Mary Monica Maxwell-Scott

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 so long, 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:—

You may perceive by these letters enclosed, with mine answer to the same, that the report of the Scottish Queen's escape, or her taking away, as it is now termed, carrieth such credit in these parts, as it is followed with hue and cry. And although, considering my late letters to like effect, I did not think needful to advertise you thereof with speed, yet I would not hide it from you, and therefore do send it by one of my servants repairing to London about his own business, not doubting but that the same will come as speedily to your hands as if it had been sent by post. These seditious rumours are not to be neglected, in my simple opinion, and, indeed, there is not a more ready way to levy forces to the achieving of that which these lewd reporters pretend to fear. I cannot let[91] them to flatter themselves with vain hope; but by the grace of God I will not lose this lady, my charge, without the loss of my life; neither shall it be possible for any force to take her out of my hands alive. And thus, etc.[92]

Burleigh and Walsingham took every opportunity of making capital out of the reports which they had themselves set going, and terrified their mistress with gloomy prophecies. Elizabeth, who still hesitated between desire for her cousin's death, which she regarded as her only safety, and fear of the results to herself of such a crime, became more and more gloomy and irresolute. She sought solitude in order to give herself more completely to her dark and troubled thoughts, and was often heard to murmur to herself, "Aut fer, aut feri; ne feriare, feri"—"Either suffer or strike; not to be struck, strike."

In Elizabeth's mysterious phrases and half-revealed wishes, her ministers understood that their mistress desired that the Queen of Scots[93] should be put to death in some secret manner, in which she herself should not be implicated, and without her signing the warrant of execution. She even gave them to understand that the oath of association taken by them for the protection of her person, in a manner bound them to some such act. This interpretation of their oath utterly amazed and alarmed them, not from any special horror of such a crime, but on account of their intimate knowledge of Elizabeth's character. It was evident to them that her wish was to escape from the responsibility of such an act, and that in the event of the crime being committed, on them alone would fall the penalty.

The unsigned warrant remained meanwhile in Davison's charge.

On the 1st of February, the Court being then at Greenwich, Lord Howard (Lord High Admiral) sent for Davison by order of the Queen. The latter arrived in haste, and after a few words with the Admiral, returned to fetch the warrant, which he brought to the Queen placed, as if by accident, with other papers. Elizabeth commenced by speaking of indifferent matters, such as the beauty of the weather, and then demanded what he held in his hand. Davison replied that he had brought some documents which required the Queen's signature, and among them a certain paper which he had fetched by order of Lord Howard. Elizabeth signed the papers one after the other, including the warrant, which she feigned not to perceive, and threw it carelessly on the table with the rest. Her first intention, apparently, had been to pretend that she had signed the warrant by inadvertence, but suddenly changing her mind, she turned to Davison and told him that she had only delayed so long in order to show her extreme reluctance to sign the warrant. "Are you not distressed to see me do this?" she said. To this curious question Davison replied that he preferred the death of a guilty person to that of an innocent one, and that he could not regret that Her Majesty had taken the only means of protecting herself from the designs of her enemies.

Elizabeth smiled, and presently told Davison to take the warrant to the Lord Chancellor that he might attach the great seal to it, and transmit it to those designed to preside at its execution. The Queen added that this must be done as secretly as possible, as, if the matter were known before the day of execution, it might be dangerous for her. "On the road," she added, with a sinister smile, "you will visit Walsingham to show him the warrant. Ill as he is, I fear the pain it will cause him will kill him outright." After this bitter jest the Queen told Davison that the execution could not be in public; it must not be even in the courtyard at Fotheringay, she said, but must take place in the great hall on the ground-floor, and added that she would be troubled no more about the matter. She desired to hear nothing more till all was over. "For my part," added Elizabeth, "I have done all that can be required of me by law or reason."[94] While, however, Davison was collecting the papers before retiring, the Queen spoke again, and for the first time disclosed in full her real wishes. After complaining of the want of zeal of Paulet and her other advisers, she thus continued: "Ought they not better to understand the spirit of the association of which they are members, and so relieve me of this enormous responsibility? Would it not be better for me to risk personal danger than to take the life of a relation? But if a loyal subject were to save me from the embarrassment by dealing the blow, the resentment of France and Scotland might be disarmed. Sir Amyas Paulet and Drury are members of the association; cannot they so arrange that no blame shall attach to me, if you and Walsingham come to an understanding and write to them conjointly to sound their dispositions on the subject?"

"It would be time lost," replied Davison; "it is certain that they would refuse, as the statute only protects them so long as they act under a formal order from your Majesty."

Elizabeth still insisted, and in a firm voice bade Davison see that this matter was settled secretly, and promptly, as her own life was being continually threatened with the greatest dangers.

Seeing that the Queen's mind was made up, Davison, after consulting with Burleigh and Walsingham, composed the following letter, which was sent the same day by a special messenger to Fotheringay:—

After our hearty commendations, we find by speech lately uttered by Her Majesty that she doth note in you both a lack of that care and zeal of her service that she looketh for at your hands, in that you have not in all this time of yourselves (without other provocation) found out some way to shorten the life of that Queen, considering the great peril she [Elizabeth] is subject unto hourly, so long as the said Queen shall live. Wherein, besides a kind of lack of love towards her, she noteth greatly that you have not that care of your own particular safeties, or rather of the preservation of religion and the public good and prosperity of your country, that reason and policy commandeth, especially having so good a warrant and ground for the satisfaction of your consciences towards God and the discharge of your credit and reputation towards the world, as the oath of association which you both have so solemnly taken and vowed, and especially the matter wherewith she [Mary] standeth charged being so clearly and manifestly proved against her. And therefore she [Elizabeth] taketh it most unkindly towards her, that men professing that love towards her that you do, should in any kind of sort, for lack of the discharge of your duties, cast the burthen upon her, knowing as you do her indisposition to shed blood, especially of one of that sex and quality, and so near to her in blood as the said Queen is. These respects we find do greatly trouble her Majesty, who, we assure you, has sundry times protested that if the regard of the danger of her good subjects and faithful servants did not more move her than her own peril, she would never be drawn to assent to the shedding of her blood. We thought it very meet to acquaint you with these speeches lately passed from Her Majesty, referring the same to your good judgments. And so we commit you to the protection of the Almighty.—Your most assured friends,

Francis Walsingham.
William Davison.

At London, 1st February 1586.

A few hours after the despatch of this letter, Davison, who trembled lest it should ever be made public, sent the following postscript by a fresh messenger: "I pray you let this and the enclosed be committed to the fire, which measure shall be likewise mete to your answer after it hath been communicated to Her Majesty for her satisfaction." And on the 3rd of February Davison sent another anxious reminder: "I entreated you in my last to burn my letters sent unto you for the argument sake, which, by your answer to Mr. Secretary (which I have seen), appeareth not to have been done. I pray you let me entreat you to make heretics of the one and the other, as I mean to use yours, after Her Majesty hath seen it." This second urgent note was written before Davison was aware how little "satisfaction" Paulet's answer was likely to give his mistress. In fact the letter had been received with horror and indignation by Paulet and his colleague.

Although we know by Paulet's own extravagant expressions of his evident wishes for Mary's death, and while we may conclude with Mr. Hosack that he sought his own safety in refusing the assassin's part proposed to him, he apparently retained enough honourable feeling to feel keenly the degradation implied in such a proposal, and sent at once a manly and energetic refusal.

On the morning of 3rd February Elizabeth summoned Davison again to her presence, and inquired sharply whether he had taken the warrant of execution to the Chancellor. On his replying that he had done so, the Queen, in a brusque and severe tone, asked why he had been in such a hurry.

"I obeyed your Majesty's orders," timidly replied Davison, "and I thought there should be no delay in an affair of so much importance."

"It is true," returned Elizabeth, "but it seems to me that there may be a better and a surer way of ending the matter."

To which Davison answered, that as the execution was to take place, the most honourable way was also the most sure.[97]

On leaving the Queen's presence, Davison, very anxious in mind, hurried to acquaint Burleigh and Sir Christopher Hatton with his suspicions. Burleigh was detained at home by the gout, but he sent at once for all the members of the council. He was now determined to act on his own responsibility; he had the warrant duly signed by Elizabeth in his possession, yet he well remembered that she had before twice signed and twice cancelled the warrant for the Duke of Norfolk's execution. Burleigh was also well aware, as we know, of the correspondence going on with Paulet, but he probably anticipated Paulet's refusal; in any case he resolved to act without waiting for his reply. When therefore his colleagues were assembled,[98] he laid the signed warrant before them, informed them that their mistress had now done all that the law required of her, and suggested that it was now their duty to obey her without troubling her further. He also suggested that in a matter of so grave importance it would be well that all the members of the council should unite in sharing the responsibility of the act, in case any question should arise later regarding it. Burleigh's proposals were carried unanimously, and it was determined that the warrant should be given to Beale, the clerk of council, to be conveyed by him to the Earls of Kent and Shrewsbury, who were appointed to see to its execution. Burleigh told Beale that the matter required great speed and secrecy, as if known, "H.M.'s life would be in hazard."[99]

Paulet's letter reached London on 4th February, but it was not communicated to Elizabeth till the next day, Sunday. That morning the Queen sent for Davison, on whom, owing to Walsingham's illness, fell the unpleasing task of showing her the letter. At first the Queen made no allusion to the subject. She related to him that she had dreamed the previous night that she was punishing him for being the cause of the death of the Queen of Scots, adding with a smile that she had been so possessed by this dream that if she had had a sword at hand she would have pierced him through with it. Davison, justly alarmed at the Queen's sinister tone and ambiguous words, once more asked her if she had decided to have the Queen of Scots executed or not.

"Yes," cried she impetuously, but, she continued, "I do not like the legal method, as upon me alone will fall all the responsibility;" and as Davison repeated his objections to any other method, Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders, and looking at him contemptuously, remarked that "wiser men than he held a different opinion." Then suddenly changing the subject, the Queen inquired if there had been any reply from Paulet. When Davison, in fear and trembling, had presented the letter, she read it with extreme indignation. Pacing the room uneasily, she gave way to violent anger and disappointment, and abused Paulet in no measured terms. He was no longer her "loving Amyas," but one of those "dainty and precise" fellows who would promise everything and perform nothing. Nay, more, he was a perjurer; for had he not subscribed the bond of association, by which he obliged himself, at the hazard of his life, to save his Queen? "But," added Elizabeth, "I can do without him; I have Wingfield, who will not draw back."

For the next few days Elizabeth made no further sign. She maintained an absolute reserve on the subject which was torturing her till the morning of the day of execution, when, throwing off the mask, she told Davison that it was time this ended, adding with a terrible oath that it was a shame for her ministers that the affair was not yet terminated. Her ministers had indeed ended all, as she was soon to learn.[100]

As soon as Beale had received the warrant he started for Fotheringay.[101] Yet the question of the manner of Mary's death was even still undecided, as we learn by the following curious facts now first brought to light: "When R.B. (Robert Beale) was come to Fotheringay, he understood from Sir A. Paulet and Sir Drue Drury that they had been dealt with by a letter if they could have been induced to suffer her to have been violently smothered by some that should have been appointed for that purpose. But they disliked that course as dishonourable and dangerous, and so did R.B., and therefore thought it convenient to have it done by law in such sort as they might justify their doings by law."[102] And here Beale adds in his own hand the following: "One Wingfield (as it was thought) should have been appointed for this deed, and it seemed that H.M. would have had it done so rather than otherwise, pretending that Archibald Douglas, the Sco. Ambassador, had so advised her. Of all her councillors it is thought that the Earl of Leicestre did most exhort her unto this course, but both the secretaries misliked thereof, and so did Sir Amis Paulet and Sir Drue Drury. H.M. would fain have had it so, alledging the association whereby men seemed bound to such a thing and promising pardon. But the matter being in consideration at R.B. being at Fotheringay by the example of Edward II. and Richard II., it was not thought convenient or safe to proceed covertly but openly, according to the statute."[103]

Walsingham had taken upon himself all the arrangements with the executioner, telling Beale "that he would take order to send down the hangman (Bull) and his instrument by George Digby, his servant.... He was hired by one Anthony Hall, a Londoner, servant under the sd. Mr. Secretary, and then dwelling without Bishops Gate, who afterwards reported unto the said R.B. (Robert Beale) and others, that he agreed with him for £10 for his labour." Walsingham sent Digby first to Sir Walter Mildmay, begging him to lodge the executioner at his house Apthorpe, distant but two miles from Fotheringay. But Sir Walter,—and we are not surprised to learn it,—"misliked therof," and he was eventually lodged "in an inn at Fotheringay, kept secretly until the day."[104] Walsingham had announced Bull's arrival to Paulet in these terms: "I send down the executioner by a trusty servant of mine, who will be at Fotheringay upon Sunday at night. His instrument is put in a trunk, and he passeth as a serving-man. There is great care taken to have the matter pass in secresy"[105] (signed London, 3rd February).

After informing the Earl of Kent of his duty on the way, Beale had reached Fotheringay on Sunday evening, 5th February, where he showed his commission to Paulet and Drury, and the next day he hastened to communicate it to the Earl of Shrewsbury, who was staying in the neighbourhood. That same evening Beale returned to the castle to dine with Paulet, accompanied by several persons who were to be present at the execution—among them was Dr. Fletcher, Dean of Peterborough. And here let us pause on the eve of the day which brought the fatal tidings to Queen Mary. If Elizabeth was troubled in mind, and haunted with remorse, Mary, on the contrary, awaited in absolute calm and resignation the end of her life of sorrows.[106]