Elizabeth’s death.  It had been necessary, however, to ascertain in some way whether her protestations were sincere.  A secret watch had been kept over her correspondence, and Babington’s letters and her own answers had fallen into Walsingham’s hands.  There it all was in her own cipher, the key to which had been betrayed by the carelessness of a confederate.  The six gentlemen who were to have rewarded Elizabeth’s confidence by killing her were easily recognised.  They were seized, with Babington and Ballard, when they imagined themselves on the eve of their triumph.  Babington flinched and confessed, and they were all hanged.  Mary Stuart herself had outworn compassion.  Twice already on the discovery of her earlier plots the House of Commons had petitioned for her execution.  For this last piece of treachery she was tried at Fotheringay before a commission of Peers and Privy Councillors.  She denied her letters, but her complicity was proved beyond a doubt.  Parliament was called, and a third time insisted that the long drama should now be ended and loyal England be allowed to breathe in peace.  Elizabeth signed the warrant.  France, Spain, any other power in the world would have long since made an end of a competitor so desperate and so incurable.  Torn by many feelings—­natural pity, dread of the world’s opinion—­Elizabeth paused before ordering the warrant to be executed.  If nothing had been at stake but her own life, she would have left the lady to weave fresh plots and at last, perhaps, to succeed.  If the nation’s safety required an end to be made with her, she felt it hard that the duty should be thrown on herself.  Where were all those eager champions who had signed the Association Bond, who had talked so loudly?  Could none of them be found to recollect their oaths and take the law into their own hands?

Her Council, Burghley, and the rest, knowing her disposition and feeling that it was life or death to English liberty, took the responsibility on themselves.  They sent the warrant down to Fotheringay at their own risk, leaving their mistress to deny, if she pleased, that she had meant it to be executed; and the wild career of Mary Stuart ended on the scaffold.

They knew what they were immediately doing.  They knew that if treason had a meaning Mary Stuart had brought her fate upon herself.  They did not, perhaps, realise the full effects that were to follow, or that with Mary Stuart had vanished the last serious danger of a Catholic insurrection in England; or perhaps they did realise it, and this was what decided them to act.

I cannot dwell on this here.  As long as there was a Catholic princess of English blood to succeed to the throne, the allegiance of the Catholics to Elizabeth had been easily shaken.  If she was spared now, every one of them would look on her as their future sovereign.  To overthrow Elizabeth might mean the loss of national independence.  The Queen of Scots gone, they were paralysed by divided counsels, and love of country proved stronger than their creed.