Mary Stuart to Queen Elizabeth.[76]FromFotheringay,December 19, 1586.Madame—Having been unable to obtain leave from those to whom I have been, as it were, given by you, to make known to you what I have at heart, as well to acquit myself of any feeling of ill-will, or desire to commit any cruelty or enimical act against those to whom I am related by blood, as also to communicate to you in charity what I deemed might serve for your welfare and preservation as well as for the continuance of the peace and prosperity of this island (things which could harm no one, as it was in your power to take or reject my advice, or to believe or disbelieve my words, as it seemed best to you), I resolved henceforward to strengthen myself inJesus Christ alone, who is never wanting in justice and consolation to those who invoke Him with all their heart, and in especial, when denuded of all human help, they are left in His holy protection. To Him be the glory; He has not disappointed me in my expectations, having given me the courage,in spe contra spem, to endure the anguish, calomness, accusations, and contumelies of those who have no jurisdiction over me, together with a constant resolution to suffer death for the maintenance, obedience, and authority of the Catholic Church, Apostolic and Roman.Lately, on hearing the sentence, given by your last assemblage of some of the state, and receiving the admonition made to me by Lord Buckhurst and Beale, that I should prepare myself for the end of my long and wearisome trying pilgrimage, I begged them to thank you from me for such agreeable tidings, and to implore you to permit me certain things for the discharge of my conscience, the which Sir Paulet has since let me know you have accorded, having already allowed my chaplain to return, and together with the money which had been taken from me, and he assures me that the rest will follow. For all this I have much wished to return you thanks, and to supplicate you for one more last favour, which I have thought best to communicate to you alone, as being a last grace which I desire to owe to you alone, having no hope of anything but cruelty from the Puritans, who are now the strongest in power and the most animated against me,—God knows for what reason. I wish to accuse no one, but, on the contrary, to forgive every one from my heart, as I desire to be forgiven by all and in the first place by God. And then I know that all concerning the honour or dishonour of your blood and that of a queen, daughter of a king, touches you more nearly than any one else. Therefore, Madame, in honour of Jesus (whose name all powers obey), I require youto promise that when my enemies shall have satisfied their dark desire for my innocent blood, you will permit that my poor sorrowful servants may all together bear my body to be buried in holy ground and near those of my predecessors who are in France, especially the late Queen my mother; and this because in Scotland the bodies of the kings my ancestors have been insulted, and the churches pulled down and profaned, and because, suffering death in this country, I cannot have a place beside your predecessors, who are also mine; and what is more important—because in our religion we much prize being buried in holy ground. And as I am told you wish in nothing to force my conscience or my religion, and have even conceded me a priest, I hope that you will not refuse this my last request, but will at least allow free sepulture to the body from which the soul will be separated, as being united, they never knew how to obtain liberty to live in peace, or to procure the same for you, for which before God I do not in any way blame you—but may God show you the entire truth after my death.And because I fear the secret tyrany of some of those into whose power you have abandoned me, I beg you not to permit me to be executed without your knowledge—not from fear of the pain, which I am ready to suffer, but on account of the rumours which would be spread concerning my death if it were not seen by reliable witnesses; how it was done, I am persuaded, in the case of others of different rank. It is for this reason that in another place I require that my attendants remain to be spectators and witnesses of my end in the faith of my Saviour, and in the obedience of His Church, and that afterwards they shall all together withdraw quickly, taking my body with them as secretly as you wish, and so that the furniture and other things which I may be able to leave them in dying, be not taken from them, which will be, indeed, a very small rewardfor their good services. Would you wish me to return a jewel which you gave me to you with my last words, or would it please you to receive it sooner? I implore of you anew to permit me to send a jewel and a last adieu to my son, together with my blessing, of which he has been deprived, owing to what you informed me of his refusal to enter into a treaty in which I was included,—by the unhappy advice of whom? This last point I leave to your conscience and favourable consideration. For the others, I demand of you, in the name of Jesus Christ, and in consideration of our relationship, in remembrance of King Henry VII., your [great]grandfather and mine, and in honour of the dignity we have both held, and of our common sex, that my request be granted.For the rest, I think you will have certainly heard that they pulled down my dais, by your order, as they said, and that afterwards they told me that it was not done by your command, but by that of some of the council. I praise God that such cruelty, which could only show malice and afflict me after I had made up my mind to die, came not from you. I fear it has been like this in many other things, and that this is the reason why they would not permit me to write to you until they had, as far as they could, taken from me all external mark of dignity and power, telling me I was simply a dead woman, stripped of all dignity.God be praised for all. I wish that all my papers, without any exception, had been shown to you, so that it might have been seen that it was not only the care of your safety which animated all those who are so prompt in persuing me. If you grant me this my last request, give orders that I shall see what you write regarding it, as otherwise they will make me believe what they like; and I desire to know your final reply to my final request.In conclusion, I pray the God of mercy, the just Judge, that He will deign to enlighten you by His Holy Spirit, and that He will give me the grace to die in perfect charity, as I am preparing myself to do, pardoning all those who are the cause of my death, or who have co-operated in it; and this shall be my prayer till the end. I consider it happy for me that it should come before the persecution which I foresee threatens this island—if God is not more truly feared and revered, and vanity and worldly policy not more wisely curbed. Do not accuse me of presumption if, on the eve of leaving this world, and preparing myself for a better, I remind you that one day you will have to answer for your charge as well as those who are sent before, and that, making no account of my blood or my country, I desire to think of the time when, from the earliest dawn of reason, we were taught to place our soul's welfare before all temporal matters, which should cede to those of eternity.—Your sister and cousin wrongfully imprisoned,Marie, Queen.FromFotheringaythis xix December 1586.
FromFotheringay,December 19, 1586.
Madame—Having been unable to obtain leave from those to whom I have been, as it were, given by you, to make known to you what I have at heart, as well to acquit myself of any feeling of ill-will, or desire to commit any cruelty or enimical act against those to whom I am related by blood, as also to communicate to you in charity what I deemed might serve for your welfare and preservation as well as for the continuance of the peace and prosperity of this island (things which could harm no one, as it was in your power to take or reject my advice, or to believe or disbelieve my words, as it seemed best to you), I resolved henceforward to strengthen myself inJesus Christ alone, who is never wanting in justice and consolation to those who invoke Him with all their heart, and in especial, when denuded of all human help, they are left in His holy protection. To Him be the glory; He has not disappointed me in my expectations, having given me the courage,in spe contra spem, to endure the anguish, calomness, accusations, and contumelies of those who have no jurisdiction over me, together with a constant resolution to suffer death for the maintenance, obedience, and authority of the Catholic Church, Apostolic and Roman.
Lately, on hearing the sentence, given by your last assemblage of some of the state, and receiving the admonition made to me by Lord Buckhurst and Beale, that I should prepare myself for the end of my long and wearisome trying pilgrimage, I begged them to thank you from me for such agreeable tidings, and to implore you to permit me certain things for the discharge of my conscience, the which Sir Paulet has since let me know you have accorded, having already allowed my chaplain to return, and together with the money which had been taken from me, and he assures me that the rest will follow. For all this I have much wished to return you thanks, and to supplicate you for one more last favour, which I have thought best to communicate to you alone, as being a last grace which I desire to owe to you alone, having no hope of anything but cruelty from the Puritans, who are now the strongest in power and the most animated against me,—God knows for what reason. I wish to accuse no one, but, on the contrary, to forgive every one from my heart, as I desire to be forgiven by all and in the first place by God. And then I know that all concerning the honour or dishonour of your blood and that of a queen, daughter of a king, touches you more nearly than any one else. Therefore, Madame, in honour of Jesus (whose name all powers obey), I require youto promise that when my enemies shall have satisfied their dark desire for my innocent blood, you will permit that my poor sorrowful servants may all together bear my body to be buried in holy ground and near those of my predecessors who are in France, especially the late Queen my mother; and this because in Scotland the bodies of the kings my ancestors have been insulted, and the churches pulled down and profaned, and because, suffering death in this country, I cannot have a place beside your predecessors, who are also mine; and what is more important—because in our religion we much prize being buried in holy ground. And as I am told you wish in nothing to force my conscience or my religion, and have even conceded me a priest, I hope that you will not refuse this my last request, but will at least allow free sepulture to the body from which the soul will be separated, as being united, they never knew how to obtain liberty to live in peace, or to procure the same for you, for which before God I do not in any way blame you—but may God show you the entire truth after my death.
And because I fear the secret tyrany of some of those into whose power you have abandoned me, I beg you not to permit me to be executed without your knowledge—not from fear of the pain, which I am ready to suffer, but on account of the rumours which would be spread concerning my death if it were not seen by reliable witnesses; how it was done, I am persuaded, in the case of others of different rank. It is for this reason that in another place I require that my attendants remain to be spectators and witnesses of my end in the faith of my Saviour, and in the obedience of His Church, and that afterwards they shall all together withdraw quickly, taking my body with them as secretly as you wish, and so that the furniture and other things which I may be able to leave them in dying, be not taken from them, which will be, indeed, a very small rewardfor their good services. Would you wish me to return a jewel which you gave me to you with my last words, or would it please you to receive it sooner? I implore of you anew to permit me to send a jewel and a last adieu to my son, together with my blessing, of which he has been deprived, owing to what you informed me of his refusal to enter into a treaty in which I was included,—by the unhappy advice of whom? This last point I leave to your conscience and favourable consideration. For the others, I demand of you, in the name of Jesus Christ, and in consideration of our relationship, in remembrance of King Henry VII., your [great]grandfather and mine, and in honour of the dignity we have both held, and of our common sex, that my request be granted.
For the rest, I think you will have certainly heard that they pulled down my dais, by your order, as they said, and that afterwards they told me that it was not done by your command, but by that of some of the council. I praise God that such cruelty, which could only show malice and afflict me after I had made up my mind to die, came not from you. I fear it has been like this in many other things, and that this is the reason why they would not permit me to write to you until they had, as far as they could, taken from me all external mark of dignity and power, telling me I was simply a dead woman, stripped of all dignity.
God be praised for all. I wish that all my papers, without any exception, had been shown to you, so that it might have been seen that it was not only the care of your safety which animated all those who are so prompt in persuing me. If you grant me this my last request, give orders that I shall see what you write regarding it, as otherwise they will make me believe what they like; and I desire to know your final reply to my final request.
In conclusion, I pray the God of mercy, the just Judge, that He will deign to enlighten you by His Holy Spirit, and that He will give me the grace to die in perfect charity, as I am preparing myself to do, pardoning all those who are the cause of my death, or who have co-operated in it; and this shall be my prayer till the end. I consider it happy for me that it should come before the persecution which I foresee threatens this island—if God is not more truly feared and revered, and vanity and worldly policy not more wisely curbed. Do not accuse me of presumption if, on the eve of leaving this world, and preparing myself for a better, I remind you that one day you will have to answer for your charge as well as those who are sent before, and that, making no account of my blood or my country, I desire to think of the time when, from the earliest dawn of reason, we were taught to place our soul's welfare before all temporal matters, which should cede to those of eternity.—Your sister and cousin wrongfully imprisoned,
Marie, Queen.
FromFotheringaythis xix December 1586.
Paulet, after receiving this letter from Queen Mary, entered into a long conversation with her, in which he disturbed her by "rather violent discourses, warning her to thank the Queen (Elizabeth) and acknowledge the favours she had done her, not only at her first coming into England, but ever since, and especially in this last affair, in which, he said, she had much to be thankful for."
"For my part," replied Mary, "if I have received any favours, I thank her, but I do not see in what theyconsist. I came into this country under her promise (of assistance). She has kept me a prisoner for eighteen years, and now makes me die, which is the worst that can be done to me."
"But," retorted Paulet, "you owe it to the Queen that she kept you from your enemies and saved your life. You were escaping to another country when the stress of weather at sea caused you to take refuge here."
"There is no one in this country but you who holds this opinion," replied the Queen, "or who does not know that I came to this country in a simple fishing-boat, which was to take me no farther than I wished. I came against the judgment of the nobles who were with me, of whom some are still alive. They dissuaded me from coming, saying I was putting myself in the hands of the enemies of my country and my own, from whom I should never escape, as they would put me to death; and they would not accompany me until I gave them an attestation and certificate in my handwriting that it was against their wish, and in spite of them, that I came to England. You show yourself very ignorant of my affairs, as you have shown in other conversations. When I was at Lochleven Queen Elizabeth said, and wrote, that she would employ all her friends to deliver me from prison and subdue my enemies. If she did not wish to keep her promise to me, who came to hertrusting in it, she should have sent me away, and not have detained me (against) her promise."
Sir Amyas, nothing daunted, continued to boast of the kindness shown by his mistress in her treatment of Mary, and then he and Sir Drue Drury, addressing themselves this time to Melville, who was also present, united in praising Morton, after which they proceeded to declare that the King of Scotland had great cause to respect the Queen of England, and that she had been a good mother to him; that it was not the English who had withdrawn him from his mother's friendship, but he himself who would not enter into any league in which she took part. The English dealt with him as King of Scotland, they said, who was recognised as such in England and in all foreign countries, and had been publicly acknowledged in full Parliament in England and Scotland.
"You have no feelings of honour," said the Queen, "if you praise so wicked a man as the Earl of Morton, who is held to be a tyrant and an usurper, who pillages and destroys all the possessions of the poor Scottish subjects, holds my son a prisoner, is a false traitor, and given up to a life of debauchery and public wickedness." To this Melville added other facts of the kind, having known Morton.
"I marvel within myself," continued Mary, "howthe Queen of England can consider herself a good mother to my son, having always kept him apart from me, and prevented his having friendship with me. You do wrong in following young Gray's advice, to treat with the son rather than with the mother, to whom the kingdom belongs, and not to him. Far from being King, I protested in Scotland that my resignation was forced from me; I permitted him to take the title of King on the condition that he should consult me on affairs of importance to the kingdom, that he should do nothing without me, otherwise I should not support him in anything. Foreign kings only recognised him on these conditions, which not being observed, I cannot acknowledge him as King, and I doubt me the Queen of England has said by her own mouth to her people, and even to the Ambassadors of France, and to Nau, that she had never acknowledged him as King, nor had yet given him the title."
All these matters had already been discussed at the trial. "The Queen," said Bourgoing, "took occasion to say that they repeated these things on purpose to displease her more, and to attempt to extract something from her, as it may be supposed from the fact that Sir Amyas could not bear what Her Majesty had said concerning certain members of the council who were hostile to her, she said, and did all they could against her, and thisshe would say of some of them she could name till death, whom she would nevertheless pardon with all her heart."
"You do ill in this," replied Paulet, "as you should die in charity; there is no one of the council who wishes to do you evil against his conscience. You go against God in retaining such an opinion of them."
"I do not feel my conscience charged by this," said Mary, "nor have I offended God, who does not forbid one to die in an opinion of which one is sure, nor to speak in dying of that of which one has a perfect knowledge; although most surely He commands us to forgive, which I do, as I have already said, but I do not at present feel drawn to flatter, and will flatter no one, not striving to escape from their hands by this means. Being resolved to die, and preparing for this, I do not intend to purchase my life, or purchase any grace, by flattery. I do not give any, and I do not ask for any, do with me what you wish. What I ask of the Queen has nothing to do with my deliverance, but only concerns my religion, and for the discharge of my conscience, being on the point of putting my affairs in order touching my will, my servants, and my funeral."[77]
On the day following this interview Paulet wrotethe following confidential letter to Davison, in which he states very plainly his reasons for delaying to send Mary's letter to Queen Elizabeth:—
We were not a little perplexed with this motion of writing, and, indeed, did forbear to deliver our answer until we had considered of the matter privately between ourselves, wherein, as we feared greatly to give any the least cause of delay of the due examination [execution] of the long-desired justice, so, having received lately Her Majesty's express commandment to make offer to this lady to convey her letters if she were disposed to write, although she did not accept thereof at that time, yet, doubting lest our refusal to yield unto it at this present might be offensive to Her Highness, and perchance breed some slander to the cause, we condescended to her desire, beseeching God so to direct the sequel thereof as the same may redound to His glory and Her Majesty's safety, whereof there were no doubt, if we were as willing to take the advantage of great and urgent occasions to further this expected sacrifice, acceptable to God and man, as we are easily diverted from it upon every similar suggestion. All good and faithful subjects will be always careful of Her Majesty's safety, but specially in the time of Christmas now at hand, which giveth occasion to many dangerous assemblies. We are content to be found faulty of this pardonable jealousy. Being not able to do any good in this service, we should be very sorry, and should think ourselves more than unhappy if anything should come from us that might do hurt. And, therefore, to be plain with you as with our very friend, we have used all convenient means to delay the receiving of this, to the end it might arrive at the court too late to stay any action touching this lady that mightbe intended before Christmas, being strongly persuaded that the delay of the execution until after Christmas will give great cause to suspect an everlasting delay, either through Her Majesty's too great inclination to mercy, or by reason of the danger of her person in the Christmas, a time subject to dangerous assemblies. And thus, etc.P.S.—I am very sorry that your letters of the 14th, received the 20th at nine in the morning, came not to my hands in time convenient for the stay of the priest, who, arriving here the 17th, was immediately admitted to the presence of his mistress, according to the direction which I had before received in that behalf. The inconvenience whereof is not so great in matter of policy as in conscience, because, indeed, the priest is [of] weak and slender judgment, and can give neither counsel nor advice worthy of a young scholar. I feared lest he might have learned some bad news during his abode with Mr. Gresley, but having groped him the best I can, do find that he is a mere stranger almost to those things which are common to all men, which I impute to his want of language and to Mr. Gresley's absence from his house now many weeks by reason of his being at London, so that he hath had little other company than of his keeper. I might have doubted lest he had dissembled his knowledge in the occurrents of this time, but having searched his papers, do find two leaves of paper craftily (as he thought) inserted in the midst of his philosophical exercises, wherein he hath set down a daily note of all that he heard spoken unto him, and likewise his answers in all this time of his absence, the same being ridiculous or do bewray his great indiscretion. I would have been glad, for some Christian respects, that he should have had no access to this Queen until the night before her execution, and, indeed, havingreceived direction to send for him, I took it for a strong argument that the time of her execution was near at hand.[78]
We were not a little perplexed with this motion of writing, and, indeed, did forbear to deliver our answer until we had considered of the matter privately between ourselves, wherein, as we feared greatly to give any the least cause of delay of the due examination [execution] of the long-desired justice, so, having received lately Her Majesty's express commandment to make offer to this lady to convey her letters if she were disposed to write, although she did not accept thereof at that time, yet, doubting lest our refusal to yield unto it at this present might be offensive to Her Highness, and perchance breed some slander to the cause, we condescended to her desire, beseeching God so to direct the sequel thereof as the same may redound to His glory and Her Majesty's safety, whereof there were no doubt, if we were as willing to take the advantage of great and urgent occasions to further this expected sacrifice, acceptable to God and man, as we are easily diverted from it upon every similar suggestion. All good and faithful subjects will be always careful of Her Majesty's safety, but specially in the time of Christmas now at hand, which giveth occasion to many dangerous assemblies. We are content to be found faulty of this pardonable jealousy. Being not able to do any good in this service, we should be very sorry, and should think ourselves more than unhappy if anything should come from us that might do hurt. And, therefore, to be plain with you as with our very friend, we have used all convenient means to delay the receiving of this, to the end it might arrive at the court too late to stay any action touching this lady that mightbe intended before Christmas, being strongly persuaded that the delay of the execution until after Christmas will give great cause to suspect an everlasting delay, either through Her Majesty's too great inclination to mercy, or by reason of the danger of her person in the Christmas, a time subject to dangerous assemblies. And thus, etc.
P.S.—I am very sorry that your letters of the 14th, received the 20th at nine in the morning, came not to my hands in time convenient for the stay of the priest, who, arriving here the 17th, was immediately admitted to the presence of his mistress, according to the direction which I had before received in that behalf. The inconvenience whereof is not so great in matter of policy as in conscience, because, indeed, the priest is [of] weak and slender judgment, and can give neither counsel nor advice worthy of a young scholar. I feared lest he might have learned some bad news during his abode with Mr. Gresley, but having groped him the best I can, do find that he is a mere stranger almost to those things which are common to all men, which I impute to his want of language and to Mr. Gresley's absence from his house now many weeks by reason of his being at London, so that he hath had little other company than of his keeper. I might have doubted lest he had dissembled his knowledge in the occurrents of this time, but having searched his papers, do find two leaves of paper craftily (as he thought) inserted in the midst of his philosophical exercises, wherein he hath set down a daily note of all that he heard spoken unto him, and likewise his answers in all this time of his absence, the same being ridiculous or do bewray his great indiscretion. I would have been glad, for some Christian respects, that he should have had no access to this Queen until the night before her execution, and, indeed, havingreceived direction to send for him, I took it for a strong argument that the time of her execution was near at hand.[78]
Paulet's fear that Mary's letter would touch Elizabeth was partly justified by the event. When it was at last forwarded, Leicester thus writes of this letter to Walsingham: "There is a letter from the Scottish Queen that hath wrought tears, but I trust shall do no further hurt therein; albeit the delay is too dangerous." Leicester apparently knew his royal mistress's character better than did Paulet, for the tears induced no change of policy.[79]
ON Thursday 22nd December Sir Amyas sent for both Melville and Bourgoing,—an unusual proceeding, especially as hitherto, since his return, Melville alone had taken and brought back the messages to the Queen. When they were in the presence of Sir Amyas, he said that as he had something to send to the Queen, he thought it expedient to give it to them, declaring he knew not what it contained, but delivered it as he had received it. He then gave them a letter from Curle to his sister concerning certain money which the Queen had promised him. That Curle should have had the "courage," as Bourgoing expresses it, to apply to Mary in this way, seems to point to the fact that he considered himself innocent in her regard, and throws fresh doubt on the confessions supposed to have been extorted from him and Nau. The bags for the Queen contained some of her accounts; the seals had beenbroken, as Melville and Bourgoing pointed out to Paulet, who replied that he had, according to his duty, broken them, that he might be aware of the contents. A letter from Nau was among the papers, and a short memorandum which he had made on the papers taken to him, but the chief accounts for the year were missing, nor did they ever reach Mary; in spite of much correspondence on the subject between Paulet, Walsingham, Waad, and others, and Elizabeth's own apparent wish that they should be restored.
At this time Paulet was laid up by a cold, and all communications between him and his prisoner had to be conveyed by her attendants. Day by day the Queen anxiously waited, hoping to see Paulet and inquire from him concerning the subjects which were to her of the deepest interest, but his own cold and gout occupied Paulet's attention far more than his prisoner's feelings. At last on the 8th of January, knowing that he had been out the day before, Mary sent to beg him to visit her, but Paulet still pleaded cold and inability to come. "We," continues Bourgoing, who was evidently one of those sent, "according to our charge, said that Her Majesty, being unable to communicate with him, and having no reply to her letter written nearly three weeks past (to Queen Elizabeth), and hearing nothing about it, but being always kept in suspense, proposed writing, andthat as he seemed to be better in health, Her Majesty would prepare her letters, so that when he was well he would find them all ready."
Paulet, appearing a little angry, replied that Mary could write and prepare what she liked. The Queen therefore wrote once more, and for the last time, to her cousin,—a letter which, as we shall see, Paulet this time refused to send at all, and of which the dignified and pathetic contents would have remained unknown had not Bourgoing preserved it. It runs as follows, with the exception of one paragraph, which is unintelligible:—
The Last Letter from Queen Mary to Queen Elizabeth.[80]Madame—Having prepared myself for death, according to what it pleased you to signify to me, thus ridding my enemies of their charge, and that my life may be disposed of according to their designs, I have so willingly made up my mind to leave this false world, that I protest to God and to you, that since I have not aspired to, nor do I desire, any worldly satisfaction save those which, for the discharge of my conscience, I requested through my Lord Buckhurst and Beale, and those that I have asked of you in the last memorandum by my own hand, which depend entirely on your benevolence, and which can offend no one. As regards the petitions and requests I have been in part gratified, namely, the arrival of my chaplain and receiving a portion of my money—but of my papers I have only receivedcertain extracts[81]—and as I do not think you intend that things belonging to me, or the affairs of my domain, should fall into other hands, as they cannot be of service to you, as they are necessary for the making of my will, I implore you that all my statements, books of accounts, and other papers, which only relate to my private affairs, be returned to me and the rest of the money restored, so that I can put them in order, and leave the examination of them to those in my confidence and the executors of my will, to whom they may be of use after my death, as they will be to me now; that I may be sure of what I have to spend, what I can dispose of, or what I justly owe; not being able, without them, to make use of Nau's extracts alone, he being a prisoner, unless I had liberty to communicate with him, or, at the least, by writing to receive information from him concerning several special (points) on which I require to be enlightened. I let Messrs. Paulet and Drue Drury know regarding certain points; and as they promised me to write, I have been expecting an answer since the 22nd of December, on which day they sent me some papers, with a line from my secretary Nau. (They), perhaps, not thinking it reasonable to trouble you with my last requests, I fear either that my letter has never been given to you, or that you did not wish to take the trouble to (read) it. The way in which I have been treated has perhaps led (them) to imagine that I meant to beg from you some great grace, and it may even have made them fear that, in the goodness of your heart, this remonstrance would cause you some regrets at consigning one of your own blood, and quality united, to such straits. But, Madame, they need not fear such pusillanimity on the one side, and on the other you can remove from them all their dread of your too great sorrow, by telling them of my request; and as it is your intention only to gratify it at my death, the which has been granted them, they cannot blame you if, through a feeling of family duty, or at the least of Christian charity, you grant burial for my body.By the same, I require of you with instance, Madame, in honour of the Passion of Jesus Christ, not to keep me longer in this miserable suspense, which is more cruel than any certainty, but to let me fully know your will, and if it be to grant my prayer, I promise to make one for you at my death for your salvation, and for your prosperity in this world in the grace of God. And if you refuse me, I will endeavour to bear it patiently, thanking you still for leaving me no longer to languish in this miserable condition, of which I wish you knew the truth of the sufferings of my poor servants, who are losing their time and their health. For the rest, if at the hour of my death I should wish to divulge to you some secret, and of which it might be of importance to you that no one should have knowledge, being my last words, I desire to know in whom I may confide, as there are some who might, through habit, speak about it too freely, or refrain from telling it, from some reason of their own. Well, then, I pray God grant you as much happiness in this world as I expect in leaving it, through His mercy, which I beg for myself and for all those who persecute me, and this happiness, of being freed from so many miseries by an innocent death; and I desire to forgive any who otherwise calumniate me and mine, if there be any.... And I hope that by my death, which is so much wished for, you and several others will experience what may be of use, and serve to clear up many things in which God may be glorified. I implore His Divine Majesty that all shall conduce to His honour and to your edification and preservation, and that of this whole island, for the salvation of which I would willinglygive my life, nor would refuse to desert it, even were I in a better condition. I am not able to speak willingly of him[82]in whose service, as of that of our country, I am useless, nor of the special good I wish you, being so near you in blood—seeing that, on the contrary, I serve for a pretext to others who discharge their malice against me and mine for certain reasons, which, as well as my own intentions, I leave to the judgment of the just Judge.—Your sister and imprisoned cousin,Marye.From my prison ofFotheringay,the 12th of January 1587.
Madame—Having prepared myself for death, according to what it pleased you to signify to me, thus ridding my enemies of their charge, and that my life may be disposed of according to their designs, I have so willingly made up my mind to leave this false world, that I protest to God and to you, that since I have not aspired to, nor do I desire, any worldly satisfaction save those which, for the discharge of my conscience, I requested through my Lord Buckhurst and Beale, and those that I have asked of you in the last memorandum by my own hand, which depend entirely on your benevolence, and which can offend no one. As regards the petitions and requests I have been in part gratified, namely, the arrival of my chaplain and receiving a portion of my money—but of my papers I have only receivedcertain extracts[81]—and as I do not think you intend that things belonging to me, or the affairs of my domain, should fall into other hands, as they cannot be of service to you, as they are necessary for the making of my will, I implore you that all my statements, books of accounts, and other papers, which only relate to my private affairs, be returned to me and the rest of the money restored, so that I can put them in order, and leave the examination of them to those in my confidence and the executors of my will, to whom they may be of use after my death, as they will be to me now; that I may be sure of what I have to spend, what I can dispose of, or what I justly owe; not being able, without them, to make use of Nau's extracts alone, he being a prisoner, unless I had liberty to communicate with him, or, at the least, by writing to receive information from him concerning several special (points) on which I require to be enlightened. I let Messrs. Paulet and Drue Drury know regarding certain points; and as they promised me to write, I have been expecting an answer since the 22nd of December, on which day they sent me some papers, with a line from my secretary Nau. (They), perhaps, not thinking it reasonable to trouble you with my last requests, I fear either that my letter has never been given to you, or that you did not wish to take the trouble to (read) it. The way in which I have been treated has perhaps led (them) to imagine that I meant to beg from you some great grace, and it may even have made them fear that, in the goodness of your heart, this remonstrance would cause you some regrets at consigning one of your own blood, and quality united, to such straits. But, Madame, they need not fear such pusillanimity on the one side, and on the other you can remove from them all their dread of your too great sorrow, by telling them of my request; and as it is your intention only to gratify it at my death, the which has been granted them, they cannot blame you if, through a feeling of family duty, or at the least of Christian charity, you grant burial for my body.
By the same, I require of you with instance, Madame, in honour of the Passion of Jesus Christ, not to keep me longer in this miserable suspense, which is more cruel than any certainty, but to let me fully know your will, and if it be to grant my prayer, I promise to make one for you at my death for your salvation, and for your prosperity in this world in the grace of God. And if you refuse me, I will endeavour to bear it patiently, thanking you still for leaving me no longer to languish in this miserable condition, of which I wish you knew the truth of the sufferings of my poor servants, who are losing their time and their health. For the rest, if at the hour of my death I should wish to divulge to you some secret, and of which it might be of importance to you that no one should have knowledge, being my last words, I desire to know in whom I may confide, as there are some who might, through habit, speak about it too freely, or refrain from telling it, from some reason of their own. Well, then, I pray God grant you as much happiness in this world as I expect in leaving it, through His mercy, which I beg for myself and for all those who persecute me, and this happiness, of being freed from so many miseries by an innocent death; and I desire to forgive any who otherwise calumniate me and mine, if there be any.... And I hope that by my death, which is so much wished for, you and several others will experience what may be of use, and serve to clear up many things in which God may be glorified. I implore His Divine Majesty that all shall conduce to His honour and to your edification and preservation, and that of this whole island, for the salvation of which I would willinglygive my life, nor would refuse to desert it, even were I in a better condition. I am not able to speak willingly of him[82]in whose service, as of that of our country, I am useless, nor of the special good I wish you, being so near you in blood—seeing that, on the contrary, I serve for a pretext to others who discharge their malice against me and mine for certain reasons, which, as well as my own intentions, I leave to the judgment of the just Judge.—Your sister and imprisoned cousin,
Marye.
From my prison ofFotheringay,the 12th of January 1587.
When the letter was written, Sir Amyas continued to throw every possible hindrance in the way of its transmission. The Queen begged him to come to see her, offering to show him her letter and close it in his presence as before; but Paulet, "being in bed motionless and with one of his arms bandaged," replied that he could not possibly move, or walk to go to her, that he much regretted it, and would go to her as soon as he could; and so for the next two days the question continued to be discussed by means of messages between the Queen and Paulet, but in spite of conciliating speeches on the part of the latter, it ended in the letter never being despatched.
From the 20th of January the chronicle becomes more and more interesting, and we shall as far as possible give Bourgoing's own words:—
"On Friday 20th January Melville went to speak to Sir Amyas about our supplies and the usual pension, and about a servant and our wages. To which he received fairly courteous replies; (Sir Amyas) refusing him, however, a servant, but saying that he thought means might be found for sending us our wages. Upon this last point we founded our hopes that all was not at extremity.
"On Saturday 21st Sir Amyas sent to fetch Mr. Melville, Mr. Bourgoing, and Monsieur de Préau, at which we were quite astonished, not knowing what it could mean. And this last named (de Préau), not wishing to go to him, as he was not in a suitable dress, according to his rank, remained behind until the same Melville and Bourgoing went to speak to him (Paulet), to whom he refused to speak, saying he had nothing to say to them unless de Préau should come. From this, still more puzzled, we concluded that it was on account of him alone that we were summoned, fearing among other things that they wished to separate him (from the Queen).
"M. de Préau, therefore, dressed as he was, borrowed a cloak, and when we were all three come to Sir Amyas, he addressed himself to the said Bourgoing, saying he had sent for him specially, as he had something to say to him, as also to the said sirs, Melville and de Préau,which he wished me to report to Her Majesty, as he would have done himself could he have gone to her.
"Sir Amyas then continued that he had something to tell them which he knew would be pleasing neither to the Queen nor to Melville, whom he had always seen to be a faithful servant to his mistress, but that there was no remedy, and he must take it in good part. Both he and de Préau, said Paulet, were to be separated from their mistress for the present; they were not to go into her presence, but were to retire to their own rooms. As de Préau was lodged so near the Queen as to make it impossible to prevent his going to her, Paulet had arranged that he should lodge in one of Melville's rooms. They were not to be prisoners, and were to do as they pleased, with the exception of seeing the Queen. And when M. Melville, protesting the sorrow that this gave him, his only consolation being to be near his mistress, and begging to be permitted to see her and to bid her farewell, Sir Amyas replied that he could not give him leave, and that it was not necessary; he saw nothing yet which should prevent his returning to her as usual, and that he must be patient for the present. M. de Préau, protesting also his regret, said the same.
"The said Bourgoing then returned to Her Majesty, and surprised her very much, and also the others, with his tidings, which caused many thoughts and imaginingswithout any conclusion being arrived at, as there seemed no apparent reason for these proceedings.
"The next day the Queen sent Bourgoing to Paulet to say that after his report she would have sent him to inquire the previous day had it not been too late, and that she wished to think over what she had heard. I think (adds Bourgoing) that the chief reason was that she feared I would be kept away from her like the others." Bourgoing and Paulet had a long discussion; the former represented to Paulet how strange it appeared to his mistress that she had received no answer to her letter, and that she could not even feel assured that it had reached Queen Elizabeth, and not only that, but that in this doubt she had prepared another letter, and had not yet heard from Sir Amyas whether she might send it or not. To this Paulet replied that Mary's letter had certainly reached Queen Elizabeth, but that no answer had come. He was not the person to keep a letter back from the Queen of Scots, and that as regards the second letter which she had written to his mistress, his judgment told him that because he had permission to send one, this did not mean he could forward more.
Being pressed upon the latter point, Paulet repeated that he had not permission to forward letters. Bourgoing thus continues: "It was told him in the second place that she (Mary) was in great distress toknow the cause of her attendants being taken from her, saying that the Queen of England had, at her request, sent her priest that she might have the consolation of his presence and his assistance in preparing for death, and that now when he was most necessary to her, he was taken away. There was no one so criminal, she said, but he was allowed a minister of his religion to conduct him to execution, to console and minister to him, and that the only consolations that she still had in her misery and captivity were those of her religion. She regretted infinitely (continued Bourgoing) not to be able to perform her devotions as she would wish, to assist at Mass, and do her duty as a good Christian. Queen Elizabeth had promised her not to interfere with her in her religion, and yet it was for her religion only that she was persecuted. Her priest was in no one's way; he interfered with nothing, devoting himself to his prayers. It would have been better not to have allowed him to return than now to remove him in her greatest need, and she now plainly perceived that they would not be content with afflicting the body but would proceed, were it possible, to destroy not only the body and life itself, but also the soul, which, however, could never be, as she had entire hope in God, that He would be with her in this last trial as He had ever been. She saw that their intention was to take her servants from her one by one,and to remove herself secretly from here to make her die when they wished, or to murder her secretly.
"To the first point Paulet replied that he did not doubt that the Queen (Mary) desired to have the priest near her, nor that she was vexed at his absence, but she might assure herself that he was not far off. He was neither in France nor in Scotland, nor indeed out of the house, and that he saw no cause for thinking that, when it should be necessary as the Queen thought, she should not have him. For the rest, continued he, she was peradventure not so near death as she imagined, and for the present she must be satisfied. When Paulet heard, however, of the fear entertained by Mary that she would be murdered, or secretly put to death, he fell into a rage, protesting that there was no greater danger of her being thus insulted than there was for Bourgoing himself, who had no reason to fear that anything should be attempted againsthim. The latter then pressing the question as to whether there was really no plot of the kind against his mistress, Paulet said 'that there was no more danger for Her Majesty that such a thing should be done to her, than there was for his own wife, his children, or himself, and of this he would dare to swear. That as for him, he was not the man to do, or make others do, such a thing, feeling indeed hurt to be thus suspected; he was a man of honour and a gentleman, and he wouldnot wish so to dishonour himself as to wish to exercise such cruelty or to conduct himself as a Turk! People must not think such things of him. When it was suggested to him that the Queen did not so much fear him as others who were her enemies, and who would not be unwilling to do her a bad turn if it were to their own advantage, Paulet replied that he alone would be responsible for all, and that she might assure herself that nothing of the kind would occur.' In this protest Paulet did himself no less than justice, as his after conduct proved; much as he hated his prisoner, she was safe in his hands from assassination.
"Bourgoing before leaving Paulet anxiously inquired for Mary, why Melville had likewise been separated from her and for what reason. To which Paulet's reply was that Mr. Melville was an honest gentleman, that he was separated from her for no offence against Queen Elizabeth or for anything in particular, but there were certain reasons which made it necessary.
"Bourgoing then told Paulet that in future his mistress would be afraid to send any one to speak to him, in the fear that he would detain them, one after the other. But Paulet assured him that she need have no such fear, and that all her servants were in the house."[83]
Paulet's real sentiments on this occasion may begathered from a letter to Mr. Secretary Davison, written two days before.[84]Although written from a bed of sickness, he evinces no sympathy for the Queen's chronic ill-health, nor does it seem to occur to him that Chartley was as unwholesome for his delicate prisoner as for himself, the "naughty waters" there having contributed to aggravate the Queen's rheumatism and other ailments.
On the Monday (23rd January) Melville had an interview with Paulet—the first since he had been separated from the others—and spoke in the same sense as his mistress of his separation from her. Sir Amyas replied very courteously, but declined to give any reason for this decision. He likewise declined to give M. de Préau and Melville a separate allowance of food, saying that as when they were with the others there was sufficient for all, nothing extra was now needed. All this created much surmise and anxiety among the Queen's people, but that same evening a clue was given to the mystery. About five o'clock the Fotheringay porter, Newrins, came to forbid Jehan Landet, the Queen's butler, to carry the rod before the dishes of meat served to his mistress. (This office had belonged to Melville, as master of the household, and had only been exercised by Landet since his absence.)[85]
"At this," says Bourgoing, "Her Majesty was greatly astonished, and wished at once to send to Sir Amyas to learn the reason, but he would receive no one, saying that it was too late and that they could speak to him next day, and if it was about the rod being forbidden, it was no use, as if he had remembered when M. Melville was taken away, it would have been forbidden then. On the following day the Queen sent Bourgoing to Paulet with a message to say that although she had for a time felt relief from her fear of being secretly put to death, in consequence of the assurances she had received through Bourgoing of his good intentions in her regard, the same painful doubt now recurred to her mind. She saw in the new order he had given fresh cause to fear that the last vestiges of her royal dignity were taken from her only in order that such a crime might the more easily be committed. Her Majesty was surprised," continued Bourgoing, "that Paulet should take the trouble to forbid so small a thing, which could not possibly do good or harm. He could of course command his own servants, and if he wished, do nothing for her or to honour her, but Her Majesty was of opinion that he should not forbid herown attendants to do what was according to their duty and to their oath to her, their mistress.
"To this Sir Amyas replied by again protesting that Her Majesty did herself great wrong, did wrong to the Queen and state of England, to the council, and to himself, to think that they wished to undertake anything so unworthy or so insulting as to kill, to poignard, or murder her secretly, or of a sudden, whether by night or day; that he felt heart-broken to think he was supposed capable of committing such butchery, or of permitting such. 'The Queen is a woman of great talent and intelligence,' continued Paulet, 'and of experience in many things, and I am surprised that she should torment herself about this; she knows well that her priest, her steward, her dais, have all been taken away, and now she is disturbed for a trifle, because a rod which was borne before her food is taken away; she does harm to herself, being an attainted, convicted, and a condemned woman.'"
Bourgoing replied that she thought she had reason to be displeased, precisely because they showed ill-will in so small a matter, and for a trifle; she remembered that the same was done to King Richard, who was degraded from all honour and state, or at least of all signs of either, and then he was suddenly put to death, murdered in a moment. She feared the same would bedone to her. Once more Sir Amyas flew into a rage, saying such words were not good to hear, and that such messages ought not to be sent to him, and accusing Bourgoing of himself inventing the message. Bourgoing assured him that he only repeated the Queen's words, and after a little further discussion they separated.
On Friday 3rd February Melville begged for an interview with Paulet, but the latter would not see him, and to all his messages of inquiry to know why he was separated from his mistress, and what he had done to deserve this, the same answer was returned,—Melville had done nothing blameworthy, but things must be as they were, and he must have patience.
Mary was more suffering in health during this time, and on the Saturday Bourgoing was sent to ask Paulet to allow him to search for some herbal remedies in the gardens of the neighbouring village. "Her Majesty," says Bourgoing, "sent the said Bourgoing to inform Sir Amyas of the indisposition, and to pray that he might be allowed to go out to gather herbs in some of the gardens of the gentlemen of the village to make a special remedy. He made a great point of this, but Sir Amyas said he should have everything he liked to ask for, if he would write it down, and being still pressed by Bourgoing to let him go himself, Sir Amyas replied that hecould not be responsible alone for this, he must consult with his comrade Sir Drue Drury, and in the course of Monday he should have an answer. I pressed Sir Amyas," continues the faithful physician, "not to delay so long, as Her Majesty was already indisposed and quite crippled, I feared she should become seriously ill, as had often been the case before, the more especially as she had so few attendants with her to nurse and care for her, and for these reasons it was necessary for her to begin to use the remedies next day."[86]
On hearing this Paulet changed his mind, and as soon as Bourgoing left him, sent word that he might go out, although it was against his judgment. It is to be feared that this act of clemency was not due to mere benevolence on Paulet's part. A contemporary author thus comments on the fact: "This wretched traitor was expecting the warrant of execution, and knew no remedy would be needed, but to cause less suspicion he permitted on that day what had of late been forbidden."[87]
The same thought, doubtless, occurred to the Queen; for we read that on the next day, Sunday, when she was asked if she would continue the remedies, she, having heard of the arrival of Beale, replied that peradventureno more would be required, and that it was useless for her to take medicines if she was to die. Everything, indeed, now betokened the near approach of the final tragedy; nor were other signs wanting, such as impress the popular imagination.[88]"On the 29th January, which was a Sunday," writes another contemporary, "between midnight and one o'clock there appeared in the heavens a great flame of fire, which of a sudden illumined the window of the Queen's room, and gave a great light; it returned three times to the same place, and was seen in no other part of the said castle. This light was so bright that one could easily have read or written by it,—a thing which greatly astonished and alarmed the guards who were appointed to watch under that window, as they have all deposed."[89]
We must now leave the prisoner, to consider the cruel and, to her own courtiers, the most perplexing conduct of Elizabeth, as the moment approached when she saw herself forced to come to a final decision.
THE warrant for the execution of the Queen of Scots was still unsigned, and Elizabeth remained a prey to indecision. Throughout the country every kind of possible and impossible rumour was afloat. Philip of Spain, it was said, was preparing a vast armament at Lisbon for the invasion of England. The Prince of Parma was expected to rescue the Queen of Scots, and even to carry off Elizabeth herself. The Duke of Guise was reported to have actually landed in Sussex, and the Scotch, it was declared, had marched across the Border. These and many other wild stories served to inflame public opinion. At last one report, more credible than the rest, averred that Paulet had put Mary to death. "God grant this is true," writes one of Walsingham's agents, "for she has lived too long; good Protestants blame the Queen for waiting solong, for God commanded that rulers should govern with great severity."[90]
What Paulet's views were of the agitation in general, and of this story, we learn by the following letter to Davison under date of 30th January:—