THE END
"He is not worthy of the joys of heaven whose body cannot
suffer the stroke of the executioner."--Queen Mary to Kent,
Camden, p. 454.
It was Tuesday morning, the 8th of February.
When the Queen heard six o'clock strike she called her women to
her, reminding them that she had but two hours to live.[132] Then
rising, she dressed herself with unusual care and magnificence, as in
preparation for some great and solemn occasion. Her robes--the only
ones she had reserved of former splendours--were such as were then
worn by queens-dowager. The skirt and bodice of black satin were worn
over a petticoat of russet-brown velvet; while the long regal mantle,
also of black satin, embroidered with gold and trimmed with
fur, had long hanging sleeves and a train. The Queen's head-dress
was of white crape, from which fell a long veil of the same delicate
material, edged with lace. Round her neck she wore a chain of scented
beads with a cross, and at her waist a golden rosary.
[Footnote 132: The details respecting the last hours of the life of
Queen Mary are derived chiefly from two original narratives, both
of which are printed in the second volume of Jebb. They are the
following: (1) Blackwood, Adam, _Martyre de Marie Stuart_, Paris,
1644, Jebb, p. 175; (2) _La Mort de la Royne d'Escosse_, 1589,
_ibid._ p. 611. The information which they contain has been carefully
used by Hosack, Chantelauze, Bourgoing, and Kervyn de Lettenhove,
thereby rendering unnecessary further references to the several
authorities given by Jebb.]
[Illustration: Contemporary Drawing of the Execution of Mary Queen of
Scots at Fotheringay.
From the Calthorpe MS.]
[Illustration: List of Names, in Beale's handwriting, of those
present at the Execution.
Accompanying the Calthorpe Drawing.]
While Mary dressed she gave orders that all her household should
assemble. When this was done, Bourgoing, by her desire, read her
will aloud, after which she signed it, and gave it to him to deliver
to the Duke of Guise, entrusting him at the same time with her
"principal notes and papers" and her gifts to the King and Queen
of France; then sending for the casket containing her money, Mary
distributed the little purses she had prepared the evening before,
and put aside a sum of 700 écus for the poor, which was afterwards
given to M. de Préau to distribute. To each of her male attendants
the Queen also gave two rose nobles to be given to the poor, _à
son intention_, nor were the immediate wants of the little band of
followers forgotten, for the Queen gave 150 écus to Bourgoing to help
to defray the journey to France. The whole sum at Mary's disposal for
her last donations did not exceed 5000 écus.
When all was arranged the Queen took farewell of her people,
exhorting and consoling them, once more embracing the women and
giving her hand to be kissed by the men. "My dear friends," she said,
"I regret infinitely that I have not been able to show my gratitude
to you in deed, as I should have wished, for the good and faithful
services you have rendered me in my need.... I beg you all to
assist at my death, and to testify to my unalterable devotion to my
religion. Be the witnesses of my last acts and my last words. I could
not find any more faithful."
The Queen now passed into the ante-chamber, which was arranged as
an oratory; and kneeling before the altar, "where mass was said
secretly before her chaplain was taken from her," she remained for
a long time in prayer, surrounded by her attendants, praying and
weeping together. At length Bourgoing, seeing her extreme paleness
and fearing for her strength, as he knew she was unable to kneel for
any long time, assisted the Queen to rise, and brought her a little
bread and wine, which she accepted willingly, thanking him by a smile
for his care in bringing her her last repast. She had hardly resumed
her prayers when a loud knocking was heard at the door. It was locked
inside, and the messenger, raising his voice, announced that the
lords were waiting.
Mary, without rising, and the door remaining closed, desired her
attendants to ask for a few moments' delay, that she might finish
her devotions. As eight o'clock had already struck, which was the
latest hour they had assigned, the commissioners feared that the
Queen meant to offer resistance, and ordered Paulet's soldiers to
break open the door and to bring her by force, if at a fresh summons
she refused to appear; but the Queen had no such thought. Calm and
ready for her sacrifice, she waited in prayer for the final summons.
At the second knock the door opened, and the sheriff, bearing his
white wand, entered alone. When he perceived Mary kneeling before the
altar, surrounded by her household and wrapt in prayer, he was silent
from surprise and perhaps emotion, and after a moment's pause could
only murmur, "Madame, the lords have sent me to you."
"Yes, let us go," replied the Queen in a firm voice, turning towards
him. Bourgoing, while he supported her under the arms to help her to
rise, asked her whether she wished him to give her the ivory crucifix
from the altar. "You have given me great pleasure by reminding me,"
she replied. "It was my intention." She took the cross in her hands,
kissed it with fervour, and gave it to Annibal Stuart, her groom of
the chamber (_valet de chambre_), to carry before her. Then, assisted
by Bourgoing and preceded by the sheriff, she proceeded. Before she
passed the threshold, however, Bourgoing, impelled by a feeling of
delicacy and affection with which we can sympathise, told her that
neither he nor any of her other attendants could bear to offer her
their arm to deliver her to her executioners; the only consolation
that remained to them, he said, would be to follow her to assist her
to her last breath. "You are right," returned Mary; and addressing
the sheriff, she added, "My servants do not wish to lead me to death.
I cannot walk without help; let me be a little assisted." Two of
Paulet's soldiers came and supported her, and the sad procession
moved on, Mary's weeping attendants walking, some in front, some
behind. At the door the Queen's followers were stopped, however, and
forbidden to follow her farther.
"Then these insist, and pleaded strongly to accompany her. All, even
the women, had it been possible, would have used force, declaring
that it was not permissible that they should take her away without
any one being with her; it was not the custom for princesses to go
thus alone, asking what they wanted to do with her now, who for
nineteen years had not left her in any place whatsoever without some
one to assist her; that it was not seemly to make her die without
having her servants present as witnesses to her actions, or they must
suppose that they wished to execute some unworthy cruelty which they
wished to conceal....
"In all this Bourgoing did not spare himself, thinking he had more
credit than the others," etc.
But it was all in vain; they were forced back with menaces into the
Queen's apartments.
Mary said nothing, but that they did her wrong in preventing her
servants from assisting at her death, and this as gently as possible.
Then taking the crucifix from Annibal, and the gold broidered
handkerchief which she had had prepared the night before, the Queen
took farewell of her poor servants, whose grief was heartbreaking.
"They took leave of her with cries and lamentations, some kissing
her hands, some her feet, while others kissed her dress, and she,
embracing them, was taken away all alone."
Supported by Paulet's guards, the Queen descended the great
staircase. On the first landing the Lords Kent and Shrewsbury were
waiting for her. They were struck with the perfect tranquillity
and noble demeanour with which she walked to meet her death. At
the bottom of the staircase her faithful master of the household,
Melville, who had now been separated from her for three weeks, was
permitted to approach. As soon as he saw his mistress he fell at her
feet to receive her last instructions, and in accents of profoundest
despair told her "how much such a leave-taking was difficult for him
to bear, as he had to endure such a sight after having been so long
separated from her."
"As thou hast always been a good and faithful servant to me," replied
Mary, "so I beg thee to continue in these same sentiments towards my
son.[133] I die with the regret of not having been able to acquit
myself towards thee, but to him is reserved the joy of recompensing
thee. Tell him to keep me in memory, and report to him faithfully
what thou shalt have seen of his mother's last moments. I have not
attacked his religion any more than that of others, and I wish him
all prosperity. As I pardon all in Scotland who have offended me, so
would I wish that they would pardon me. May God enlighten my son, and
send him His Holy Spirit."
[Footnote 133: She "charged him as he would answer before God, to
deliver her speeches and messages to her son in such sort as she did
speak them, all which tended to will him to govern wisely in the fear
of God, to take heed to whom he betook his chiefest trust, and not
to be an occasion to be evil thought of by the Queen of England, her
good sister."--MSS. Cal. B. v. f. 175 b.]
Melville, overcome with grief, exclaimed, "Madame, it will be the
sorrowfullest message that ever I carried when I shall report that my
Queen and mistress is dead."[134]
[Footnote 134: "'Ah, madame, unhappy me, what man on Earth was ever
before the Messenger of so important Sorrow and Heaviness as I shall
be, when I shall Reporte that my good and gracious Queen and Mistress
is behedded in England?' This sayde, Tears prevented him of any
further speaking; whereupon the sayde Queen, powring forth hir dying
Tears, thus answered him," etc. etc.--"Account of the Execution by
Robert Wyngfield" (Clarendon Hist. Soc.)]
"Not so," rejoined Mary. "To-day, good Melville, thou seest the end
of Mary Stuart's miseries, that should rejoice thee. Thou knowest
that the world is but vanity and misery. Be the bearer of this news,
that I die a Catholic, firm in my religion, a faithful Scotchwoman
and a true Frenchwoman. God forgive those who have sought my death.
He who is the true Judge of the secret thoughts and actions of men,
knows what their intentions have been, and that I have always desired
to see England and Scotland happily united. Commend me to the King my
son,[135] and tell him that I have done nothing that could prejudice
his kingdom of Scotland or the dignity of sovereign princes, nor
anything which could derogate from our prerogatives and superiority.
Take him my blessing." At these words she made the sign of the cross,
as if to bless her son.
[Footnote 135: "But commend me to my son once again, and tell him
that I have not done anything that can be prejudicial to his state,
and say unto him from me that he trust not too much to practices and
policies, for practices and policies will have an end."--See Ashmole
MSS., Appendix, p. 258.]
"The hour has struck," interrupted one of the commissioners. The
Queen embraced Melville, who had remained all the time on his knees,
saying, "And thus adieu, good Melville, till we meet in the next
world;--and pray to God for me," she added as she moved on, making an
effort to restrain her tears.
The contemporary accounts of this scene all note that Mary addressed
Melville with the familiar "thou," "in which it is to be remarked,"
says Blackwood, "that the Queen never had used this term 'thou' to
any one, whoever he might be." At this moment William Fitzwilliam,
the Castellan of Fotheringay, advanced and respectfully kissed Mary's
hand. We have before referred to the gratitude felt by the Queen
for this gentleman's courtesy and sympathy,--a gratitude which she
evinced by making him a small present before her death.
The Queen, addressing Kent and Shrewsbury, earnestly begged them to
intercede with Queen Elizabeth on behalf of her secretary Curle,
"and for certayne monye to be paid to him," and also to permit her
servants to assist at her death, so that they might bear witness
that she persevered in her faith to her last breath.[136] To her
first request they returned no answer, but after conferring together
regarding the second, they asked Mary which of her people she wished
to be with her, limiting the number to five or six. She mentioned
Melville, Bourgoing, Pierre Gorion, Jacque Gervais, Didier; and of
her women Elizabeth Curle and Jane Kennedy.
[Footnote 136: "The true report of the death of that rare and
princely martyr Mary Stuardo," etc.--_Mary Queen of Scots_, vol. xxi.
No. 14. "Being come into the hall, she stayed, and with a smiling
countenance asked Shrewsbury why none of her own servants were
suffered to be present at her death. He answered that the Queen his
mistress had so commanded.
"And that all her poor servants might enjoy that quietly which by her
will and testament she had given them. And lastly, that they might
be well entreated and sent home safely and honestly into their own
country. And to this I do conjure you my lords to do."--See Tanner
MSS., Appendix, p. 250.]
To the men no objection was raised, but the lords absolutely refused
to allow the women to enter the hall, declaring that their cries and
lamentations would be an occasion of trouble and scandal, as no doubt
they would wish to dip their handkerchiefs in the Queen's blood.
"Alas! poor souls," replied the Queen, "they will do none of the
things you fear, my lords; I promise you that in their name. No, your
Queen, who is a maiden Queen, cannot have given this cruel order to
refuse to the women of another Queen the consolation of assisting
at her death. Assuredly you would not wish to refuse me such a just
request. My dear women only ask one boon--that of being present at my
last moments." As Mary uttered these words she was observed to weep,
the first tears she had shed since the reading of the warrant of
execution.
Kent and Shrewsbury still hesitated. "Do you then forget," exclaimed
the Queen, with noble indignation, "that I am cousin to your Queen,
that I am of the blood royal of Henry VII., that I am Queen-Dowager
of France, and anointed Queen of Scotland?"[137]
[Footnote 137: Account of Mary's execution in a letter to
Burleigh-Ellis, 2nd series, p. 258.]
Vanquished by this appeal, the commissioners permitted that Jane
Kennedy and Elizabeth Curle, the two women designated by Mary, should
accompany her.[138]
[Footnote 138: "The above named were sent for, who were, together
with the others, in prayer, and at their arrival thought she was
dead, but being descended into the hall, found that they were only
commencing to read her sentence.
"Who coming into the hall and seeing the place of execution prepared
and their sovereign mistress expecting death, they began to cry out
in most woful and pitiful sort. Wherewith she held up her hands,
willing them for her sake to forbear and be silent. 'For,' quoth she,
'I have passed my word to these lords that you shall be quiet and
not offend them.' And presently there appeared in them a wonderful
show of subjection and loyal obedience, as to their natural prince,
whom even at the instant of death they honoured with all reverence
and duty. For though their breasts were seen to rise and swell
as if their wounded hearts would burst in sunder, yet did they
(to their double grief) forbear outward plaints to accomplish her
pleasure."--Contemporary MSS.]
The procession now moved on and entered the hall; the sheriff and his
escort leading the way, followed by Paulet, Drury, Beale, and the
two earls. The Queen followed, attended by Bourgoing and her other
servants, Melville carrying her train.
The great hall of the castle was hung entirely with black. At the
upper end of the apartment, near the large Gothic fireplace, "in
which was a great fire,"[139] stood the scaffold, which was raised
about two feet from the ground, and measured about twelve feet
square. It was covered with black serge, as were the stool and
cushion prepared for the Queen, and surrounded on three sides by a
balustrade, made low enough to allow the spectators to see all that
passed. At the fourth side, towards the end of the hall, the scaffold
was approached by two steps. The block, made of oak and covered
also with black, was placed near the chimney-piece. By it stood the
executioner and his assistant, both in long black velvet gowns, with
white aprons, and both wearing black masks. The executioner bore a
large axe mounted with a short handle, "like those with which they
cut wood."[140] In front of the block chairs were placed for my Lords
Kent and Shrewsbury. Two other chairs, placed higher up the room,
outside the balustrade, awaited Paulet and Drury. Round the scaffold
was stationed a guard of halberdiers, the men of Huntingdon.[141]
Among the 300 spectators who alone were permitted to enter the hall
might be observed Lord Montague, his eldest son, and Robert Tyrell.
A large crowd surrounded the castle, kept in order by a troop of
horsemen which had arrived the preceding night.
[Footnote 139: Contemporary MSS., f. 175 b.]
[Footnote 140: Chantelauze, p. 578.]
[Footnote 141: These details regarding the scaffold are taken chiefly
from the valuable drawing of the execution found among Beale's
papers.--Yelverton MSS.]
The Queen had now reached the threshold of the hall.[142] When she
perceived the scaffold she elevated the crucifix which she carried
above her head, and undismayed by the terrible scene before her,
advanced with great dignity.[143] Arrived at the scaffold, Mary,
unable to ascend the steps without assistance, accepted Paulet's arm,
saying gently, "Thanks for your courtesy, Sir Amyas; this will be the
last trouble I shall give you, and the most agreeable service you
have ever rendered me." Mary seated herself on the stool covered with
black prepared for her with her usual grace and majesty, Shrewsbury
and Kent standing on each side of her, the sheriff in front. She
made the sign of the cross, then addressing Elizabeth's officers,
she begged them of their good pleasure to bring her chaplain to her,
in order that she might console herself in God, and receive from him
some admonitions with his last blessing; the which was absolutely
refused her. Beale now ascended the scaffold and read aloud the royal
commission for the execution.[144] The Queen appeared to be listening
attentively, but those near her observed, by the expression of her
countenance, that her thoughts had left the things of this world and
were occupied with those of heaven. At the conclusion of the sentence
the hall rang with a loud "God save the Queen." Mary, unmoved by this
demonstration, made the sign of the cross.[145] Shrewsbury, turning
to her, said, "Madame, you hear what we are commanded to do."
[Footnote 142: "From the moment of her arrival in the hall until
she received the blow of the axe, no change was perceptible in her
countenance, but, on the contrary, overcoming her suffering by her
natural fortitude, her speech was always assured, and her mode of
action was exceeding tranquil."--MSS. Report of Execution (Teulet,
iv. 153).]
[Footnote 143: In order probably to divert the attention of the
crowd, and perhaps as an insult to the Queen, the musicians placed in
the courtyard played as she entered the hall a mournful dirge, an air
commonly played at the execution of witches. The MSS. of this music
was discovered some years ago at Oxford, and is now published.]
[Footnote 144: "During the reading of which commission the Queen of
Scots was silent, listening unto it with as small regard as if it
had not concerned her at all, and with as cheerfull countenance as
if it had been a pardon from Her Majesty for her life, using as much
strangeness in word and deed as if she had never known any of the
assembly, or had been ignorant of the English language."--See Tanner
MSS., Appendix, p. 252.]
[Footnote 145: Conn says that at the conclusion of the reading the
Queen, looking at her crucifix, was heard to say, "Judica me, Deus,
et discerne causam meam."]
"Do your duty," Mary answered simply. She again made the sign of the
cross, and looking at the assembly "with a joyous countenance, her
beauty more apparent than ever, a bright colour in her face," she
made a speech, of which her servants recorded the sense at least, if
not the text.
"My lords," said Mary, "I was born a queen, a sovereign princess,
not subject to laws, a near relative of the Queen of England and her
legitimate heir. After having been long and wrongfully imprisoned
in this country, where I have endured many pains and evils, no one
having any right or power over me, I am now, through force, and
being in men's power, about to close my life. I thank my God that
He has permitted that in this hour I die for my religion, and that
He has given me this grace that before dying I have been brought
before a company who will be witness that I die Catholic. As to
the crime which they have fixed upon me--the death of the Queen--I
never suggested it, nor consented to it, nor to anything against
her person. I have always loved her, and the country also. I have
offered myself, under many good and most honourable conditions, to
bring to an end the troubles of this kingdom and my deliverance from
captivity, but I was neither heard nor believed. You, my lords, and
you, Beale, know this. At last my enemies have come to the end of
their designs to make me die; however, I forgive them with a good
heart, as I do all those who have done or attempted anything against
me; and each one, whoever he may be, who may have offended me, or
done me harm, as I beg all to be so good as to forgive me. After my
death it will be known and seen to what end those who are the authors
of my being sent from this world have desired and procured my death.
I accuse no one any more than I have done previously; my tongue shall
do harm to no one."[146]
[Footnote 146: Chantelauze, p. 411. This speech was communicated by
Bourgoing to the anonymous author of _La Mort de la Royne d'Escosse_,
Jebb, ii.]
The Dean of Peterborough, Dr. Fletcher, now advanced, and placing
himself in front of the Queen, made her a profound reverence, and
said that he had come to her by his mistress's command in order to
prepare her for death.
"Peace, Mr. Dean," replied Mary gently, "I have nothing to do with
you; I do not wish to hear you; you can be silent if you please, and
go from hence."[147] And as he began again to exhort her, Mary said
resolutely, "You gain nothing; I will not listen to you; be silent,
please," and turned her back upon him. Fletcher, however, continued
to insist, placing himself again before her and exhorting her to
repent "of her crimes," till Shrewsbury, shocked, bade him be silent
and begin to pray.
[Footnote 147: "Mr. Dean, Mr. Dean, trouble me not; I am settled and
persuaded in the Catholick Roman faith, and mind to spend my blood in
defence of it."--See Ashmole MSS., Appendix, p. 260.]
Kent, observing that Mary often made the sign of the cross with the
crucifix she held in her hand, rudely exclaimed, "Madame, what does
it avail you to hold in your hands this vain image of Christ if you
do not bear Him in your heart?"
"How is it possible," returned the Queen gently, "to have such an
image in one's hands without the heart being profoundly touched by
it? Nothing is more suitable for a Christian about to die than to
bear in his arms the true mark of his redemption."
Shrewsbury now proposed that as the Queen would not listen to the
Dean's exhortation, they should all pray for her in common. "I thank
you, my lords," said Mary, "but I cannot pray with you, because
we are not of the same religion. Pray if you wish, I will pray
also."[148] Fletcher now commenced to pray in English that God would
grant repentance to Mary; that He would bless Queen Elizabeth in
granting her a long life, victory over her enemies, and the triumph
of the Protestant religion. This prayer was repeated in chorus by the
assembly.
[Footnote 148: Brantôme.]
Meanwhile the Queen prayed aloud in Latin, repeating some of the
penitential Psalms. The "Miserere," "In te Domine-speravi," "Qui
habitat in adjutorio," etc.[149]
[Footnote 149: "She slided off her stool, and kneeling, said divers
Latin prayers."--See Tanner MSS., Appendix, p. 253.]
When the Dean had finished his prayer there was a deep silence. Mary
continued to pray aloud, but now in English, often striking her
breast with her crucifix and kissing it with great devotion.[150]
With hands clasped and eyes raised to heaven, she prayed thus: "Send
me your Holy Spirit, Lord, that at the hour of my death He may
enlighten me and enable me to understand the mystery of your Passion,
so that I may persevere in your faith till my last breath, and that
I may bear with patience the torment inflicted in my person on the
Catholic Church. Grant, Lord," continued Mary with great fervour,
"that my death may ensure the peace and union of all Christendom,
peace between Christian princes, the conversion of England to the
true faith, the perseverance of Catholics in their creed and their
constancy in martyrdom."
[Footnote 150: "Whenever she wished to express any vehement passion
of her soul in these prayers, every one wept and wailed, seeing her
strike her breast with her crucifix of ivory, and this she did very
frequently."--Contemporary MSS., Report of Execution.]
Mary also prayed for the Pope and pastors of the Church, and for all
her enemies, "that He would pardon them as she did;"[151] for Queen
Elizabeth, "that it would please Him to give her His blessing, so
that she might worship Him in the truth;"[152] and for her son's
conversion to the Catholic faith. She declared that she hoped to be
saved in, and by, the blood of Christ, at the foot of whose crucifix
she would shed her blood,[153] and lovingly confided herself to the
protection of the blessed Virgin and all the saints, invoking in
particular St. Peter, and St. Andrew, the patron of Scotland. When
her prayer was finished the Queen once more kissed the crucifix, and
looking upon it with an expression of love and immense confidence,
she exclaimed, "As Thy arms, my God, were extended on a cross, so
receive me into the arms of Thy mercy. Extend to me Thy mercy, and
pardon me all my sins." "Then turning herself towards the side on
which her attendants were, she asked them in like manner to pray her
Saviour to condescend to receive her, and forthwith she embraced
them with great fortitude ... kissing her cross without ceasing."
The Queen now rose and reseated herself.[154] Kent and Shrewsbury
approached, and asked her if she had no secret matter to reveal to
them, but she replied that she had said enough, and was not disposed
to say more. Then seeing that the time had come, without being asked,
she rose and prepared herself calmly and cheerfully for death.[155]
The executioner, his face hidden by his black mask, advanced to
remove her dress, but the Queen gently moved him aside with her hand,
saying smilingly, "Let me do this; I understand this business better
than you; I never had such a groom of the chamber."[156] She took out
the pins of her head-dress, and calling Jane Kennedy and Elizabeth
Curle, who were praying at the foot of the scaffold, she began, with
their assistance, to disrobe, observing that she was not accustomed
to do so before so many. The poor women, unable to restrain their
emotion, wept bitterly, and uttered heartrending cries, "and crossed
themselves, praying in Latin;" but their mistress placed her finger
on their mouths and chid them tenderly. "Do not weep any more," said
she. "I am very happy to go from this world; you should rejoice to
see me die for such a good quarrel; are you not ashamed to cry? If
you weep any more I will send you away, as I promised for you."[157]
The Queen then took from her neck the gold cross, wishing to give
it to Jane Kennedy. "My friend," she said to the executioner, "you
cannot make use of this, leave it to this lady; she will give you
more than its value in money." But Bull seized it roughly, saying,
"It is my right," and put it into his shoe.[158] The Queen had now
laid aside her mantle and veil, her collar and _pourpoint_, and
remained in her brown velvet skirt and black satin bodice with long
sleeves.[159] "Then she, with a smiling countenance, turning to her
men-servants as Melville and the rest, standing upon the bench near
the scaffold, crossing them with her hand, bade them farewell, and
bade them pray for her until the last hour. Then embracing her women,
she blessed them, making the sign of the cross on their foreheads."
[Footnote 151: Teulet, iv. 153.]
[Footnote 152: "She prayed that the Queen's Majesty might long
reign peaceably, might prosper and serve God, ... and that the
God of heaven would of His goodness avert His plagues from this
silly island; ... that He would receive her soul into His heavenly
hand."--Contemporary MSS., f. 175 b.]
[Footnote 153: See Tanner MSS., Appendix, 253.]
[Footnote 154: "Her meditations ended, she arose and kissed her two
gentlewomen, and bowed her body towards her men, and charged them to
commend her to her sweet son, to whom she sent her blessing, with
promise to pray for him in heaven, and lastly to salute her friends
wheresoever."--Contemporary MSS.]
[Footnote 155: "She laying her crucifix upon the stool, one of the
executioners took from her neck the Agnus Dei, which she, laying
hands of it, gave it to one of her women, and told the executioners
that they should be answered in money for it."--See Tanner MSS.,
Appendix, p. 254.]
[Footnote 156: "Then came one Bulle, the hangman of
London."--Contemporary MSS.]
[Footnote 157: Ashmole MSS. 830, f. 13: "Ne cry point pour moi; ja
promys pour vous."]
[Footnote 158: Chantelauze, p. 416.]
[Footnote 159: "And with joy rather than with sorrow helped to make
unready herself, putting on a pair of sleeves with her own hands
which they had pulled off, and that with some haste, as if she had
longed to be gone."--See Ashmole MSS., Appendix, p. 261.]
"Adieu for the last time," she said in French. "Adieu, au revoir;"
and when Jane Kennedy had bandaged her eyes, she desired them to go
down from the scaffold. The executioners fell on their knees at the
Queen's feet, begging her, as was the custom, to forgive them her
death. "I forgive you with all my heart," she replied, "for in this
hour I hope you will bring to an end all my troubles." The Queen, who
was seated on her stool, unbound, and still holding her crucifix,
raised her head and stretched out her neck, thinking she was to be
beheaded with a sword, according to the privilege granted in France
to royal persons.[160] "My God," she said fervently, "I have hoped in
Thee; I give back my soul into Thy hands." The executioners, seeing
her mistake, assisted her to rise and conducted her to the block,
where they made her kneel down, and as she knelt upright, still
thinking she was to be beheaded with the sword, they made her lie
flat with her head on the low block, only a few inches high.[161]
As the Queen repeated the words "In te Domine-speravi," Lord
Shrewsbury raised his wand to give the fatal signal.
[Footnote 160: "The executioners had prepared cords to bind her, but
she put them aside."--_Vera relazione_, Milan, 1587.]
[Footnote 161: "Then being ready to the block ... Mr. Doctor willed
her to die in the true faith of Christ. Quoth she, 'I believe firmly
to be saved by the Passion and Blood of Jesus Christ, and therein
also I believe according to the faith of the ancient Catholic Church
of Rome, and therefor I shed my blood.'"--Contemporary MSS.; see also
_Marie Stuart_, by Kervyn de Lettenhove, ii. 377.]
[Illustration: _Walker & Boutall, Ph. Sc._
_Execution of Mary Queen of Scots,
from the background of the Blairs Portrait. (enlarged.)_]
The executioner lifted the axe, but stopped at a sign from his
assistant, who had perceived that the Queen, to enable herself to
breathe, had placed her hands under her chin. The assistant moved
them and held them behind her back. Mary continued to pray aloud,
and in the deep silence that reigned in the hall she could be heard
repeating the verse, "In manus tuas Domine commendo." These were
her last words. The executioner, affected perhaps by sympathy and
by the general emotion visible among the bystanders, struck with an
ill-assured aim, and only wounded the Queen severely, but she neither
moved nor made a sound.[162] At the third blow the soul of Mary
Stuart passed to its eternal reward.
[Footnote 162: "After the which stroke she spoke these words, 'Lord
Jesus, receive my soul.'"--Contemporary MSS.]
And here we would fain end our narrative, letting our thoughts
dwell only on the sorrow that filled the hearts of the Queen's
desolate servants and the sympathy evinced by others present at her
execution,[163] for, as a contemporary writer tells us, "it was
remarked that the Earl of Shrewsbury and many others were bedewed
with tears;" but other and cruel incidents claim our attention.
[Footnote 163: "La plus part la tenoient innocente et, si l'execution
eust été publique, il y eust eu rumeur bien grande, et elle eust été
secourue et délivrée."--_Les derniers propos de la Royne d'Escosse._]
As soon as the Queen was dead the executioner "forthwith took
the head, and raising it and showing it to the people, he said,
according to custom, 'God save the Queen.'... To these words the
people answered, 'Amen.' 'Yes,' said the Earl of Kent, with a loud
voice and with great forwardness, 'Amen, Amen. May it please God
that all the Queen's enemies be brought into the like condition.'
The Dean of Peterbro spoke to the same effect."[164] "The gates of
the castle were kept closed, so that no one could pass out until a
messenger had been despatched first to the court (and this was about
one o'clock of the same day) with a letter and the certificate of the
execution."[165] This messenger was Henry Talbot, third son of Lord
Shrewsbury, from whose report we have already quoted.
[Footnote 164: "And after, the body lying there headless, bleeding,
my Lord Kent, standing by it, said with a loud voice, 'This be
the end and reward of all that hate the Gospel and Her Majesty's
Government.'"--See Ashmole MSS., Appendix, p. 263.]
[Footnote 165: Teulet MSS.; Ashmole MSS., _ibid._]
When Kent and Shrewsbury had left the scaffold, "every man being
commanded out of the hall except the sheriff and his men, she was
carried by them up into a great chamber, lying ready for the surgeons
to embalm her;"[166] but before this was done the executioner placed
the head on a dish and showed it from the window to the crowd
assembled in the courtyard. This he did three times.[167] About four
o'clock in the afternoon the body was "stripped, embalmed, and placed
in a coffin, after having been wrapped in a waxed winding sheet."
[Footnote 166: "And embalmed and sered and rested to the
burial."--Contemporary MSS., f. 175 b.]
[Footnote 167: "It is said that one of Mary's attendants, Amyas
Cawood, painted the head of the dead Queen, and the picture now at
Abbotsford, dated 8th Feb. 1588, and signed by Cawood, confirms this
tradition."]
Mary had earnestly charged her women to care for her body as they
had done for her soul, but they were absolutely denied this last
favour. "The tragedy ended," says Blackwood, "these poor ladies,
careful of their mistress's honour, addressed themselves to Paulet,
and begged that the executioner should not touch the body of Her
Majesty, and that they might be allowed to undress it after every
one had left," but he sent them away _fort lourdement_, telling them
to leave the hall. The room belonging to the Queen's ladies was next
the great chamber where the body was placed. They could see the
remains of their beloved mistress by looking through the keyhole, and
consoled themselves by kneeling and praying by the door; but Paulet,
discovering this, had the keyhole stopped up.[168] The story of the
Queen's faithful little dog has been often told, but it is impossible
not to refer to the touching incident as recorded by a contemporary.
"The Queen of Scotland," says he, "had a little dog with her upon
the scaffold, who was sitting there during the whole time, keeping
very quiet and never stirring from her side, but as soon as the head
was stricken off and placed upon the seat, he began to bestir himself
and cry out; afterwards he took up a position between the body and
the head, which he kept until some one came and removed him, and this
had to be done by violence."[169] The poor animal was washed, and
everything else stained by the Queen's blood was either washed or
burnt. "The Paternosters were tossed into the fire which was in the
hall," and the executioners were sent away, "not having any one thing
that belonged unto her."[170]
[Footnote 168: Jebb, ii. pp. 306, 489, 640.]
[Footnote 169: Teulet MSS.]
[Footnote 170: _Ibid._; Tanner MSS., Appendix, p. 256.]
Thus ends one of the great tragedies of history in which the
vanquished becomes truly the victor. To use the words of an old
Scottish writer, "The Queen of England may do what she will, the tomb
of our Queen is more durable than she imagines, as her effigy and
that of her virtues are better engraven in our hearts than they could
be in marble."[171]
[Footnote 171: Funeral oration by R.P., 1587.]