History Of Scotland Vol. 2 - Part 12

( Originally Published 1909 )

Enthusiasm of the Age—Projects of the Catholics against the Life of Elizabeth—Plot of Ballard—He communicates with Babington—They have a Picture of their Associates—Contrive the Liberation of Mary—They are betrayed by the Spies of Walsingham—The English resent the Conspiracy as a Plot of Mary—The Ministers of Elizabeth press the taking of her Life—She is committed to the Charge of Sir Amias Paulet—Her Health becomes more feeble—Her Wants and Complaints—It is resolved to bring her to Trial—Mary's Papers are seized; her Secretaries made Prisoners; and her Cabinets broken open—She is transported to Fotheringay-A Commission appointed to try her—She refuses to plead before it, but at length submits—Her Accusation and Defence—The Commissioners Remove to London—Objections to the Evidence—The Commissioners, however, pronounce Sentence of Death—The Parliament press for the Publication and Execution of the Sentence—Elizabeth's hypocritical Answer—Mary writes to Elizabeth; but receives no Answer—James interferes, first by his Ambassador Keith, and after by the Master of Gray and Sir James Melville—His Ambassador ill received by Elizabeth—James sends more spirited Instructions to his Envoys—The Master of Gray betrays the Cause of Queen Mary, and the Purpose of his Embassy-James requires the Scottish Church tò pray for his Mother: they decline the Office—Elizabeth's Uncertainty—She contrives to throw the is suing of the Death Warrant upon her Secretary and Council, after some attempts to instigate Mary's Keepers to put her to Death in Private—Mary resigns herself to her Fate—She is executed

IT was the age of enthusiasm throughout Europe: those of the ancient religion gloried in exerting themselves for the creed of their fathers, at whatever risk of sharing the fate of confessors or of martyrs; and those who adopted the modern doctrines were equally proud of extending, at all personal hazards, that liberty of conscience to others by which they themselves had profited. In the present times men do not inquire particularly into the religion of those with whom they have to transact affairs, unless their general business be otherwise connected with matters of the con-science. In the less fortunate age of which we are treating, the fact of belonging to a particular communion gave even to the most liberal minds a general disposition favorable or unfavorable to an individual, as his faith in religious matters differed from or agreed with theirs. These strong opinions, which had an influence upon the dullest and most moderate minds, excited the bold and enthusiastic to a species of frenzy, which must account for men, otherwise humane and generous, giving way, in the supposed cause of religion, to acts of deceit and violence which they would otherwise have abhorred and condemned, soothing themselves with the apology that they might serve the cause of Heaven meritoriously and conscientiously by engaging in enterprises which the spirit of the Gospel as well as its precepts do most emphatically condemn. Upon this principle we are to account for the many melancholy instances which occurred during the sixteenth century of men, otherwise wise, moderate, and virtuous, engaging in plots and conspiracies inconsistent with every idea of law, justice, and humanity.

The Catholic princes, by their engagement in that horrible conspiracy which gave rise to the massacre of St. Bartholomew, had done much to set an execrable example to those of their own profession; and it is not surprising that so general and fearful an example of the grossest perfidy and most unrelenting cruelty, practiced on a scale of such extent, avowed by the Roman primate, and seconded by those potentates most attached to the See of Rome, should have been received with enthusiasm among the Catholics of Protestant countries, who felt themselves oppressed by governors inimical to their religion, and imagined that they served Heaven by endeavoring to get rid of their Protestant rulers by the most desperate and unjustifiable means. On the other hand, it must be admitted that the Protestants partook, to a certain degree, of the same spirit, and were disposed to retaliate severely upon those in whom they thought they could place no faith, and whose religion they considered as hateful to the great Being whom both worshipped under different forms.

The extirpation of the great northern heresy was supposed to be chiefly dependent upon the destruction of the power of Queen Elizabeth in England. King James, from his quarrels with the Presbyterian clergy, and other circumstances of his conduct, was supposed to be not altogether unfavorable to the Roman faith; and the power of Scotland, even admitting him to be so, was not deemed such as could render his enmity very formidable, supposing England to be reconverted to the Catholic faith and placed under the dominion of his mother Mary, whom all of that persuasion held to be the legal heir of the crown. .

Pope Pius V. had given the full authority of Rome to any enterprise by which the heretic Elizabeth could be deprived of her kingdom and life, by his famous bull of excommunication, which warranted all true Catholics to carry on the most violent proceedings against her as an enemy of God, and of the only religion by which, in Catholic estimation, her subjects could obtain salvation. This had been insisted upon and followed up by some enthusiastic Catholic priests, who had even called upon Elizabeth's attendants and the females of her train to put their sovereign to death with their own hands, and thus merit the praises bestowed on Judith, for her dauntless sacrifice of the Gentile commander who came to oppress her country.

When so much fire was scattered among matters peculiarly inflammable, there was little doubt that it would excite a conflagration.

Three priests, named Gifford, Gilbert Gifford, and Hodgson, feeling an extravagant impulse to act upon the principles we have stated, had associated themselves with Savage, an English Catholic and an officer in the Spanish service, daring and extravagant enough to propose the assassination of Elizabeth with his own hand.

Such a scheme was only feasible, if confined to very few; but another priest, named Ballard, was intrusted with it, for the sake of negotiating with the Spanish ambassador at Paris, that the conspirators might procure the assistance of an army of invaders, in order to take advantage of the confusion which must arise when the blow should be struck. Ballard was assured of strong support on the part of Spain, providing Elizabeth's death could be achieved; and was sent over to England to concert the means by which this main blow might be struck, which was considered as indispensable to the success of the conspiracy.

Returning to England on this commission, Ballard entered into communication on the subject of his treasonable purpose with a young gentleman, named Anthony Babington, of good parts, large fortune, and au amiable disposition, but addicted to romantic ideas on the subject of love and friendship, and an unhesitating zealot in the cause of the Catholic religion. It was agreed that it was rash to trust an action so important to the single arm of Savage, and that Babington himself, with a band of ten gentlemen, with whom he was connected by the closest bonds of community in studies and amusements, and by the ties of extravagant zeal for the Catholic religion, should be sharers in the glory and the merits as well as in the dangers of this desperate enterprise. The names of these gentlemen were, Windsor, Salisbury, Tilney, Tichbourne, Gage, Travers, Barnwell, Charnock, Dun, and Jones. The number was more than double that which had been judged requisite by Ballard and the friends of Queen Mary, with whom he had consulted both in France and England. But Babington reekoned himself assured of them all, from the close ties of familiarity in which they had long lived together, and even permitted a person of the name of Polly, a man of inferior rank, recommended only by a busy and bustling, and, as it proved, an affected zeal for the Catholic cause, to be admitted into the fatal conspiracy, and the conduct of the subsequent revolution.

The rash and romantic confidence of Babington made itself evident by another feature of his conduct, which indicated in an unusual manner an excited imagination. This was nothing less than the causing to be painted a picture containing the portraits of six of the principal associates, with Babington's own representation in the centre; the whole bearing a motto expressive of some hazardous purpose in which they were engaged. This childish, absurd, and unnecessary piece of vanity of itself indicated the total incapacity of the principal conspirators for the execution of the desperate task they were engaged in, which, to have a chance of success, ought to have been obscured in the deepest secrecy.

The conspirators continued, however, to prosecute their plot, arranging among themselves the special part which each was to perform. Babington, as might have been expected, assumed for his own share the most romantic and least guilty part of the enterprise, by undertaking the liberation of Mary from her place of confinement. What a man of such romantic character might hope from the gratitude of a queen released from prison, raised, as his extravagant plan inferred, to a crown far richer than that which she had lost, besides the great chance of recovering the government of her native kingdom, we can only guess at. Thus far is known, that Queen Mary, exhausted by imprisonment, disease, and suffering, no longer possessed those personal charms which might once have inflamed to feats of the most ardent and extravagant valor in her cause the sons of that chivalry which was not yet quite extinguished. When she was permitted to repair for the advantage of her health to the hot baths of Buxton, she is described as an elderly, lame, and bloated woman, altogether deprived, by long years of restraint and misery, mental and bodily, of those personal attractions which she once possessed in such an eminent degree. She was, however, sequestered from public view; and a warm imagination, like that of Babington, might figure her in his idea as still possessed of her unrivalled charms ; or, perhaps, her high rank as a queen might, in his opinion, compensate for advanced age and personal deficiencies. Salisbury, with others, were to assemble forces in the neighboring counties, while Tichbourne, Savage, and four associates, undertook the assassination of Elizabeth. The portraits of the atrocious persons were there represented in the picture already mentioned, having that of Babington in the centre, who, though not to be the sharer of their deed, claimed the glory of being principal in the conspiracy.

While the heedless and presumptuous conspirators were thus pluming themselves upon the success of a yet unexecuted plot, Elizabeth and her counsellors were in full possession of all its details, and watched their machinations with earnest attention, yet without intimating the least alarm. Polly, already mentioned, as one who, by affectation of extraordinary zeal, had thrust himself into such intimacy with Babington that the whole circumstances of the conspiracy were intrusted to him, was in reality one of the spies of Walsingham, and one of the two Giffords had also become informer. The conspirators caught the first alarm from the arrest of Ballard, August 4, 1586; they took refuge in flight; but, with the exception of Salisbury, who escaped abroad, were severally arrested, and lodged in the Tower of London. Being separately examined, they confessed their guilt, were tried, condemned, and suffered the punishment which such a conspiracy had well deserved.

The people of England, with just gratitude to a sovereign who had conferred upon them so many benefits, and with general love to the religion professed by her and by them-selves, which was aimed at through the person of the sovereign, were justly indignant at the atrocious plot by which a few romantic young men had undertaken to overthrow the government and religion of their country, murder a sovereign whom her people accounted the benefactress and mother of the State, and raise to the throne the native of a foreign country and the professor of a hated religion. In the tumult of their zeal, their ideas of vengeance, unsatisfied by the execution of the conspirators, went back to the imprisoned queen of Scots, with whom they conceived the plot must have originated, since its purport was directed for her benefit. There was a general clamor in England, that the queen. of Scots, in whose favor the conspiracy was meditated, ought to be brought to trial, and on conviction should suffer death as its author and contriver, in the manner already provided for by parliament. In such bursts of popular feeling, the abstract dictates of justice are forgotten; and it did not occur to many who were clamorous for prosecution and punishment, that Mary, unjustly detained a prisoner, had a natural right to liberty, by whatever means she could acquire it, and that criminality could only attach to her in the event of her being legally proved accessory to the conspiracy against Queen Elizabeth's life.

The public clamor, however unjust, well suited the private views of Elizabeth and her ministers, disposed, for obvious reasons, to take any proffered opportunity to rid themselves of a prisoner personally detested, and whom it was supposed equally troublesome to keep and dangerous to dismiss.

Yet it appears to us, remote as we are from the scene of action, and unagitated by the passions which blinded the agents, that Elizabeth might even yet have rid herself of her dangerous prisoner without committing the great crime which has stained a life and reign otherwise so illustrious. Mary might, for example, have been safely surrendered to the custody of her son, who had shown no such warmth of filial affection as to make it likely that he would afford his mother the power of disturbing either his own title or that of Elizabeth, which he hoped to inherit. France, also, would have been willing to receive her as the dowager of a de-ceased sovereign; and with the Huguenots of that country Elizabeth possessed so strong an interest as to render it improbable that Mary, so surrendered, would have been suffered to gain any opportunity of disturbing her sister severeign. Either of these courses was doubtless attended by certain risks; but it was surely better that such should be incurred, than that the sceptre of Elizabeth should be stained with blood and her reign with injustice. Unhappily for Mary, if that can be accounted unhappy which put a close to a long train of captivity and sorrow, and most unhappily, certainly, for Elizabeth herself, it was determined in the councils of the latter that the present opportunity should be taken to remove by a violent death one who had been so long the secret object of fears and apprehensions.

It is probable that the female jealousies and rivalry, which had gradually grown into hatred in the mind of Elizabeth, would not have brought her to assent to so bloody a purpose, had she not been urged on by statesmen, who veiled their selfish hatred and fear under pretended apprehensions for the life of their sovereign. Burleigh and Walsingham, the principal counsellors of Elizabeth, were sensible that their own counsels had prompted all the former rigorous proceedings against the queen of Scots, and that if, by Elizabeth's death or any other contingency, Mary might chance, as was at least possible, to be preferred as next heir to the English throne, the account which, in such a case, they would have to settle with her must have been of an alarming description. It was therefore determined, that, founded on the singular act of parliament which we have detailed, passed in consequence of the machinations of Parry, a commission should be appointed for the public trial of Queen Mary, under the provisions of that extraordinary and severe statute, made unquestionably for the very purpose to which it was now to be applied.

Sir Ralph Sadler, whose age entitled him to evince peevishness even to the despotic Elizabeth, had been released from his disgusting charge, which was now delivered up to Sir Amias Paulet, a gentleman severe and harsh in his temper, and attached to puritanical tenets, and, therefore, although otherwise an honest and upright man, not unwilling to be the instrument of Elizabeth's strict orders for the custody of this perilous captive, however far they might exceed the rules of courtesy and generosity, so long as they were within those of moral and religious duty. He viewed his task in so severe a light that he rejoiced when the infirmities of Mary rendered her a cripple incapable of moving from her bed; and the account which he gives of her state of confinement is thus quoted by Mr. Chalmers : "Through-out January, 1586, the queen enjoyed somewhat better health: she could use her limbs, but not without halting; and the defluxion had fallen into one of her hands." June 3, 1586, he writes, "The Scottish queen is getting a little strength, and has been out in her coach; and is sometimes carried in a chair to one of the adjoining ponds to see the diversion of duck-hunting, but she is not able to walk without support on either side."

Even this state of convalescence did not last long. Soon afterward, Paulet represented the Scottish queen as being much worse, sleeping little, and eating less: the painful disease flying about her system, and showing itself in many places at once. She. continued very ill, could not turn in her bed without help, and was in excessive pain. To this state of suffering and disease, we must add, that the economy of Elizabeth did not permit to her who had once been a queen the accommodations which are furnished in modern hospitals to invalids of the meanest order. We will use the words of her last and sternest warder, to show how far this miserable penury was carried. By quoting it more generally, we might well lay ourselves under the suspicion of exaggeration.

"Last year," said Paulet, writing to Walsingham, "when she came to Tutbury, she complained that her bed was stained, and ill flavored; and Mr. Somer, to accommodate her, gave her his own bed, which was only a plain ordinary feather-bed; and now, by her long lying in it, the feathers came through the tick, and its hardness caused her great pain : she begged to have a down bed; and Sir Amias said, 'he could not, in honesty and charity, refuse to mention her request to Walsingham, aria desires it may be sent for her.

The Scottish queen still continued very ill ; and on the 17th of February was taken with a deflexion in the side, in so dangerous a manner that her recovery was despaired f." It is remarkable that some of the letters to Babington, pretended to be Mary's own composition, represent her as galloping through the park and shooting deer, when her utmost sport was to see a duck-hunt from her chair, and as taking active exercise, when she was in danger of her life. Mary was not, however, doomed to pass from the world in so easy or natural a manner.

After considerable debates in the council of Elizabeth, it had been resolved to proceed against the queen of Scots, under the terms of the act passed March 2, 1585, which ratified the association for the protection of Elizabeth's per-son, and directed, in certain events, the trial, under a commission, of any pretender to the crown, or the inheritance thereof, in whose behalf Elizabeth's person should be endangered by open rebellion or treasonable conspiracy.

The language of the statute places the life of such pre-tender to the crown in equal danger of attainder, whether the party shall or shall not be acquainted with and participant of the treasonable purpose. It was, nevertheless, extremely desirable to show that Mary was personally accessory to the schemes of Babington ; and the most violent measures were resorted to in order to secure the necessary evidence to that effect.

Sir Thomas Gorges was despatched from the court with a special warrant for the purpose; and it was managed that he should arrive at Chartley, where Mary was then confined, at the moment when the royal prisoner was going out on horseback, for the purpose, it was alleged, of amusing her with the view of some gentlemen's seats in the neighborhood. During her absence, Naue and Curl, the French and Scottish secretaries of the queen, were separately arrested, and committed to different keepers : her money was seized upon, her cabinets forced open, her papers and correspondence, and all she could desire to keep most private, were made prize of and sent to Elizabeth. In her presence the whole writings were perused : among the mass of which, it is said, there were found sundry letters from English noble-men to Mary expressive of regard and attachment. On seeing these, Elizabeth, according to her favorite motto, Video et taceo—i. e., "I hear and am silent" laid them aside, without making any observation. The effect was that the writers of those letters, conscious of the degree of suspicion in which they were placed, took every opportunity, during the after proceedings, to escape from it, by showing themselves inimical to Mary, lest Elizabeth should bave adopted an opinion that they had expressed themselves hitherto too much her friends.

The grief and mortification of Queen Mary, when she returned to Chartley, where the seizure of her papers had taken place, is, in some degree, intimated by the expressions which she made use of. "Alas!" she said to the poor per-sons who crowded round her, expecting an alms as usual, "I can no longer relieve your wants : I am a beggar as you are" ; and when she found the extent to which she had been plundered, she indignantly remarked, "Of two things they can-not deprive me my English blood, and my Catholic faith." After this outrage, Mary was divested of those poor insignia of royalty which she had been hitherto allowed to retain : the canopy of state was removed; the regal title was withdrawn; her keepers remained covered in her presence; and in speaking of her no longer designated her as the queen, but simply as the lady.

A final change of residence was now destined to her. The castle of Fotheringay, in Northamptonshire, was her last place of confinement. She was conveyed thither on the 25th of September, 1586. All was made ready for her trial. The judges, to whom the extraordinary act of jurisdiction was to be committed, were nominated by a commission under the great seal, according to the provisions of the statute. The list contained no less than forty persons, the most illustrious in the kingdom by birth or office, to whom were added five of the principal judges. Before these men the independent queen of Scotland was to be tried upon the late-made law as a person claiming the succession of the crown, in whose behalf a conspiracy had been attempted against the life of Queen Elizabeth, and who had become accessory to their traitorous purpose. To such a jurisdiction Mary refused to submit herself; and when called before a meeting of the commission held in the hall of Fotheringay, she refused to acknowledge the right of those persons to proceed in taking cognizance of the charge made against her. "I am," she said, "no subject of the crown of England, and sovereign princes alone can be the peers entitled to try me. I am queen of Scotland, and queen-dowager of France. I came into England seeking the queen's hospitality, but with-out the slightest purpose of subjecting myself to her sovereignty. I have been unjustly imprisoned during the space of nineteen years : the laws of England have never protected me; do not, therefore, let them be perverted into snares against my life." Nevertheless, she owned she was not unwilling to justify herself before a free and full English parliament, but not before a commission deriving its power from a law which seemed framed expressly to give a pretence of taking away her life.

In this resolution of declining the jurisdiction of the commission, Queen Mary remained for some time fixed, till it was subtly urged by Hatton, the vice-chamberlain, that, by avoiding an investigation, she might seem to shroud a guilty cause; whereas, by entering upon her defence, she might clear her innocence in the eyes of the commissioners, and enable them to report to Elizabeth and to the English nation that she was guiltless. This argument prevailed; but it was only under a solemn protest against the validity of the commission that Mary condescended to plead before it. The parties being thus come to an issue, the attorney and solicitor of Queen Elizabeth enforced the particulars of their charge with the legal skill of their profession, and all their personal ingenuity; and the queen's sergeant-at-law opened, in a historical discourse, the conspiracy of Babington, and concluded that Mary, who stood accused before the commission, knew of it, approved of it, promised her assistance, and gave counsel for the means of effecting it.

Mary answered, with unabated courage, that she knew neither Babington nor Ballard; that she had, indeed, heard from various quarters that the English Roman Catholics were severely treated, and that she had written to Queen Elizabeth in their behalf. She added that divers persons utterly unknown to her had at different times written suggesting plans of escape; but that she had never returned answers to them, nor encouraged any man to attempts in her behalf which might incur punishment by the English law: other schemes might have existence without her knowledge, because, being closely shut up in prison, she had no means of knowing or preventing plots or conspiracies which might be entered into without her knowledge.

Copies of letters from Babington were then read, apparently addressed to Queen Mary, in which the whole conspiracy was detailed.

To this evidence she replied that it might be true that Babington wrote those letters; but it was false that she had received them. Various letters she had indeed received, but by whom sent she did not know.

To prove, on the part of the prosecution, that she had received the letters of Babington, notwithstanding her denial, there were read from his confession the contents of certain letters which he there stated himself to have received from her in answer to those which he wrote to her. Scrolls of letters, in her own cipher, were also produced, seeming to refer to the same correspondence. When in this part of the debate mention was made of the Earl of Arundel and his brothers, the queen burst into tears, and exclaimed, "Alas! what hath the noble House of Howard endured for my sake!" She then reassumed her composure; and pleaded with truth and firmness that the confessions of Babington could be no prof against her, and that such scrolls as seemed to be written in her cipher might easily have been forged. Finally, she protested that, although she had used her best endeavors to obtain her liberty, and to mitigate the persecution of those of her own communion, she would not have purchased the kingdom with the death of the least ordinary man, much less with that of Queen Elizabeth.

The testimonies of lier secretaries, Naue and Curl, were then pressed against her; but this she refused to admit, con-tending that to make good witnesses they, being alive and within the kingdom, ought to have been produced face to face against her. Curl she described as an honest man, but completely under the influence of Naue, a wily politician, and whose integrity or superiority to the seduction of bribes she did not pretend to assert; neither was she able to say what effect the force of promises or fear of torture may have had upon him. She protested, once more, that she knew neither Babington nor Ballard.

"But you know Morgan well enough," answered the lord treasurer; "and this Morgan, to whom you have assigned a yearly pension, is the person who despatched Parry to England to murder Queen Elizabeth." To this charge, which was totally distinct from that relating to the conspiracy of Babington, Mary replied :

"I know not, save from what you tell me, whether Morgan is guilty of your charge or no; but I know well that he has served me to the loss of his whole fortune; and in that point of view I am bound to give him indemnification and support : if he be the enemy of Queen Elizabeth, let it be remembered that she has pensioned the Master of Gray and others, my bitter personal enemies, whose hatred to me has, perhaps, formed their best pretension to my sister's favor."

Thus through the whole sitting of the court, unaided by counsel or legal advice of any kind, she sustained and repelled the accusations brought against her by prfessional persons of eminence, with an ingenuity and address which could hardly have been expected from a person of her rank, sex, and education. Her defences were naturally framed upon the general reasons of justice and good sense; but with legal advice to assist her, she would have known that in failing to bring in the witnesses on whose evidence she was to be convicted, Elizabeth's commission broke the ex-press statute law of England, as well as the great rules of equity. The statute 1 & 2 Ph. & Mary, chap. x., sect. 11, declares, "That the two witnesses whose evidence is necessary to convict any one accused of high treason shall be confronted with the party accused, and shall in his presence make good their testimony; nor is this dispensed with unless in the case where the witnesses are dead or beyond seas, or the accused party shall confess the treason." But this most equitable and just statute, calculated to afford protection to the subject even against the grasp of the highest authority, was denied to a crowned head, whom chance only placed under the disposal of those who had no native superiority over her.

On the concluding day, Mary again insisted upon her former protestation, and lamented that the proposals she had made to Elizabeth had been rejected, when she promised to give her own son and the Duke of Guise's son as hostages, that England and its queen should not come through her to any harm or detriment: "Instead of which," continued she, "I am now most dishonorably dealt by and my regal honor and reputation called in question before ordinary lawyers, who by wresting conclusions can draw the most harmless circumstance into a criminal consequence." She added, once more, "that her making a voluntary appearance in such a court was only lest she should seem to neglect the justification of her own honor, which was dearer to her than any privilege of her dignity, or her life itself." After some further arguing, the sitting of the court, if it could be called so, was adjourned from Fotheringay, and the commissioners departed on their return to London.

On the 25th of October the commissioners held a meeting in the Star Chamber, where Naue and Curl, the two secretaries, examined upon oath, avowed, affirmed, and justified the letters and copies of letters formerly produced at Fotheringay as true and real. It is scarcely necessary to observe that on this occasion the most ordinary rules of evidence were violated, and the witnesses, whose testimony alone could give these documents the least weight in evidence, were examined at a distance from the party against whom they were produced, and without affording her the opportunity of cross-examination. The confessions of executed traitors were not more effectual to support the truth of what they affirmed : no one did or could know under what circumstances Babington, Ballard, and the others, made their final confessions, or whether they had made such or not. The papers produced as such might either be altogether forged, or they might be garbled and interpolated, or they might have been extorted by torture, or granted under a promise of life and favorable treatment. Some of the alleged letters were made to show things altogether inconsistent with truth, of which we have already shown an example.

Nor were the prosecutors entitled to complain, if they had been deprived of the benefit of the evidence of Babington and his companions, since it rested only with themselves to have brought it forward in an unexceptionable form. The lives of these unhappy persons being spared, nothing would have been more easy than to have brought to Fotheringay the persons of Ballard and Babington, while yet alive; and the importance of doing justice to the cause of an independent sovereign must be certainly admitted as matter of more weight than the instantly depriving of life a few youthful enthusiasts.

Notwithstanding these considerations, the commissioners subscribed, by unanimous assent, a sentence, declaring that since the 1st day of June, in the twenty-seventh year of Queen Elizabeth, and before the date of their 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 said lady, the queen. And also, that since the aforesaid 1st day of June, in the twenty-seventh year aforesaid, and before the date of the commission aforesaid, the aforesaid Mary, pretending a title to the crown of this realm of England, has compassed and imagined, within this realm of England, divers matters tending to the hurt, death, and destruction of the royal per-son of our sovereign lady, the queen, contrary to the form of the statute in the commission aforesaid specified."

A declaration was at the same time published by the commissioners and judges, declaring that nothing in the sentence should affect King James's title of accession to the crown, but that the same should remain as effectual as if the proceedings at Fotheringay had never taken place. The parliament was soon after convoked, in which they, with unanimous consent, petitioned the queen that, for the preservation of Christ's true religion, the quiet and security of the realm, the safety of themselves and their posterity, the sentence against Mary Queen of Scots might be published. They reminded her that the said queen was a member of the Catholic league made for the destruction of the Protestant religion. Moreover, that she had formerly assumed the royal title and royal arms of England; Elizabeth was affectionately conjured to remember the examples of Heaven's vengeance narrated in Scripture upon King Saul for failing to slay Agag, and upon King Ahab for sparing the life of Benhadad; and the chancellor and speaker added, finally, that they would not think themselves discharged of the engagements which they had come under by their loyal association without proceeding to the execution of this sentence.

The queen failed not to make a long and grateful speech, in which she expressed her thanks for the zeal of her subjects, lamented the extremities to which she was reduced by the machinations of one of her own sex, of the like quality and degree with herself, of the same race and stock, and so nearly related to her in blood. She had written, she said, privately, to her kinswoman, that if she would confess the treasonable practices in which she was involved, in a letter to be private between herself and Elizabeth, she would not permit the discovery to be further pressed against her. Even yet, far as the matter had now gone, if she could be assured her kinswoman would forbear such practices, and that no one would make use of her name for stirring up treasonable attempts, she, for her part, could willingly pardon what had passed. As to herself, she proceeded, if by her death could be obtained a more flourishing condition and a better prince, she would willingly lay down her life; for whether she looked to things past, to things present, or to futurity, she counted them happiest who went first from the stage. After these rhetorical flourishes, she spoke more directly to the point, but still in an enigmatical manner, the sum of what she said pointing to the necessity of proceeding with severity, while the phrases she made use of insinuated a desire to act with lenity. Their petition, she said, had reduced her to great straits and perplexities, as pressing upon her the punishment of a princess so near in blood to herself, yet, indeed, she must needs confess to them a further secret, though not as one who usually blabbed forth her knowledge of such matters; namely, that she had lately seen with her own eyes a bond subscribed by twelve persons, binding themselves to put her to death within a month. Having thus introduced a topic well calculated to continue the general ferment on account of her personal safety, Elizabeth expressed herself confident that her good subjects would not press her to an immediate decision on an affair of such uncommon weight and interest, and promised to announce to them her resolution as soon as she should be able to form one.

Continuing the same train of deception and hypocrisy, Elizabeth sent the lord chancellor to the house of lords, and the speaker to the commons, praying these honorable assemblies to consider whether some alternative could not be found, by following which her own personal safety might be reconciled with pardon to Queen Mary. A more unacceptable proposal, nevertheless, could hardly have been made to Queen Elizabeth than one which should seem to unite Mary's life with her own safety, and thereby impose upon her the necessity of sparing her kinswoman. Accordingly, neither lord nor member of the lower house presumed to vary from their former opinion, but were careful to adapt their reply to the hidden meaning, not the affected tenor of her majesty's letter. ' They could not, they said, reconcile the queen's safety with the life of the queen of Scots, unless, first, the latter should repent and acknowledge her offence, or, secondly, were kept under a closer guard, and sufficient security given for her good demeanor, or, finally, that she should be banished from the land. Of her repentance, they charitably declared they had no hope; a closer ward, stricter custody, or the security of oaths and hostages, they accounted as ineffectual, because Elizabeth's death, the mark at which Mary was esteemed constantly to aim, would, if achieved, cast all such obligations loose; and if they sent the queen of Scotland out of the realm, they declared they should expect nothing less than her return at the head of an army.

The lord chancellor and the speaker of the lower house added their exhortations to those of parliament, and re-minded the queen that her high office obliged her to render justice to every individual who sued for it, and that she ought not to deny it when it was demanded by the general voice of the English nation. Thus these illustrious assemblies gave one instance of what has been sometimes remarked that their votes are never so likely to be erroneous as when they are unanimous. Reasoning, however strong or irrefutable, seldom has the same effect of conviction on all minds; and unanimity, in many cases, infers that one common strain of passion or prejudice, as remote as possible from calm deliberation, has led or misled the general acquiescence. The queen continued to maintain an affectation of extreme embarrassment : she expressed herself surprised, yet not offended, at the unusual pertinacity with which her lords and commons pressed an execution which gave her mind so much pain. She gently chid them for their extreme anxiety on her account; and expressed her feelings that, since her security was desperate without the death of her relation, she found, nevertheless, in her own bosom, great reluctance to exercise that severity against a great princess which she had studiously forborne in the case of persons of inferior rank. She concluded a long harangue with this indecisive answer: "If I should say I will not do what you request, I might say, perhaps, more than I intend; and if I should say I will do it, I might plunge myself into as bad inconveniences as you endeavor to preserve me from; which I am confident your wisdoms and discretions would not desire that I should, if ye consider the circumstances of place, time, and the manners and conditions of men." Nevertheless, this train of hypocritical dissimulation, meant to express the exceeding grief of Elizabeth's mind at being in a manner compelled by authority of parliament to pro-claim the sentence, did not escape the malign construction that the queen had acted in this instance like a true woman, who will seem to reject and disapprove of that which she most desires, in order that it may be forced upon her. The proclamation of the sentence contained similar expressions of the queen's reluctance, which met with the same degree of credulity.

When Mary heard that this final step toward her execution had been taken, she received the intelligence with a steady and composed countenance, and raising her eyes and hands to Heaven, thanked God she now saw the conclusion of her sufferings.

She wrote a remarkable letter to Elizabeth, dated on the 19th of December: in this she disavowed all hostile feelings, and thanked God for the sentence which promised a period to her lamentable captivity. The doomed princess then made, in gentle yet solicitous terms, one or two requests, which she entreated Elizabeth to take into her private and personal consideration, as she expected little favor, she said, from the zealous- puritans with whom the English council was filled. First, she desired her body might be transported to France, where her mother's soul rested in peace. In Scot-land, she said, the sepulchres of her ancestors were over-thrown and violated : in England, she could not have the advantage of the ceremonies of her religion; and she desired to be laid where her spirit might be propitiated with Catholic rites, and her body might have that repose which, when living, it never enjoyed.

Secondly, she besought that she might not be put to death by any private means, or without Queen Elizabeth's knowledge; and that her servants might have an opportunity of observing her final departure. This fear of private murder she was observed to entertain, since all looked so black and menacing around her; and the mind shrinks from a fate which has so much uncertainty in time, place, and circumstance. It afterward appears that her fears were far from unreasonable.

Lastly, Mary desired her servants might be permitted to depart in peace and freedom, and with permission to enjoy those legacies which she should bequeath them by her latest will. These things she entreated of her kinswoman, in the name of their Redeemer, by their near kindred, by the soul and memory of Henry VII., their common progenitor, and in the name of those common decencies which even persons of the most ordinary rank generally observe toward each other. She complained that she had been despoiled of all her regal ornaments; alleged that, if her papers had been fairly produced, it would have appeared that her only cause of condemnation had been the overcarefulness and solicitude of some persons for Queen Elizabeth's safety. Lastly, she entreated a line or two of answer in the hand of Elizabeth herself. If Elizabeth received this affecting letter, she made no reply to it, even to assure her kinswoman that her life was safe, but from the meditated stroke of the law.

The news was soon general that the axe was suspended over the head of Queen Mary, and its fall only depended ou the will of Queen Elizabeth. The king of Scots, whatever might be his feeling toward his mother, was called upon by every tie of nature, by respect for himself, and for his character in the world, and no doubt by a certain degree of natural affection, which we cannot, however, suppose to have been of a "singularly ardent quality," although so termed by Camden, could now no longer dispense with making such remonstrances as were most likely to shake the purpose of Elizabeth. He complained with spirit of the indignity and injustice attending a trial of the queen of Scotland, a princess also descended of the blood-royal of England, by a commission of English subjects.

James's ordinary minister at the court of Elizabeth was the notorious Archibald Douglas, already noticed, who after his collusive acquittal was, with much disregard to decency, sent to England as James's resident ambassador.

But James saw the scandal which must attend in trusting the necessary interference on behalf of his mother to the care of a dependent of Morton, Mary's most ruthless enemy, and chose an agent more like to be zealous in his mother's cause. His remonstrances in her behalf were at first uttered through the medium of William Keith, an envoy extraordinary, sent for the purpose of remonstrating against Mary's trial, with instructions to add that, however new such proceeding was, it would be still more extraordinary if his mother, an independent princess, should be put to death under a sentence so pronounced. As this remonstrance produced no effect, James wrote again to Keith, to state how unjust he held the prosecution against his mother, with a charge to remind Elizabeth, that if such a crime should be committed, it concerned him, both in respect of nature and honor, to be revenged; since remaining passive under such an injury with-out requiring the most ample mends, he must lose credit both at home and abroad. Keith therefore entreated at least for delay, till James should send an ambassador with proposals which might give satisfaction to Elizabeth, and at the same time save the life of his parent. When an application, couched in these terms of menace, was made to Elizabeth, she was at first so indignant that she had wellnigh driven Keith from her presence : on taking time to consider, however, she agreed to wait to hear any ambassador who should come from King James within a few days; and condescended to add, that she would suspend the execution of his mother's sentence until that period should have elapsed.

The stern tone of irritation in which Queen Elizabeth expressed herself seems to have daunted the spirit of King James. In a subsequent letter to William Keith, he disowned any attempt to influence Queen Elizabeth by threats, and intimated that he did not mean to plead his cause with anything short of due respect to her individual feelings. He declared himself satisfied that she was not a free agent in the matter, nor at liberty to act upon her own clement' and generous disposition; but that, on the contrary, he knew that she was pressed forward by those who urged to her the peril of her own life. James declared, therefore, that he did not impute to Elizabeth, personally or directly, the blame of anything that had been done, and only required her to suspend any proceedings against his mother until the arrival of the Master of Gray, through whom, as specially commissioned for that purpose, he meant to suggest such conditions as appeared to him sufficient for saving the life of his mother.

The terms of this mitigated letter relieved Elizabeth from what she might naturally have esteemed a very considerable embarrassment; for an instant breach with Scotland, while she was involved in so many dangers from the continent, joined to the existence of a Catholic party in her own dominions, could not have been a subject of indifference to her, upon reflection, how much soever she might be disposed by nature and habit to answer threats with defiance. The flexible tone, also, of James's last letter seemed to intimate that he desired but to play the part of a dutiful son in the eye of the world, and to the vindication of his honor in the opinion of his subjects, without meditating any active measures, if he could discharge what was due to decency. This point once gained by him, Elizabeth probably conjectured that the resentment of the king of Scotland, in case of his mother's execution, would be neither violent nor lasting; and she might consider the appointment of Gray, whose interest she had long secured, was no trifling assurance that in case of the sentence being executed against Mary, the resentment of her son would neither assume a very ardent or fatal character. Gray was accordingly despatched to England; but the suggestions of the council of Scotland, rather than any feeling of the king himself, laid James under the necessity of conjoining with the Master in his commission a colleague likely to be more active in the discharge of it. This was Sir Robert Melville, an old and 'faithful servant of the crown, whose exertions in the queen's favor might be relied upon much more than those of the venal Gray. The ambassadors extraordinary accordingly set out for England, charged with James's proposals for his mother's life; Melville filled with anxiety to discharge his duty so as might best advantage a mistress who had favored him formerly, and to whom he was sincerely grateful; the Master of Gray, as afterward appeared, with a very different purpose.

At their first audience with Queen Elizabeth, which they obtained with some difficulty, she expressed herself with her usual decision. She had been threatened, she said, by the king of Scots in his letter sent to William Keith, and demanded to know if they were charged with remonstrances of the like nature. Gray replied that an apology had been made for the terms of that letter, by one of a subsequent date couched in less offensive terms. The queen at once entered upon the business of the audience in a manner calculated to silence discussion, saying, briefly and fiercely, "I am unmeasurably sorry that there can be no means found to save the life of your king's mother with assurance of my own. I have labored to preserve the life of both, but it cannot be done." As she appeared to speak in passion, the ambassadors were silent, and withdrew for the time.

At a second audience the queen demanded of them what they had to propose on the part of James, adding, disdain-fully, that a thing long looked for should be good when it comes. The Master of Gray then requested to know if Queen Mary was still alive, for a rumor of her death was even already current. "As yet," replied the queen, "I believe she lives ; but I will not promise an hour." Gray replied, that his master's propositions were calculated to pledge his credit in behalf of his mother, to that effect interposing the chief of his nobility as hostages, that no plot or enterprise against Queen Elizabeth should be undertaken with the knowledge or countenance of Mary. Or, if it pleased Elizabeth to send Queen Mary into Scotland, King James would engage that the English realm should be safe from all interference on her part. Queen Elizabeth called to the Earl of Leicester, with other lords of her council who were in the chamber, and repeated to them the proposals of the king of Scots, in a tone of scorn, as totally inadequate to the occasion. Gray took" the opportunity to ask why the queen of Scots should be esteemed so dangerous to her majesty? "Because," answered Elizabeth hastily, "she is a papist, and they say she shall succeed to my throne." Gray replied, that Mary would divest herself of such a right in favor of her son. The speaking of Queen Mary's claim of succession as real gave fresh offence. "She hath no such right," answered the queen hastily : "she is declared in-capable of succession. "—"Supposing that to be the case," replied the Scottish ambassador, "there is an end of danger from the papists, since they can trust nothing to a claim of succession which has been annulled, and therefore the reason fails which renders your kinswoman's life dangerous to your majesty."—Elizabeth replied; that "though Mary's right was indeed annulled, the papists would not allow that it had ceased to exist. "—" If so," replied the Master of Gray, "the queen of Scots having demitted, with consent of her friends, all right of succession in favor of her son, could no longer pretend to exercise it in her own right, nor could she find support in so doing." The queen at first pre-tended not to understand the measure which was proposed : the Earl of Leicester explained it, by stating the proposal of Gray to be that the king of Scots should be placed in the rights of his mother. Elizabeth then burst into one of her characteristic passions. "Is that your meaning?" said she; "then I should put myself in worse case than before! By God's passion!" she exclaimed with much vehemence, "this were to cut mine own throat : he shall never come into that place or be party with me" (possess, that is, a share in her succession).—"Yet the king of Scots," answered Gray, "must become party with your majesty, when he succeeds, by his mother's death, to her claims of every kind. Thus the act which we now deprecate will only accelerate a position in respect to Queen Mary's son, of which your majesty is pleased to entertain an apprehension."

Sensible that in this logical discussion she was losing ground, Elizabeth waived further argument in a debate where reason obviously failed her, and took leave of the ambassadors with these words : "Let your king recollect what I have done for him, and how long I have maintained the crown upon his head, even since the hour of his birth. For my part, I am determined to keep the league between the kingdoms. If the king of Scots shall break it, he commits a double fault." With these words, as the last intimation of her pleasure, she was about to leave the apartment, when Sir Robert Melville followed her, beseeching for some delay of the execution; to which she replied, in the tone of authority which had distinguished her deportment during the whole conference, "No, NOT AN HOUR!"

It is scarcely necessary to point out to the reader the different manner in which Elizabeth received the addresses of the houses of peers and commons, pressing her for Mary's immediate execution, and the Scottish ambassadors entreating for delay of the same. To the first she replied with an affectation of feminine hesitation, and prayed her subjects would not press her too hard on a subject so painful. To the second she answered, in the tone of a lioness who has grasped her prey, "No, not an hour!"

It is probable that in this interview Gray expressed truly the proposals of his master James, and he certainly reasoned on the question logically and firmly; but by turning the point upon the claims of succession, which must descend to his master by the death of his mother, he obviously and probably designedly brought into the discussion the subject which was most disagreeable to Queen Elizabeth, and which was sure to incense her in the most sensible manner. So acute a diplomatist as Gray could not have fallen into so great an error by mere accident; and the necessary inference is, that he had no wish that his mission should be successful.

When the report of this angry conference had reached James he assumed a tone more becoming an independent prince pleading in behalf of a mother than he had hitherto ventured to use. In a letter written with his own hand be uses these strong and becoming expressions : "Be no longer reserved in dealing for my mother, for you have been so too long; and think not that anything will do good, if her life be lost, for then adieu to further dealing with that state. Therefore, as you look for my continued favor, spare no pains nor plainness in this case; but read my letter written to William Keith (alluding to that which Elizabeth had resented as containing threats), and conform yourself wholly to the contents thereof; and in this let me see the fruits of your great credit there (that is, at the English court), either now or never. Farewell."

But ere this mandate reached the Master of Gray he had adopted a very different course of proceeding: his interest at the English court alluded to by King James rested on a very different foundation than that of his fidelity to his master or his attachment to the honor and interests of his country. In order that a foreigner should have interest with Queen Elizabeth and her counsellors, it was necessary that they should conform themselves implicitly to the wishes and dictates of that lofty princess. Gray was of that flexible character which is very docile upon such occasions. He listened complacently to the insinuations of Leicester and other English counsellors, who suggested, that although the king's interference in behalf of his mother was natural and laudable, yet it should not be urged to such a point as might endanger the favor of Elizabeth, nor, in short, carried further than was necessary to secure for his master the character of a dutiful and affectionate son; while it left him at liberty, whatever should 'happen, to preserve the love and friendship of Elizabeth, who, whether she put to death his mother or not, was still the ally whose countenance or enmity might most befriend, or in the highest degree injure his interest. The Scottish envoy speedily learned the lesson thus taught him; and conscious, perhaps, that his master wanted that fiery spirit of resolution characteristic of most of his predecessors, he gave explicit hints to the English ministers that by executing the sentence against Mary without delay they would not incur any formidable intensity of enmity on the part of his master. He repeated the Latin phrase, Mortua non mordet, "A dead woman bites not," and made no scruple to assure those with whom he had intercourse that, were the deed once done, his master was likely speedily to pardon what could neither be remedied nor revenged. He even undertook to be himself a mediator, and take care to disarm James's displeasure of all tendency to vengeance. It is, of course, to be understood that in all this ambiguous dealing, which went directly to defeat the main purpose of his embassy, Gray concealed from his colleague Melville the double-dealing intrigues which he held with the English ministers.

Other measures were employed to deprecate the threatened hostilities of the king of Scots. Walsingham, famed for his policy and his prudence, wrote to the king of Scots to express his surprise at the stand which he had made in behalf of his mother, seeing that the honest and religious Protestants in England were unanimously agreed that her life was inconsistent with the safety of the Protestant faith in both divisions of Britain, and conjuring him not to wreck the public peace, or disturb the prosperity of the reformed churches of England and Scotland, by taking to heart too anxiously the death of a parent whose life was forfeited to the laws and to an unavoidable necessity.

From all the preceding indications King James was made aware that the fate of his mother was decided; nor is it likely that any measure on his part, unless of a character far more energetic than was usual in his councils, could be of the slightest avail in saving her life. He preserved, however, the decencies of his situation; and, recalling his ambassadors from the court of England, commanded his clergy at home to re-member his mother in the public prayers, under a form to which certainly there was nothing to which charity could object, since the tenor ran that it might please God to illuminate her with the light of his truth, and save her from the apparent danger wherein she was cast. The clergymen, however, remembering the Catholic tenets of Mary, and that aversion entertained to her by the original fathers of the Scottish Church, which had so large a share in her down-fall, refused to comply even with this moderate request of their sovereign. In the capital, particularly, the refusal was wellnigh general, so that the king was obliged to appoint the archbishop of St. Andrew's to preach before him on a certain day, in order that he might hear the safety of his mother recommended in the prayers of his subjects. In this, however, he was disappointed. An enthusiastic young man named Cooper, who though not yet himself called to the ministry, intruded himself into the pulpit by the encouragement, it is said, of his brethren, and excluded the prelate.

The king arriving at the time appointed, and seeing the pulpit already occupied, addressed the intrusive preacher from his seat in these temperate words: "That seat, Mr. John, was destined for another; but if you mean to obey the charge which we have sent forth, and remember our mother in your prayers, you are at liberty to proceed." To this Cooper replied he would do as the Spirit of God directed him. Upon this, being commanded to come from that place, and refusing to obey, the captain of the guard was ordered to pull him from the pulpit. On hearing these orders issued, the hot-headed young man exclaimed that the violence which he sustained should be a witness against the king at the day of judgment.

If we can trust a current tradition, such contests between the pulpit and the throne occurred more than once in the face of the congregation. It is said a young preacher, dilating before James's face on some matter highly offensive to him, the monarch lost patience, and said aloud, "I tell thee, man, either to speak sense or come down." To which reasonable request, as it might be thought, the preacher stoutly replied, "And I tell thee, man, I will neither speak sense nor come down."

The archbishop of St. Andrew's then succeeded to the pulpit; and by the eloquence of a sermon, in which he insisted on the duty of praying for all men, pacified the tumult which so extraordinary a scene had excited among the congregation.

It is not improbable that, instead of entering into squabbles with his clergy on the mode of petitioning Heaven in his mother's behalf, had King James descended to look for earthly succors, and appealed to his subjects on so national an occasion, he might, on wonderfully short notice, have assembled upon the borders an army of forty thousand men, who would not willingly have seen the blood of their sovereign's mother shed upon a scaffold by command of a foreign power.

We have detailed at length the nature of James's intercession for his mother's life as an interesting part of Scottish history: the intervention of other powers for the same purpose may be briefly noticed. The king of France, though an enemy to the House of Guise, could not, were it only for decency's sake, avoid an application on the same occasion; but the arguments of his ambassador, Bellievre, were not so urged as to make much impression upon Elizabeth, who, aware, besides, of Henry III.'s dislike to the House of Guise, paid no attention to the arguments from that quarter.

Nevertheless Queen Elizabeth, though uninfluenced by the remonstrances of foreign courts, seemed, when the moment for decision was arrived, to hesitate upon striking the fatal blow. With whatever color she might cloak it to her own conscience, or represent it to the English nation, she could not be indifferent to the manner in which the death of Mary was likely to affect her fame through Europe at large. Neither was she entirely secure of Scotland; for although the Master of Gray pretended that the resentment which James might entertain for his mother's execution should be of no permanent duration, yet Melville, whose honor was known to her, had held different language; and the recall of the Scottish ambassadors seemed to announce a war, for which the queen of England, beset as she was by continental enemies, could not be supposed to be perfectly provided.

But although no such pressing cause for hesitation had exhibited itself, Elizabeth, like many others in a similar situation, seems to have found her courage fail when she approached close to the perpetration of the crime she had so long meditated. The sense that, though she might delude her own people by fantastic fears and jealousies, the rest of Europe would not be so easily gulled, must have made her reluctant to strike the final blow; and with her fears for her own reputation there doubtless was mingled some touch of womanhood, some feeling of female reluctance to shed the blood of her captive kinswoman. Although she could refuse Melville even the delay of an hour in the height of an angry debate, yet upon reflection she was unwilling to decide upon the execution, nor was she perhaps displeased to gain the credit of sustaining a struggle between her humanity and what she called her sense of justice. She exhibited every symptom of disquietude and abstraction, wandered through her palace with unequal steps, or was found alone musing, or heard uttering in a broken voice enigmatical expressions of doubt and irresolution. Aut fer aut feri, ne feriare feri, were words frequent in her mouth. They were taken from the quibbling mottoes and devices which were then favorite subjects of study, and served to express the uncertainty of Elizabeth's mind. Meantime various re-ports were dispersed to keep up the alarm, and persuade the people of England that the death of Mary was the life of Elizabeth, and the life of Mary was the death of her sister sovereign. Bravos were said to be hired by the French ambassador to assassinate the queen; the Spanish fleet was said, one day, to have arrived at Milford Haven; on an-other, the Duke of Guise was said to have landed in Sussex; a third rumor stated an invasion of the Scots; a fourth, an insurrection of the northern counties; a fifth proclaimed the city to be on fire ; a sixth announced the death of Elizabeth. The people, distracted by these varying reports, grew almost frantic, and called loudly for the death of Mary, as the only remedy for the convulsions with which the nation was threatened.

It was therefore with the unanimous consent of her own subjects, or rather in compliance with their demands, that Elizabeth resolved to sign the fatal death-warrant against her sister.

The preparing of this deed fell officially to the charge of William Davidson, one of the principal secretaries of state, who was doomed, by a stroke of political management, to be the victim of Elizabeth's duplicity upon this occasion. Davidson received instructions from the lord admiral to prepare the death-warrant for the queen's signature. He did so, and laid it before her with other papers. She immediately entered upon the subject. After she had looked it over, she signed it, and laying it from her asked the secretary, jocularly, whether he was not heartily sorry that it was done. His answer was as might be expected, that "since Mary's life was inconsistent with Elizabeth's safety, he preferred the death of the guilty to that of the innocent." She then commanded him to append the seal to the warrant, and to give it so ratified to the lord chancellor, with directions to use it as secretly as might be. "On the way," said she, jocularly, "you may show it to Walsingham, who will die of grief at the news."' She expressed her desire that the execution should take place neither in the open court nor in the green of the castle, but in the great hall of Fotheringay; and being thus particular in her directions, left Davidson in no doubt that she was seriously determined on the bloody scene which she had thus contemplated, with every circumstance of time and place.

When Davidson was ready to depart with these instructions, the queen again called him, and entered into some complaint of Sir Amias Paulet, who, she alleged, might have eased her of this burden, commanding him and Walsingham to sound the dispositions of Queen Mary's keepers, and to hint to them the good service which they might do her by anticipating the execution of the warrant.

Such a letter as the queen desired, subscribed by Walsingham and Davidson, was written to Sir Amias Paulet and Sir Drew Drury, who were now conjoined in the custody of the unfortunate Mary.

It is of a tenor as extraordinary as any missive which can be pointed out in the ample portfolio of political profligacy. "The queen," says this choice epistle, "appears, by some speeches lately uttered, to note in you a lack of care and zeal of her service, in respect you have not all this time of yourselves, without other intimation, found out some way to shorten the life of that queen. In neglecting to do so, besides a kind of lack of love to Elizabeth, she observed that the keepers of Mary had not that care of the preservation of religion and the public good they would be thought to have, more especially having a ground of warrant for the satisfaction of their conscience, their oath of association, by which they had both solemnly pledged themselves, binding them to prosecute Mary to the death in event of the guilt being proved against her. The queen," continues the letter, "takes it most unkindly that men professing the love to their sovereign asserted by you should yet, for lack of discharge of their duty [that is, for not murdering by their private act their royal prisoner], suffer the burden of taking her life to fall upon Elizabeth herself, whose aversion to shed blood was so well known, and whom they might well suppose was still more reluctant to shed that of her relation and sister sovereign." This singular letter, in which two men of quality and honor are advised to commit an assassination out of mere loyalty and deference to the feelings of Queen Elizabeth, produced no effect upon those to whom it was addressed.

Paulet, in his own name, though the letter was also subscribed by Drury, laments that he should have lived to see the unhappy day in which he is required by his sovereign to do an act forbidden by the laws of God and man. His livings and life he declared to be at her majesty's disposition, nor did he wish to enjoy them but with her good favor; "but God forbid," he continues, "that I should make so foul a shipwreck of my conscience, or leave so great a blot to my posterity, or shed blood without law or warrant." Elizabeth was greatly disappointed at finding this scrupulous temper where she did not conceive any such was to be expected. Paulet used to be termed her "faithful Amias," "her most careful servant," whose double labors and faithful actions, whose wise orders and safe conduct in so dangerous and crafty a charge as that of the imprisoned Mary, her grateful heart accepted with an overflowing sense of kindness. When, however, he was found scrupulous in so slight a matter as making away with his prisoner, he became a "dainty and precise fellow, who would promise much but perform nothing." And she called it perjury in him and others, who, contrary to the oath of association, were desirous to throw upon their queen the whole odium of an unpleasant transaction. She still proposed, however, to have the business done by private violence, and spoke to Davidson of one Wingfield who was willing to undertake it. The secretary was at some pains to show that, by such a violent and secret course to rid herself of her prisoner, she could not hope to escape the general suspicion and obloquy which must attend upon such an action.

The by-ways of private assassination being thus interrupted, Elizabeth resolved to follow the broad and formal course which was already chalked out by the proceedings of the commission, taking care, at the same time, so to order the execution of the warrant that it should, as much as possible, appear to be the voluntary act of her ministers, with as little accession on her own part as could be avoided. At Davidson's next audience of Elizabeth she entered voluntarily into the subject of the danger in which she daily lived, and how it was more than time this matter was despatched, and, swearing a great oath, added, that it was a shame for them all that it was not done, directing Davidson to write a letter to Paulet, for the despatch of the execution. Davidson answered, that such a letter was unnecessary, the warrant being general and sufficient.

The secretary being thus, as he conceived, pretty well apprised of what would be accounted good service, laid the warrant before the privy council, who, instigated by zeal, as they pretended, for the queen's safety, or, more probably, by a desire to gratify her wishes, drew up a letter, under their hands as privy councillors, empowering the Earls of Shrewsbury and Kent, together with the high sheriff of the county of Northampton, to see the warrant for putting Queen Mary to death put in force, as the sentence war-ranted execution. This final authority was despatched by the hands of Beale, clerk of the privy council, a man always noted for harsh manners, puritanical zeal, and a bitter enmity to Queen Mary.

While Elizabeth thus fluctuated, not between remorse and desire of committing the crime, but concerning the mode in which it should be accomplished, Mary prepared herself for death with all the dignity of a queen and the firmness of a martyr. To her affecting letter to Elizabeth, already quoted, no answer had been returned, nor did the queen ever acknowledge having received it. The assistance of a confessor or priest of her own religion, though deemed essential by Catholics to salvation, was withheld from her by the stern puritanism of the times. The assistance of a Protestant bishop and a dean were indeed offered to her, but with these her communion forbade her to join in devotion.

With no aid, therefore, saving her own unbroken spirit, she prepared for death, as she had formerly done for trial. She received with the most dignified composure the Earls of Kent and Shrewsbury, who came to announce that she was to die on the next day. "I did not," answered Mary, "think that the queen, my sister, would have commanded my death by the hands of the executioner; but the soul is not worthy of Heaven which shrinks from the pang of death." The evening was employed in writing her testament, settling her worldly affairs, and comforting the outrageous sorrows of her female attendants.

The last night she slept soundly, and rising early in the morning, busied herself with her private devotions. At eight o'clock the high sheriff found her still kneeling be-fore the crucifix. She came forth with her countenance and presence majestically composed, dressed in a mourning habit adorned with some few ornaments. As she descended to the fatal place of execution, her house-steward, named Melville, fell on his knees before her, and bewailed with loud lamentations that it should be his fortune to carry the tidings of her fate to Scotland. "Lament not, good Melville," said the queen, "but rather rejoice, since thou shalt see this day Mary Stuart released from her earthly miseries. Bear witness, I die constant in my religion, and faithful in my affection to Scotland and France." She then charged him to be loyal to her son, and to advise him to maintain friendship with the queen of England. She obtained the promise of the attendant earls that the distribution of her effects among her attendants should be attended to according to her wish. It was with greater difficulty that she obtained permission for one or two of her servants to attend at her execution; but the sad boon was at length granted, upon her undertaking that her maidens should not disturb the awful scene with their cries. The great hall of the castle of Fotheringay, hung with black for the occasion, was assigned as the fatal spot. A low scaffold placed in the centre of the hall exhibited the block and axe, together with the headsman and his assistant, the implements and agents of the bloody tragedy which was to follow.

Mary ascended the scaffold; and sitting down on a chair, placed for her accommodation, heard with indifference the death-warrant read over. Once more she refused the assistance of the clergymen, who with well-meaning officiousness pressed upon her the difference , between the churches, and the preference due to the Protestant creed. She then prayed in, Latin out of the Catholic manual of devotion, called the Office of the Virgin Mary, and then rose to prepare for death. One of the executioners having offered his service, she gently repulsed him, saying she was not accustomed to the service of such grooms, or to perform her toilet before so large a company. A low wailing took place among the female attendants : Mary quietly reminded them that she had promised that they should keep silence. Being divested of her cloak and upper garments, she knelt to the block, with devout expressions of resignation, and her head was struck from her body at two blows. A favorite lap-dog could not be separated from the corpse of his mistress. When the fatal blow was struck, the dean pronounced the usual form, "So perish Queen Elizabeth's enemies!" To which the Earl of Kent could alone muster voice to answer, "Amen" ; all other persons present being drowned in sighs and lamentations. Thus died Mary Queen of Scots many parts of whose earlier life remain an unexplained riddle to posterity, which men have construed, and will construe, more according to their own feelings and passions than with the calm sentiments of impartial judges. The great error of marrying Bothwell, stained as he was by universal suspicion of Darnley's murder, is a spot upon her character for which we in vain seek an apology. Certainly the poor trick of the bond subscribed at Ainslie's Supper cannot greatly mitigate our censure, which is still less evaded by the pretended compulsion exercised toward the queen, when she was trans-ported by Bothwell to Dunbar. What excuse she is to de-rive from the brutal ingratitude of Darnley; what from the perfidy and cruelty of the fiercest set of nobles who existed in any age; what from the manners of a time in which assassination was often esteemed a virtue, and revenge the discharge of a debt of honor, must be left to the charity of the reader. This may be truly said, that if a life of exile and misery, endured with almost saintly patience, from the 15th of June, 1567, until the day of her death, upon the 8th of February, 1586, could atone the crimes and errors of the class imputed to her, no such penalty was ever more fully discharged than by Mary Stuart.