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 been broken, 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, and that 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 received certain 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 willingly give 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 of Fotheringay, 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 imaginings without 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 to know 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 against him. 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 would not 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 be gathered 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 her own 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 be done 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 he could 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 peradventure no 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.
