleasure that the news he brought had cost her, and
(01:47):
which she said had cured her of a complaint from
which she had suffered for a fortnight. Melville replied that
his mistress had hastened to acquaint her with her joy,
knowing that she had no better friend. But he added
that this joy had nearly cost to marry her life,
so grievous had been her confinement. As he was returning
to this point for the third time with the object
of still further increasing the Queen of England's dislike to
(02:07):
marriage be easy Melville, Elizabeth answered him, you need not
insist upon it. I shall never marry. My kingdom takes
the place of a husband for me and my subjects
or my children. When I am dead, I wish graven
on my tombstone. Here lies Elizabeth, who reigned so many years,
and who died a virgin. Melville availed himself of this
(02:29):
opportunity to remind Elizabeth of the desire she had shown
to see Mary three or four years before. But Elizabeth said,
besides her country's affairs which necessitated her presence in the
heart of her possessions, she did not care, after all
she had heard said of her rival's beauty to expose
herself to a comparison disadvantageous to her pride. She contented
herself then with choosing as her proxy the Earl of Bedford,
(02:52):
who set out with several other noblemen for Stirling Castle,
where the young prince was christened with great pomp and
received the name of Charles James. It was remarked that
Darnley did not appear at this ceremony, and that his
absence seemed to scandalize greatly the Queen of England's envoy.
On the contrary, James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell, had the
most important place there. This was because since the evening,
(03:14):
when Bothwell at Mary's Cries had run to oppose the
murder of Rizzio, he had made a great way in
the Queen's favor to her party. He himself appeared to
be really attached, to the exclusion of the two others,
the Kings and the Earl of Murray's. Bothwell was already
thirty five years old, head of the powerful family of Hepburn,
which had great influence in East Lothian and the County
of Berwick. For the rest the violent rough, given to
(03:36):
every kind of debauchery, and capable of anything to satisfy,
an ambition that did not even give himself the trouble
to hide. In his youth, he had been reputed courageous,
but for long he had had no serious opportunity to
draw the sword. If the King's authority had been shaken
by Rizzio's influence, it was entirely upset by Bothwell's the
great nobles, following the Favorites example, no longer rose in
(03:58):
the presence of Darnley, and ceased little by little to
treat him as their equal. His retinue was cut down,
his silver plate taken from him, and some officers who
remained about him made him by their services with the
most bitter vexations. As for the Queen, she no longer
even took the trouble to conceal her dislike for him,
avoiding him without consideration to such a degree that one day,
(04:18):
when she had gone with Bothwell to Olway, she left
there again immediately because Darnley came to join her. The King, however,
still had patience, But a fresh imprudence of Mary's at
last led to the terrible catastrophe that since the Queen's
liaison with Bothwell some had already foreseen. Towards the end
of the month of October fifteen sixty six, while the
(04:38):
Queen was holding a court of justice at Jedborogh, it
was announced to her that Bothwell, in trying to seize
a malefactor called John of Elliott of Park, had been
badly wounded in the hand the Queen, who was about
to attend the council, immediately postponed the sitting till next day, and,
having ordered a horse to be saddled, set out for
Hermitage Castle, where Bothwell was living, and covered the distance
(05:00):
at a stretch, although it was twenty miles and she
had to go across woods, marshes and rivers. Then, having
remained some hours tete a tete with him, she set
out again with the same speed for Jedburgh, to which
she returned in the night. Although this proceeding had made
a great deal of talk, which was inflamed still more
by the Queen's enemies, who chiefly belonged to the Reformed religion,
(05:22):
Darnley did not hear of it till nearly two months afterwards,
that is to say, when Bothwell, completely recovered, returned with
the Queen to Edinburgh. Then Darnley thought he ought not
to put up any longer with such humiliations. But as
since his treason to his accomplices, he had not found
in all Scotland a noble who would have drawn the
sword for him, he resolved to go and seek the
Earl of Lennox, his father, hoping that through his influence,
(05:44):
he could rally the malcontents, of whom there were a
great number, since Bothwell had been in favor. Unfortunately, a Darnley,
indiscreet and imprudent as usual, confided this plan to some
of his officers, who warned Bothwell of their master's intention.
Bothwell did not seem to oppose the journey in any way,
but Darnley was scarcely a mile from Edinburgh when he
felt violent pains. None the less, he continued his road
(06:06):
and arrived very ill at Glasgow. He immediately set for
a celebrated doctor called James Abney, who found his body
covered with pimples and declared without any hesitation that he
had been poisoned. However, others, among them Walker Scott, state
that this illness was nothing else than smallpox, whatever it
may have been. The Queen, in the presence of the
danger her husband ran, appeared to forget her resentment, and,
(06:29):
at the risk of what might prove troublesome to herself,
she went to Darnley, after sending her doctor in advance.
It is true that, if one is to believe in
the following letters dated from Glasgow, which Mary is accused
of having written to bothwell. She knew the illness with
which he was attacked too well to fear infection. As
these letters are a little known and seemed to us
very singular, we transcribed them here. Later we shall tell
(06:52):
how they fell into the power of the Confederate lords,
and from their hands passed into Elizabeths, whose quite delighted,
cried on receiving them God's death. Then I hold her
life and honor in my hands. First letter. When I
set out from the place where I had left my heart,
judge in what a condition I was, poor body without
(07:12):
a soul. Besides, during the whole dinner, I have not
spoken to any one, and no one has dared to
approach me, For it was easy to see that there
was something amiss. When I arrived within a league of
the town. The Earl of Lennox sent me one of
his gentlemen to make me his compliments and to excuse
himself for not having come in person. He has caused
me to be informed moreover, that he did not dare
to present himself before me after the reprimand that I
(07:34):
gave Cunningham. This gentleman begged me, as if on his
own accord, to examine his master's conduct to ascertain if
my suspicions were well founded. I have replied to him
that fear was an incurable disease, that the Earl of
Lennox would not be so agitated if his conscience reproached
him with nothing, and that if some hasty words had
escaped me, they were but just reprisals for the letter
(07:55):
he had written me. None of the inhabitants visited me,
which makes me think they are in his interests. Besides,
they speak of him very fondly, as well as of
his son. The King sent for Joachim yesterday and asked
him why I did not lodge with him, adding that
my presence would soon cure him, and asked me also
with what object I had come, if it were to
(08:15):
be reconciled with him, if you were here, if I
had taken Paris and Gilbert as secretaries, and if I
were still resolved to dismiss Joseph. I do not know
who has given him such accurate information. There is nothing
down to the marriage of Sebastian with which he has
not made himself acquainted. I have asked him to meaning
of one of his letters in which he complains of
(08:36):
the cruelty of certain people. He replied that he was stricken,
but that my presence cost him so much joy that
he thought he should die of it. He reproached me
several times for being dreamy. I left him to go
to supper. He begged me to return. I went back.
Then he told me the story of his illness, and
that he wished to make a will, leaving me everything,
(08:56):
adding that I was a little the cause of his trouble,
and that he attributed it to my coldness. You ask me,
added he, who are the people of whom I complain?
It is of you, cruel one of you whom I
have never been able to appease By my tears and
my repentance. I know that I have offended you, but
not on the matter that you reproach me with. I
(09:18):
have also offended some of your subjects, but that you
have forgiven me. I am young. You say that I
always relapse into my faults, But cannot a young man
like me, destitute of experience, gain it also break his promises,
repent directly, and in time improve. If you will forgive
me yet once more, I will promise to offend you
never again. All the favor I ask of you is
(09:39):
that we should live together like husband and wife, to
have but one bed and one board. If you are inflexible,
I shall never rise again from here. I entreat you
tell me your decision. God alone knows what I suffer,
and that because I occupy myself with you only because
I love you and adore only you. If I have
offended you, sometimes you must bear the reproach for when
(10:01):
someone offends me. If it were granted me to complain
to you, I should not confide my griefs to others.
But when we are on bad terms, I am obliged
to keep them to myself, and that maddens me. He
then urged me strongly to stay with him and lodge
in his house, But I excused myself and replied that
he ought to be purged and that he could not
(10:22):
be conveniently at Glasgow. Then he told me that he
knew I had brought a letter for him, but that
he would have preferred to make the journey with me.
He believed I think that I meant to send him
to some prison. I replied that I should take him
to a Craig Miller, that he would find doctors there.
That I should remain near him, and that we should
be within reach of seeing my son. He has answered
(10:43):
that he will go where I wish to take him,
provided that I grant him what he has asked. He does, not, however,
wish to be seen by any one. He has told
me more than a hundred pretty things that I cannot
repeat to you, and at which you yourself would be surprised.
He did not want to let me go. He wanted
to make me sit up with him all night. As
for me, I pretended to believe everything, and I seem
(11:04):
to interest myself really in him. Besides, I have never
seen him so small and humble, And if I had
not known how easily his heart overflows, and how mine
is impervious to every other arrow than those with which
you have wounded it. I believe that I should have
allowed myself to soften, But lest that should alarm you,
I would rather die than give up what I have
promised to you. As for you, be sure to act
(11:25):
in the same way towards those traitors who will do
all they can to separate you from me. I believe
that all those people have been cast in the same mold.
This one always has a tear in his eye. He
bows down before every one, from the greatest to the smallest.
He wishes to interest them in his favor and make
himself pitied. His father threw up blood to day through
(11:46):
the nose and mouth. I think, with these symptoms mean
I have not seen him yet, for he keeps to
the house. The king wants me to feed him myself.
He won't eat unless I do. But whatever I may do,
you will be deceived by it, no more than I
shall be deceiving myself. We are united, you and I
to two kinds of very detestable people. Mary means Miss
(12:07):
Huntley Bothwell's wife, whom he repudiated at the King's death,
to marry the queen. That Hell may sever these knots then,
and that Heaven may form better ones that nothing can break,
that it may make of us the most tender and
faithful couple that ever was. There is the profession of
faith in which I would die. Excuse my scrawl. You
must guess more than half of it. But I know
(12:29):
no help for this. I am obliged to write to
you hastily while every one is asleep here. But be easy.
I take infinite pleasure in my watch, for I cannot
sleep like the others, not being able to sleep as
I would like. That is to say, in your arms,
I am going to get into bed. I shall finish
my letter tomorrow. I have too many things to tell you.
(12:49):
The night is too far advanced. Imagine my despair. It
is to you I am writing. It is of myself
that I converse with you, and I am obliged to
make an end. I cannot prevent myself, however, from filling
up hastily the rest of my paper. The cursed be
the crazy creature who torments me so much. Were it
not for him, I could talk to you of more
agreeable things. He has not greatly changed, and yet he
(13:11):
has taken a great deal of f But he has
nearly killed me with this fetid smell of his breath.
For how it is still worse than your cousin's. You
guess that it is a fresh reason for my not
approaching him. On the contrary, I go away as far
as I can, and sit on a chair at the
foot of his bed. Let us see if I forget anything.
(13:32):
His father's messenger on the road, the question about Joachim,
the state of my house, the people of my suite,
subject of my arrival, Joseph conversation between him and me,
his desire to please me, and his repentance, the explanation
of his letter Mister Livingstone. Ah, I was forgetting that.
Yesterday Livingstone, during supper, told de Rere in a low
(13:54):
voice to drink to the health of one I knew well,
and to beg me to do him the honor. After supper,
as I was leaning on his shoulder near the fire,
he said to me, is it not true that there
are visits very agreeable for those who pay them and
those who receive them, But however satisfied they seem with
your arrival. I challenge their delight to equal the grief
of one whom you have left alone to day, and
(14:14):
who will never be content till he seize you again.
I asked him of whom he wished to speak to me.
He then answered me by pressing my arm of one
of those who have not followed you, and among those
it is easy for you to guess of whom I
want to speak. I have worked till two o'clock at
the bracelet. I have enclosed a little key which is
attached by two strings. It is not as well worked
(14:37):
as I should like, but I have not had time
to make it better. I will make you a finer
one on the first occasion. Take care that it is
not seen on you, for I have worked at it
before every one, and it would be recognize to a certainty.
I always return, in spite of myself, to the frightful
attempt that you advise. You compel me to concealments and
above all the treacheries that make me shudder. I would
(14:57):
rather die, believe me, than do such things, for it
makes my my heart bleed. He does not want to
follow me unless I promise him to have these self
same bed and board with him as before, and not
to abandon him so often. If I consent to it,
he says he will do all I wish and will
follow me everywhere. But he has begged me to put
off my departure for two days. I have pretended to
agree to all he wishes, but I have told him
(15:18):
not to speak of our reconciliation to any one, for
fear it should make some lords uneasy. At last, I
shall take him everywhere I wish, alas I have never
deceived any one, But what would I not do to
please you? Command? And whatever happens, I shall obey, but
see yourself. If one could not constrive some secret means
of the shape of a remedy, he must purge himself
(15:40):
at Craig Miller and take baths there. He will be
some days without going out. So far as I can see,
he is very uneasy, but he has great trust in
what I tell him. However, his confidence does not go
so far as to allow him to open his mind
to me. If you like, I will tell him everything.
I can have no pleasure in deceiving someone who is trusting. However,
it will be just as you wish. Do not esteem
(16:01):
me the less for that it is you advised it,
and never would vengeance have taken me so far. Sometimes
he attacks me in a very sensitive place, and he
touches me to the quick when he tells me that
his crimes are known, but that every day greater ones
are committed that one uselessly attempts to hide, Since all crimes,
whatever they be great or small, come to men's knowledge
(16:21):
and form the common subject of their discourse. He adds
sometimes in speaking to me of Madame Derr, I wish
her services may do you honor. He has assured me
that many people thought, and that he thought himself that
I was not my own mistress. This is doubtless because
I had rejected the conditions he offered me. Finally, it
is certain that he is a very uneasy about you
(16:42):
know what, and that he suspects even that his life
is aimed at. He is in despair whenever the conversation
turns towards you, Livingstone, and my brother. However, he says
neither good nor ill of absent people. But on the contrary,
he always avoids speaking of them. His father keeps to
his house. I have not yet seen him. A number
of the Hamiltons are here and accompany me everywhere. All
(17:04):
the friends of the other one follow me each time
I go to see him. He has begged me to
be at his rising tomorrow. My messenger will tell you
the rest. Burn my letter. There would be danger in
keeping it. Besides, it is hardly worth the trouble being
filled only with dark thoughts. As for you, do not
be offended if I am sad and uneasy to day
that to please you, I rise above honor, remorse and dangers.
(17:26):
Do not take in bad part what I tell you,
and do not listen to the malicious explanations of your
wife's brother. He is a knave whom you ought not
to hear, to the prejudice of the most tender and
most faithful mistress that ever was. Above all, do not
allow yourself to be moved by that woman. Her sham
tears are nothing in comparison with the real tears that
I shed, and with what love and constancy make me
(17:47):
suffer at succeeding her. It is for that alone that,
in spite of myself, I betray all those who could
cross my love. God have mercy on me and send
you all the prosperity that a humble and tender friend
who awaits from you so soon another reward wishes you.
It is very late, but it is always with regret
that I laid down my pen when I write to you. However,
I shall not end my letter until I shall have
(18:09):
kissed your hands. Forgive me that is so ill written.
Perhaps I do so expressly that you may be obliged
to reread it. Several times I have transcribed hastily what
I had written down on my tablets and my paper
as given out. Remember a tender friend, and write to
her often. Love me as tenderly as I love you,
and remember Madame the rarest words the English, his mother,
(18:31):
the Earl of Argyll, the Earl of Bothwell, the Edinburgh dwelling.
Second letter. It seems that you have forgotten me during
your absence, so much the more that you had promised
me at setting out to let me know in detail
everything fresh that should happen. The hope of receiving your
news was giving me almost as much delight as your
return could have brought me. You have put it off
(18:52):
longer than you promised me. As for me, although you
do not write, I play my part always. I shall
take him to Craig Miller on Monday, and he will
spend the whole of Wednesday there. On that day I
shall go to Edinburgh to be bled there, unless you
arrange otherwise. At least he is more cheerful than usual,
and he is better than ever. He says everything he
can to persuade me that he loves me. He has
a thousand attentions for me, and he anticipates me in everything.
(19:15):
All that is so pleasant for me that I never
go to him, But the pain in my side comes
on again. His company weighs on me so much if
Paris brought me what I asked him, I should soon
be cured. If you had not yet returned. When I
go you know where, write to me. I beg you
and tell me what you wish me to do. For
if you do not manage things prudently, I foresee that
(19:37):
the whole burden will fall on me. Look into everything
and weigh the affair maturely. I sent you my letter
by Beaton, who will set out the day which has
been assigned to bal for it only remains for me
to beg you to inform me of your journey Glasgow
this Saturday morning. Third letter. I stayed you know Where
longer than I should have done if it had not
(19:58):
been to get rid from him something that the bearer
of these presents will tell you. It was a good
opportunity for covering up our designs. I have promised him
to bring the persons you know tomorrow. Look after the rest.
If you think fit alas, I have failed in our agreement,
for you have forbidden me to right you or to
dispatch a messenger to you. However, I do not intend
to offend you. If you knew with what fears I
(20:20):
am agitated, you would not have yourself so many doubts
and suspicions, but I take them in good part, persuaded
as I am, that they have no other cause than love,
Love that I esteem more than anything on earth. My
feelings and my favors are to me sure warrants for
that love, and answer to me for your heart. My
trust is entire on this head. But explain yourself. I
entreat you, and open your soul to me. Otherwise I
(20:43):
shall fear lest by the fatality of my star, and
by the too fortunate influence of the stars on women
less tender and less faithful than I. I may be
supplanted in your heart as Medeia was in Jason's. Not
that I wish to compare you to a lover as
unfortunate as Jason, and to parallel myself with a master
like Medea, although you have enough influence over me to
(21:03):
force me to resemble her each time our love exacts it,
And that it concerns me to keep your heart, which
belongs to me, and which belongs to me only for
I name as belonging to me what I have purchased
with the tender and constant love with which I have
burned for you a love more alive to day than ever,
and which will end only with my life, A love
in short, which makes me despise both the dangers and
(21:25):
the remorse, which will be perhaps its sad sequel. As
the price of this sacrifice, I ask you but one favor.
It is to remember a spot not far from here.
I do not exact that you should keep your promise tomorrow,
but I want to see you to disperse your suspicions.
I ask of God only one thing. It is that
he should make you read my heart, which is less
(21:45):
mine than yours, and that he should guard you from
every ill, at least during my life. This life is
dear to me only in so far as it pleases you,
and as I please you myself. I am going to bed. Adieu.
Give me your news tomorrow morning, for I shall be
un easy till I have it. Like a bird escaped
from its cage, or the turtle dove which has lost
her mate, I shall be alone weeping your absence. Short
(22:07):
as it may be, this letter happier than I will
go this evening where I cannot go, provided that the
messenger does not find you asleep, as I fear, I
have not dared to write it in the presence of
Joseph of Sebastian, and of Joachim, who had only just
left me when I began it. Thus, as one sees,
and always supposing these letters to be genuine, Mary had
(22:28):
conceived for Bothwell one of those mad passions, so much
stronger in the women who are prey to them, that
one the less understands what could have inspired them. Bothwell
was no longer young, Bothwell was not handsome, and yet
Mary sacrificed for him a young husband who was considered
one of the handsomest men in his century. It was
like a kind of enchantment. Darnley, the sole obstacle to
(22:50):
the union, had been already condemned for a long time,
if not by Mary, at least by Bothwell. Then, as
his strong constitution had conquered the poison, another kind of
death was sought for the Queen, As she announces in
her letter to Bothwell, had refused to bring back Darnley
with her and had returned alone to Edinburgh. Arrived there,
she gave orders for the king to be moved in
his turn in a litter, but instead of taking him
(23:11):
to Sterling or Holyrood, she decided to lodge him in
the abbey of the Kirk of Field. The King made
some objections when he knew of this arrangement, However, as
he had no power to oppose it, he contented himself
with complaining of the solitude of the dwelling assigned him.
But the Queen made answer that she could not receive
him at the moment, either at Holyrood or at Sterling,
for fear if his illness were infectious, lest he might
(23:33):
give it to his son. Darnley was then obliged to
make the best of the abode allotted him. It was
an isolated abbey, and little calculated by its position to
dissipate the fears that the king entertained, for it was
situated between two ruined churches and two cemeteries. The only house,
which was distant about a shot from a crossbow, belonged
to the Hamiltons, and as they were Darnley's mortal enemies,
(23:54):
the neighborhood was none the more reassuring. Further towards the
north rose some wretched huts called the thief y Eve's
cross Roads, and going round his new residence, Darnley noticed
that three holes, each large enough for a man to
get through had been made in the walls. He asked
that these holes through which ill meaning persons could get in,
should be stopped up. It was promised that Mason should
be sent, but nothing was done, and the holes remained open.
(24:16):
The day after his arrival at Kirkfield, the King saw
a light in that house near his which lie believed deserted.
Next day he asked Alexander Durham whence it came, and
he heard that the Archbishop of Saint Andrews had left
his palace in and Borough and had housed there since
the preceding evening. One didn't know why. This news still
further increased the King's uneasiness. The Archbishop of Saint Andrews
was one of his most declared enemies. The king, little
(24:39):
by little, abandoned by all his servants, lived on the
first floor of an isolated pavilion, having about him only
this same Alexander Durham, whom we have mentioned already, and
who was his valet Darnley, who had quite a special
friendship for him, and who, besides, as we have said,
feared some attack on his life at every moment, had
made him move his bed into his own apartment, so
that both were sleeping in the sea room. On the
(25:01):
night of the eighth February, Darnley awoke Durham. He thought
he heard footsteps in the apartment beneath him. Durham rose
took a sword in one hand a taper in the other,
and went down to the ground floor. But although Darnley
was quite certain he had not been deceived, Durham came
up again after a moment, saying he had seen no one.
The morning of the next day pass without bringing anything fresh.
(25:23):
The Queen was marrying one of her servants named Sebastian.
He was in avernat, whom she had brought with her
from France and whom she liked very much. However, as
the King sent word that he had not seen her
for two days, she left the wedding towards six o'clock
in the evening and came to pay him a visit,
accompanied by the Contess of Argyll and the Countess of Huntley.
While she was there, a Durham, in preparing his bed,
(25:45):
set fire to his palliasse, which was burned as well
as part of the mattress, so that having thrown them
out of the window, all in flames, for fear lest
the fire should reach the rest of the furniture. He
found himself without a bed and asked permission to return
to the town to sleep. But Darnley, who remembered his
terror the night before, and who was surprised at the
promptness that had made Durham throw all his bedding out
of the window, begged him not to go away, offering
(26:07):
him one of his mattresses or even to take him
into his own bed. However, in spite of this offer,
Durham insisted, saying that he felt unwell and that he
should like to see a doctor the same evening. So
the Queen interceded for Durham and promised Darnley to send
him another valet to spend the night with him. Darnley
was then obliged to yield, in making Merry repeat that
she would send him someone. He gave Durham lea for
(26:28):
that evening. At that moment, Paris, of whom the Queen
speaks in her letters, came in. He was a young
Frenchman who had been in Scotland for some years, and who,
after having served with Bothwell and Satan, was at present
with the Queen, seeing him. She got up, and as
Darnley still wished to keep her. Indeed, my Lord, it
is impossible, said she, to come and see you. I
have left this poor Sebastian's wedding, and I must return
(26:50):
to it, for I promised to come masked to his ball.
The king dared not insist. He only reminded her of
the promise that she had made to send him a servant.
Mary renewed it yet once again, and went away with
her attendants. As for Durham, he had set out the
moment he received permission. It was nine o'clock in the evening.
A Darnley left alone, carefully shut the doors within and
retired to rest, although in readiness to rise to let
(27:13):
in the servant who should come to spend the night
with him. Scarcely was he in bed than the same
noise that he had heard the night before recommenced. This time.
Darnley listened with all the attention fear gives, and soon
he had no longer any doubt but that several men
were walking about beneath him. It was useless to call,
It was dangerous to go out. To wait was the
only course that remained to the king. He made sure
(27:34):
again that the doors were well fastened, put his sword
under his pillow, extinguished his lamp for fear the light
might betray him, and awaited in silence for his servant's arrival.
But the hours passed away and the servant did not come.
At one o'clock in the morning, Bothwell, after having talked
some while with the Queen in the presence of the
Captain of the guard, returned home to Chace's dress. After
some minutes he came out, wrapped up in a large
(27:56):
cloak of a German hussar, went through the guard house
and had the castle gate opened. Once outside, he took
his way with all speed to cook a field, which
he entered by the opening in the wall. Scarcely had
he made a step in the garden than he met
James Balfour, governor of the castle. Well. He said to him,
how far have we got? Everything is ready, replied Balfour,
(28:17):
and we were waiting for you to set fire to
the fuse. That is well, Bothwell answered, but first I
want to make sure that he is in his room.
At these words, Bothwell opened the pavilion door with a
false key, and, having groped his way up the stairs,
he went to listen at Darnley's door. Darnley, hearing no
further noise, had ended by going to sleep. But he
slept with a jerky breathing, which pointed to his agitation.
(28:40):
Little mattered it to Bothwell what kind of sleep it was,
provided that he was really in his room, he went
down again in silence. Then, as he had come up,
and taking a lantern from one of the conspirators, he
went himself into the lower room to see if everything
was in order. The room was full of barrels of
powder and a fuse ready prepared. Wanted but a spark
to set the hole on fire. Bothwell withdrew then to
(29:01):
the end of the garden with Balfour, David Chambers, and
three or four others, leaving one man to ignite the fuse.
In a moment this man rejoined them. There ensued some
minutes of anxiety, during which the five men looked at
one another in silence and as if afraid of themselves. Then,
seeing that nothing exploded, Bothwell impatiently turned round to the engineer,
reproaching him for having no doubt through fear, done his
(29:22):
work badly. He assured his master that he was certain
everything was all right, and as Bothwell impatient, wanted to
return to the house himself to make sure, he offered
to go back and see how things stood. In fact,
he went back to the pavilion, and putting his head
through a kind of air hole, he saw the fuse,
which was still burning. Some seconds afterwards, Bothwell saw him
come running back, making a sign that all was going well.
(29:44):
At the same moment a frightful report was heard. The
pavilion was blown to pieces, the town and the firth
were lit up with a clearness exceeding the brightness daylight.
Then everything fell back into night, and the silence was
broken only by the fall of stones and joysts, which
down as fast as hale and a hurricane. Next day,
the body of the king was found in a garden
(30:05):
in the neighborhood. It had been saved from the action
of the fire by the mattress on which he was lying,
and as doubtless in his terror, he had merely thrown
himself on its bed, wrapped in his dressing gown and
in his slippers. And as he was found thus without
its slippers, which were flung some paces away, it was
believed that he had been first strangled, then carried there.
But the most probable version was that the murderers simply
relied upon powder in auxiliary, sufficiently powerful in itself for
(30:28):
them to have no fear it would fail them. Was
the Queen an accomplice or not? No one has ever
known save her self, bothwell and God. But yes or no.
Her conduct in prudent this time, as always, gave the
charge her enemies brought against her, if not substance, at
least an appearance of truth. Scarcely had she heard the
news than she gave orders that the body should be
(30:49):
brought to her, and having had it stretched out upon
a bench, she looked at it with more curiosity than sadness.
Then the corpse, embalmed, was placed the same evening, without pomp,
by the side of Rizzio's Scottish ceremonial proscribes for the
windows of king's retirement for forty days in a room
entirely closed until light of day. On the twelfth day,
Mary had the windows open, and on the fifteenth set
(31:10):
out with bothwell for setan a country house situated five
miles from the capital, where the French ambassador to roc
went in search of her and made her remonstrances, which
decided her to return to Edinburgh, But instead of the
cheers which usually greeted her coming, she was received by
an icy silence, and a solitary woman in the crowd
called out, God, treat her as she deserves. The names
(31:31):
of the murderers were no secret to the people. Bothwell.
Having brought a splendid coat which was too large for
him to a tailor, asking him to remake it to
his measure, the man recognized it as having belonged to
the King. That's right, said he. It is the custom
for the executioner to inherit from the condemned. Meanwhile, the
Earl of Lennox, supported by the people's murmurs, loudly demanded
(31:53):
justice for his son's death, and came forward as the
accuser of his murderers. The Queen was then obliged to
appease paternal claes and public resentment, to command the Earl
of Argyll, the Lord Chief Justice of the Kingdom, to
make investigations. The same day that this order was given,
a proclamation was posted up in the streets of Edinburgh,
in which the Queen promised two thousand pounds sterling to
whoever would make known the King's murderers. Next day, wherever
(32:16):
this letter had been affixed, another placard was found. Word
of Thus, as it has been proclaimed that those who
should make known the King's murderers should have two thousand
pounds Sterling, I, who have made a strict search, affirmed
that the authors of the murder are the Earl of Bothwell,
James Balfour, the Priest of Flisk, David Chambers, a Blackmaster,
Jean Spence, and the Queen herself. This placard was torn down,
(32:40):
but as usually happens, it had already been read by
the entire population. The Earl of Lennox accused Bothwell, and
public opinion, which also accused him, seconded the Earl with
such a violence that Mary was compelled to bring him
to trial. Only every precaution was taken to deprive the
prosecutor of the power of convicting the accused. On the
twenty eighth March, the Earl of Lennox received noticed that
the twelfth April was fixed for the trial. He was
(33:02):
granted a fortnight to collect decisive proofs against the most
powerful man in all Scotland. But the Earl of Lennox,
judging that this trial was a mere mockery, did not appear. Bothwell,
on the contrary, presented himself at the court, accompanied by
five thousand partisans and two hundred picked fusiliers who guarded
the doors directly he had entered, so that he seemed
to be rather a king who was about to violate
(33:23):
the law than an accused who comes to submit to it.
Of course, there happened what was certain to happen, that
is to say, the jury acquitted Bothwell of the crime
of which everyone, the judges included, knew him to be guilty.
The day of the trial, Bothwell had this written challenge placarded.
Although I am sufficiently clear of the murder of the
king of which I have been falsely accused, Yet the
(33:45):
better to prove my innocence, I am ready to engage
in combat with whomsoever will dare to maintain that I
have killed the king. The day after this reply appeared,
I accept the challenge, provided that you select neutral ground. However,
judgment had been barely given when rumors of a marriage
between the Queen and the Earl of Bothwell were abroad. However,
(34:06):
strange and however madness marriage. The relations of the two
lovers were so well known that no one doubted but
that it was true. But as every one submitted to Bothwell,
either through fear or through ambition, two men only dared
to protest beforehand against this union. The one was Lord
Harry's and the other James Melville. Mary was at Sterling
when Lord Harry's, taking advantage of Bothwell's momentary absence, threw
(34:27):
himself at her feet, imploring her not to lose her
honor by marrying her husband's murderer, which could not fail
to convince those who still doubted it that she was
his accomplice. But the Queen, instead of thanking Harry's for
this devotion, seemed very much surprised at his boldness, and
scornfully signing to him to rise, she coldly replied that
her heart was silent as regarded the Earl of Bothwell,
and that if she should ever remarry, which was not probable,
(34:50):
she would neither forget what she owed to her people
nor what she owed to herself. Melville did not allow
himself to be discouraged by this experience, and pretended to
have received the letter that one of his friends, Thomas Bishop,
had written him from England. He showed this letter to
the Queen, but at the first lines Mary recognized the
style and above all the friendship of her ambassador, and
giving the letter to the Earl of Livingstone, who was present.
(35:13):
This is a very singular letter, she said. Read it.
It is quite in Melville's manner. Livingstone glanced through the letter,
but had scarcely read half of it when he took
Melville by the hand, and drawing him into the embrasure
of a window. My dear Melville said he you were
certainly mad when you just now imparted this letter to
the Queen. As soon as the Earl of Bothwell gets
(35:35):
wind of it, and that will not be long, he
will have you assassinated. You have behaved like an honest man,
it is true, but at court it is better to
behave as a clever man. Go away then as quickly
as possible. It is I who recommend it. Melville did
not require to be told twice, and stayed away for
a week. Livingstone was not mistaken. Scarcely had Bothwell returned
(35:56):
to the Queen, than he knew all that had passed.
He burst out into curses against Melville and sought for
him everywhere, but he could not find him. This beginning
of opposition, weak as it was, none the less disquieted Bothwell,
who sure of Mary's love, resolved to make short work
of things accordingly. As the Queen was returning from Sterling
to Edinburgh. Some days after the scenes we have just related,
(36:17):
Bothwell suddenly appeared at the bridge of Grammont with a
thousand horsemen, and, having disarmed the Earl of Huntley, Livingston
and Melville, who had returned to his mistress, he seized
the Queen's horse by the bridle, and with apparent violence,
he forced Mary to turn back and follow him to Dunbar,
which the Queen did without any resistance, a strange thing
for one of Mary's character. The day following, the Earls
(36:38):
of Huntley, Livingston, Melville and the people in their train
were set at Liberty. Then ten days afterwards, Bothwell and
the Queen, perfectly reconciled, returned to Edinburgh together. Two days
after this return, Bothwell gave a great dinner to the
nobles his partisans in a tavern. When the meal was
ended on the very same table amid half drained glasses
and empty bottles, Lindsey Ruthven Morton Maitland, and a day
(37:00):
or fifteen other noblemen signed a bond which not only
set forth that, upon their souls and consciences, Bothwell was innocent,
but which further denoted him as the most suitable husband
for the Queen. This bond concluded with this sufficiently strange declaration.
After all, the Queen cannot do otherwise, since the Earl
has carried her off and has lain with her. Yet
(37:21):
two circumstances were still opposed to this marriage, the first
that Bothwell had already been married three times, and that
his three wives were living. The second that having carried
off the Queen, this violence might cause to be regarded
as null the alliance which she should contract with him.
The first of these objections was attended to to begin with,
as the one most difficult to solve. Bothwell's two first
(37:42):
wives were of obscure birth. Consequently, he scorned to disquiet
himself about them. But it was not so with a third,
a daughter of that Earl of Huntley, who had been
trampled beneath the horse's feet, and a sister of Gordon
who had been decapitated. Fortunately for Bothwell, his past behavior
made his wife long for a divorce. With an eagerness
as great as his own. There was not much difficulty
then in persuading her to bring a charge of adultery
(38:04):
against her husband. Bothwell confessed that he had had criminal
intercourse with a relative of his wife, and the Archbishop
of Saint Andrew's, the same man who had taken up
his abode in that solitary house at Kirkfield to be
present at Darnley's death, pronounced the marriage null. The case
was begun, pushed on, and decided in ten days. As
to the second opstical, that of the violence used to
the Queen, Mary undertook to remove it herself. For a
(38:27):
being brought before the court, she declared that not only
did she pardon Bothwell for his conduct as regarded her,
but further that, knowing him to be a good and
faithful subject, she intended raising him immediately to new honors.
In fact, some days afterwards she created him Duke of Orkney,
and on the fifteenth of the same month, that is
to Scay scarcely four months after the death of Darnley,
(38:48):
with levity that resembled madness, Mary, who had petitioned for
a dispensation to wed a Catholic prince. Her cousin in
the third degree married Bothwell, a Protestant upstart, who his divorced, notwithstanding,
was still bigamous, and who thus found himself in the
position of having four wives living, including the Queen. The
wedding was dismal, as became a festival under such outrageous auspices. Morton,
(39:12):
Maitland and some base flatterers of Bothwell alone were present
at it. The French ambassador, although he was a creature
of the House of Geese, to which the Queen belonged,
refused to attend it. Mary's delusion was short lived. Scarcely
was she in Bothwell's power than she saw what a
master she had given herself. Gross unfeeling and violent, he
seemed chosen by providence to avenge the faults of which
(39:33):
he had been the instigator or the accomplice. Soon as
fits of passion reached such a point that one day,
no longer able to endure them, Mary seized a dagger
from Erskine, who was present with Melville at one of
these scenes, and would have struck herself, saying that she
would rather die than continue living unhappily as she did.
Yet inexplicable, as it seems, in spite of these miseries,
renewed it without ceasing. Mary, forgetting that she was wife
(39:57):
and queen, tender and submissive as a child, was always
the to be reconciled with Bothwell. Nevertheless, these public scenes
gave a pretext to the nobles who only sought an
opportunity for an outbreak. The Earl of mar the young
Prince's tutor, argyll Athel, glen Cairn, Lyndley Boyd, and even
Morton and Maitland themselves, those eternal accomplices of Bothwell rose,
(40:17):
they said, to avenge the death of the king, and
to draw the son from hands which had killed the
father and which were keeping the mother captive. As to Murray,
he had kept completely in the background during all the
last events. He was in the country of fief when
the king was assassinated, and three days before the trial
of Bothwell, he had asked and obtained from his sister
permission to take a journey on the continent. The insurrection
(40:38):
took place in such a prompt and instantaneous manner that
the Confederate lords, whose plan was to surprise and seize
both Mary and Bothwell, thought they would succeed at the
first attempt. The King and Queen were at table with
Lord Borthwick, who was entertaining them, when suddenly it was
announced that a large body of armed men was surrounding
the castle. Bothwell and Mary suspected that they were aimed at,
and as they had no means of resistance, Bothwell dressed
(41:01):
himself as a squire, Mary as a page, and both
immediately taking horse, escaped by one door, just as the
confederates were coming in by the other. The fugitives withdrew
to Dunbar. There they called together all Bothwell's friends and
made them sign a kind of treaty by which they
undertook to defend the queen and her husband. In the
midst of all this, Murray arrived from France, and Bothwell
(41:22):
offered the document to him as to the others, but
Murray refused to put his signature to it, saying that
it was insulting him to think he need be bound
by a written agreement when it was a question of
defending his sister and his queen. This refusal having led
to an altercation between him and Bothwell, Murray, true to
his system of neutrality, withdrew into his earldom and let
affairs follow without him the fatal decline they had taken.
(41:44):
In the meantime, the Confederates, after having failed at Borthwick,
not feeling strong enough to attack Bothwell at Dunbar, marched
upon Edinburgh, where they had an understanding with a man
of whom Bothwell thought himself sure. This man was James Balfour,
governor of the Citadel, the same who had presided over
the preparation of the mind which had blown up Darnley,
and whom Bothwell had met on entering the garden at Kirkfield.
(42:06):
Not only did Balfour deliver Edinburgh Castle into the hands
of the Confederates, but he also gave them a little
silver cofferer, of which the cipher in f crowned showed
that it had belonged to Francis the Second, and in
fact it was a gift from her first husband, which
the queen had presented to Bothwell. Balfour stated that this
coffer contained precious papers, which, in the present circumstances might
(42:27):
be of great use to Mary's enemies. The Confederate lords
opened it and found inside the three genuine or spurious
letters that we have quoted the marriage Contract of Mary
and Bothwell, and twelve poems in the Queen's handwriting. As
Balfour had said, therein lay for her enemies a rich
and precious find, which was worth more than a victory,
for a victory would yield them only the Queen's life,
(42:48):
while Balfour's treachery yielded them her honor. End of Chapter three,
recording by John Vanstan Savannah, Georgia,
Popular Podcasts
Stuff You Should Know
If you've ever wanted to know about champagne, satanism, the Stonewall Uprising, chaos theory, LSD, El Nino, true crime and Rosa Parks, then look no further. Josh and Chuck have you covered.
Las Culturistas with Matt Rogers and Bowen Yang
Ding dong! Join your culture consultants, Matt Rogers and Bowen Yang, on an unforgettable journey into the beating heart of CULTURE. Alongside sizzling special guests, they GET INTO the hottest pop-culture moments of the day and the formative cultural experiences that turned them into Culturistas. Produced by the Big Money Players Network and iHeartRadio.
Dateline NBC
Current and classic episodes, featuring compelling true-crime mysteries, powerful documentaries and in-depth investigations. Follow now to get the latest episodes of Dateline NBC completely free, or subscribe to Dateline Premium for ad-free listening and exclusive bonus content: DatelinePremium.com