THE QUEEN OF SCOTS
The councilor's words that Elizabeth was more queen than woman were
shown to be true whenever matters came to the proof. She gave her
favorite Leicester everything that he asked save her own royal hand,
but on occasion she could be as severe with Leicester as if he had been
her enemy.
It was the custom for the general of an English army to serve without
salary and to contribute generously to his own expenses and those of
his troops. The general, then, must be a rich man, and in order to
have the most perfect control over his soldiers he must be a man who
was known to be in the confidence of the queen. No one was better
qualified in these important respects to lead an army than Leicester,
and he was put at the head of the forces that were sent to the aid
of the Dutch states then revolting against Philip. Their leader had
been assassinated, and they asked to be annexed to England. Elizabeth
saw clearly that to grant their request would bring on war with Spain
at once, and she refused. When Leicester was appointed commander, she
gave him the most positive orders to accept no such position for her as
ruler of the Low Countries. News soon came that Leicester had been made
governor general.
"Your Majesty," said her informer, "it is said that Lord Leicester is
shown great honor in the Low Countries."
"That is well," said the queen. "The commander of an army should ever
be treated with deference."
"The Dutch states prove by the respect given to Lord Leicester what
honor they would show to your Majesty if you were with them."
[Illustration: Mary Stuart receiving her death sentence.--_From
painting by Carl Piloty_.]
"In what fashion do they show their respect?" asked the queen so gently
that Leicester's enemy took courage and ventured to go a step further.
"He is called governor-general, and they say that men kneel before him
to kiss his hand, and that he has already a court as brilliant as that
of England."
"Is that true?" asked Elizabeth with a feigned indifference. "Do you
know more of this court of his?"
"Little now, but there will be more and greater news, for it is said
that Lady Leicester is about to go to Holland and that with her will go
such a train of ladies and gentlemen and such rich coaches, litters,
and sidesaddles, that your Majesty has none such in England."
Then Elizabeth's wrath broke forth. "I will let the upstart know," said
she, "how easily the hand that has exalted him can beat him down." She
wrote an angry letter to her absent favorite which said:--
"I have raised you from the dust and shown you favor above all others,
and I should never have imagined you would dare to break my express
commandment to accept any such title."
It was a hard position for Burleigh, since he himself and the rest
of the council had wished Leicester to accept the title and so force
the queen to become sovereign of the Dutch states, whether she would
or not. The queen's rage was visited upon even her old friend and
adviser, and to Burleigh himself she declared, "You are nothing but a
presumptuous fellow."
The great test of Elizabeth's character was soon to come, for the year
1587 was at hand. Would she be woman or queen? A stern question must
be decided. Jesting with Raleigh, exasperating King Philip, storming
at Leicester and then forgiving him, amusing herself with Leicester's
handsome stepson, the Earl of Essex, bedecking herself in gorgeous
attire that flashed with jewels and gold, dreaming over new routes to
India and new English nations in Virginia--all these had to be put away
for the time. What should be the fate of the Queen of Scots could no
longer be left undecided.
Mary had been a captive in England for nearly eighteen years, and those
years had been almost as full of peril to Elizabeth as to her prisoner.
If Mary was dead, the Catholics who were plotting against Elizabeth
would have no object in trying to take her life, for Mary's son James
was the next heir to the throne, and he was as strong a Protestant as
Elizabeth. On the other hand, if Elizabeth were no longer alive, Mary
would become queen of England, and Protestants would be obliged to be
loyal to her as their lawful sovereign. They would be the more content
knowing that her Protestant son would succeed her. Thus, if either
Mary or Elizabeth were dead, England would be free from the plots and
conspiracies that had been revealed, one after another, during the
captivity of Mary.
At the discovery of each of these plots, Mary's imprisonment became
more rigorous. It was claimed that she was at the bottom of every
conspiracy.
"The Queen of Scots and her friends will yet have my life," said
Elizabeth, and she added jestingly to her councilors, "I'll come back
after I am dead and see her make your heads fly."
Walsingham, one of Elizabeth's ministers, had been most watchful of
these plots. His spies were ever on the lookout, and in the summer of
1586 he found sure proof of a conspiracy to take the life of the queen.
Was Mary connected with this plot? Sworn testimony declared that she
was. Her papers were seized, and among them were found letters from
many leading nobles of England expressing sympathy in her troubles.
Mary was at once removed to Fotheringay Castle, where she was much
more closely guarded than ever before. Thirty-six commissioners were
appointed to try her on the charge of plotting against the life of the
English queen. She was cited to appear before them.
"That will I never do," she declared. "I have a right to be tried by
my peers. I am a queen, and only sovereigns are my peers, but I will
defend myself before the queen of England and her council or even
before the English Parliament."
Then a letter was given her from Elizabeth which read;--
"You have attempted to take my life and to bring my kingdom to
destruction by bloodshed. I have never proceeded so harshly against
you, but have protected and maintained you like myself. It is my will
that you answer the nobles and peers of the kingdom as if I were myself
present. Act plainly, without reserve, and you will sooner be able to
obtain favor from me."
"Is it wise to make these refusals?" asked one of her friends. "You are
in the power of the English queen, is it not better to rouse her no
further by hopeless demands?"
"True, it is hopeless," answered Mary, "it is all hopeless. I am a
sovereign kept here unlawfully as a prisoner by the royal cousin to
whom I fled for help in my trouble. Her laws have not protected me, why
then must I be sentenced under them?"
"The court is convened," said the commissioners, "and if you refuse
to appear, you will be at once declared guilty without a trial. Queen
Elizabeth has said many times that nothing would please her so much as
to have proof of your innocence. Is it wise to refuse to give proof?"
Finally Mary yielded. Her trial would not be legal to-day, for she was
allowed no counsel, she was not even permitted to see her own papers
or to hear and question those persons who testified against her, but
it was according to the laws of the time, and she was tried with no
greater severity than was shown to all prisoners accused of treason.
"Your letters prove that you have allowed your correspondents to
address you as queen of England," declared the crown lawyers, "that you
have tried to induce King Philip to invade our country, and that you
have been knowing to the late plot to assassinate the lawful queen of
the realm."
"With the plot against the life of my cousin Elizabeth I had nothing
to do," declared Mary. "That I have sought to gain my freedom by the
aid of my friends I do not deny. My lords, I am unjustly and cruelly
deprived of my liberty. Do you blame me for trying by every means in my
power to recover it? Could anyone do otherwise?"
So the charges and the denials went on, and when the trial was over,
the judges left Fotheringay Castle. Again they met, and everyone voted
that Mary was guilty of high treason in plotting against the life of
the English queen. She was sentenced to death. This was the report made
to Parliament, and that body solemnly agreed to the verdict. It was
proclaimed in London, and the whole city gave itself up to rejoicing.
Bells were rung, bonfires blazed in every square, shouts of joy and
psalms of thanksgiving resounded throughout the town.
"Think you that the queen will ever carry out the sentence?" asked one
Londoner of another.
"It is many years," was the reply, "that the hand of Elizabeth alone
has saved the life of the Scotch queen. Parliament decreed her death
fifteen years ago and they say that Elizabeth was the angriest woman in
England. 'Would you have me put to death the bird that, to escape the
hawk, has fled to me for protection? I'll never sign such a bill,' and
she never did."
"The constant dropping of water will wear away stone," said the first,
"and yet I hear that she has sent a message to Parliament commanding
them to find some other way."
"Until the axe falls, nothing will persuade me that the child of Henry
VIII. will consent to see the blood of one of her own proud race flow
at the hand of the executioner," declared the second, "and what is
more, she will not do a deed that will arouse the scorn and hatred of
Europe. Mary's head is safe."
"Not so fast, my friend. Who are the supporters of Mary? Who is the
'Europe' whose scorn will check the pen of Elizabeth when she is about
to sign the death warrant?"
"Philip, the Pope, the king of France, and Mary's own son James. They
are a powerful company."
"Are they? Philip is really almost at war with us now, but it is not in
Mary's interest. The Pope cares nothing about putting a Catholic woman
of forty-four on the throne when in a few years she will be succeeded
by a Protestant son. The king of France can do nothing for her but
plead, for if he strikes one blow at England, it is a blow in favor of
Spain."
"Her own son----"
"Has made a treaty with Elizabeth. He will do anything to make sure of
the English throne, and indeed, can he be blamed for lack of affection
when he knows that his mother planned to leave her claim not to him but
to Philip?"
Elizabeth was most unwilling that Mary should be put to death. Her
ministers were eager for the execution, for it was their business
to secure the peace of England and the welfare of their queen. They
believed that only Mary's death would bring this about. Then, too, as
Elizabeth had said jestingly, if Mary were once on the throne, she
would "make their heads fly." Surely they had a right to care for their
own safety, they reasoned. Elizabeth could not bear the thought that a
princess of the Tudor blood should die on the scaffold. She was always
careless of her personal danger, and she knew that the death of Mary
would be ascribed to her own fear or jealousy. It is no wonder that she
hesitated.
"What shall we do," queried the ministers. "Elizabeth must be induced
to sign the death warrant, of course, but who will order it carried
out?"
"The queen will never do such a thing," said one.
"We must do it ourselves," said another. "There are ten of us, and ten
cannot well be made to suffer for carrying out a written order of the
queen's."
For many weeks Elizabeth hesitated. She often sat buried in deep
thought. "Shall I bear with her or smite her?" the ladies of the
bedchamber heard her say to herself. At last she bade the secretary
Davison bring her the warrant.
"What have you in your hand?" she asked as he entered the room.
"Sundry papers that await your Majesty's signature," answered Davison.
Elizabeth took up her pen and signed the warrant. Then she pushed it
away from her and it fell upon the floor.
"Are you not heartily sorry to see this done?" she asked.
"I should be far from rejoicing in any one's calamity," replied
Davison, "but the life of the Queen of Scots is so great a threat to
the life of your Majesty that not to sign the paper would be a wrong to
your whole realm as much as to yourself."
"I have done all that either law or reason could require of me," said
the queen, "and now let me hear nothing further."
Davison reported the scene to the council.
"She means the deed to be done," said one, "but she has given no orders
to carry out the warrant."
"That is her way of dealing with her sea-captains," said another. "Does
she not provide them with ships and guns and soldiers, and does she not
most willingly take a share of Spanish gold? But if a commander gets
into trouble with Spain, she will say, 'Did I not give orders to do no
harm to my good friend Philip?'"
"Then must all ten of us give the final order," said another. This was
done. The warrant and the letter commanding the execution were sent.
About a week after the signing of the warrant, bonfires blazed and
bells rang.
"The bells ring as merrily as if there were some good news," said the
queen. "Why is it?"
"It is because of the death of the Queen of Scots," was the answer.
Elizabeth said not a word. A day or two later she was told that Mary
had been executed at Fotheringay Castle. She turned pale, she burst
into tears, she stormed at her councilors. "Never shall your crime be
pardoned," she raged. "You well knew that I did not mean my kinswoman
to be put to death. You have dared to usurp my authority, and you are
worse traitors than my poor cousin. As for you, Burleigh, do you never
dare show yourself in my presence again. I have made you and I can
unmake you. That fellow Davison knew that I did not mean the warrant to
be carried out. Take him to the Tower."
"He is very ill, your Majesty," said one.
"Then take his illness with him, for into the Tower he goes."
"Your Majesty," pleaded the councilors, "if your secretary Davison is
imprisoned, the lords of your council will be regarded as plotters and
murderers."
"What is that to me?" cried Elizabeth. "They who murder must expect to
be called murderers."
Davison was imprisoned for some time and was fined so heavily that he
was reduced to poverty. Elizabeth sent a copy of his sentence to King
James and also a letter telling him that the execution of his mother
was a "miserable accident." James was easily comforted. He had been
taught to look upon her as a shame and disgrace to himself. If she had
not been the murderer of his father, she had, at least, married the
murderer, and within three months after the commission of the crime. He
was lawful heir to the throne of England, but he knew that she had done
all that lay in her power to deprive him of his birthright. He wrote an
earnest letter to Elizabeth in the attempt to save his mother's life,
but it was soon followed by a sort of apology and an intimation that
all would be well if she would formally recognize him as her successor.
It is probable that there will always be two opinions in regard to the
justice of Mary's execution.
"She fled to England for refuge," says one, "and should have been set
free."
"To set her free would have been to deliver her up to the foes who
would have taken her life," says the other, "or else to the friends who
would have made war against England."
"A prisoner cannot be blamed for seeking liberty."
"But one may be justly punished for plotting treason."
"Mary was not a subject of the queen of England."
"He who commits treason is punished whether he is a subject or not."
"The testimony against her was false."
"It was sworn to by solemn oath. There was no other means of
discovering the truth."
As to Elizabeth's real share in the execution of Mary there is quite as
much difference of opinion.
"Because of her fear and jealousy she put to death the cousin to whom
she had given every reason to expect protection," say the partisans of
Mary.
"It shows little of either fear or jealousy to let her live for fifteen
years," retort the supporters of Elizabeth.
"At least she signed the warrant with her own hand."
"Even a Tudor queen was not free to follow her own will. The English
council had urged the deed for many years."
"Secretary Davison declared that she wished the warrant carried out."
"Davison told four different stories, and no one of them agreed with
Elizabeth's version of the scene. Who shall tell where truth lies?"
"The warrant would have been worthless without her name."
"Walsingham's private secretary confessed many years afterwards that he
forged the name at his master's command."
[Illustration: Last moment of Mary, Queen of Scots.--_From painting by
an unknown artist._]
"Then why did she not deny the signature?"
"To whom? To James she did deny it as far as she dared. She wrote him
that the execution was a 'miserable accident.' To her council she made
no denial because the forger was the tool of the council, and had
but carried out their will. Elizabeth could storm at her councilors,
but, Tudor as she was, she had not the power to oppose their united
determination." So the discussion has gone on for three hundred years.
The surest way for a wrongdoer to have his crimes forgotten and
forgiven is to meet with dignity and resignation the death that his
deeds have made his lawful punishment. Whether Mary deserved this
penalty or not, her calmness on the scaffold and her gentle submission
to the death from which there was no escape have won friends and
admirers for her even among the sternest critics of her life and her
acts.
When the time was come for her execution, she went quietly to the hall
of Fotheringay Castle, supported by two attendants, while a third
bore her train. With a calm and cheerful face she stepped upon the
low platform where lay the block. Platform, railing, block, and a low
stool were heavily draped with black. She seated herself on the stool.
On her right sat the two nobles to whom the charge of her execution
had been committed, on her left stood the sheriff, and in front of her
the two executioners, while around the railing stood many knights and
other gentlemen who had come to see her die. Her robes belonged to the
executioners, and when they began to remove her gown, as the custom
was, she smiled and said she had never before been disrobed by such
grooms. She had begged that some of her women might be with her to
the last, and when they could no longer control themselves but began
to weep and lament, she kissed them and said gently, "Do not weep,
my friends, I have promised that you will not. Rejoice, for you will
soon see an end of all your mistress's troubles." She repeated a Latin
prayer, and then an English prayer for the church, for her son James,
and for Queen Elizabeth, "that she might prosper and serve God aright."
Her women pinned a linen cloth over her face. She knelt down upon the
cushion and laid her head upon the block. "Into thy hands, O Lord,
I commend my spirit," she cried, and so died Mary Stuart, Queen of
Scotland and heir to the throne of England.