In 1567, the year when Mary, Queen of Scots abdicated, she

tried to explain for her faults that, "Prudence and reason were

swept away by a cataract of human passion."* Mary's true battle

was not with her English cousin Elizabeth I, but with herself. In

George Malcolm Thomsom's piece of non-fiction, The Crime of Mary

Stuart, the reader must go to when before Mary was crowned Queen

of Scotland to see where this conflict originated. First,

influenced by her proud, aristocratic French heritage, Mary is

thrown into an awkward, powerful position before she is old

enough to comprehend consequences or other opinions. Secondly,

when Mary becomes Scotland's sovereign, the country feels an

ominous cloud and becomes uneasy as she reforms the government.

Thirdly, her vulnerable emotions win in the tug of war against

her vaulting ambitions when she succumbs to the Earl of Bothwell

and his plot to kill her husband. Finally, Mary gives up herself

and her throne for love, unable to fight the two opposing forces

Thomson, George Malcolm. The Crime of Mary Stuart. (New York:

E.P. Dutton & Co., 1967), 124. All other references to this work

will be cited in the text.

within her.

Mary and her family, the Guises, had a distinct and

influential place in French society, which directly contributed

to her conquering and willful attitude. A great-granddaughter of

Henry VII of England and a descendant of Charlemagne and St.

Louis, Mary was already born with the expectations and

responsibility of royal blood, something which could not be

denied. The Guises were of the highest nobility, especially

within the corrupt Catholic Church. Mary's uncle, Charles, was a

cardinal and an archbishop who challenged the Pope's position; he

had become a mentor or father figure for Mary's early childhood.

The Guises were "magnificent in presence, consummate in charm and

energy," but also "audacious, vindictive and cursed with a

volcanic temper" (16). Not only did Mary gain their temperament,

but their passion for blood. Present at battle where her half-

brother James fought, she felt "the exhilaration of danger, the

throb of intense physical exertion, the cruel pleasure of war"

(23). Mary did not live in the environment of playing with other

children, but was exposed to spies, conspiracy, a short reign as

the Queen of France, widowhood, and the torture of fifty-six

Protestants. The only thing Mary knew in this world was to be

merciless, a trait she would later find out that a young woman

could not endure.

In 1561, Mary Stuart came onto the shores of Scotland as a

young, widowed matriarch where she came with visions of hope, but

the nation with skepticism. John Knox, the leader of the

Protestant Church in Scotland, announced on the day of Mary's

arrival, "The sun was not seen to shine two days before, nor two

days after" (20). His insecurity was based on the grounds that

after recently succeeding in suppression of the Catholic Church

in Scotland, Mary would try to counter-reform. She "made no bones

about her religion," and made John Knox well aware that she would

continue to worship freely (22). Not only was Knox but the whole

country skeptical as to what this foreigner's motives were.

Edinburgh was a crowded city where rumors flowed like water and

hostility even more, so Mary was received coldly. But that

concern was only secondary; she was the nearest heiress and

successor to Queen Elizabeth. This goal was never realized

through poor governmental administration. She continued to ignore

the Calvinists as well as her own husband. Two men also began to

dictate her life. First, Mary's husband, Darnley, had her French

secretary David Riccio, who was accused of impregnating the

Queen, assassinated during a coup d'etat Darnley had planned. It

is certain that this event "murdered" the little trust they had

in each other during an already rocky marriage. Second, she

restored the Earl of Bothwell as Lieutenant of the Border, the

most calamitous decision she ever made.

Mary's possessivity seems to change from the power of a

kingdom to the power of a man through the confessions of the

Casket Letters. They are a collection of epistles she wrote to

Lord Bothwell while in Glasgow. While Mary was coaxing her

husband to return to Edinburgh, a secret love affair had sprung

with Bothwell. In one letter, Mary admits she is tired and

rambling because she does not want to stop writing about her

infatuation with the Lieutenant, showing the first cracks of her

armor. It is such a contrast to envision her groveling at a man's

knees with reverence when she seemed to carry the respect of a

goddess. Mary even goes beyond any sort of good judgement for the

sake of Bothwell's love. Although she reproaches she would

"rather be dead than do it," Mary obeys the Lieutenant's wishes,

falling into the trap of playing follower to her passions and

losing control of her situation (64). What this event she was

reluctant to take part in can only be assumed is complicity in

her husband's murder. Bothwell was not handsome and had a

horrible reputation, far more appalling than her last two

partners. Mary was also responsible for finding him a fiance,

which the author believes why she fell for him. The forbidden

fruit or the ultimate challenge was what was most appealing to

her, and Bothwell was definitely a dangerous and explosive

character, identical to Mary.

For four hundred years, there has only been circumstantial

evidence if ever Mary knew about the plot to assassinate her

husband, Darnley. Nevertheless, it is absolutely undeniable that

Bothwell was the ringleader of this nefarious plot. He was

jealous by nature and violent by habit. Now that he had the

Queen's love, it was unlikely that he would tolerate the

disowned, degenerate youth as second in power. If Mary were ever

to lose the throne, her son would be too young to reign; Darnley

would have to fill in as Regent. Also, if Darnley was distrustful

of David Riccio and had him killed, it would be certain an equal

punishment would come to Bothwell. On February 10, 1567, Kirk

O'Field was blown up along with the King inside. It was probably

the clumsiest, most reckless, and amateurish crime ever! Evidence

laid in the streets, witnesses counted exact numbers, and there

was even a party upstairs the time the accomplices were setting

up the explosives. Not only did this bring suspicion upon

Bothwell and his associates, but Mary too. Many servants have

confirmed that messages went between Bothwell and Mary days

before the murder. Immediately, allies from Spain and France had

bowed out to aid the Queen; Mary had lost her willpower against

emotions, and now was losing political fierceness.

The climax, or culmination of the destruction of Mary's

reputation and reign came with the marriage of Bothwell. It is

certain the uproar heard when she announced she was to marry the

murderer of her latest husband. At this point, Mary was

completely blind and oblivious to the jealousy of officials, the

surprising coolness of foreign courts, and the withdrawal of

important nobility from the Queen's court. Only her passions were

real; she didn't defy the dangers around her, rather, she was

unaware of them. The couple's sole intent was to devise another

underhanded scheme: to get married. Bothwell was already married,

so a phony rape was set up in order for the Lieutenant to get an

annulment from his present marriage. As if ravishment of the

Queen wasn't damaging enough, some accused Bothwell of being a

sorcerer, and the Protestant church believed that this union "was

odious and slanderous to the world" (121). All over Catholic

Europe the marriage, rather than the idea that Mary had been a

party to the murder of her husband, was the decisive factor in

destroying her reputation and blighting the hopes of those who

saw in her a future Catholic sovereign of England. "The Pope said

he did not know which of the two was worse, Mary or Elizabeth"

(123). The Pope broke off relations, political and financial,

with the Queen of Scots. Finally, Mary had lost the battle. With

rebel forces outnumbering Bothwell's, Mary consented to come back

to Edinburgh in exchange for Bothwell's life. Mary's future was

looking so bleak, her cousin Elizabeth had taken pity on her,

trying to free Mary from imprisonment. But all attempts failed.

At the age of 25, Mary stepped down from her throne, her 13 month

old son James became King of Scotland, and the government was

left in limbo.

Mary's blunder was that she tried to play a man's role in a

woman's body. As many opposites do not attract, her conquering

no-mercy zeal was shrouded by the helpless maiden. She lacked the

experience and the patience that her successful counterpart,

Elizabeth I, obtained. "Her burning fever" was more than the

ambition of the Lorraine breed could handle in the case her

selfish desires for a man who carried a price tag (138). Mary was

a "victim of a temperament that belonged to the heights or the

depths," paralleling her rise to power and fall from reason.

Mary Stuart shows striking resemblances to Shakespeare's

Othello. Othello had risen to the ranks of a general, commanding

great respect and an infamous reputation, even as a Moor. As did

Mary have to go against the odds, Othello probably was

discriminated and felt tension from others who thought he was

incompetent and that he should step down. His pride and his

concern for his reputation was a mirror image of the insecurity

that Iago molded through insinuations and guile. Not able to find

equilibrium, Othello threw away common sense for his anger and

vengeance. As did Mary, Othello made the fatal decision of

killing his spouse, a fatal choice that led to his own

destruction.