TRIAL OF MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS IN FOTHERINGAY CASTLE. (See p. [308.])
On this the commissioners adjourned their sitting to the 15th of October, and from Fotheringay to the Star Chamber at Westminster. There the secretaries were re-examined, and finally the commissioners unanimously signed Mary's condemnation, the sentence running as follows:—"For that since the conclusion of the session of Parliament, namely, since the first day of June, in the twenty-seventh year of her Majesty's reign and before the date of the commission, divers matters have been compassed and imagined within this realm of England by Anthony Babington and others, with the privity of the said Mary, pretending a title to the Crown of this realm of England, tending to the hurt, death, and destruction of the royal person of our lady the queen; and also for that the aforesaid Mary, pretending a title to the Crown, hath herself compassed and imagined within this realm divers matters tending to the hurt, death, and destruction to the royal person of our sovereign lady the queen, contrary to the form of the statute in the commission aforesaid specified." Nau and Curle were declared abettors, so that it was a sentence of death to all the three. To this a provision was added that the sentence should in no way derogate from the right or dignity of her son, James King of Scotland.
On the 29th of October—that is, four days after the passing of this sentence—Elizabeth assembled her Parliament. She had summoned it for the 15th, anticipating quicker work at Fotheringay, but prorogued it to this date. The proceedings of the trial were laid before each house, and both Lords and Commons petitioned Elizabeth to enforce the execution of the Queen of Scots without delay. Serjeant Puckering, the Speaker of the Commons, in communicating the prayer of the House, reminded Elizabeth of the wrath of God against persons who neglected to execute His judgments, as in the case of Saul, who had spared Agag, and Ahab, who had spared Benhadad. Elizabeth replied with perfect serenity that she was unwilling to shed the blood of that wicked woman, the Queen of Scots, though she had so often sought her life, for the preservation of which she expressed her deep gratitude to Almighty God. She wished that she and Mary were two milkmaids, with pails upon their arms, and then she would forgive her all her wrongs. As for her own life, she had no desire on her own account to preserve it; she had nothing left worth living for; but for her people she could endure much. Still, the call of her Council, her Parliament, and her people to execute justice on her own kinswoman, had brought her into a great strait and struggle of mind. But then, she said, she would confide to them a secret: that certain persons had sworn an oath within these few days to take her life or be hanged themselves. She had written proof of this, and she must, therefore, remind them of their own oath of association for the defence of her person. "She thought it requisite," she said, "with earnest prayer to beseech the Divine Majesty so to illuminate her understanding, and to inspire her with His grace, that she might see clearly to do and determine that which would serve to the establishment of His Church, the preservation of their estates, and the prosperity of the commonwealth."
She sent a message to the two Houses, expressing the great conflict which she had had in her own mind, and begging to know whether they could not devise some means of sparing the life of her relative. Both Houses, on the 25th, returned answer that this was impossible. To this declaration of Parliament she returned to them one of her enigmatical answers, "If I should say that I meant not to grant your petition, by my faith, I should say unto you more perhaps than I mean. And if I should say that I mean to grant it, I should tell you more than it is fit for you to know. Thus I must deliver to you an answer answerless."
On the 6th of December proclamation of the judgment of the commissioners against the Queen of Scots was made through London by sound of trumpet, whereupon the populace made great rejoicings, kindled large bonfires, and rang the bells all day as if some joyful event had occurred. They were so fully persuaded that the Queen of Scots was at the bottom of all the alleged and real plots for the overturn of the Government, the bringing in of the King of Spain, and the Roman Catholic religion, that their exultation was boundless.
Meanwhile, in spite of the eagerness of the nation, Elizabeth hesitated to put Mary to death. Her conduct was tortuous, for she was devising to escape the opprobrium. At length Lord Howard of Effingham persuaded her that she could delay no longer. She went about continually muttering to herself, "Aut fer aut feri: ne feriare feri" ("Either endure or strike: strike lest thou be stricken"). Instead of proceeding to sign the death-warrant and let the execution take its course, she had it again debated in the Council whether it were not better to take her off by poison. Walsingham, who saw that the responsibility would be certainly thrown on somebody near the queen, got away from Court; and the warrant, drawn up by Burleigh, was handed by him to Davison, the queen's secretary, to get it engrossed and presented to the queen for signature. When he did this, she bade him keep it awhile, and it lay in his hands for five or six weeks. But both Leicester and Burleigh were impatient for its execution; and directly after the departure of James's ambassadors in February, he was ordered to present it; and then Elizabeth signed it, bidding him take it to the Great Seal, "and trouble her no more with it." Then, as if suddenly recollecting herself, she said, "Surely Paulet and Drury might ease me of this burden. Do you and Walsingham sound their dispositions." Burleigh and Leicester, to whom Davison showed the warrant, urged him to send it to Fotheringay without a moment's delay; but Davison had a feeling that he certainly should get into trouble if he did so. He therefore went on to Walsingham, and after showing him the warrant, they then and there made a rough draft of a letter to Sir Amyas Paulet and Sir Drew Drury, Mary's additional keeper, proposing that they should act on their own authority, as the queen requested. While Walsingham made a fair copy, Davison went to the Lord Chancellor and got the great seal affixed to the warrant. Davison the next day had confirmation doubly strong that Elizabeth was watching to entrap him in the matter. She asked him if the warrant had passed the Great Seal. He said it had; on which she immediately said, "Why such haste?" He inquired whether, then, she did not wish the affair to proceed. She replied, certainly; but that she thought it might be better managed, as the execution of the warrant threw the whole burden upon her. Davison said he did not know who else could bear it, as her laws made it murder to destroy the meanest subject without her warrant. At this her patience appeared exhausted, and she uttered a wish that she had but two such subjects as Morton and Archibald Douglas.
Davison was terrified at the gulf on the edge of which he saw himself standing, with the queen ready and longing to drag him in. He went to Hatton, and told him that though he had her orders to send off the warrant to Fotheringay at once, he would not do it of himself. They therefore went together to Burleigh, who coincided with them in the demand for caution. He therefore summoned the Council the next morning, and it was there unanimously agreed, as the queen had discharged her duty, to do theirs, and to proceed on joint responsibility. The warrant was therefore issued.
On the 7th of February the order for Mary's death reached Fotheringay. The Earl of Shrewsbury, who had guarded her so many years, as Earl Marshal, had now the painful office of carrying into effect her execution. There had been for some time a growing feeling at Fotheringay that the last day of Mary was at hand, for there had been a remarkable coming and going of strangers. When Shrewsbury was announced, his office proclaimed the fatal secret. The Scottish queen rose from her bed, and was dressed to receive him, having seated herself at a small table with her servants disposed around her. The Earl of Shrewsbury entered, followed by the Earls of Kent, Cumberland, and Derby, as well as by the sheriff and several gentlemen of the county. Beale, the clerk of the Council, read the order for the execution, to which Mary listened with the utmost apparent equanimity. When it was finished she crossed herself, bade them welcome, and assured them that she had long waited for the day which had now arrived; that twenty years of miserable imprisonment had made her a burden to herself and useless to others; and that she could conceive no close of life so happy or so honourable as that of shedding her blood for her religion. She recited her injuries and the frauds and perjuries of her enemies, and then laying her hand on the Testament upon her table, called God to witness that she had never imagined, much less attempted, anything against the life of the Queen of England. A long conversation followed, and Mary asked whether the foreign powers had made no efforts in her behalf, and whether her only son had forgotten her; and finally, when she was to suffer. The Earl of Shrewsbury replied with much emotion, "To-morrow morning, at eight o'clock." Mary received this announcement with a calm dignity which awed and even affected the beholders. And on the scaffold, which was erected in the hall of Fotheringay, she played her part with the same perfection of acting, posing as a religious martyr and wholly ignoring the political crimes of which she had been guilty (February 8, 1587).