Ghost of Mary, Queen of Scots

She was a queen from the age of six days. She was a widow at eighteen, a mother at twenty-three, a prisoner at twenty-four. For nineteen years, she was moved from castle to castle, a captive of her cousin Elizabeth, who feared her claim to the English throne but could not bear to execute her—not until the end, when a forged letter and manufactured evidence made the decision inescapable. On February 8, 1587, Mary Stuart, Queen of Scotland, walked to the scaffold at Fotheringhay Castle, forgave her executioner, and laid her head upon the block. It took three blows to sever it. The first missed her neck entirely. The second struck the back of her skull. The third, finally, did the job. When the executioner lifted what he thought was her head, he found himself holding only her wig—Mary’s head, gray and close-cropped from years of imprisonment, rolled away across the floor. Her lips, witnesses reported, continued moving for fifteen minutes after death. Mary, Queen of Scots died as she had lived: with tragedy, with dignity, and with circumstances so dramatic they seemed scripted for the stage. She has not stopped performing. Her ghost has been reported at nearly every location associated with her tumultuous life—Edinburgh Castle, where she gave birth to the future James I; Holyrood Palace, where she witnessed the murder of her secretary; the various castles where she was imprisoned; and, of course, Fotheringhay, where her blood stained the scaffold. She is one of Britain’s most widely reported ghosts, and perhaps its most tragic. A queen who lost everything, wandering forever through the places where she suffered.

Mary’s biography reads like a Gothic novel: The impossible inheritance: Born December 8, 1542, at Linlithgow Palace; her father, James V, died six days later; she became Queen of Scotland at six days old; Regents ruled in her name throughout childhood; her life was never her own. The safe years: Sent to France at age five for safety; raised at the French court; betrothed to the Dauphin, future Francis II; married at fifteen; became Queen of France at sixteen; the only happy period of her life, perhaps. Everything changes: Francis II died in 1560 after less than two years of marriage; Mary was eighteen, a widow, and no longer Queen of France; she returned to Scotland in 1561; a Catholic queen in an increasingly Protestant nation; Trouble was inevitable. The Marriages and Disasters: A spiral downward: Married her cousin Lord Darnley in 1565—a catastrophe; he was petulant, alcoholic, and possibly syphilitic; he had her secretary David Rizzio stabbed to death in her presence; Darnley himself was murdered in 1567 (explosion and strangulation); she married the Earl of Bothwell, possibly her husband’s killer; Scotland turned against her. Abdication and Flight: The end of sovereignty: Forced to abdicate in 1567 in favor of her infant son James; imprisoned in Lochleven Castle; escaped, raised an army, lost the Battle of Langside; fled to England, expecting Elizabeth’s help; instead, she was imprisoned for the rest of her life. Nineteen Years of Captivity: The long decline: Held in various English castles from 1568 to 1587; used as a figurehead for Catholic plots against Elizabeth; may or may not have known about or approved these plots; the Babington Plot (1586) sealed her fate; she was executed for treason against a crown she never accepted.

February 8, 1587, was staged for maximum horror: The Scaffold at Fotheringhay: The setting: A wooden scaffold erected in the great hall; draped in black; three hundred witnesses assembled; Mary entered in black, was stripped to reveal a crimson petticoat; Red: the Catholic color of martyrdom. Her Final Words: Dignity to the end: She forgave her executioners; she prayed in Latin; she declared herself a martyr for her faith; she refused the Protestant prayers offered by the Dean; she said: “In manus tuas, Domine, commendo spiritum meum” (Into your hands, Lord, I commend my spirit). The Blows: Botched execution: The executioner’s first blow missed her neck; it struck the back of her head; she reportedly whispered, “Sweet Jesus”; the second blow cut through most of her neck; the third finally severed her head. The Aftermath: Macabre details: When the executioner lifted her head to display it; only her auburn wig came up; her actual head—gray, close-cropped—rolled away; her lips continued moving for fifteen minutes, witnesses claimed; her small dog, hidden under her skirts, was found beside her body; it refused to leave her, covered in her blood. The Body: A troubled burial: Her body was embalmed and kept at Fotheringhay; finally buried at Peterborough Cathedral; later moved to Westminster Abbey by her son James (now James I of England); her tomb is opposite Elizabeth I’s.

Mary’s ghost roams numerous sites: Fotheringhay Castle: Where she died: The castle is now a ruin—only earthworks and a mound remain; but the site is deeply haunted; visitors report an overwhelming sense of grief; some see a figure in black or crimson; cold spots persist even in summer; the local church, where she was first buried, also reports activity. Edinburgh Castle: Where she gave birth: Mary’s apartments in the castle are preserved; her private chambers are small, atmospheric; her ghost has been seen here; sometimes in the room where James VI/I was born; cold spots and unexplained sounds are common; a presence of maternal sorrow. Holyrood Palace: Where Rizzio was murdered: Her Italian secretary David Rizzio was stabbed 56 times; in the room next to Mary’s bedchamber; while she was six months pregnant; the bloodstain allegedly cannot be removed; (though the current “bloodstain” is probably symbolic); Mary’s ghost is seen near these rooms; walking the corridor, or standing by the spot where Rizzio died. Lochleven Castle: Where she was imprisoned: On an island in Loch Leven; where she was forced to abdicate; where she miscarried twins; her ghost walks the ruined halls; seen looking out toward the shore; a figure of loss and longing. Bolton Castle: English imprisonment: One of her places of captivity in England; she spent time here 1568-1569; her ghost has been reported; particularly in chambers associated with her; the castle acknowledges the haunting. Sheffield Castle/Manor: Long captivity: She spent fourteen years in Sheffield (castle and manor); the longest of her imprisonments; reports of her ghost are less common here; but the association remains; the years of waiting, hoping, despairing. Tutbury Castle: Hated prison: Mary particularly despised Tutbury; cold, damp, and unhealthy; she was held here multiple times; her ghost has been reported; though not as frequently as at other sites.

Witnesses describe consistent appearances: The Regal Figure: Most common description: A woman of noble bearing; dressed in period clothing (Tudor/Elizabethan era); often in black, sometimes in crimson or white; tall and dignified; an unmistakable presence of royalty. The Sorrowful Queen: Emotional impression: Witnesses describe overwhelming sadness; not fear, but grief; the sense of encountering someone who suffered greatly; some feel moved to tears; the emotional residue of a tragic life. Headless Appearances: At some locations; particularly at Fotheringhay; the ghost appears without her head; or carrying her head; these sightings are rarer; but powerful when they occur. Physical Phenomena: Beyond visual: Cold spots in her chambers; the smell of roses (she used rose oil); unexplained sounds—footsteps, rustling fabric; doors and windows opening on their own; a sense of presence even when nothing is seen.

Mary’s ghost is one of Britain’s most enduring: Why She Persists: Theories: The violence of her death (botched beheading); the injustice of her execution (manufactured evidence); the length of her suffering (19 years imprisoned); her frustrated maternity (taken from her son at infancy); unfinished business with Elizabeth. Catholic Martyr: Religious significance: Catholics venerated her as a martyr; she died declaring her faith; her execution galvanized Catholic opposition; religious devotion may contribute to her persistence; she represents something beyond herself. Romantic Tragedy: Cultural memory: Mary’s story is inherently dramatic; a beautiful queen, a tragic life, a horrible death; she has been the subject of countless works; plays, poems, films, novels; the attention may keep her memory—and ghost—active. The Rivalry: Elizabeth and Mary: They never met in life; their relationship was entirely through letters and intermediaries; yet they were rivals, cousins, queens; Elizabeth ordered Mary’s death reluctantly; perhaps regretfully; in death, they finally coexist in Westminster Abbey. But only one of them still walks. Only one of them still appears to the living, moving through the places where she suffered, wearing the crown no one could take from her.

She was born a queen and died a prisoner, and the decades between were filled with enough tragedy to break anyone. Lovers who betrayed her, husbands who failed her, a cousin who imprisoned her, a son she never saw grow up. She watched her secretary murdered before her eyes while she was pregnant. She was forced to abdicate at swordpoint. She spent nineteen years moving from castle to castle, always hoping, always believing Elizabeth would relent, always wrong.

In the end, she walked to the scaffold with the same dignity she had shown throughout her life. She forgave her executioner. She prayed. She submitted her neck to the blade. And when the blade fell badly, when it took three blows to kill her, she endured that too—endured it for fifteen minutes, if we believe the witnesses who said her lips kept moving after her head left her body.

Mary Stuart should have been allowed to rest. She earned that, if anyone ever did. But she does not rest. She walks through Edinburgh Castle, where her son was born. She appears at Holyrood, near the bloodstain that marks where Rizzio died. She haunts Fotheringhay, where the scaffold stood and the blows fell. She visits the castles where she was imprisoned, still looking for freedom, still waiting for the release that never came.

She is not a terrifying ghost. She does not scream or threaten or chase. She is a presence of sorrow, of dignity maintained under impossible circumstances, of a woman who lost everything but never stopped being a queen. To see her is to feel grief, not fear. To encounter her is to witness the persistence of tragedy, the refusal of injustice to fade.

Elizabeth, in the end, was buried opposite her in Westminster Abbey. They who never met in life are neighbors in death. But only one of them still appears to the living. Mary, Queen of Scots. Still royal. Still grieving. Still here.

Sources

• Wikipedia search: “Ghost of Mary, Queen of Scots”
• Historic England — Listed Buildings — Register of historic sites