to death; that she might be buried in France, as the Scottish sepulchres had been profaned; and that her servants might be allowed to go free, and enjoy her legacies.

Next, James of Scotland and Henry III. of France interceded for Mary's life; but the Scottish ambassador is said to have abused his trust, and urged Mary's execution; the French ambassador's representations were not attended to, as his master's sincerity was doubted. The queen gave ambiguous answers. At length, February 1, 1587, she signed the warrant for execution, and gave it into the care of William Davison, the secretary, who, by direction of the council, despatched it to Fotheringhay.

Elizabeth either felt or affected extreme reluctance to take the life of Mary; but her courtiers (according to Camden) argued that 'the life of one Scottish and titular queen ought not to weigh down the safety of all England;' and 'some preachers more tartly than was fit, and some of the vulgar sort more saucily than became them, either out of hope or fear,' held the same language; and there can be no doubt that her council conceived they were carrying her wishes into effect by acting on the warrant. Yet they had the meanness and cruelty to sacrifice their tool, Davison, who was tried in the Star Chamber, sentenced to a fine of £10,000, and imprisoned for years.1

Sir William Fitzwilliam, the constable of Fotheringhay Castle at this time, conducted himself towards the Queen

1 Annals of England, vol. ii. p. 303.

of Scots with such regard and humanity, that, a short time before her execution, she told him she was unable to make him a proper return; but if he would accept the picture of her son, then King James VI. of Scotland, and which was hanging at her bed's-head, he should have it. The present was accepted, and is still in the collection of the Fitzwilliam family. The queen also presented to the governor her watch, which passed into the possession of so many different persons, that ultimately, the one who had it was scarcely known; until towards the end of the last century, Lady Godolphin was the owner of it, and she restored it to the family that originally possessed it, for she stood. sponsor to the son and heir of a Lord Fitzwilliam, and made the infant a gift of the watch. Another of the Queen of Scots' watches, of French workmanship, with an elegant little jewel called a solitaire, were given or bequeathed to a French lady by Mary the night before her execution.

On February 7, the Earls of Kent and Shrewsbury waited on Mary, and warned her for death. The hall of the castle had been fitted up with a scaffold, two feet high and twelve feet broad, with rails about, hanged and covered with black, with a low stool, a fair long cushion, and a block covered also with black. Mary having received

the said sentence that she was to die

about eight o'clock

on the morning of the morrow,' devoted her few last hours to consoling her servants, and making her will: it was near two o'clock in the morning when she had finished

writing.

Feeling somewhat fatigued, she went to bed. Her women continued praying; and during this last repose of her body, though her eyes were closed, it was evident, from the slight motion of her lips, and a sort of rapture spread over her countenance, that she was addressing herself to Him on whom alone her hopes now rested. At daybreak she arose, saying that she had only two hours to live. She picked out one of her handkerchiefs, with a fringe of gold, as a bandage for her eyes on the scaffold, and dressed herself magnificently. She next read to her servants her will, which she then signed; and afterwards gave them letters, papers, and presents, of which they were to be the bearers, to the princes of her family, and her friends on the Continent. She had already distributed to them, on the previous evening, her rings, jewels, furniture, and dresses; and she now gave them the purses which she had prepared for them, and in which were, in small sums, five thousand crowns. With finished grace, and with affecting kindness, she mingled her consolations with her gifts, and strengthened her servants for the affliction into. which her death would soon throw them. She now retired to her oratory, and was for some time engaged in reading prayers for the dead. A loud knocking at the door interrupted these last orisons. She bade the intruders wait a few minutes. Shortly afterwards, eight o'clock having struck,

1 Pasquier says: 'The night before her execution, Mary, knowing her body must be stripped for her shroud, would have her feet washed, because she used ointment to one of them which was sore.'

there was a renewed knocking at the door, which this time was opened. The sheriff entered, bearing a white wand, advanced close to Mary, who had not yet moved her head, and said, Madam, the lords await me, and have sent me to you.' 'Yes,' replied Mary, rising from her knees, 'let us go.' Just as she was moving away, Bourgoin, her physician, handed to her the ivory crucifix which stood on the altar; she kissed it, and ordered it to be carried before her. Not being able to support herself alone, on account of the weakness of her limbs, she walked, leaning on two of her own servants, to the extremity of her apartments. There they, with peculiar delicacy, which she felt and approved, desired not to lead her themselves to execution, but entrusted her to the support of two of Paulet's servants, and followed her in tears.

On reaching the staircase, where the Earls of Shrewsbury and Kent awaited her, and by which she had to descend into the lower hall, where the scaffold was raised, the attendants were refused the consolation of accompanying her farther. They threw themselves at her feet, kissed her hands, and clung to her dress: when they were removed, Mary resumed her course-the crucifix in one hand, and a prayer-book in the other-evincing the dignity of a queen with the calm composure of a devout Christian. At the foot of the staircase she was allowed to stop and take farewell of the master of her household, Sir Andrew Melville, whom her keepers had not suffered to come into her presence for some weeks before. Melville kissed her hand,

and in tears declared this was the heaviest hour of his life. 'No so to me,' said Mary. 'I now feel, my good Melville, that all this world is vanity.' 'When you speak of me hereafter, say that I died firm in my faith, willing to forgive my enemies, conscious that I never disgraced my native country, and rejoicing in the thought that I had always been true to France, the land of my happiest years. Tell my son'—and here she burst into a flood of tears-'Tell my son I thought of him in my last moments, and that I said I never yielded, by word or deed, to aught that might tend to his prejudice tell him to remember his unfortunate parent; and may he be a thousand times more happy and prosperous than she ever was.' The sentence was then read to her; and, says Camden, she heard it attentively, yet as if her thoughts were taken up with something else.' She then made a short speech, in which she repeated the words so frequently in her mouth, 'I am queen born, not subject to the laws;' and declared that she had never sought the life of her cousin Elizabeth. She then began to pray. Fletcher, Dean of Peterborough, offered his services, but she declined. them, and prayed in Latin with her servants (from the offices of the blessed Virgin); she also prayed in English for the church, for her son, and for Queen Elizabeth, and forgave the executioner; then, having kissed her women, and signed the men with the sign of the cross, she prepared for death, and had sufficient command of herself to comfort her weeping attendants. Having covered her face with a linen handkerchief, and laying herself down on the