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.