business to warn Mary’s commissioners that the Lords had shown their evidence to Elizabeth’s commissioners.
On 12 October, Mary’s commissioners asked the English commissioners for time to frame a reply to Moray’s response to the charges. Then they rode off to Bolton to tell Mary what Maitland had told them. That day, Norfolk wrote to the Earl of Pembroke, giving him to believe he thought the letters to be genuine. But Norfolk, for reasons of self-interest, did not want them to be made public: Elizabeth was childless, and if she died, Mary might well become Queen of England. She would not readily forgive those who had helped to publicly brand her an adulteress and murderess.
When Herries and his colleagues returned to York on 13 October, Norfolk asked them to apply to Mary to have their remit extended, so that they could “treat, conclude and determine of all matters and causes whatsoever in controversy between her and her subjects.” The next day, Moray reiterated his answer to the Book of Complaints, reserving his right to “eik” (add to or amplify) his statement.
Meanwhile, Mary had been complaining to Sir Francis Knollys of the clandestine proceedings at York, and told him that, if the Lords “will fall to extremity, they shall be answered roundly and to the full, and then we are past all reconciliation.” On 15 October, Knollys warned Norfolk that Mary was aware of what was going on behind her back.
On the 16th, Mary’s commissioners delivered their formal written reply to Moray’s written complaint of 10 and 14 October. They said that, if Bothwell was the murderer of the King, that circumstance had been unknown to Mary at the time of their marriage, and that the Lords who afterwards accused him of that crime had urged her to marry him; furthermore, the marriage had taken place after his acquittal. Later, these same Lords had never made any serious attempt to apprehend Bothwell. At Carberry Hill, misled by Grange’s fair words, Mary had entrusted herself to the honour and loyalty of her Lords, but had been miserably deceived. It was stressed that she had abdicated only after being threatened with execution.
This, of course, was the truth, and it complicated matters. That day, Norfolk wrote to Cecil that this cause was the doubtfulest and dangerest that ever I dealt in; if you saw and heard the constant affirming of both sides, not without great stoutness, you would wonder! You shall find in the end [that] as there be some few in this company that mean plainly and truly, so there be others that seek wholly to serve their own private turns.
Norfolk himself would shortly be numbered among the latter. Later that day, whilst hawking at Cawood, Maitland sought him out in private and informed him that the Casket Letters had almost certainly been forged, since many people could imitate Mary’s handwriting; he had even occasionally done it himself. This revelation, startling as it was, was but a preamble to the real purpose of the meeting. For Maitland had thought of a solution to the present impasse, and suggested to a highly receptive Norfolk that it might be to his advantage to consider marriage with the Queen of Scots; he was certain that, if she married the premier English Protestant peer, the Lords would be willing to restore her to her throne. Later on, Mary, or her heir, might inherit the English crown, Maitland’s dream of an Anglo-Scottish dynastic alliance would become reality, and he himself would prosper under a grateful sovereign, having expunged his earlier crimes.
The fact that Norfolk was prepared to contemplate such a marriage—or was dazzled by the prospect of the crown of Scotland and also, perhaps, that of England—suggests that he was not as shocked by the Casket Letters as some historians have believed. He was possibly reassured by Maitland’s revelation that they had been forged; on the other hand, he may not have cared too much, given what he stood to gain by this proposed
On 12 October, Mary’s commissioners asked the English commissioners for time to frame a reply to Moray’s response to the charges. Then they rode off to Bolton to tell Mary what Maitland had told them. That day, Norfolk wrote to the Earl of Pembroke, giving him to believe he thought the letters to be genuine. But Norfolk, for reasons of self-interest, did not want them to be made public: Elizabeth was childless, and if she died, Mary might well become Queen of England. She would not readily forgive those who had helped to publicly brand her an adulteress and murderess.
When Herries and his colleagues returned to York on 13 October, Norfolk asked them to apply to Mary to have their remit extended, so that they could “treat, conclude and determine of all matters and causes whatsoever in controversy between her and her subjects.” The next day, Moray reiterated his answer to the Book of Complaints, reserving his right to “eik” (add to or amplify) his statement.
Meanwhile, Mary had been complaining to Sir Francis Knollys of the clandestine proceedings at York, and told him that, if the Lords “will fall to extremity, they shall be answered roundly and to the full, and then we are past all reconciliation.” On 15 October, Knollys warned Norfolk that Mary was aware of what was going on behind her back.
On the 16th, Mary’s commissioners delivered their formal written reply to Moray’s written complaint of 10 and 14 October. They said that, if Bothwell was the murderer of the King, that circumstance had been unknown to Mary at the time of their marriage, and that the Lords who afterwards accused him of that crime had urged her to marry him; furthermore, the marriage had taken place after his acquittal. Later, these same Lords had never made any serious attempt to apprehend Bothwell. At Carberry Hill, misled by Grange’s fair words, Mary had entrusted herself to the honour and loyalty of her Lords, but had been miserably deceived. It was stressed that she had abdicated only after being threatened with execution.
This, of course, was the truth, and it complicated matters. That day, Norfolk wrote to Cecil that this cause was the doubtfulest and dangerest that ever I dealt in; if you saw and heard the constant affirming of both sides, not without great stoutness, you would wonder! You shall find in the end [that] as there be some few in this company that mean plainly and truly, so there be others that seek wholly to serve their own private turns.
Norfolk himself would shortly be numbered among the latter. Later that day, whilst hawking at Cawood, Maitland sought him out in private and informed him that the Casket Letters had almost certainly been forged, since many people could imitate Mary’s handwriting; he had even occasionally done it himself. This revelation, startling as it was, was but a preamble to the real purpose of the meeting. For Maitland had thought of a solution to the present impasse, and suggested to a highly receptive Norfolk that it might be to his advantage to consider marriage with the Queen of Scots; he was certain that, if she married the premier English Protestant peer, the Lords would be willing to restore her to her throne. Later on, Mary, or her heir, might inherit the English crown, Maitland’s dream of an Anglo-Scottish dynastic alliance would become reality, and he himself would prosper under a grateful sovereign, having expunged his earlier crimes.
The fact that Norfolk was prepared to contemplate such a marriage—or was dazzled by the prospect of the crown of Scotland and also, perhaps, that of England—suggests that he was not as shocked by the Casket Letters as some historians have believed. He was possibly reassured by Maitland’s revelation that they had been forged; on the other hand, he may not have cared too much, given what he stood to gain by this proposed
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