n holding Mary alive, she
held 'the wolf who would devour her.' The Bishop of London had, more
lately, given the Queen's favourite minister the advice in writing,
'forthwith to cut off the Scottish Queen's head.' The question now was,
what to do with her? The Earl of Leicester wrote a little note home from
Holland, recommending that she should be quietly poisoned; that noble
favourite having accustomed his mind, it is possible, to remedies of that
nature. His black advice, however, was disregarded, and she was brought
to trial at Fotheringay Castle in Northamptonshire, before a tribunal of
forty, composed of both religions. There, and in the Star Chamber at
Westminster, the trial lasted a fortnight. She defended herself with
great ability, but could only deny the confessions that had been made by
Babington and others; could only call her own letters, produced against
her by her own secretaries, forgeries; and, in short, could only deny
everything. She was found guilty, and declared to have incurred the
penalty of death. The Parliament met, approved the sentence, and prayed
the Queen to have it executed. The Queen replied that she requested them
to consider whether no means could be found of saving Mary's life without
endangering her own. The Parliament rejoined, No; and the citizens
illuminated their houses and lighted bonfires, in token of their joy that
all these plots and troubles were to be ended by the death of the Queen
of Scots.

{Mary Queen of Scots Reading the death warrant: p240.jpg}

She, feeling sure that her time was now come, wrote a letter to the Queen
of England, making three entreaties; first, that she might be buried in
France; secondly, that she might not be executed in secret, but before
her servants and some others; thirdly, that after her death, her servants
should not be molested, but should be suffered to go home with the
legacies she left them. It was an affecting letter, and Elizabeth shed
tears over it, but sent no answer. Then came a special ambassador from
France, and another from Scotland, to intercede for Mary's life; and then
the nation began to clamour, more and more, for her death.

What the real feelings or intentions of Elizabeth were, can never be
known now; but I strongly suspect her of only wishing one thing more than
Mary's death, and that was to keep free of the blame of it. On the first
of February, one thousand five hundred and eighty-seven, Lord Burleigh
having