The tragic execution of Mary Queen of Scots

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She was wearing black clothing and a long white veil trailing behind her, all smiles and cheers as if her steps were taking her towards the biggest party at court. The red petticoat she was dressing stood out in her martyrdom. Antonia Fraser described her appearance in these words: ‘Her satin dress was all in black, embroidered with black velvet, and set with black acorn buttons of jet trimmed with pearl; but through the slashed sleeves could be seen inner sleeves of purple, and although her shoes of Spanish leather were black, her stockings were clocked and edged with silver, her garters were of green silk, and her petticoat was of crimson velvet.’

Jane Kennedy and Elizabeth Curle were the two selected amongst her women to accompany her, even though Elizabeth I’s plan had been to not let anyone go in with her, to prevent gossip and agitation. Mary wanted them to inform everyone about it all after the fact. She entered the room carrying a crucifix and a book of prayer, solemnized by the nerve-wracking silence that welcomed her arrival.

It was in fact not a party despite her courageous and optimistic demeanour. It was 8th February 1587 and Mary Queen of Scots was just about to die after almost two full decades of imprisonment.

This is what happened…

. . .

It was the beginning of 1567 and Mary convinced her sick husband, Henry Stuart Lord Darnley, to come back to Edinburgh in order to get better treatments and heal himself. His duly wife paid him daily visits when he did so and everyone thought they were on their way to reconcile after a rocky start into their marriage. They had welcomed a child named James earlier in June though that had actually worsened their relationship rather than make them closer.

There were speculations about Mary having been unfaithful with James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell, and Darnley had said out loud to whomever was available to hear that baby James wasn’t his son. The king consort was so scared for his own wellbeing and his wife’s ire that he ran away to his father’s protection.

That’s when the first indicators of illness started to show.

All came to a terrible conclusion in February, when Darnley’s body was found tied up to a tree in the gardens of Kirk o’ Field after a devastating explosion and only a few hours after one of Mary’s visits. The scene reeked of foul play. The immediate suspects of the attack were Queen Mary and her alleged lover, Bothwell. English monarch and Anne Boleyn’s daughter Elizabeth I wrote to her Scottish cousin: “I should ill fulfil the office of a faithful cousin or an affectionate friend if I did not ... tell you what all the world is thinking. Men say that, instead of seizing the murderers, you are looking through your fingers while they escape; that you will not seek revenge on those who have done you so much pleasure, as though the deed would never have taken place had not the doers of it been assured of impunity.”

The lack of effort to find any culprits along with her sudden change of heart towards her husband shortly before his death, led many to accuse their Queen of Darnley’s assassination.

You could argue that her next move wasn’t the best one to eliminate any kind of doubts on her innocence.

By the end of February, it was crystal clear for everyone that Bothwell might have been more than involved in Darnley’s murder and even the late King consort’s father was demanding to have him stand trial before the Parliament, which Mary conceded. But the proceedings were hastened and Lennox (Darnley’s father) couldn’t make it in time even though he had asked for a delay to be able to gather evidence, making the trial a charade orchestrated to shush everyone up. It all resulted in Bothwell being released and him managing to convince a few nobles and churchmen to approve his marriage to Queen Mary through the Ainslie Tavern Bond. After that, Mary’s life was bound to go downhill, and fast. Those were the last few days of freedom for her.

In April of that year, baby James saw his mom for the very last time before she was kidnapped by Bothwell. There are people who think she went in voluntarily and others who sustain she was abducted. Whatever the case, she was then taken to Dunbar Castle and it is widely believed that he abused her. Shortly after, on 15th of May and already back in Edinburgh, the pair got married in a Protestant ceremony at either Holyrood Palace or Holyrood Abbey. Mary had been under the false impression that the whole of the Scottish nobility agreed on the marriage but Bothwell had raised himself so high so suddenly that his relationship with them all had gone south, making this marriage as unpopular as the previous one if not more. Catholics weren’t keen on this situation either as they didn’t approve of divorces, and Bothwell had gotten a divorce from his former wife, Jean Gordon, a decade earlier. Furthermore, let’s not speak on the validity the protestant wedding had in their eyes altogether. The fact that Bothwell was thought to be Darnley’s murderer didn’t help either.

It all came to this: twenty-six Scottish peers (known to history as the confederate lords) rebelled against the Queen and new King, army and all. On 15th of June, a month after their ceremony, both armies were supposed to fight a gruesome battle to decide on Scotland’s future but Mary’s troops deserted sometime during the negotiations process, leaving her unprotected. Her husband was given a way out (which he definitely took advantage of) and she was taken to Loch Leven Castle, where she lost the twins she was expecting. By 24th of July, while healing from her miscarriage, she had been forced to abdicate in favour of her infant son James with Moray as regent and Bothwell exiled abroad. To make it worse, the lord of the castle lit bonfires in honour of the new baby King, James VI, and one can only assume how Mary felt, probably recovering in bed, alone and hearing the guns fired in celebration of her son and her own downfall.

Luckily, the castle’s owner, Sir William Douglas, had a benevolent brother named George who fell under Mary’s spell. He helped her escape on 2nd of May, 1568, along with the non-laughable force of 6000 men who sadly couldn’t overpower Moray’s own army, making her flee south towards England in search of Elizabeth’s aid. Mary probably thought that the paranoid English Queen might help her get her crown back just so the idea of overthrowing a female ruler over a male wouldn’t stick and cause her own throne a problem. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to be the case. All around the British Islands and the whole of Europe, people gossiped about Darnley’s assassination and Mary’s implication on it as well as her quick marriage to Bothwell. She was deeply criticised and she was also a catholic alternative to those who opposed Elizabeth’s Protestantism in England. She was not going to let her out that easily.

On 18th of May, Mary was taken into “protective custody” at Carlisle Castle. The Queen ordered an investigation to clear up the murder mystery and the Scottish Queen was moved to yet another destination: Bolton Castle. It was a perfect place, since it was far enough from both the Scottish border and the city of London, where Catholics could support and organise themselves around Mary. In her country, her supporters were in the midst of a civil war trying to get her back on the throne and rule out Moray’s regency.

In England, a commission of inquiry was held in York and in Westminster between 1568 and 1569 but Mary refused to attend any of those, claiming she was an anointed Queen and no court had any right to try her.

Moray did participate, bringing forth the renowned casket letters that would end up condemning Mary in the long run. The casket letters were a collection of letters (duh!) and poems along with two marriage contracts said to be written by Mary herself to the Earl of Bothwell in 1567 and proving her hand in Henry Stuart’s demise. Some contemporaries, as Adam Blackwood, thought them to be either letters written by one of her many servants or a complete forgery made up to taint her. Mary did insist they were false, affirming that her writing was rather difficult to replicate. They were in French and some believe her son James VI destroyed them in 1584, making them lost to us forever, so it is really hard to stablish whether or not they were true or false. Biographer John Guy thinks (after reading some surviving copies) that the French grammar used in them is too poor to be from a well-educated Queen who practically was raised in France. Historian Jenny Wormald thinks otherwise. To her, the fact that the Scottish took so long to bring them up and that James disposed of them later proves that there was damning evidence against Mary on them.

The commissioners examined the letters, contrasting them with other pieces of her writing and came to the conclusion that they were genuine. Elizabeth, though, took the middle way, and dictated that there was not enough evidence for either party. With that, Moray returned to his regency and Mary remained lavishly incarcerated.

January 1569 saw Mary moving again, this time to Tutbury Castle, under the Earl of Shrewsbury and his famous wife, Bess of Hardwick. There she had her own staff and her rooms were richly decorated, adding the French phrase “en ma fin est mon commencement” which roughly translates into “in my end lies my beginning.” She could sometimes walk outside and spend her time embroidering or at the spa town of Buxton. Her health was damaged through all of this nonetheless.

A convention held in 1569 in Perth tried to see her restored to power but the suggestion was immediately rejected while the Duke of Norfolk conspired to marry Mary. Elizabeth imprisoned him for some months after discovering his intentions. Mary was constantly under strict vigilance and scrutiny, with Elizabeth concerned she’d be a threat to her rule. William Cecil (secretary to the English Queen) and Sir Francis Walsingham made public the Ridolfi Plot in 1571. The Ridolfi Plot was allegedly a plan to get Elizabeth out of the throne and replace her with Mary, with Spanish help and the collaboration of the Duke of Norfolk (which granted him an execution and Mary a bill prohibiting her any access to the throne). That’s when the infamous casket letters were divulged in London. It proved to be the first of many plots and attempts to free Mary and/or dethrone Elizabeth.

As recently as a couple of years ago it was discovered that Mary had sent letters in cipher to Michel Castelnau, the French ambassador, so there might’ve been some truth in all those fingers pointing at Mary as a plotter.

Whatever it may have been, in 1584 Mary was perhaps getting tired of being in captivity and suggested an “association” in power with her son James. She was bargaining for her liberty, affirming she would stay in England and join an attack against France. She promised to make James marry under Elizabeth’s previous approval and not try to change Scotland’s religion in exchange of some more freedoms and commodities. Sadly, James entertained the idea for a very short time before going on to sign a treaty with Elizabeth, positively abandoning his mother to her own devices.

Not long after, Elizabeth discovered yet another plot to kill her, executing William Parry. The thing is that Mary’s agent, Thomas Morgan, was somehow implicated as well, incriminating her. In August of 1586, Mary was finally arrested for another plot (Babington Plot) after Walsingham let her send letters out of her imprisonment chambers in Chartley only to gather evidence. She was then moved to Fotheringhay Castle and put on trial under the Act for the Queen’s safety. This Act, also known as the Act of Association, was made in 1584 by the English Parliament during the Reformation. It needed 24 peers and privy councillors to discuss and judge any uprise, attack, attempt to seize the throne or rebellion against Elizabeth I.

Obviously, Mary Stuart defended her innocence asking to those around her to “look to your consciences and remember that the theatre of the whole world is wider than the kingdom of England”. She also stated that as the anointed Queen of Scotland, she had never actually been an English subject and so the English court could not accuse her of treason. When the death sentence arrived on the 25th of October, the only commissioner that expressed any type of disagreement with it was Lord Zouche, a diplomat. The always fearful Elizabeth was unsure about the whole thing.

What kind of precedent would she be setting executing a Queen?

Would this give any ideas to her own people?

What would Scotland’s King James VI do in retaliation for this?

Would he ally himself with some Catholic faction or even Rome and invade England?

Would it all bring her the ghost of war?

Would Spain come to Mary’s rescue or vengeance?

She went as far as to try to get her killed in a clandestine more secretive way but her incarcerator didn’t go on with it, afraid of what it would do to his own conscience.

Months went by until the 1st February 1587. That’s the day Elizabeth resigned herself to her duty and signed Mary’s death warrant.

On Wednesday 8th February 1587, Mary got ready in her chambers at Fotheringhay Castle for the last time. All her servants dressed in black while the sounds of her scaffold being built danced around the room, as a morbid reminder of what was to be her ending. The night before she had been informed of her nearing death and she had spent a rather sleepless night since then. She prayed for a little while before she was called. Mary, like Elizabeth’s mother years before, showed no distress as she walked through the corridors to the great hall. Antonia Fraser said that Mary was even “cheerful” and “smiling”.

She pushed up through the stairs and refused the services of a Protestant priest who prayed out loud beside her either way. She wasn’t deterred by this and proceeded to pray for the Queen and for her son both in Latin and in English so that everyone attending could understand her. She received the executioners’ custom apologies by saying: “I forgive you with all my heart, for now I hope you should make an end of all my troubles.”

And I’m sure some parts of her believed that.

She had lived most of her live in captivity, miscarried a set of twins, lost three husbands and had had horrible marriages at that. She must’ve felt alone and abandoned by everyone, tired to go from gilded box to gilded box, never released. Standing there in her red petticoat, she got her eyes covered and prepared to finally see heaven above.

Her knees graced the cushion without any hesitation, praying “in te Domine confido, non confundar in eternam” and carefully resting her head on the cold bloodstained block. Then her arms moved forward. Her lips let out “in manus tuas, Domine” a couple of times and it happened.

The executioner struck her two times with the axe, incredibly not killing her, even though she remained silent through it. Another shot was required to sever her head from her body after which he rose her bloody head for everyone present to get a good look at it but it fell, showcasing the red-headed wig she used. He picked it up again, now full of grey hair, and the God save the Queen was said in that moment.

When it came the time to remove her garters, Geddon, Mary’s faithful dog, was found under her dress, running to her dead body in confused distress. The little dog started to howl and its face was smothered on its owner’s blood by the protestant dean who was there. Another version of the events claims the dog was found but taken to be cleaned instead, not recovering from losing Mary. No one knows what became of that creature after that. Every item that it’s claimed to come from the gruesome scene is not sure to be indeed from the scaffold, as all of it, from the clothing to the block was burnt to prevent any future relics to appear.

Upon hearing the news, Elizabeth got mad at one of her secretaries, Davidson, saying he had taken the death warrant without her consent, going as far as sending him to the Tower only to be freed after paying a simple fine. She most likely wasn’t ready to carry the guilt of killing Mary and searched everywhere for alternative culprits.

Mary had stated that she wanted to be buried in her dear France, where she had likely spent her happiest years, but Elizabeth didn’t do it. Mary’s corpse was embalmed, with her insides being left at Fotheringhay Castle and her burial at Peterborough Cathedral in a Protestant service Catholic Mary would’ve hated. She would later find her final resting place at Westminster Abbey, when her son, by then James VI and I, ordered her body to be transferred to a chapel, close to Elizabeth’s own grave.

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The tragic execution of Mary Queen of Scots

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