THE SIX MINOR CASKET LETTERS
If the accusers had authentic evidence in Letters I. and II., they needed no more to prove Mary’s guilt. But the remaining six Letters bear on points which they wished to establish, such as Mary’s attempt to make her brother, Lord Robert, assassinate her husband, and her insistence on her own abduction. There are some difficulties attendant on these Letters. We take them in order. First Letter III. (or VIII.). This Letter, the third in Mr. Henderson’s edition, is the eighth and last in that of Laing. As the Letter, forged or genuine, is probably one of the last in the series, it shall be discussed in its possible historical place.
Letter III (IV)
Of this Letter, fortunately, we possess a copy of the French original.[357] The accusers connected the letter with an obscure intrigue woven while Darnley was at Kirk o’ Field. Lord Robert Stuart, Mary’s half-brother, commendator of Holyrood, is said by Sir James Melville to have warned Darnley of his danger. Darnley repeated this to Mary, but Lord Robert denied the story. The ‘Book of Articles’ alleges that Mary then tried to provoke a fight between her husband and her brother on this point. Buchanan adds that, when Darnley and Lord Robert had their hands on their swords, Mary called in Moray to part them. She hoped that he would ‘get the redder’s stroke,’ and be killed, or, if Darnley fell, that Moray would incur suspicion. As usual Buchanan spoils his own case. If Mary did call in Moray to separate the brawlers, she was obviously innocent, or repented at the last moment. Buchanan’s theory is absurd, but his anecdote, of course, may be false. Lennox, in his MSS., says that Moray was present at the quarrel.[358]
The indications of the plot, in the Letter, are so scanty, that the purpose has to be read into them from the alleged facts which the Letter is intended to prove.[359] I translate the copy of the French original.
‘I watched later up there’ (at Kirk o’ Field?) ‘than I would have done, had it not been to draw out [‘of him,’ in Scots] what this bearer will tell you: that I find the best matter to excuse your affair that could be offered. I have promised him’ (Darnley?) ‘to bring him’ (Lord Robert?) ‘to him’ (Darnley?) ‘to-morrow: if you find it good, put order to it. Now, Sir, I have broken my promise, for you have commanded me not to send or write. Yet I do it not to offend you, and if you knew my dread of giving offence you would not have so many suspicions against me, which, none the less, I cherish, as coming from the thing in the world which I most desire and seek, namely your good grace. Of that my conduct shall assure me, nor shall I ever despair thereof, so long as, according to your promise, you lay bare your heart to me. Otherwise I shall think that my misfortune, and the fair attitude[360] of those’ (Lady Bothwell) ‘who have not the third part of the loyalty and willing obedience that I bear to you, have gained over me the advantage won by the second love of Jason [Creusa or Glauce?] Not that I compare you à un si malheureuse’ (sic) ‘nor myself to one so pitiless [as Medea] however much you make me a little like her in what concerns you; or [but?] to preserve and guard you for her to whom alone you belong, if one can appropriate what one gains by honourably, and loyally, and absolutely loving, as I do and will do all my life, come what pain and misery there may. In memory whereof and of all the ills that you have caused me, be mindful of the place near here’ (Darnley’s chamber?). ‘I do not ask you to keep promise with me to-morrow’ (the Scots has, wrongly, ‘I crave with that ye keepe promise with me the morne,’ which Laing justifies by a false conjectural restoration of the French), ‘but that we meet’ (que nous truvions = que nous nous trouvions ensemble?), ‘and that you do not listen to any suspicion you may have without letting me know. And I ask no more of God than that you may know what is in my heart which is yours, and that He preserve you at least during my life, which shall be dear to me only while my life and I are dear to you. I am going to bed, and wish you good night. Let me know early to-morrow how you fare, for I shall be anxious. And keep good watch if the bird leave his cage, or without his mate. Like the turtle I shall abide alone, to lament the absence, however short it may be. What I cannot do, my letter [would do?] heartily, if it were not that I fear you are asleep. For I did not dare to write before Joseph’ (Joseph Riccio) ‘and bastienne (sic) and Joachim, who only went away when I began.’
This Letter is, in most parts, entirely unlike the two Glasgow letters in style. They are simple and direct: this is obscure and affected. As Laing had not the transcript of the original French (a transcript probably erroneous in places) before him, his attempts to reconstruct the French are unsuccessful. He is more happy in noting that the phrase vous m’en dischargeres votre cœur, occurs twice in Mary’s letters to Elizabeth[361] (e.g. August 13, 1568). But to ‘unpack the heart’ is, of course, a natural and usual expression. If Darnley is meant by the bird in the cage, the metaphor is oddly combined with the comparison (a stock one) of Mary to a turtle dove. Possibly the phrase ‘I do not ask that you keep promise with me to-morrow,’ is meant to be understood ‘I do not ask you to keep promise except that we may meet,’ as Laing supposes. But (1) the sense cannot be got out of the French, (2) it does not help the interpretation of the accusers if, after all, Mary is only contriving an excuse for a meeting between herself and Bothwell. The obscure passage about the turtle dove need not be borrowed from Ronsard, as Laing thinks: it is a commonplace. The phrase which I render ‘what I cannot do, my letter [would do] heartily, if it were not that I fear you are asleep,’ the Scots translates ‘This letter will do with ane gude hart, that thing quhilk I cannot do myself gif it be not that I have feir that ze ar in sleiping.’ The French is ‘ce que je ne puis faire ma lettre de bon cœur si ce nestoit que je ay peur que soyes endormy.’ Laing, reconstructing the French, says, ‘Ce que je ne saurois faire moi-même; that is, instigate Lord Robert to commit the murder.’ The end of the phrase he takes ‘in its figurative sense, d’un homme endormi; slow, or negligent.’ Thus we are to understand ‘what I cannot do, my letter would do heartily—that is excite you to instigate my brother to kill my husband, if I were not afraid that you were slow or negligent.’ This is mere nonsense. The writer means, apparently, ‘what I cannot do, my letter would gladly do—that is salute you—if I were not afraid that you are already asleep, the night being so far advanced.’ She is sorry if her letter arrives to disturb his sleep.
It needs much good will, or rather needs much ill will, to regard this Letter as an inducement to Bothwell to make Lord Robert draw on Darnley. Mary, without Bothwell’s help, could have summoned Lord Robert on any pretext, and then set him and Darnley by the ears. The date of Mary’s attempt to end Darnley by her brother’s sword, Buchanan places ‘about three days before the King was slain.’ ‘Cecil’s Journal,’ as we saw, places it on February 8. Darnley was murdered after midnight of February 9. Paris said that, to the best of his memory, he carried letters on the Friday night, the 7th, from Mary, at Kirk o’ Field, to Bothwell. On Saturday, Mary told her attendants of the quarrel between Darnley and Lord Robert. ‘Lord Robert,’ she said, ‘had good means of killing the King at that moment, for there was then nobody in the chamber to part them but herself.’ These are rather suspicious confessions.[362] Moreover, Lennox, in his MSS., says that Moray was present at the incident, and could bear witness at Westminster. The statement of Paris is confused: he carried letters both on Thursday and Friday nights (February 6 and 7), and his declaration about all this affair is involved in contradictions.
According to the confession of Hay of Tala, it was on February 7 that Bothwell arranged the method by gunpowder. When he had just settled that, Mary, ex hypothesi, disturbed him with the letter on the scheme of using Lord Robert and a chance scuffle: an idea suggested to her by what she had extracted, that very night, from Darnley—namely, the warning whispered to him by Lord Robert. She thinks that, if confronted, they will fight, Darnley will fall, and this will serve ‘pour excuser votre affaire,’ as the Letter says. Buchanan adds in his ‘History,’ that Bothwell was present to kill anybody convenient (fol. 350). It was a wildly improbable scheme, especially if Mary, as Buchanan says, called in Moray to stop the quarrel, or share the blame, or be killed by Bothwell.
That the Letter, with some others of the set, is written in an odd, affected style, does not yield an argument either to the attack or the defence. If it is unlikely that Mary practised two opposite kinds of style, it is also unlikely that a forger, or forgers, would venture on attributing to her the practice. To this topic there will be opportunities of returning.