FURTHER INDIGNITIES
On Thursday 22nd December Sir Amyas sent for both Melville and
Bourgoing,--an unusual proceeding, especially as hitherto, since his
return, Melville alone had taken and brought back the messages to
the Queen. When they were in the presence of Sir Amyas, he said that
as he had something to send to the Queen, he thought it expedient
to give it to them, declaring he knew not what it contained, but
delivered it as he had received it. He then gave them a letter from
Curle to his sister concerning certain money which the Queen had
promised him. That Curle should have had the "courage," as Bourgoing
expresses it, to apply to Mary in this way, seems to point to the
fact that he considered himself innocent in her regard, and throws
fresh doubt on the confessions supposed to have been extorted from
him and Nau. The bags for the Queen contained some of her accounts;
the seals had been broken, as Melville and Bourgoing pointed out to
Paulet, who replied that he had, according to his duty, broken them,
that he might be aware of the contents. A letter from Nau was among
the papers, and a short memorandum which he had made on the papers
taken to him, but the chief accounts for the year were missing, nor
did they ever reach Mary; in spite of much correspondence on the
subject between Paulet, Walsingham, Waad, and others, and Elizabeth's
own apparent wish that they should be restored.
At this time Paulet was laid up by a cold, and all communications
between him and his prisoner had to be conveyed by her attendants.
Day by day the Queen anxiously waited, hoping to see Paulet and
inquire from him concerning the subjects which were to her of the
deepest interest, but his own cold and gout occupied Paulet's
attention far more than his prisoner's feelings. At last on the 8th
of January, knowing that he had been out the day before, Mary sent
to beg him to visit her, but Paulet still pleaded cold and inability
to come. "We," continues Bourgoing, who was evidently one of those
sent, "according to our charge, said that Her Majesty, being unable
to communicate with him, and having no reply to her letter written
nearly three weeks past (to Queen Elizabeth), and hearing nothing
about it, but being always kept in suspense, proposed writing, and
that as he seemed to be better in health, Her Majesty would prepare
her letters, so that when he was well he would find them all ready."
Paulet, appearing a little angry, replied that Mary could write
and prepare what she liked. The Queen therefore wrote once more,
and for the last time, to her cousin,--a letter which, as we shall
see, Paulet this time refused to send at all, and of which the
dignified and pathetic contents would have remained unknown had not
Bourgoing preserved it. It runs as follows, with the exception of one
paragraph, which is unintelligible:--
THE LAST LETTER FROM QUEEN MARY TO QUEEN
ELIZABETH.[80]
[Footnote 80: Chantelauze, p. 578.]
MADAME--Having prepared myself for death,
according to what it pleased you to signify to me, thus
ridding my enemies of their charge, and that my life may
be disposed of according to their designs, I have so
willingly made up my mind to leave this false world, that
I protest to God and to you, that since I have not aspired
to, nor do I desire, any worldly satisfaction save those
which, for the discharge of my conscience, I requested
through my Lord Buckhurst and Beale, and those that I have
asked of you in the last memorandum by my own hand, which
depend entirely on your benevolence, and which can offend
no one. As regards the petitions and requests I have been
in part gratified, namely, the arrival of my chaplain and
receiving a portion of my money--but of my papers I have
only received certain extracts[81]--and as I do not think
you intend that things belonging to me, or the affairs of
my domain, should fall into other hands, as they cannot be
of service to you, as they are necessary for the making
of my will, I implore you that all my statements, books
of accounts, and other papers, which only relate to my
private affairs, be returned to me and the rest of the
money restored, so that I can put them in order, and leave
the examination of them to those in my confidence and the
executors of my will, to whom they may be of use after
my death, as they will be to me now; that I may be sure
of what I have to spend, what I can dispose of, or what
I justly owe; not being able, without them, to make use
of Nau's extracts alone, he being a prisoner, unless I
had liberty to communicate with him, or, at the least, by
writing to receive information from him concerning several
special (points) on which I require to be enlightened. I
let Messrs. Paulet and Drue Drury know regarding certain
points; and as they promised me to write, I have been
expecting an answer since the 22nd of December, on which
day they sent me some papers, with a line from my secretary
Nau. (They), perhaps, not thinking it reasonable to trouble
you with my last requests, I fear either that my letter
has never been given to you, or that you did not wish to
take the trouble to (read) it. The way in which I have been
treated has perhaps led (them) to imagine that I meant
to beg from you some great grace, and it may even have
made them fear that, in the goodness of your heart, this
remonstrance would cause you some regrets at consigning one
of your own blood, and quality united, to such straits.
But, Madame, they need not fear such pusillanimity on the
one side, and on the other you can remove from them all
their dread of your too great sorrow, by telling them of my
request; and as it is your intention only to gratify it
at my death, the which has been granted them, they cannot
blame you if, through a feeling of family duty, or at the
least of Christian charity, you grant burial for my body.
[Footnote 81: _États_, probably papers or accounts relating
to her French estates.]
By the same, I require of you with instance, Madame, in
honour of the Passion of Jesus Christ, not to keep me
longer in this miserable suspense, which is more cruel than
any certainty, but to let me fully know your will, and if
it be to grant my prayer, I promise to make one for you
at my death for your salvation, and for your prosperity
in this world in the grace of God. And if you refuse me,
I will endeavour to bear it patiently, thanking you still
for leaving me no longer to languish in this miserable
condition, of which I wish you knew the truth of the
sufferings of my poor servants, who are losing their time
and their health. For the rest, if at the hour of my death
I should wish to divulge to you some secret, and of which
it might be of importance to you that no one should have
knowledge, being my last words, I desire to know in whom I
may confide, as there are some who might, through habit,
speak about it too freely, or refrain from telling it, from
some reason of their own. Well, then, I pray God grant you
as much happiness in this world as I expect in leaving it,
through His mercy, which I beg for myself and for all those
who persecute me, and this happiness, of being freed from
so many miseries by an innocent death; and I desire to
forgive any who otherwise calumniate me and mine, if there
be any.... And I hope that by my death, which is so much
wished for, you and several others will experience what
may be of use, and serve to clear up many things in which
God may be glorified. I implore His Divine Majesty that
all shall conduce to His honour and to your edification
and preservation, and that of this whole island, for
the salvation of which I would willingly give my life,
nor would refuse to desert it, even were I in a better
condition. I am not able to speak willingly of him[82] in
whose service, as of that of our country, I am useless,
nor of the special good I wish you, being so near you in
blood--seeing that, on the contrary, I serve for a pretext
to others who discharge their malice against me and mine
for certain reasons, which, as well as my own intentions, I
leave to the judgment of the just Judge.--Your sister and
imprisoned cousin,
MARYE.
_From my prison of_ FOTHERINGAY, _the 12th of
January 1587._
[Footnote 82: Her son. Here occur a few lines which, through errors
of the copyist, are very unintelligible. See Chantelauze, pp.
579-581.]
When the letter was written, Sir Amyas continued to throw every
possible hindrance in the way of its transmission. The Queen begged
him to come to see her, offering to show him her letter and close it
in his presence as before; but Paulet, "being in bed motionless and
with one of his arms bandaged," replied that he could not possibly
move, or walk to go to her, that he much regretted it, and would go
to her as soon as he could; and so for the next two days the question
continued to be discussed by means of messages between the Queen and
Paulet, but in spite of conciliating speeches on the part of the
latter, it ended in the letter never being despatched.
From the 20th of January the chronicle becomes more and more
interesting, and we shall as far as possible give Bourgoing's own
words:--
"On Friday 20th January Melville went to speak to Sir Amyas about our
supplies and the usual pension, and about a servant and our wages. To
which he received fairly courteous replies; (Sir Amyas) refusing him,
however, a servant, but saying that he thought means might be found
for sending us our wages. Upon this last point we founded our hopes
that all was not at extremity.
"On Saturday 21st Sir Amyas sent to fetch Mr. Melville, Mr.
Bourgoing, and Monsieur de Préau, at which we were quite astonished,
not knowing what it could mean. And this last named (de Préau), not
wishing to go to him, as he was not in a suitable dress, according
to his rank, remained behind until the same Melville and Bourgoing
went to speak to him (Paulet), to whom he refused to speak, saying he
had nothing to say to them unless de Préau should come. From this,
still more puzzled, we concluded that it was on account of him alone
that we were summoned, fearing among other things that they wished to
separate him (from the Queen).
"M. de Préau, therefore, dressed as he was, borrowed a cloak, and
when we were all three come to Sir Amyas, he addressed himself to
the said Bourgoing, saying he had sent for him specially, as he had
something to say to him, as also to the said sirs, Melville and de
Préau, which he wished me to report to Her Majesty, as he would have
done himself could he have gone to her.
"Sir Amyas then continued that he had something to tell them which he
knew would be pleasing neither to the Queen nor to Melville, whom he
had always seen to be a faithful servant to his mistress, but that
there was no remedy, and he must take it in good part. Both he and de
Préau, said Paulet, were to be separated from their mistress for the
present; they were not to go into her presence, but were to retire
to their own rooms. As de Préau was lodged so near the Queen as to
make it impossible to prevent his going to her, Paulet had arranged
that he should lodge in one of Melville's rooms. They were not to
be prisoners, and were to do as they pleased, with the exception of
seeing the Queen. And when M. Melville, protesting the sorrow that
this gave him, his only consolation being to be near his mistress,
and begging to be permitted to see her and to bid her farewell, Sir
Amyas replied that he could not give him leave, and that it was not
necessary; he saw nothing yet which should prevent his returning to
her as usual, and that he must be patient for the present. M. de
Préau, protesting also his regret, said the same.
"The said Bourgoing then returned to Her Majesty, and surprised her
very much, and also the others, with his tidings, which caused many
thoughts and imaginings without any conclusion being arrived at, as
there seemed no apparent reason for these proceedings.
"The next day the Queen sent Bourgoing to Paulet to say that after
his report she would have sent him to inquire the previous day had
it not been too late, and that she wished to think over what she had
heard. I think (adds Bourgoing) that the chief reason was that she
feared I would be kept away from her like the others." Bourgoing and
Paulet had a long discussion; the former represented to Paulet how
strange it appeared to his mistress that she had received no answer
to her letter, and that she could not even feel assured that it had
reached Queen Elizabeth, and not only that, but that in this doubt
she had prepared another letter, and had not yet heard from Sir Amyas
whether she might send it or not. To this Paulet replied that Mary's
letter had certainly reached Queen Elizabeth, but that no answer had
come. He was not the person to keep a letter back from the Queen of
Scots, and that as regards the second letter which she had written to
his mistress, his judgment told him that because he had permission to
send one, this did not mean he could forward more.
Being pressed upon the latter point, Paulet repeated that he had not
permission to forward letters. Bourgoing thus continues: "It was
told him in the second place that she (Mary) was in great distress
to know the cause of her attendants being taken from her, saying
that the Queen of England had, at her request, sent her priest that
she might have the consolation of his presence and his assistance in
preparing for death, and that now when he was most necessary to her,
he was taken away. There was no one so criminal, she said, but he
was allowed a minister of his religion to conduct him to execution,
to console and minister to him, and that the only consolations that
she still had in her misery and captivity were those of her religion.
She regretted infinitely (continued Bourgoing) not to be able to
perform her devotions as she would wish, to assist at Mass, and do
her duty as a good Christian. Queen Elizabeth had promised her not to
interfere with her in her religion, and yet it was for her religion
only that she was persecuted. Her priest was in no one's way; he
interfered with nothing, devoting himself to his prayers. It would
have been better not to have allowed him to return than now to remove
him in her greatest need, and she now plainly perceived that they
would not be content with afflicting the body but would proceed, were
it possible, to destroy not only the body and life itself, but also
the soul, which, however, could never be, as she had entire hope in
God, that He would be with her in this last trial as He had ever
been. She saw that their intention was to take her servants from her
one by one, and to remove herself secretly from here to make her die
when they wished, or to murder her secretly.
"To the first point Paulet replied that he did not doubt that the
Queen (Mary) desired to have the priest near her, nor that she was
vexed at his absence, but she might assure herself that he was not
far off. He was neither in France nor in Scotland, nor indeed out
of the house, and that he saw no cause for thinking that, when it
should be necessary as the Queen thought, she should not have him.
For the rest, continued he, she was peradventure not so near death as
she imagined, and for the present she must be satisfied. When Paulet
heard, however, of the fear entertained by Mary that she would be
murdered, or secretly put to death, he fell into a rage, protesting
that there was no greater danger of her being thus insulted than
there was for Bourgoing himself, who had no reason to fear that
anything should be attempted against _him_. The latter then pressing
the question as to whether there was really no plot of the kind
against his mistress, Paulet said 'that there was no more danger for
Her Majesty that such a thing should be done to her, than there was
for his own wife, his children, or himself, and of this he would dare
to swear. That as for him, he was not the man to do, or make others
do, such a thing, feeling indeed hurt to be thus suspected; he was a
man of honour and a gentleman, and he would not wish so to dishonour
himself as to wish to exercise such cruelty or to conduct himself
as a Turk! People must not think such things of him. When it was
suggested to him that the Queen did not so much fear him as others
who were her enemies, and who would not be unwilling to do her a bad
turn if it were to their own advantage, Paulet replied that he alone
would be responsible for all, and that she might assure herself that
nothing of the kind would occur.' In this protest Paulet did himself
no less than justice, as his after conduct proved; much as he hated
his prisoner, she was safe in his hands from assassination.
"Bourgoing before leaving Paulet anxiously inquired for Mary, why
Melville had likewise been separated from her and for what reason. To
which Paulet's reply was that Mr. Melville was an honest gentleman,
that he was separated from her for no offence against Queen Elizabeth
or for anything in particular, but there were certain reasons which
made it necessary.
"Bourgoing then told Paulet that in future his mistress would be
afraid to send any one to speak to him, in the fear that he would
detain them, one after the other. But Paulet assured him that she
need have no such fear, and that all her servants were in the
house."[83]
[Footnote 83: Chantelauze, pp. 561-567.]
Paulet's real sentiments on this occasion may be gathered from
a letter to Mr. Secretary Davison, written two days before.[84]
Although written from a bed of sickness, he evinces no sympathy for
the Queen's chronic ill-health, nor does it seem to occur to him
that Chartley was as unwholesome for his delicate prisoner as for
himself, the "naughty waters" there having contributed to aggravate
the Queen's rheumatism and other ailments.
[Footnote 84: See _Paulet's Letters_, p. 351.]
On the Monday (23rd January) Melville had an interview with
Paulet--the first since he had been separated from the others--and
spoke in the same sense as his mistress of his separation from her.
Sir Amyas replied very courteously, but declined to give any reason
for this decision. He likewise declined to give M. de Préau and
Melville a separate allowance of food, saying that as when they were
with the others there was sufficient for all, nothing extra was now
needed. All this created much surmise and anxiety among the Queen's
people, but that same evening a clue was given to the mystery. About
five o'clock the Fotheringay porter, Newrins, came to forbid Jehan
Landet, the Queen's butler, to carry the rod before the dishes of
meat served to his mistress. (This office had belonged to Melville,
as master of the household, and had only been exercised by Landet
since his absence.)[85]
[Footnote 85: This practice had probably been adopted by Mary from
the French custom. M. de Chantelauze quotes the following from a
court ceremonial of the reign of Louis XIV.: "La viande de sa Majeste
sera porté en cette ordre, deux des gardes marcheront les premiers,
ensuite l'huissier de Salle, _le maître d'hôtel avec son bâton_,"
etc.]
"At this," says Bourgoing, "Her Majesty was greatly astonished, and
wished at once to send to Sir Amyas to learn the reason, but he would
receive no one, saying that it was too late and that they could speak
to him next day, and if it was about the rod being forbidden, it was
no use, as if he had remembered when M. Melville was taken away, it
would have been forbidden then. On the following day the Queen sent
Bourgoing to Paulet with a message to say that although she had for
a time felt relief from her fear of being secretly put to death, in
consequence of the assurances she had received through Bourgoing
of his good intentions in her regard, the same painful doubt now
recurred to her mind. She saw in the new order he had given fresh
cause to fear that the last vestiges of her royal dignity were taken
from her only in order that such a crime might the more easily be
committed. Her Majesty was surprised," continued Bourgoing, "that
Paulet should take the trouble to forbid so small a thing, which
could not possibly do good or harm. He could of course command his
own servants, and if he wished, do nothing for her or to honour her,
but Her Majesty was of opinion that he should not forbid her own
attendants to do what was according to their duty and to their oath
to her, their mistress.
"To this Sir Amyas replied by again protesting that Her Majesty did
herself great wrong, did wrong to the Queen and state of England, to
the council, and to himself, to think that they wished to undertake
anything so unworthy or so insulting as to kill, to poignard, or
murder her secretly, or of a sudden, whether by night or day; that
he felt heart-broken to think he was supposed capable of committing
such butchery, or of permitting such. 'The Queen is a woman of great
talent and intelligence,' continued Paulet, 'and of experience in
many things, and I am surprised that she should torment herself about
this; she knows well that her priest, her steward, her dais, have all
been taken away, and now she is disturbed for a trifle, because a
rod which was borne before her food is taken away; she does harm to
herself, being an attainted, convicted, and a condemned woman.'"
Bourgoing replied that she thought she had reason to be displeased,
precisely because they showed ill-will in so small a matter, and for
a trifle; she remembered that the same was done to King Richard, who
was degraded from all honour and state, or at least of all signs of
either, and then he was suddenly put to death, murdered in a moment.
She feared the same would be done to her. Once more Sir Amyas flew
into a rage, saying such words were not good to hear, and that such
messages ought not to be sent to him, and accusing Bourgoing of
himself inventing the message. Bourgoing assured him that he only
repeated the Queen's words, and after a little further discussion
they separated.
On Friday 3rd February Melville begged for an interview with Paulet,
but the latter would not see him, and to all his messages of inquiry
to know why he was separated from his mistress, and what he had done
to deserve this, the same answer was returned,--Melville had done
nothing blameworthy, but things must be as they were, and he must
have patience.
Mary was more suffering in health during this time, and on the
Saturday Bourgoing was sent to ask Paulet to allow him to search for
some herbal remedies in the gardens of the neighbouring village.
"Her Majesty," says Bourgoing, "sent the said Bourgoing to inform
Sir Amyas of the indisposition, and to pray that he might be allowed
to go out to gather herbs in some of the gardens of the gentlemen of
the village to make a special remedy. He made a great point of this,
but Sir Amyas said he should have everything he liked to ask for, if
he would write it down, and being still pressed by Bourgoing to let
him go himself, Sir Amyas replied that he could not be responsible
alone for this, he must consult with his comrade Sir Drue Drury,
and in the course of Monday he should have an answer. I pressed Sir
Amyas," continues the faithful physician, "not to delay so long, as
Her Majesty was already indisposed and quite crippled, I feared she
should become seriously ill, as had often been the case before, the
more especially as she had so few attendants with her to nurse and
care for her, and for these reasons it was necessary for her to begin
to use the remedies next day."[86]
[Footnote 86: Chantelauze, pp. 567-571.]
On hearing this Paulet changed his mind, and as soon as Bourgoing
left him, sent word that he might go out, although it was against
his judgment. It is to be feared that this act of clemency was not
due to mere benevolence on Paulet's part. A contemporary author
thus comments on the fact: "This wretched traitor was expecting the
warrant of execution, and knew no remedy would be needed, but to
cause less suspicion he permitted on that day what had of late been
forbidden."[87]
[Footnote 87: _La Mort de la Royne d'Escosse_, Paris, 1588; _ap._
Jebb, ii. 620.]
The same thought, doubtless, occurred to the Queen; for we read that
on the next day, Sunday, when she was asked if she would continue the
remedies, she, having heard of the arrival of Beale, replied that
peradventure no more would be required, and that it was useless for
her to take medicines if she was to die. Everything, indeed, now
betokened the near approach of the final tragedy; nor were other
signs wanting, such as impress the popular imagination.[88] "On the
29th January, which was a Sunday," writes another contemporary,
"between midnight and one o'clock there appeared in the heavens a
great flame of fire, which of a sudden illumined the window of the
Queen's room, and gave a great light; it returned three times to the
same place, and was seen in no other part of the said castle. This
light was so bright that one could easily have read or written by
it,--a thing which greatly astonished and alarmed the guards who were
appointed to watch under that window, as they have all deposed."[89]
[Footnote 88: _La Mort de la Royne d'Escosse_, Paris, 1588; _ap._
Jebb, ii. 620.]
[Footnote 89: Teulet, v. 4.]
We must now leave the prisoner, to consider the cruel and, to her own
courtiers, the most perplexing conduct of Elizabeth, as the moment
approached when she saw herself forced to come to a final decision.