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 Purchased, 1918. 
 
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 L161— O-1096 
 
MEMOIRS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE COURT 
 
 OF 
 
 QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 BY LUCY AIKIN. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY ABRAHAM SMALL, 
 
 1823." 
 
\ 4 10 a* 
 
 In the literature of our country, however copious, the eye 
 of the curious student may still detect important deficiencies. 
 
 We possess, for example, many and excellent histories, em- 
 bracing every period of our domestic annals ; — biographies, ge- 
 neral and particular, which appear to have placed on record the 
 name of every private individual justly entitled to such comme- 
 moration : — and numerous and extensive collections of original 
 letters, state-papers and other historical and antiquarian docu- 
 ments; — whilst our comparative penury is remarkable in royal 
 lives, in court histories, and especially in that class which forms 
 the glory of French literature, — memoir. 
 
 To supply in some degree this want, at it affects the person 
 and reign of one of the most illustrious of female paid of Eu- 
 ropean sovereigns, is the intention of the work now offered with 
 much diffidence to the public. 
 
 Its plan comprehends a detailed view of the private life of 
 Elizabeth from the period of her birth ; a view of the domestic 
 history of her reign ; memoirs of the principal families of the 
 nobility and biographical anecdotes of the celebrated characters 
 who composed her court ; besides notices of the manners, opi- 
 nions and literature of the reign. 
 
 Such persons as may have made it their business or their en- 
 tertainment to study very much in detail the history of the 
 age of Elizabeth, will doubtless be aware that in the voluminous 
 collections of Strype, in the edited Burleigh, Sidney, and Talbot 
 papers, in the Memoirs of Birch, in various collections of letters, 
 in the chronicles of the times, — so valuable for those vivid pic- 
 tures of manners which the pen of a contemporary unconsciously 
 
 815220 
 
iv 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 traces, — in the Annals of Camden, the Progresses of Nichols, 
 and other large and labourious works which it would be tedious 
 here to enumerate, a vast repertory existed of curious and inte- 
 resting facts seldom recurred to for the composition of books of 
 lighter literature, and possessing with respect to a great majo- 
 rity of readers the grace of novelty. Of these and similar works 
 of reference, as well as of a variety of others, treating directly 
 or indirectly on the biography, the literature, and the manners 
 of the period, a large collection has been placed under the eyes 
 of the author, partly by the liberality of her publishers, partly 
 by the kindness of friends. 
 
 In availing herself of their contents, she has had to encounter 
 in full force the difficulties attendant on such a task ; those of 
 weighing and comparing authorities, of reconciling discordant 
 statements, of bringing insulated facts to bear upon each other, 
 and of forming out of materials irregular in their nature and 
 abundant almost to excess, a compact and well proportioned 
 structure. 
 
 How far her abilities and her diligence may have proved them- 
 selves adequate to the undertaking, it remains with a candid 
 public to decide. Respecting the selection of topics it seems 
 necessary however to remark, that it has been the constant en - 
 deavour of the writer to preserve to her work the genuine cha- 
 racter of Memoirs, by avoiding as much as possible all encroach- 
 ments on the peculiar province of history ; — that amusement, of 
 a not illiberal kind, has been consulted at least equally with in- 
 struction ; — and that on subjects of graver moment, a correct 
 sketch has alone been attempted. 
 
 By a still more extensive course of reading and research, an 
 additional store of anecdotes and observations might unquestion- 
 ably have been amassed ; but it his hoped that of those assem- 
 bled in the following pages, few will be found to rest on dubious 
 or inadequate authority ; and that a copious choice of materials, 
 relatively to the intended compass of the work, will appear to 
 have superseded the temptation to useless digression, or to pro- 
 lix and trivial detail. 
 
 The orthography of all extracts from the elder writers has 
 been modernised, and their punctuation rendered more distinct; 
 in other respects reliance may be placed on their entire fidelity. 
 
SHBUKDUIBS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE COURT OF QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 1533 to 1536. 
 
 BIRTH of Elizabeth. — Circumstances attending the marriage of 
 her parents. — Public entry of Anne Boleyn into London.—* 
 Pageants exhibited. — Baptism of Elizabeth. — Eminent persons 
 present. — Proposal of marriage between Elizabeth and a 
 French Prince. — Progress of the reformation. — Henry perse- 
 cutes both parties. — Death of Catherine of Arragon. — Disgrace 
 of Anne Boleyn. — Her death. — Confesses an obstacle to her 
 marriage. — Particulars on this subject. — Elizabeth declared 
 illegitimate. — Letter of Lady Bryan respecting her. — The king 
 marries Jane Seymour. 
 
 ON the 7th of September 1533, at the royal palace of Green- 
 wich in Kent, was born, under circumstances as peculiar as her 
 after-life proved eventful and illustrious, Elizabeth daughter of 
 king Henry VIII. and his queen Anne Boleyn. 
 
 Delays and difficulties equally grievous to the impetuous 
 temper of the man and the despotic habits of the prince, had for 
 years obstructed Henry in the execution of his favourite pro- 
 ject of repudiating, on the plea of their too near alliance, a wife 
 who had ceased to find favor in his sight, and substituting on her 
 throne the youthful beauty who had captivated his imagination . 
 At length his passion and his impatience had arrived at a pitch 
 capable of bearing down every obstacle. With that contempt 
 of decorum which he displayed so remarkably in some former, 
 and many later transactions of his life, he caused his private 
 marriage with Anne Boleyn to precede the sentence of divorce 
 which he had resolved that his clergy should pronounce against 
 Catherine of Arragon ; and no sooner had this judicial ceremony 
 taken place, than the new queen was openly exhibited as such 
 in the face of the court and the nation. 
 
 An unusual ostentation of magnificence appears to have at- 
 tended the celebration of these august nuptials. The fondness 
 
THE COURT OF 
 
 of the king for pomp and pageantry was at all times excessive, 
 and on this occasion his love and his pride would equally con- 
 spire to prompt an extraordinary display. Anne, too, a vain, 
 ambitious, and light-minded woman, was probably greedy of 
 this kind of homage from her princely lover ; and the very con- 
 sciousness of the dubious, inauspicious, or disgraceful circum- 
 stances attending their union, might secretly augment the anx- 
 iety of the royal pair to dazzle and impose by the magnificence 
 of their public appearance. Only once before, since the Norman 
 conquest, had a king of England stooped from his dignity to 
 elevate a private gentlewoman and a subject to a partnership of 
 his bed and throne; and the bitter animosities between the 
 queen's relations on one side, and the princes of the blood and 
 q;reat nobles on the other, which had agitated the reign of Ed- 
 ward IV., and contributed to bring destruction on the heads of 
 .his helpless orphans, stood as a strong warning against a repe 
 tition of the experiment. 
 
 The unblemished reputation and amiable character of Henry's 
 v< some-time wife/' had long procured for her the love and respect 
 of the people ; her late misfortunes had engaged their sympathy, 
 and it might be feared that several unfavourable points 01 com- 
 parison would suggest themselves between the high-born and 
 high-minded Catherine and her present rival — once her humble 
 attendant — whose long-known favour with the king, whose 
 open association with him at Calais, whither she had attended 
 him, whose private marriage of uncertain date, and already ad- 
 vanced pregnancy, afforded so much ground for whispered 
 censures 
 
 On the other hand, the personal qualities of the king gave 
 him great power over popular opinion. The manly beauty of 
 his countenance, the strength and agility which in the chival- 
 rous exercises of the time rendered him victorious over all com- 
 petitors ; the splendour with which he surrounded himself ; his 
 bounty ; the popular frankness of his manners, all conspired 
 to render him, at this period of his life, an object of admiration 
 rather than of dread to his subjects ; while the respect enter- 
 tained for his talents and learning, and for the conscientious 
 scruples respecting his first marriage which he felt or feigned, 
 mingled so much of deference in their feelings towards him., 
 as to check all hasty censures of his conduct. The protestant 
 party, now considerable by zeal and numbers, foresaw too many 
 happy results to their cause from the circumstances of his pre- 
 sent union, to scrutinise with severity the motives which had 
 produced it. The nation at large, justly dreading a disputed 
 succession, with all its long-experienced evils, in the event of 
 Henry's leaving behind him no offspring but a daughter whom 
 he had lately set aside on the ground of illegitimacy, rejoiced in 
 the prospect of a male heir to the crown. The populace of Lonr 
 don, captivated, as usual, by the splendours of a coronation, were 
 also delighted with the youth, beauty and affability of the new 
 queen. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 3 
 
 The solemn entry therefore of Anne into the city of London 
 was greeted by the applause of the multitude ; and it was pro- 
 bably the genuine voice of public feeling, which, in Balu ting her 
 queen of England, wished her, how much in vain ! a long and 
 prosperous life. 
 
 The pageants displayed in the streets of London on this joy- 
 ful occasion, are described with much minuteness bv our chro- 
 niclers, and afford ample indications that the barbarism of taste 
 which permitted an incongruous mixture of classical mythology 
 with scriptural allusions, was at its height in the learned reign 
 of our eighth Henry. Helicon and Mount Parnassus appeared 
 on one side; St. Anne, and Mary the wife ofCIeophas with her 
 children, were represented on the other. Here the three Graces 
 presented the queen with a golden apple by the hands of their 
 orator Mercury ; there the four cardinal Virtues promised, in 
 set speeches, that they would always be aiding and comforting 
 to her. 
 
 On the Sunday after her public entry, a day not at this period 
 regarded as improper for the performance of such a ceremonial, 
 Henry caused his queen to be crowned at Westminster with 
 great solemnity ; an honour which he never thought proper to 
 confer on any of her successors. 
 
 In the sex of the child born to them a few months afterwards, 
 the hopes of the royal pair must doubtless have sustained a se- 
 vere disappointment : but of this sentiment nothing was suf- 
 fered to appear in the treatment of the infant, whom her father 
 was anxious to mark out as his only legitimate offspring and un 
 doubted heir to the crown. 
 
 She was destined to bear the auspicious name of Elizabeth, in 
 memory of her grandmother, that heiress of the house of York, 
 whose marriage with the earl of Richmond, then Henry VII., 
 had united the roses, and given lasting peace to a country so 
 long rent by civil discord. The unfortunate Mary, now in her 
 sixteenth year, was stripped of the title of princess of Wales, 
 which she had borne from her childhood, that it might adorn a 
 younger sister ; one too whose birth, her interest, her religion, 
 and her filial affection for an injured mother, alike taught her 
 to regard as base and infamous. 
 
 A public and princely christening served still further to at- 
 test the importance attached to this new member of the royal 
 family. 
 
 By the king's special command, Cranmer archbishop of Can- 
 terbury stood godfather to the princess; and Shakespeare, by a 
 fiction equally poetical and courtly, has represented him as 
 breaking forth on this memorable occasion into an animated va- 
 ticination of the glories of the " maiden reign." Happy was it 
 for the peace of mind of the noble personages there assembled, 
 that no prophet was empowered at the same time to declare how 
 few of them should live to share its splendours ; how awfully- 
 large a proportion of their numbers should fall, or behold their 
 nearest connexions falling, untimely victims of the jealous tyranny 
 
4 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 of Henry himself, or of the convulsions and persecutions of 
 the two troubled reigns destined to intervene before those hal- 
 cyon days which they were taught to anticipate ! 
 
 For the purpose of illustrating the truth of this remark, and 
 at the same time of introducing to the reader the most distin- 
 guished personages o£ Henry's court, several of whom will af- 
 terwards be found exerting different degrees of influence on 
 the character or fortunes of the illustrious subject of this work, 
 it may be worth while to enumerate in regular order the per- 
 formers in this august ceremonial. The circumstantial Holin- 
 shed, to whom we are indebted for their names and offices, will 
 at the same time furnish some of those minute particulars which 
 serve to bring the whole pompous scene before the eye of fancy. 
 
 Early in the afternoon, the lordmayor and corporation of 
 London, who had been summoned to attend, took boat for 
 Greenwich, where they found many lords, knights, and gentle- 
 men assembled, The whole way from the palace to the friery, 
 was strown with green rushes, and the walls were hung with 
 tapestry, as was the Friers' church in which the ceremony was 
 performed. 
 
 A silver font with a crimson canopy was placed in the mid- 
 dle of the church ; and the child being brought into the hall, the 
 long procession set forward. It began with citizens walking 
 two-and-two, and ended with barons, bishops, and earls. Then 
 came, bearing the gilt basins, Henry earl of Essex, the last of 
 the ancient name of Bourchier who bore the title. He was a 
 splendid nobleman, distinguished in the martial games and gor- 
 geous pageantries which then amused the court: he also boasted 
 of a royal lineage, being sprung from Thomas of Woodstock, 
 youngest son of Edward III. ; and perhaps he was apprehensive 
 lest this distinction might hereafter become as fatal to himself 
 as it had lately proved to the unfortunate duke of Buckingham. 
 But he perished a few years after by a fall from his horse ; and 
 leaving no male issue, the king, to the disgust of this great fa- 
 mily, conferred the title on the low-bred Cromwel, then his fa- 
 vourite minister. 
 
 The salt was borne by Henry marquis of Dorset, the unfortu- 
 nate father of lady Jane Grey ; who, after receiving the royal 
 pardon for his share in the criminal plot for setting the crown 
 on the head of his daughter, again took up arms in the rebellion 
 of Wyat, and was brought to expiate this treason on the scaffold. 
 
 William Courtney marquis of Exeter followed with the taper 
 of virgin wax ; a nobleman who had the misfortune to be very 
 nearly allied to the English throne ; his mother being a daugh- 
 ter of Edward IV. He was at this time in high favour with the 
 king his cousin, who, after setting aside his daughter Mary, had 
 even declared him heirapparent, to the prejudice of his own 
 sisters : but three years after he fell a victim to the jealousy of 
 the king, on a charge of corresponding with his proscribed kins- 
 man cardinal Pole : his honours and estates were forfeited ; 
 * and his son, though still a child, was, detained in close custody. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 5 
 
 The chrism was borne by lady Mary Howard, the beautiful 
 laughter of the duke of Norfolk ; who lived not only to behold, 
 but, by the evidence which she gave on his trial, to assist in the 
 most unmerited condemnation of her brother, the gallant and 
 accomplished earl of Surry. The king, by a trait of royal arro- 
 gance, selected this lady, descended from our Saxon monarchs 
 and allied to all the first nobility, for the wife of his base-born 
 son created duke of Richmond ; but it does not appear that the 
 spirit of the Howards was high enough in this reign to feel the 
 insult as it deserves. 
 
 The royal infant, wrapped in a mantle of purple relvet, hav- 
 ing a long train furred with ermine, was carried by one of her 
 god-mothers, the dowager-duchess of Norfolk. Anne Boleyn 
 was this lady's step-grand -daughter : but in this alliance with 
 royalty she had little cause to exult ; still less in the closer one 
 which was afterwards formed for her by the elevation of her own 
 grand-daughter Catherine Howard. On discovery of the ill con- 
 duct of this queen, the aged duchess was overwhelmed with dis- 
 grace : she was even declared guilty of misprision of treason, 
 and committed to custody, but was released by the king after the 
 blood of Catherine and her paramours had quenched his fury. 
 
 The dowager-marchioness of Dorset was the other god -mother 
 at the font : — of the four sons of this lady, three perished on the 
 scaffold ; her grand-daughter lady Jane Grey shared the same 
 fate ; and the surviving son died a prisoner during the reign of 
 Elizabeth, for the offence of distributing a pamphlet asserting the 
 title of the Suffolk line to the crown. 
 
 The marchioness of Exeter was the godmother at the confir- 
 mation, who had not only the affliction to see her husband 
 brought to an untimely end, and her only son wasting his youth 
 in captivity, but, being herself attainted of high treason some 
 time afterwards, underwent a long and arbitrary imprisonment. 
 
 On either hand of the duchess of Norfolk, walked the dukes 
 of Norfolk and Suffolk, the only nobles of that rank then exist- 
 ing in England. 
 
 Their names occur in conjunction on every public occasion, 
 and in almost every important transaction, civil and military, of 
 the reign of Henry VIII., but the termination of their respective 
 careers was strongly contrasted. The duke of Suffolk had the 
 extraordinary good fortune never to lose that favour with his 
 master which he had gained as Charles Brandon, the partner of 
 his youthful pleasures. What was a still more extraordinary 
 instance of felicity, his marriage with the king's sister brought 
 to him neither misfortunes nor perils, and he did not live to wit- 
 ness those which overtook his grand -daughters. He died in 
 peace, lamented by a sovereign who knew his worth. 
 
 The duke of Norfolk, on the contrary, was powerful enough 
 by birth and connections to impress Henry with fears for the 
 tranquillity of his son's reign. The memory of former services 
 was sacrificed to present alarm. Almost with his last breath he 
 ordered his old and faithful servant to the scaffold ; but even 
 
6 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 Henry was no longer absolute on his death-bed. For once he 
 was disobeyed, and Norfolk survived him ; but the long years of 
 his succeeding captivity were poorly compensated by a brief and 
 tardy restoration to liberty and honours under Mary. 
 
 One of the child's train-bearers was the countess of Kent. 
 This was probably the widow of the second earl of that title and 
 of the name of Grey: she must therefore have been the daughter 
 of the earl of Pembroke, a zealous Yorkist who was slain fight- 
 ing in the cause of Edward IV. Henry VIII. was doubtless 
 aware that his best hereditary title to the crown was derived 
 from his mother, and during his reign the Yorkist families en- 
 joyed at least an equal share of favour with the Lancastrians, 
 whom his father had almost exclusively countenanced. 
 
 Thomas Boleyn, earl of Wiltshire, the proud and happy 
 grandfather of the princely infant, supported the train on one 
 side. It is not true that he afterwards, in his capacity of a privy 
 counsellor, pronounced sentence of death on his own son and 
 daughter ; even Henry was not inhuman enough to exact this 
 of him; but he lived to witness their cruel and disgraceful end, 
 and died long before the prosperous days of his illustrious 
 grand-child. 
 
 On the other side the train was borne by Edward Stanley 
 third earl of Derby. This young nobleman had been a ward of 
 Wolsey, and was carefully educated by that splendid patron of 
 learning in his house and under his own eye. He proved him- 
 self a faithful and loyal subject to four successive sovereigns ; 
 stood unshaken by the tempests of the most turbulent times ; 
 and died full of days in the possession of great riches, high he- 
 reditary honours, and universal esteem, in 1574. 
 
 A splendid canopy was supported over the infant by four 
 lords, three of them destined to disastrous fates. One was her 
 uncle, the elegant, accomplished, viscount Rochford, whom the 
 impartial suffrage of posterity has fully acquitted of the odious 
 crime for which he suffered by the mandate of a jealous tyrant. 
 
 Another was lord Hussey ; whom a rash rebellion brought to 
 the scaffold a few years afterwards. The two others were bro- 
 thers of that illustrious family of Howard, which furnished in 
 this age alone more subjects for tragedy than " Thebes or Pe- 
 lops' line" of old. Lord William, uncle to Catherine Howard, 
 was arbitrarily adjudged to perpetual imprisonment and forfei- 
 ture of goods for concealing her misconduct ; but Henry was 
 pleased soon after to remit the sentence ; he lived to be eminent 
 in the state under the title of lord Howard of Effingham, and 
 died peacefully in a good old age. Lord Thomas suffered by the 
 ambition so frequent in his house, of matching with the blood 
 royal. He formed a secret marriage with the lady Margaret 
 Douglas, niece to the king ; on discovery of which, he was com- 
 mitted to a close imprisonment, whence he was only released by 
 death. 
 
 After the ceremony of baptism had been performed by Stokesly 
 bishop of London, a solemn benediction was pronounced upon 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 7 
 
 the future queen by Cranmer, that learned and distinguished 
 prelate, who may indeed be reproached with some too courtly 
 condescensions to the will of an imperious master, and what is 
 worse, with several cruel acts of religious persecution; but. 
 whose virtues were many, whose general character was mild 
 and benevolent, and whose errors and weaknesses were finally 
 expiated by the flames of martyrdom. 
 
 In the return from church, the gifts of the sponsors, consisting 
 of cups and bowls, some gilded, and others of massy gold, were 
 carried by four persons of quality ; Henry Somerset second 
 earl of Worcester, whose father, notwithstanding his illegiti- 
 macy, had been acknowledged as a kinsman by Henry VII., and 
 advanced to the peerage ; lord Thomas Howard the younger, a 
 son of the Duke of Norfolk who was restored in blood after his 
 father's attainder, and created lord Howard of Bindon ; Thomas 
 Ratcliffe lord Fitzwalter, afterwards earl of Sussex ; and sir 
 John Dudley, son of the detested associate of Empson, and after- 
 wards the notorious duke of Northumberland, whose crimes re- 
 ceived at length their due recompense in that ignominious death 
 to which his guilty and extravagant projects had conducted so 
 many comparatively innocent victims. 
 
 We are told, that on the same day and hour which gave birth 
 to the princess Elizabeth, a son was born to this " bold bad 
 man," who received the name of Robert, and was known in af- 
 ter-times as earl of Leicester. It w as believed by the supersti- 
 tion of the age, that this coincidence of their nativities produced 
 a secret and invincible sympathy which secured to Dudley, dur- 
 ing life, the affections of his sovereign lady. It may without 
 superstition be admitted, that this circumstance, seizing on the 
 romantic imagination of the princess, might produce a first im- 
 pression, which Leicester's personal advantages, his insinuating 
 manners, and consummate art of feigning, all contributed to 
 render deep and permanent. 
 
 The personal history of Elizabeth may truly be said to begin 
 with her birth ; for she had scarcely entered her second year, 
 when her marriage — that never accomplished project, which for 
 half a century afterwards inspired so many vain hopes and was 
 the subject of so many fruitless negotiations, was already pro- 
 posed as an article of a treaty between France and England. 
 
 Henry had caused an act of succession to be passed, by which 
 his divorce was confirmed, the authority of the pope disclaimed, 
 and the crown settled on his issue by Anne Boleyn. But, as if 
 half-repenting the boldness of his measures, he opened a negoti- 
 ation almost immediately with Francis I., for the purpose of ob- 
 taining a declaration by that king and his nobility in favour of 
 his present marriage, and the intercession of Francis for the revo- 
 cation of the papal censures fulminated against him. And in 
 consideration of these acts of friendship, he offered to engage 
 the hand of Elizabeth to the duke d'Angouleme, third son of the 
 French king. But Francis was unable to prevail upon the new 
 pope to annul the acts of his predecessor ; and probably not 
 
8 
 
 THE COURT OP 
 
 wishing to connect himself more closely with a prince already 
 regarded as a heretic, he suffered the proposal of marriage to fall 
 to the ground. 
 
 The doctrines of Zwingle and of Luther had at this time made 
 considerable progress among Henry's subjects, and the great 
 work of reformation was begun in England. Several smaller 
 monasteries had been suppressed ; the pope's supremacy was 
 preached against by public authority ; and the parliament, de- 
 sirous of widening the breach between the king and the pontiff, 
 declared the former, head of the English church. After some 
 hesitation, Henry accepted the office, and wrote a book in de- 
 fence of his conduct. The queen was attached, possibly by 
 principle, and certainly by interest, to the antipapal party, 
 which alone admitted the validity of the royal divorce, and con- 
 sequently of her marriage ; and she had already engaged her 
 chaplain Dr. Parker, a learned and zealous reformist, to keep 
 a watchful eye over the childhood of her daughter, and early to 
 imbue her mind with the true principles of religious knowledge. 
 
 But Henry, whose passions and interests alone, not his theo 
 logical convictions, had set him in opposition to the old church 
 establishment, to the ceremonies and doctrines of which he was 
 even zealously attached, begun to be apprehensive that the 
 whole fabric would be swept away by the strong tide of popular 
 opinion which was now turned against it, and he hastened to 
 interpose in its defence. He brought to the stake several per- 
 sons who denied the real presence, as a terror to the reformers ; 
 whilst at the same time he showed his resolution to quell the 
 adherents of popery, by causing bishop Fisher and sir Thomas 
 More to be attainted of treason, for refusing such part of the 
 oath of succession as implied the invalidity of the king's first 
 marriage, and thus, in effect, disallowed the authority of the 
 papal dispensation in virtue of which it had been celebrated. 
 
 Thus were opened those dismal scenes of religious persecu- 
 tion and political cruelty from which the mind of Elizabeth was 
 to receive its early and indelible impressions. 
 
 The year 1536, which proved even more fertile than its pre- 
 decessor in melancholy incidents and tragical catastrophes, 
 opened with the death of Catherine of Arragon ; an event equal- 
 ly welcome, in all probability, both to the sufferer herself, whom 
 tedious years of trouble and mortification must have rendered 
 weary of a world which had no longer a hope to flatter her ; and 
 to the ungenerous woman who still beheld her, discarded as she 
 was, with the sentiments of an enemy and a rival. It is im- 
 possible to contemplate the life and character of this royal lady, 
 without feelings of the deepest commiseration. As a wife, the bit- 
 ter humiliations which she was doomed to undergo were entirely 
 unmerited; for not only was her modesty unquestioned, but her 
 whole conduct towards the king was a perfect model of conjugal 
 love and duty. As a queen and a mother, her firmness, her 
 dignity, and her tenderness, deserved a far other recompense 
 than to see herself degraded, on the infamous plea of incest, from 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 9 
 
 the rank of royalty, and her daughter, so long heiress to the En- 
 glish throne, barnded with illegitimacy, and cast out alike from 
 tne inheritance and the affections of her father. But the me- 
 mory of this unhappy princess has been embalmed by the genius 
 of Shakespeare, in the noble drama of which he has made her the 
 touching and majestic heroine ; and let not the praise of magna- 
 nimity be denied to the daughter of Anne Boleyn, in permitting 
 those wrongs and those sufferings which were the price of her 
 glory, nay of her very existence, to be thus impressively offered 
 to the compassion of her people. 
 
 Henry was moved to tears on reading the tender and pious 
 letter addressed to him by the dying hand of Catherine ; and he 
 marked by several small but expressive acts, the respect, or ra- 
 ther the compunction, with which the recollection of her could 
 not fail to inspire him. Anne Boleyn paid to the memory of 
 the princess-dowager of Wales — such was the title now given to 
 Catherine — the unmeaning compliment of putting on yellow 
 mourning; the colour assigned to queens by the fashion of France; 
 but neither humanity nor discretion restrained her from open 
 demonstrations of the satisfaction afforded her by the melan- 
 choly event. 
 
 Short was her unfeeling triumph. She brought into the world 
 a few days afterwards, a dead son ; and this second disappoint- 
 ment of his hopes completed that disgust to his queen which 
 satiety, and perhaps also a growing passion for another object, 
 was already beginning to produce in the mind of the king. 
 
 It is traditionally related, that at Jane Seymour's first com 
 ing to court, the queen, espying a jewel hung round her neck, 
 wished to look at it ; and struck with the young lady's reluct- 
 ance to submit it to her inspection, snatched it from her with 
 violence, when she found it to contain the king's picture, pre- 
 sented by himself to the wearer. From this day she dated her 
 own decline in the affections of her husband, and the ascendancy 
 of her rival However this might be, it is certain that the king 
 about this time began to regard the conduct of his once idolized 
 Anne Boleyn with an altered eye. That easy gaiety of man- 
 ner which he had once remarked with delight, as an indication 
 of the innocence of her heart and the artlessness of her dispo- 
 sition, was now beheld by him as a culpable levity which offend- 
 ed his pride and alarmed his jealousy. His impetuous temper, 
 with which "once to suspect was once to be resolved," disdain- 
 ed to investigate proofs or to fathom motives ; a pretext alone 
 was wanting to his rising fury, and this he was not long in 
 finding. 
 
 On May-day, then observed at court as a high festival, solemn 
 justs were held at Greenwich, before the king and queen, in 
 which viscount Rochford, the queen's brother, was chief chal- 
 lenger, and Henry Norris principal defender. In the midst of 
 the entertainment, the king suddenly rose and quitted the place 
 in anger ; but on what particular provocation is not certainly 
 known. Saunders the Jesuit, the great calumniator of Anne 
 
10 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 Boleyn, says that it was on seeing his consort drop her handker- 
 chief, which Norris picked up and wiped his face with. The 
 queen immediately retired, and the next day was committed to 
 custody. Her earnest entreaties to be permitted to see the king 
 were disregarded, and she was sent to the Tower on a charge 
 of treason and adultery. 
 
 Lord Rochford, Norris, one Smeton a musician, and Brereton 
 and another gentleman of the bedchamber, were likewise appre- 
 hended, and brought to trial on the accusation of criminal inter- 
 course with the queen. They were all convicted ; but from the 
 few particulars which have come down to us, it seems to be just- 
 ly inferred, that the evidence produced against some at least of 
 these unhappy gentlemen, was slight and inconclusive. Lord 
 Rochford is universally believed to have fallen a victim to the 
 atrocious perj uries of his wife, who was very improperly admit- 
 ted as a witness against him, and whose infamous conduct was 
 afterwards fully brought to light. No absolute criminality ap- 
 pears to have been proved against Weston and Brereton ; but 
 Smeton confessed the fact. Norris died much more generously ; 
 he protested that he would rather perish a thousand times than 
 accuse an innocent person; that he believed the queen to be 
 perfectly guiltless ; he, at least, could accuse her of nothing ; 
 and in this declaration he persisted to the last. His expressions, 
 if truly reported, seem to imply that he might have saved himself 
 by criminating the queen : but besides the extreme improbabi- 
 lity that the king would have shown or promissed any mercy to 
 such a delinquent, we know in fact that the confession of Sme- 
 ton did hot obtain for him even a reprieve : it is therefore ab- 
 surd to represent' Norris as having died in vindication of the 
 honour of the queen ; and the favour afterwards shown to his son 
 by Elizabeth, had probably little connexion with any tenderness 
 for the memory of her mother, a sentiment which she certainly 
 exhibited in no other circumstance. 
 
 The trial and condemnation of the queen followed. The pro- 
 cess was conducted with that open disregard of the first princi- 
 ples of justice and equity then universal in all cases of high 
 treason : no counsel were assigned her, no witnesses confronted 
 with her, and it does not appear that she was even informed of 
 Smeton's confession : but whether, after all, she died innocent, 
 is a problem which there now exist no means of solving, and 
 which it is somewhat foreign from the purpose of this work to 
 discuss. 
 
 One part of this subject, however, on account of the intimate re- 
 lation which it bears to the history of Elizabeth, and the influ- 
 ence which it may be presumed to have exercised in the ioima- 
 tion of her character, must be treated somewhat at large. 
 
 The common law of England, by an anomaly truly barbarous, 
 denounced, against females only, who should be found guilty of 
 high treason, the punishment of burning. By menaces of putting 
 into execut.jn this horrible sentence; instead of commuting it 
 for decapitation, Anne Boleyn was induced to acknowledge some 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 i 1 
 
 legal impediment to her marriage with the king; and on this 
 confession alone, Cranmer, with his usua) subservancy, gratified 
 his royal master by pronouncing that union null and void, and 
 its offspring illegitimate. 
 
 What this impediment, real or preten4ed, might be, we only 
 learn from a public declaration made immediately afterwards by 
 the earl of Northumberland, stating, that whereas it had been 
 pretended, that a precontract had subsisted between himself and 
 the late queen, he has declared upon oath before the lords of the 
 council, and taken the sacrament upon it, that no such contract 
 had ever passed between them. In explanation of this protest, the 
 noble historian of Henry VIII,* furnishes us with the following 
 particulars. That the earl of Northumberland, when lord Percy, 
 had made proposals of "marriage to Anne Boleyn; which she had 
 accepted, being yet a stranger to the passion of the king; that 
 Henry, unable to bear the idea of losing her, but averse as yet 
 to a declaration of his sentiments, employed Wolsey to dis- 
 suade the father of lord Percy from giving his consent to their 
 union in which he succeeded ; the earl of Northumberland proba- 
 bly becoming aware how deeply the personal feelings of the king 
 were concerned : that lord Percy, however, refused to give up 
 the lady, alleging in the first instance that he had gone too far to 
 recede with honour ; but was afterwards compelled by his father 
 to form another matrimonial connexion. It should appear by 
 this statement, that some engagement had in fact subsisted' be- 
 tween Northumberland and Anne: but there is no necessity for 
 supposing it to have been a contract of that solemn nature which, 
 according to the law as it then stood, would have rendered null 
 the subsequent marriage of either party. The protestation of 
 the earl was confirmed by the most solemn sanctions ; which 
 there is no ground for supposing him capable of violating, espe- 
 cially as on this occasion, so far from gaining any advantage by 
 it, he was likely to give high offence to the king. If then, as 
 appears most probable, the confession by which Anne Boleyn 
 disinherited and illegitimatised her daughter was false ; a per- 
 jury so wicked and cowardly must brand tier memory with ever- 
 lasting infamy : — even should the contrary have been the fact, 
 the transaction does her little honour : in either case it affords 
 ample justification to that daughter in leaving, as she did her 
 remains without a monument and her conduct without an 
 apology. 
 
 The precarious and equivocal condition to which the little 
 Elizabeth was reduced by the divorce and death of her mother, 
 will be best illustrated by the following extracts of a letter ad- 
 dressed soon after the event, by lady Bryan her governess, to 
 lord Cromwel. It may at the same time amuse the modern rea- 
 der to remark the minute details on which, in that day, the first 
 minister of state was expected to bestow his personal attention. 
 
 * Lord Herbert ofCliirbury. 
 
1% 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 ****** My lord, when your lordship was last here, it pleased 
 you to say, that I should not mistrust the king's grace, nor your 
 lordship. Which word was more comfort to me than I can 
 write, as God knoweth. And now it boldeneth me to show you 
 my poor mind. My lord, when my lady Mary's grace was born, 
 it pleased the king's grace to [appoint] me lady mistress, and 
 made me a baroness. And so I have been to the children his 
 grace have had since. 
 
 f Now, so it is, my lady Elizabeth is put from that degree she 
 was afore ; and what degree she is at now, I know not but by 
 hearsay. Therefore I know not how to order her, nor myself, 
 nor none of hers that I have the rule of ; that is, her women and 
 her grooms. Beseeching you to be good lord to my lady and to 
 all hers ; and that she may have some rayment. For she hath 
 neither gown, nor kirtle, nor petticoat, nor no manner of linen, 
 nor foresmocks, nor kerchiefs, nor sleeves, nor rails, nor body 
 stitchets, nor mufflers, nor biggins. All these, her grace's 
 mostake*, I have driven off as long as I can, that, by my troth, 
 I cannot drive it no lenger. Beseeching you, my lord, that you 
 will see that her grace may have that is needful for her, as my 
 trust is ye will do — that I may know from you by writing how 
 I shall order myself: and what is the king's grace's pleasure 
 and yours, that I shall do in every thing. 
 
 " My lord, Mr. Shelton saith he is the master of this house : 
 what fashion that shall be, I cannot tell ; for I have not seen it 
 before. — I trust your lordship will see the house honourably or- 
 dered, howsomever it hath been ordered aforetime. 
 
 "My lord, Mr. Shelton would have my lady Elizabeth to 
 dine and sup every day at the board of estate. Alas ! my lord, 
 it is not meet for a child of her age to keep such rule yet. I 
 I promise you, my lord, I dare not take it upon me to keep her 
 in health and she keep that rule. For there she shall see divers 
 meats and fruits, and wine : which v/ould be hard for me to re- 
 strain her grace from it. Ye know, my lord, there is no place 
 of correction there. And she is yet too young to correct greatly. 
 I know well, and she be there, I shall nother bring her up to the 
 king's grace's honour, nor hers ; nor to her health, nor my poor 
 honesty. Wherefore I show your lordship this my desire. Be- 
 seeching you, my lord, that my lady may have a mess of meat 
 to her own lodging, with a good dish or two, that is meet for her 
 grace to eat of. 
 
 " God knoweth my lady hath great pain with her great teeth, 
 and they come very slowly forth : and causeth me to suffer her 
 grace to have her will, more than I would. I trust to God and 
 her teeth were well graft, to have her grace after another fashion 
 than she is yet : so as I trust the king's grace shall have great 
 comfort in her grace. For she is as toward a child, and as gen- 
 tle of conditions, as ever 1 knew any in my life. Jesu preserve 
 
 * This is a word which I am utterly unable to explain ; but it is thus printed in 
 Strype's ** Memorials," whence the letter is copied. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 13 
 
 her grace ! As for a clay or two at a hey time, or whensomevcr 
 it shall please the king's grace to have her set abroad, I trust so 
 to endeavour me, that she shall so do, as shall be to the king's 
 honour and hers ; and then after to take her ease again. 
 
 " Good my lord, have my lady's grace, and us that be her poor 
 servants in your remembrance. 
 
 "From Hunsdon." (No date of time.) 
 
 On the day immediately following the death of the unfortunate 
 Anne Boleyn, the king was publicly united in marriage to Jane 
 Seymour; and an act of parliament soon after passed by which 
 the lady Elizabeth was declared incapable of succeeding to the 
 crown, which was now settled on the offspring of Henry by his 
 present Queen. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 1536 to 1542. 
 
 Vague notion of hereditary succession to the English throne. — 
 Henry'' s jealousy of the royal family. — Imprisonment of lord 
 T. Howard and lady M. Douglas. — After -fortunes of this lady. 
 — Princess Mary reconciled with her father. — Dissolution of 
 monastaries proceeds. — Insurrections in Lincolnshire and York- 
 shire, — Remarkable trait of the power of the nobles. — Rebellion 
 of T. Fitzgerald. — Romantic adventures of Gerald Fitzgerald. 
 — Birth of prince Edward. — Death of the queen. — Rise of the 
 two Seymours. — Henry's views in their advancement. — His en- 
 mily to cardinal Pole. — Causes of it. — Geffrey Pole discloses a 
 plot. — Trial and death of lord Montacute, the marquis of Exe- 
 ter, sir Edward Nevil, and sir N. Carew. — Particulars of these 
 persons. — Attainder of the marchioness of Exeter and countess 
 of Salisbury. — Application of these circumstances to the history 
 of Elizabeth. — Decline of the protestant party. — Its causes. — 
 Cromwel proposes the king's marriage with Anne of Cleves. — 
 Accomplishments of this lady — Royal marriage. — Cromwel 
 made earl of Essex. — Anger of the Bourchier family. — Justs 
 at Westminster. — The king determines to dissolve his mar- 
 riage. — Permits the fall of Cromwel. — Is divorced. — Behaviour 
 of the queen. — Marriage of the king to Catherine Howard. — 
 Ascendency of the Papists. — Execution of the countess of Salis- 
 bury — of lord Leonard Grey. — Discovery of the queen's ill 
 conduct. — Attainders passed against her and several others. 
 
 NOTHING could be more opposite to the strict principle* 
 of hereditary succession than the ideas entertained, even by the 
 first lawyers of the time of Henry VIII., concerning the manner 
 
14 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 in which a title to the crown was to be established and 
 recognised. 
 
 N When Rich, the king's solicitor, was sent by his master to 
 argue with sir Thomas More on the lawfulness of acknowledging 
 the royal supremacy ; he inquired in the course of his argument, 
 whether sir Thomas "Would not own for king any person what- 
 ever,^— himself for example, — who should have been declared so 
 by parliament ? He answered, that he would. Rich then de- 
 manded, why he refused to acknowledge a head of the church so 
 appointed ? " Because," replied More, " a parliament can make 
 a king and depose him, and that eyery parliament-man may give 
 his consent thereunto, but a subject cannot be bound so in case 
 of supremacy."* Bold as such doctrine respecting the power 
 of parliaments would now be thought, it could not well be con- 
 troverted at a time when examples were still recent of kings of 
 the line of York or Lancaster alternately elevated or degraded 
 by a vote of the two houses, and when the father of the reigning 
 sovereign had occupied the throne in virtue of such a nomination 
 more than by right of birth. 
 
 But the obvious inconveniences and dangers attending the 
 exercise of this power of choice, had induced the parliaments of 
 Henry VIII. to join with him in various acts for the regulation of 
 the succession. It was probably with the concurrence of this 
 body, that in 1552 he had declared his cousin, the marquis of 
 Exeter, heir to the crown ; yet this very act, by which the king 
 excluded not only his daughter Mary, but his two sisters and 
 their children, every one of whom had a prior right according to 
 the rules at present received, must have caused the sovereignty 
 to be regarded rather as elective in the royal family than properly 
 hereditary — a fatal idea, which converted every member of that 
 family possessed of wealth, talents, or popularity, into a formi- 
 dable rival, if not to the sovereign on the throne, at least to his 
 next heir, if a woman or a minor, and which may be regarded as 
 the immediate occasion of those cruel proscriptions which stained 
 with kindred blood the closing years of the reign of Henry, and 
 have stamped upon him to all posterity the odious character of a 
 tyrant. 
 
 The first sufferer by the suspicions of the king was lord Tho- 
 mas Howard, half-brother to the duke of Norfolk, who was at- 
 tainted of high treason in the parliament of 1536, for having 
 secretly entered into a contract of marriage with lady Margaret 
 Douglas, the king's niece, through which alliance he was accused 
 of aiming at the crown. For this offence he was confined in 
 the rower till his death; but on what' evidence or traitorous 
 designs, or by what law, except the arbitrary mandate of the 
 monarch confirmed by a subservient parliament, it would be 
 difficult to say. That his marriage was forbidden by no law, 
 is evident from the passing of an act immediately afterwards, 
 making it penal to marry any female standing in the first de- 
 
 * See Herbert's Henry VIII. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 15 
 
 gree «> t relationship to the king, without his knowledge and con- 
 sent. 
 
 The lady Margaret was daughter to Henry's eldest sister, 
 the qneen-dowager of Scotland, by her second htisband the earl 
 6f Aliens. She was born in England, whither her mother had 
 been compelled to fly for refuge by the turbulent state of her 
 son's kingdom, and the ill success of her own and her husband's 
 struggles tor the acquisition of political power. In the English 
 court the lady Margaret had likewise been educated, and had 
 formed connexions of friendship ; whilst her brother James V. ' 
 laboured under the antipathy with which the English then re- 
 garded those northern neighbours, with whom they were involved 
 in almost perpetual hostilities. It might easily therefore have 
 happened, in case of the king's death without male heirs, that in 
 spite of the power recently bestowed on him by parliament of 
 disposing of the crown by will, which it is very uncertain how 
 he would have employed, a connexion with the potent house of 
 Howard might have given the title of lady Margaret a prefer- 
 ence over that of any other competitor. Henry was struck with 
 this danger, however distant and contingent : he caused his 
 niece, as well as her spouse, to be imprisoned ; and though he 
 restored her to Hberty in a few months, and the death of How- 
 ard, not long afterwards, set her free from this ill-starred en- 
 gagement, she ventured not to form another, till the king him- 
 self, at the end of several years, gave her in marriage to the earl 
 of Lenox ; by whom she became the mother of lord Darnley, 
 and through him the progenitrix of a line of princes destined to 
 unite another crown to the ancient inheritance of the Planta- 
 genets and the Tudors. 
 
 The princess Mary, after the removal of Anne Boleyn, who 
 had exercised towards her the utmost insolence and harshness, 
 ventured upon some overtures towards a reconciliation with her 
 father ; but he would accept them on no other conditions than her 
 adopting his religious creed, acknowledging his supremacy, de- 
 nying the authority of the pope, and confessing the unlawfulness 
 of her mother's marriage. It was long before motives of expe* 
 diency, and the persuasion of friends, could wring from Mary a 
 reluctant assent to these cruel articles: her compliance was re- 
 warded by the return of her father's affection, but not imme- 
 diately by her re-instatement in the order of succession. She 
 saw the child of Anne Boleyn still a distinguished object of the 
 king's paternal tenderness ; the new queen was likely to give 
 another heir to the crown; and whatever hopes she, with the 
 catholic party in general, had founded on the disgrace of his 
 late spouse, became frustrated by succeeding events. 
 
 The death of Catherine of Arragon seemed to have removed 
 the principal obstacles to an agreement between the king and 
 the pope; and the holy father now deigned to make some ad- 
 vances towards a son whom he hoped to find disposed to peni- 
 tence : but they were absolutely rejected by Henry, who had ceased 
 to dread his spiritual thunders. The parliament and the convo- 
 
16 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 cation showed themselves prepared to adopt, without hesitation, 
 the numerous changes suggested by the king in the ancient ritual ; 
 and Cromwel, with influence not apparently diminished by the 
 fall of the late patroness of the protestant party, presided in the 
 latter assembly with the title of vicegerent, and with powers 
 unlimited. 
 
 The suppression of monasteries was now carried on with in- 
 creasing rigour, and thousands of their unfortunate inhabitants 
 were mercilessly turned out to beg or starve. These, dispersing 
 themselves over the country, in which their former hospitalities 
 had rendered them generally popular, worked strongly on the 
 passions of the many, already discontented at the imposition of 
 new taxes, which served to convince them that the king and his 
 courtiers would bathe only gainers by the plunder of the church; 
 and formidable insurrections were in some counties the result. 
 In Lincolnshire the commotions were speedily suppressed by 
 the interposition of the earl of Shrewsbury and other loyal no- 
 blemen ; but it was necessary to send into Yorkshire a conside- 
 rable army under the duke of Norfolk. Through the dexterous 
 management of this leader, who was judged to favour the cause 
 of the revolters as much as his duty to his sovereign and a regard 
 to his own safety would permit, little blood was shed in the field ; 
 but much flowed afterwards on the scaffold, where the lords 
 Darcy and Hussey, sir Thomas Percy, brother to the earl of 
 Northumberland, and several private gentlemen, suffered as 
 traitors. 
 
 The suppression of these risings strengthened, as usual, the 
 hands of government, but at the expense of converting into an 
 object of dread, a monarch who in the earlier and brighter period 
 of his reign had been regarded with sentiments of admiration 
 and love. 
 
 In lord Herbert's narrative of this insurrection, we meet with 
 a passage too remarkable to be omitted. " But the king, who 
 was informed from divers parts, but chiefly from Yorkshire, that 
 the people began there also to take arms, and knowing of what 
 great consequence it might be if the great persons in those parts, 
 though the rumour were false, should be said to join with him, 
 had commanded George earl of Shrewsbury, Thomas Manners 
 earl of Rutland, and George Hastings earl of Huntingdon, to 
 make a proclamation to the Lincolnshire-men, summoning and 
 commanding them on their allegiance and peril of their lives to 
 return ; which, as it much disheartened them, so many stole 
 away, 5 ' &c. 
 
 In this potency of the hereditary aristocracy of the country, 
 and comparative feebleness, on some occasions at least, of the 
 authority of the most despotic sovereign whom England had yet 
 seen on the throne, we discern at once the excuse which Henry 
 would make to himself for his severities against the nobility, 
 and the motive of that extreme popularity of manners by which 
 Elizabeth aimed at attaching to herself the affections of the mid- 
 dling and lower orders of her subject & 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 17 
 
 Soon alter these events, Henry confirmed the new impres- 
 sions which his subjects had received of his character, by an act 
 of extraordinary, but not unprovoked severity, which involved 
 in destruction one of the most ancient and powerful houses 
 among the peerage of Ireland, that of Fitzgerald earl of Kjldare. 
 The nobleman who now bore this title had married for his se- 
 cond wife lady Elizabeth Grey, daughter of the first marquis of 
 Dorset, and first-cousin to the king by his mother ; he had been 
 favoured at court, and was at this time lord deputy of Ireland. 
 But the country being in a very disturbed state, and the deputy 
 accused of many acts of violence, he had obeyed with great reluct- 
 ance a summons to answer for his conduct before the king in 
 council, leaving his eldest son to exercise his office during his 
 absence. On his arrival, he was committed to the Tower, and 
 nis son, alarmed by the false report of his having lost his head, 
 broke out immediately into a furious rebellion. After a tempo- 
 rary success, Thomas Fitzgerald was reduced to great difficul- 
 ties : at the same time a promise of pardon was held out to him ; 
 and confiding in it he surrendered himself to lord Leonard Grey, 
 brother to the countess his step-mother. His five uncles, also 
 implicated in the guilt of rebellion, were seized by surprise, or 
 deceived into submission. The whole six were then conveyed 
 to England in the same ship ; and all, in spite of the entreaties 
 and remonstrances of lord Leonard Grey, who considered his 
 own honour as pledged for the safety of their lives, were hanged 
 at Tyburn. 
 
 The aged earl had died in the Tower on receiving news of 
 his son's rash enterprise ; and a posthumous attainder being is- 
 sued against him, his lands and goods were forfeited. The king 
 however, in pity to the widow, and as a slight atonement for so 
 cruel an injustice, permitted one of her daughters to retain some 
 poor remains of the family plate and valuables ; and another of 
 them, coming to England, appears to have received her educa- 
 tion at Hunsdon palace with the princesses Mary and Elizabeths 
 her relations. Here she was seen by Henry earl of Surry, whose 
 chaste and elegant muse has handed her down to posterity as 
 the lovely Geraldine, the object of his fervent but fruitless devo- 
 tion. She was married first to sir Anthony Brown, and after- 
 wards became the wife of the earl of Lincoln, surviving by many 
 years her noble and unfortunate admirer. 
 
 The countess of Kildare, and the younger of her two sons, 
 likewise remained in England obscure and unmolested ; but the 
 merciless rancour of Henry against the house of Hitzgerald still 
 pursued its destitute and unoffending heir, who was struggling 
 through a series of adventures the most perilous and the most 
 romantic. 
 
 This boy, named Gerald, then about twelve years old, had 
 been left by his father at a house in Kildare, under the care and 
 tuition of Leverous a priest who was his foster-brother. The 
 child was lying ill of the small-pox, when the news arrived that 
 his brother and uncles had been sent prisoners to England : but 
 
18 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 his affectionate guardian, justly apprehensive of greater danger 
 to his young charge, wrapped him up as carefully as he could, 
 and conveyed him away with all speed to the house of one of 
 his sisters, where he remained till he was quite recovered. 
 Thence his tutor removed him successively into the territories 
 of two or three different Irish chieftains, who sheltered him for 
 about three-quarters of a year, after which he carried him to his 
 aunt the lady Elenor, at that time widow of a chief named Mac- 
 carty Reagh. 
 
 This lady had long been sought in marriage by O'Donnel 
 lord of Tyrconnel, to whose suit she had been unpropitious : 
 but wrought upon by the hope of being able to afford effectual 
 protection to her unfortunate nephew, she now consented to an 
 immediate union ; and taking Gerald along with her to her new 
 home in the county of Donegal, she there hospitably entertained 
 him for about a year. But the jealous spirit of the implacable king 
 seemed to know no rest while this devoted youth still breathed 
 the air of liberty, and he caused a great reward to be offered for 
 h 5 apprehension, which the base-minded O'Donnel immediately 
 sought to appropriate by delivering him up. Fortunately the 
 lady Elenor discovered his intentions in time, and instantly 
 causing her nephew to disguise his person, and storing him, like 
 a bountiful aunt, with " sevenscore portugueses," she put him 
 under the charge of Leverous and an old servant of his father's, 
 an 1 shipped him on board a vessel bound for St. Malo's. 
 
 Having thus secured his escape, she loftily expostulated with 
 her husband on his villainy in plotting to betray her kinsman, 
 whom she had stipulated that he should protect to the utmost of 
 his power ; and she bid him know, that as the danger of the 
 youth had alone induced her to form any connection with him, 
 so the assurance of his safety should cause her to sequester her- 
 self for ever from the society of so base and mercenary a wretch: 
 and hereupon, collecting all that belonged to her, she quitted 
 O'Donnel and returned to her own country. 
 
 Gerald, in the mean time, arrived without accident in Bre- 
 tagne, and was favourably received by the governor of that pro- 
 vince, when the king of France, being informed of his situation, 
 gave him a place about the dauphin. Sir John Wallop, however, 
 the English embassador, soon demanded him, in virtue of a treaty 
 between the two countries for the delivering up of offenders and 
 proscribed persons ; and while the king demurred to the requisi- 
 tion, Gerald consulted his safety by making a speedy retreat into 
 Flanders. Thither his steps were dogged by an Irish servant of 
 the embassador's ; but the governor of Valenciennes protected 
 him by imprisoning this man, till the youth himself generously 
 begged his release; and he reached the emperor's court at Brus- 
 sels, without further molestation. But here also the English 
 embassador demanded him ; the emperor however excused him- 
 self from giving up a fugitive whose youth sufficiently attested 
 his innocence, and sent him privately to the bishop of Liege, with 
 a pension of a hundred crowns a month. The bishop entertain- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 19 
 
 <m! him very honourably, placing him in a monastery, and watch- 
 ing carefully over the safety of his person, till, at the end of half 
 u year, his mother's kinsman, cardinal Pole, sent for him into 
 Italy. 
 
 Before he would admit the young Irishman to his presence, 
 the cardinal required him to learn Italian; and allowing him an 
 annuity, placed him first with the bishop of Verona, then with a 
 cardinal, and afterwards with the duke of Mantua. At the end 
 of a year and a half he invited him to Rome, and soon becoming 
 attached to him, took him into his house, and for three years had 
 him instructed under his own eye in all the accomplishments of a 
 finished gentleman. At the end of this time, when Gerald had 
 nearly attained the age of nineteen, his generous patron gave 
 him the choice either of pursuing his studies or of travelling to 
 seek his adventures. The youth preferred the latter ; and re- 
 pairing to Naples, he fell in with some knights of Rhodes, whom 
 he accompanied to Malta, and thence to Tripoli, a place at that 
 time possessed by the order, whence they carried on fierce war 
 against the " Turks and miscreants," spoiling and sacking their 
 villages and towns, and taking many prisoners whom they sold 
 to the Christians for slaves. In these proceedings, the young 
 adventurer took a strenuous and valiant part much to his profit; 
 for in less than a year he returned to Rome laden with a rich 
 booty. " Proud was the cardinal to hear of his prosperous ex- 
 jploits," and increased his pension to three hundred pounds a year. 
 Shortly after, he entered into the service of Cosmo duke of Flo- 
 rence, and remained three years his master of the horse. 
 
 The tidings of Henry's death at length put an end to his exile, 
 and he hastened to London in the company of some foreign em- 
 bassadors, and still attended by his faithful guardian Leverous. 
 Appearing at king Edward's court in a mask, or ball, he had the 
 good fortune to make a deep impression on the heart of a young 
 lady, daughter to sir Anthony Brownj whom he married ; and 
 through the intercession of her friends was restored to a part of 
 his inheritance by the young monarch, who also knighted him a 
 In the next reign, the interest of cardinal Pole procured his rein- 
 statement in all the titles and honours of his ancestors. He was 
 a faithful and affectionate subject to queen Elizabeth, in whose 
 reign he turned protestant ; was by her greatly favoured, and 
 finally died in peace in 1585.* 
 
 That ill -directed restlessness which formed so striking a fea- 
 ture in the character of Henry VIII. had already prompted him 
 to interfere, as we have seen, on more than one occasion, with 
 the order of succession ; and the dangerous consequences of 
 these capricious acts with respect to the several branches of the 
 royal family have already been observed. To the people at 
 large also, his instability on so momentous a point was harassing 
 and alarming, and they became as much at a loss to conjecture 
 
 * See Chron. of Ire land in Ho!i ishid, pass. Coliius's Peerage, by sir E. Bridges, 
 article Viscount Lsinster. 
 
20 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 what successor, as what religion, he would at last bequeath 
 them. 
 
 Under such circumstances, great indeed must have been the 
 joy in the court and in the nation on the occurrence of an event 
 calculated to end all doubts and remove all difficulties — the birth 
 of a prince of Wales. 
 
 This auspicious infant seemed to strangle in his cradle the 
 serpents of civil discord. Every lip hastened to proffer him its 
 homage ; every heart united, or seemed at least to unite, in the 
 general burst of thankfulness and congratulation. 
 
 The zealous papists formed the party most to be suspected of 
 insincerity in their professions of satisfaction ; but the princess 
 Mary set them an excellent example of graceful submission to 
 what was inevitable, by soliciting the office of godmother. Her 
 sister was happily too young to be infected with court-jealousies, 
 or to behold in a brother an unwelcome intruder, who came to 
 snatch from her the inheritance of a crown ; between Elizabeth 
 and Edward an attachment truly fraternal sprung up with the 
 first dawnings of reason ; and notwithstanding the fatal blow 
 given to her interests by the act of settlement extorted from his 
 dying hand, this princess never ceased to cherish his memory, 
 and to mention him in terms of affectionate regret. 
 
 The conjugal felicities of Henry were destined to be of short 
 duration, and before he could receive the felicitations of his sub- 
 jects on the birth of his son, the mother was snatched away by 
 death. The queen died deeply regretted, not only by her hus- 
 band, but by the whole court, whom she had attached by the un- 
 common sweetness of her disposition. To the princess Mary 
 her behaviour had been the reverse of that by which her prede- 
 cessor had disgraced herself ; and the little Elizabeth had receiv- 
 ed from her marks of a maternal tenderness. Jane Seymour 
 was accounted a favourer of the protestant cause ; but as she 
 was apparently free from the ambition of interfering in state 
 affairs, her death had no further political influence than what 
 resulted from the king's marriage thus becoming once more an 
 object of speculation and court intrigue. It did not even give 
 a check to the advancement of her two brothers, destined to act 
 and to suffer so conspicuously in the fierce contentions of the 
 ensuing minority ; for the king seemed to regard it as a point of 
 policy to elevate those maternal relations of his son, on whose 
 care he relied to watch over the safety of his person in case of 
 his own demise, to a dignity and importance which the proudest 
 nobles of the land might view with respect or fear. Sir Edward 
 Seymour, who had been created lord Beauchamp the year before, 
 was now made earl of Hertford; and high places at court and 
 commands in the army attested the favour of his royal brother- 
 in-law. Thomas Seymour, afterwards lord high-admiral, attain- 
 ed during this reign no higher dignity than that of knighthood ; 
 but considerable pecuniary grants were bestowed upon him; and 
 whilst he saw his wealth increase, he was secretly extending his 
 influence, and feeding his aspiring spirit with fond anticipations 
 of future greatness. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 21 
 
 AH now seemed tranquil : but a discerning eye might already 
 have beheld fresh tempests gathering in the changeful atmosphere 
 of the English court. The jealousies of the king, become too 
 habitual to be discarded, had in fact only received a new direc- 
 tion from the birth of his son : his mind was perpetually haunt- 
 ed with the dread of leaving him, a defenceless minor, in the 
 hands of contending parties in religion, and of a formidable and 
 factious nobility ; and for the sake of obviating the distant and 
 contingent evils which he apprehended from this source, he show- 
 ed himself ready to pour forth whole rivers of the best blood of 
 England. 
 
 The person beyond all comparison most dreaded and detest- 
 ed by Henry at this juncture, was his cousin Reginald Pole, for 
 whom when a youth he had conceived a warm affection, whose 
 studies he had encouraged by the gift of a deanery and the hope 
 of further church -preferment, and of whose ingratitude he always 
 believed himself entitled to complain. It was the long-con- 
 tested point of the lawfulness of Henry's marriage with his bro- 
 ther's widow, which set the kinsmen at variance. Pole had 
 from the first refused to concur with the university of Paris, in 
 which he was then residing, in its condemnation of this union : 
 afterwards, alarmed probably at the king's importunities on the 
 subject, he had obtained the permission then necessary for leav- 
 ing England, to which he had returned, and travelled into Italy. 
 Here he formed friendships with the most eminent defenders of 
 the papal authority, now incensed to the highest degree against 
 Henry, on account of his having declared himself head of the 
 English church ; and both his convictions and his passions be- 
 coming still more strongly engaged on the side which he had 
 already espoused, he published a work on the unity of the church, 
 in which the conduct of his sovereign and benefactor became 
 the topic of his vehement invective. 
 
 The offended king, probably with treacherous intentions, in- 
 vited Pole to come to England, and explain to him in person 
 certain difficult passages of his book : but his kinsman was too 
 wary to trust himself in such hands ; and his refusal to obey this 
 summons, which implied a final renunciation of his country and 
 all his early prospects, was immediately rewarded by the pope, 
 through the emperor's concurrence, with a cardinal's hat and 
 the appointment of legate to Flanders. But alarmed, as well 
 as enraged, at seeing the man whom he regarded as his bitterest 
 personal enemy placed in a situation so convenient for carry 
 ing on intrigues with the disaffected papists in England, Henry 
 addressed so strong a rempnstrance to the governess of the Ne 
 therlands, as caused her to send the cardinal oat of the country 
 before he had begun to exercise the functions of his legantine, 
 office. 
 
 From this time, to maintain any intercourse or correspondence 
 with Pole was treated by the king as either in itself an act oi 
 treason, or at least as conclusive evidence of traitorous inten 
 tions. He believed that the darkest designs Avere in agitation 
 
S3 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 against his own government and his son's succession ; and the 
 circumstance of the cardinal's still declining to take any but 
 deacon's orders, notwithstanding his high dignity in the church, 
 suggested to him the suspicion that his kinsman aimed at the 
 crown itself, through a marriage with the princess Mary, of 
 whose legitimacy he had shown himself so strenuous a cham- 
 pion. What foundation there might be for such an idea it is 
 difficult to determine. 
 
 There is an author who relates that the lady Mary was edu- 
 cated with the cardinal under his mother, and hints that an early 
 attachment had thus been formed between them :* A statement 
 manifestly inaccurate, since Pole was sixteen years older than 
 the princess ; though it is not improbable that Mary, during 
 some period of her youth, might be placed under the care of the 
 countess of Salisbury, and permited to associate with her son on 
 easy and affectionate terms. It is well known that after Mary's 
 accession, Charles V. impeded the journey of Pole into England 
 till her marriage with his son Philip had been actually solem- 
 nised ; but this was probably rather from a persuasion of the in- 
 expediency of the cardinal's sooner opening his legantine com- 
 mission in England, than from any fear of his supplanting in 
 Mary's affections his younger rival, though some have ascribed 
 to the emperor the latter motive. 
 
 When however it is recollected, that in consequence of Hen- 
 ry's having caused a posthumous judgment of treason to be pro- 
 nounced against the papal martyr Becket, his shrine to be de- 
 stroyed, his bones burned, and his ashes scattered, the pope had 
 at length, in 1538, fulminated against him the long-suspended 
 sentence of excommunication, and made a donation of his king- 
 dom to the king of Scots, and thus impressed the sanction of reli- 
 gion on any rebellious attempts of his Roman-catholic subjects, — 
 it would be too much to pronounce the apprehensions of the mo- 
 narch to have been altogether chimerical. But his suspicion ap- 
 pears, as usual, to have gone beyond the truth, and his anger to 
 have availed itself of slight pretexts to ruin where he feared and 
 hated. 
 
 Such was the state of his mind when the treachery or weak- 
 ness of Geffrey Pole furnished him with intelligence of a trator- 
 ous correspondence carried on with his brother the cardinal bjr- 
 several persons of distinction attached to the papal interets, 
 and in which he had himself been a sharer. On his information* 
 the marquis of Exeter, viscount Montacute, sir Edward Nevil, 
 and sir Nicholas Carew, were apprehended, tried and found 
 guilty of high treason. Public opinion. was at this time nothing ; 
 and notwithstanding the rank, consequence and popularity of 
 the men whose lives were sacrificed on this occasion ; notwith- 
 standing that secret consciousness of his own ill-will towards 
 them, which ought to have rendered Henry more than usually 
 cautious in his proceedings, — not even an attempt was made to 
 
 * See JJqyd's Worthies, article Pole. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 $6 
 
 ruder their guill clear and notorious to the nation at large; 
 and posterity scarcely even knows of what designs they were 
 accused ; to overt acts it is quite certain that they had not pro- 
 ceeded. 
 
 Henry lord Montacute was obnoxious on more than one ac- 
 count: he was the brother of cardinal Pole ; and as eldest son 
 of Margaret, sole surviving child of the duke of Clarence and 
 heiress to her brother the earl of Warwick, he might be regard- 
 ed as succeeding to those claims on the crown which under 
 Henry VII. had proved fatal to the last-mentioned unfortunate 
 and ill-treated nobleman. During the early part of this reign, 
 however, he, in common with other members of the family of 
 Pole, had received marks of the friendship of Henry. In 1514, 
 his mother was authorised to assume the title of countess of 
 Salisbury, and he that of viscount Montacute, notwithstanding 
 the attainder formerly passed against the great house of Nevil, 
 from whom these honours were derived. In 1521 lord Monta- 
 cute had been indicted for concealing the treasons, real or pre- 
 tended, of the duke of Buckingham ; but inmediately on his 
 acquittal he was restored to the good graces of his sovereign, 
 and, two years after, attended him on an expdition to France. 
 
 It is probable that lord Montacute was popular ; he was at 
 least a partisan of the old religion, and heir to the vast posses- 
 sions which his mother derived from the king-making earl of 
 Warwick her maternal grand -father ; sufficient motives with 
 Henry for now wishing his removal. If th; plot in which he 
 was charged by his perfidious brother with paticipating, had in 
 view the elevation of the cardinal to a matrimonial crown by his 
 union with the princess Mary, which seems to have been insi- 
 nuated, lord Montacute must at least stand acquitted of all de- 
 sign of asserting his own title ; yet it may justly be suspected 
 that his character of representative of the house of Clarence, 
 was by Henry placed foremost in the catalogue of his offences. 
 
 A similar remark applies still more forcibly to the marquis of 
 Exeter, Son of Catherine, youngest daughter of Edward IV., 
 and so lately declared his heir by Henry himself, it is scarcely 
 credible that any inducement could have drawn this nobleman 
 into a plot for disturbing the succession in favour of a claim 
 worse founded than his own ; and that the blood which he in- 
 herited was the true object of Henry's apprehensions from him, 
 evidently appeared to all the world by his causing the son of 
 the unhappy marquis, a child at this period, to be detained a 
 state prisoner in the Tower during the remainder of his reign. 
 
 Sir Edward Nevil was brother to lord Abergavenny and to 
 the wife of lord Montacute — a connection likely to bring him 
 into suspicion, and perhaps to involve him in real guilt ; but it 
 must not be forgotten that he was a lineal descendant of the 
 house of Lancaster by Joan daughter < f o ni of Gaunt. The only 
 person not of royal extraction who suffered on this occasion was 
 sir Nicholas Carew, master of the horse, and lately a distin- 
 guished favourite of the king ; of whom it is traditionally re- 
 
THE COURT OF 
 
 lated, that though accused as an accomplice in the designs of 
 the other noble delinquents, the real offence for which he died, 
 was the having retorted, with more spirit than prudence, some 
 opprobrious language with which his royal master had insulted 
 him as they were playing at bowls together.* The family of 
 Carew was however allied in blood to that of Courtney, of which 
 the marquis of Exeter was the head. 
 
 But the attempt to extirpate all who under any future circum- 
 stances might be supposed capable of advancing claims formida- 
 ble to the house of Tudor, must have appeared to Henry him- 
 self a task almost as hopeless as cruel. Sons and daughters of 
 the Plantagenet princes had in every generation freely inter- 
 married with the ancient nobles of the land ; and as fast as 
 those were cut off whose connection with the royal blood was 
 nearest and most recent, the pedigrees of families pointed out 
 others, and others still, whose relationship grew into nearness by 
 the removal of such as had stood before them, and presented to 
 the affrighted eyes of their persecutor, a hydra with still renew- 
 ed and multiplying heads. 
 
 Not content vith these inflictions, — sufficiently severe it 
 might be thought to intimidate the papal faction, — Henry grati- 
 fied still further his stern disposition by the attainder of the 
 marchoiness of Eieter and the aged countess of Salisbury. The 
 marchoiness ne s>on after released ; but the countess was still 
 detained prisoner under a sentence of death, which a parliament, 
 atrocious in its subserviency, had passed upon her without form 
 of trial, but which the king did not think proper at present to 
 carry into execution, either because he chose to keep her as a 
 kind of hostage for the good behaviour of her son the cardinal, 
 or because, tyrant as he had become, he had not yet been able 
 to divest himself of all reverence or pity for the hoary head of a 
 female, a kinswoman, and the last who was born to the name of 
 Plantagenet. 
 
 It is melancholy, it is even disgusting, to dwell upon these 
 acts of legalised atrocity, but let it be allowed that it is import- 
 ant and instructive. They form unhappily a leading feature of 
 the administration of Henry VIII. during the latter years of his 
 reign ; they exhibit in the most striking point of view the senti- 
 ments and practices of the age ; and may assist us to form a 
 juster estimate of the character and conduct of Elizabeth, whose 
 infant mind was formed to the contemplation of these domestic 
 tragedies, and whose fame has often suffered by inconsiderate 
 comparisons which have placed her in parallel with the enlight- 
 ened and humanised sovereigns of more modern days, rather 
 than with the stern and arbitrary Tudors, her barbarous pre- 
 decessors. 
 
 It is remarkable that the protestant party at the court ol 
 Henry, so far from gaining strength and influence by the seve- 
 rities exercised against the adherents of cardinal Pole and the 
 
 * See Fuller's Worthies in Surry. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 ancient religion was evidently in a declining state. The feeble 
 efforts of its two leaders Cromwel and Craniner, of whom the 
 first was deficient in zeal, the last in courage, now experienced 
 irresistible counteraction from the influence of Gardiner, whose 
 uncommon talents for business, joined to his extreme obsequi- 
 ousness, had rendered him at once necessary and acceptable to 
 } lis royal master. The law of the Six Articles, which forbade- 
 under the highest penalties the denial of several doctrines of 
 the Romish church peculiarly obnoxious to the reformers, was 
 probably drawn up by this minister. It was enacted in the par- 
 liament of 1539 : a vast number of persons were soon after im- 
 prisoned for transgressing it ; and Cranmer himself was com- 
 pelled, by the clause which ordained the celibacy of the clergy, 
 to send away his wife. 
 
 Under these circumstances Cromwel began to look on all 
 sides for support ; and recollecting with regret the powerful 
 influence exerted by Anne Boleyn in favour of the good cause, 
 and even the gentler and more private aid lent to it by the late 
 queen, he planned a new marriage for his sovereign, with a lady 
 educated in the very bosom of the protestant communion. Po- 
 litical considerations favoured the design ; since a treaty lately 
 concluded between the emperor and the king of France rendered 
 it highly expedient that Henry, by way of counterpoise, should 
 strengthen his alliance with the Smalcaldic league. In short, 
 Cromwel prevailed. Holbein, whom the king had appointed his 
 painter on the recommendation of sir Thomas More, and still 
 retained in that capacity, was sent over to take the portrait of 
 Anne sister of the duke of Cleves : and rashly trusting in the 
 fidelity of the likeness, Henry soon after solicited her hand in 
 marriage. 
 
 "The lady Anne," says a historian, "understood no lan- 
 guage but Dutch, so that all communication of speech between 
 her and our king was intercluded. Yet our embassador, Nicholas 
 Watton, doctor of law, employed in the business, hath it, that 
 she could both read and write in herown language, and sew very 
 well ; only for music, he said, it was not the manner of the 
 country to learn it*." It must be confessed that for a princess 
 this list of accomplishments appears somewhat scanty ; and 
 Henry, unfortunately for the lady Anne, was a great admirer of 
 learning, wit and talents, in the female sex, and a passionate 
 lover of music, which he well understood. What was still 
 worse, he piqued himself extremely on his taste in beauty, and 
 was much more solicitous respecting the personal charms of his 
 consorts than is usual witli sovereigns ; and when, on the arrival 
 of his destined bride in England, he hastened to Rochester to 
 gratify his impatience by snatching a private view of her, he 
 found that in this capital article he had been grievously imposed 
 upon. The uncourteous comparison by which he expressed his 
 dislike of her large and clumsy person is well known. Bitterly did 
 
 •Herbert. 
 
 D 
 
26 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 he lament to Cromwel the hard fortune which had allotted him 
 so unlovely a partner, and he returned to London very melan- 
 choly. Rut the evil appeared to be now past remedy ; it was 
 contrary to all policy to affront the German princes by sending 
 back their countrywoman after matters had gone so far, and 
 Henry magnanimously resolved to sacrifice his own feelings, 
 once in his life, for the good of his country. Accordingly, he 
 received the princess with great magnificence and with every 
 outward demonstration of satisfaction, and was married to her 
 at Greenwich in January 1540. 
 
 Two or three months afterwards, the king, notwithstanding 
 his secret dissatisfaction, rewarded Cromwel for his pains in 
 concluding this union by conferring on him the vacant title of 
 earl of Essex ; — a fatal gift, which exasperated to rage the min- 
 gled jealousy and disdain which this low-born and aspiring mi- 
 nister had already provoked from the ancient nobility, by intru- 
 ding himself into the order of the garter, and which served to 
 heap upon his devoted head fresh coals of wrath against the day 
 of retribution which was fast approaching. The act of transfer- 
 ring this title to a new family, could in fact be no otherwise 
 regarded by the great house of Bourchier, which had long en- 
 joyed it, than either as a marked indignity to itself, or as a fresh 
 result of the general Tudor system of depressing and discounte- 
 nancing the blood of the Plantagenets, from which the Bour- 
 chiers, through a daughter of Thomas of Woodstock, were des- 
 cended. The late earl had left a married daughter, to whom, 
 according to the customary courtesy of English sovereigns in 
 similar circumstances, the title ought to have been continued ; 
 and as this lady had no children, the earl of Bath, as head of 
 the house, felt himself also aggrieved by the alienation of family 
 honours which he hoped to have seen continued to himself and 
 his posterity. 
 
 In honour, probably, of the recent marriage of the king, un- 
 usually splendid justs were opened at Westminster on May- 
 day ; in which the challengers were headed by sir John Dudley, 
 and the defenders by the earl of Surry. This entertainment was 
 continued for several successive days, during which the chal- 
 lengers, according to the costly fashion of ancient hospitality, 
 kept open house at their common charge, and feasted the king 
 and queen, the members of both houses, and the lord-mayor and 
 aldermen with their wives. 
 
 But scenes of pomp and festivity had no power to divert the 
 thoughts of the king from his domestic grievance, — a wife whom 
 he regarded with disgust ; on the contrary, it is probable that 
 this season of courtly revelry increased his disquiet, by giving 
 him opportunities of beholding under the most attractive cir- 
 cumstances the charms of a youthful beauty whom he was soon 
 seized w ith the most violent desire of placing beside him on the 
 throne which he judged her worthy to adorn. 
 
 No considerations of rectitude or of policy could longer res- 
 train the impetuous monarch from casting oft' the yoke of a de- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 tested marriage: and as a first step towards emancipation, he 
 determined to permit the ruin of its original adviser, that un- 
 popular minister, but vigorous and serviceable instrument of ar- 
 bitrary power, whom he had hitherto defended with pertinacity 
 against all attacks. 
 
 No sooner was the decline of his favour perceived, and what so 
 fiuickh perceived at courts? than the ill-fated Cromwel found 
 himself assailed on every side. His active agency in the sup- 
 pression of monasteries had brought upon him, with the impu- 
 tation of sacrilege, the hatred of all the papists; — a certain cold- 
 ness, or timidity, which he had manifested in the cause of reli- 
 gious reformation in other respects, and particularly the enact- 
 ment of the Six Articles during his administration, had rendered 
 him an object of suspicion or dislike to the protestants ; — in his 
 new and undefined office of royal vicegerent for the exercise of 
 the supremacy, he had offended the whole body of the clergy; 
 — and he had just filled up the measure of his offences against 
 the nobility by procuring a grant of the place of lord high-stew- 
 ard, long hereditary in the great house of the Veres earls of Ox- 
 ford. The only voice raised in his favour was that of Cranmer, 
 w ho interceded with Henry in his behalf in a letter eloquent, 
 touching, and even courageous, times and persons considered. 
 Gardiner and the duke of Norfolk urged on his accusation ; the 
 parliament, with its accustomed subserviency, proceeded against 
 him by attainder ; and having voted him guilty of heresy and 
 treason, left it in the choice of the king to bring him either to 
 the block or the stake for whichever he pleased of these offences ; 
 neither of which was proved by evidence, or even supported by 
 reasonable probabilities. But against this violation in his person 
 of the chartered rights of Englishmen, however flagrant, the un- 
 fortunate earl of Essex had forfeited all right to appeal, since it 
 was himself who had first advised the same arbitrary mode of 
 proceeding in the cases of the marchioness of Exeter, of the 
 countess of Salisbury, and of several persons of inferior rank 
 connected with them : on whom capital punishment had already 
 been inflicted. 
 
 With many private virtues, Essex, like his great master Wol- 
 sey, and like the disgraced ministers of dispotic princes in ge- 
 neral, perished unpitied ; and the king and the faction of Gar- 
 diner and of the Howards seemed equally to rejoice in the free 
 course opened by his removal to their further projects. The 
 parliament was immediately ordered to find valid a certain frivo- 
 lous pretext of a prior contract, on which its master was pleased 
 to demand a divorce from Anne of Cleves ; and the marriage was 
 unanimously declared nullj without any opportunity afforded to 
 the queen of bringing evidence in its support. 
 
 The fortitude, or rather phlegm, with which her unmerited 
 degradation was supported by the lady Anne, has in it something 
 at once extraordinary and amusing. There is indeed a tradition 
 that she fainted on first receiving the information that her mar- 
 riage was likely to be set aside: but the shock onceover, she 
 
28 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 gave to the divorce, without hesitation or visible reluctance, that 
 assent which was required of her. Taking in good part the pen- 
 sion of three thousand pounds per annum, and the title of his 
 sister which her ex-husband was graciously pleased to offer her, 
 she wrote to her brother the elector, to entreat him still to live 
 in amity with the king of England, against whom she had no 
 ground of complaint ; and she continued, till the day of her death, 
 to make his country her abode. Through the whole affair, 
 she gave no indication of wounded pride; unless her refusal 
 to return in the character of a discarded and rejected dam- 
 sel, to the home which she had so lately quitted in all the pomp 
 and triumph of a royal bride, is to be regarded as such. But 
 even for this part of her conduct a different motive is with great 
 plausibility assigned by a writer, who supposes her to have been 
 swayed by the prudent consideration, that the regular payment 
 of her pension would better be secured by her remaining under 
 the eyes and within the protection of the English nation. 
 
 A very few weeks after this apparently formidable business 
 had been thus readily and amicably arranged, Catherine How- 
 ard niece to the duke of Norfolk, and first cousin to Anne 
 Boleyn, was declared queen. This lady, beautiful, insinuating, 
 and more fondly beloved by the king than any of her predeces- 
 sors, was a catholic, and almost all the members of the council 
 who now possessed office or influence were attached, more or 
 less openly, to the same communion. In consequence, the penal- 
 ties of the Six Articles were enforced with great cruelty against 
 the reformers ; but this did not exempt from punishment such 
 as, offending on the other side, ventured to deny the royal su- 
 premacy; the only difference was, that the former class of cul- 
 prits were burned as heretics, the latter hanged as traitors. 
 
 The king soon after seized the occasion of a trifling insurrection 
 in Yorkshire, of which sir John Nevil was the leader, to com- 
 plete his vengeance against cardinal Pole, by bringing to a cruel 
 and ignominious end the days of his venerable and sorrow- 
 stricken mother, who had been unfortunate enough thus long to 
 survive the ruin of her family. The strange and shocking scene 
 exhibited on the scaffold by the despi ration of this illustrious 
 and injured lady, is detailed by all our historians : it seems al- 
 most incredible that the surrounding crowd were not urged by 
 an unanimous impulse of horror and compassion to rush in and 
 rescue from the murderous hands of the executioner the last 
 miserable representative of such aline of princes. But the eyes 
 of Henry's subjects were habituated to these scenes of blood ; 
 and they were viewed by some with indifference, and by the rest 
 with emotions of terror which effectually repressed the generous 
 movements of a just and manly indignation. 
 
 In public causes, to be accused and to suffer death were now 
 the same thing ; and another eminent victim of the policy of the 
 English Tiberius displayed in a novel and truly portentous man- 
 ner his utter despair of the justice of the country and the mercy 
 of his sovereign. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 2J> 
 
 Lord Leonard Grey, late deputy of Ireland, was accused of 
 favouring the escape of that persecuted child his nephew Gerald 
 Fitzgerald, of c^esponding with cardinal Pole, and of various 
 other offences ciffed treasonable. Being brought before a jury 
 of knights, " he saved them," says lord Herbert, " the labour ol 
 condemning him, and without more ado confessed all. Which, 
 whether this lord, who was of great courage, did out of despera- 
 tion or guilt, some circumstances make doubtful ; and the rather, 
 that the articles being so many, he neither denied nor extenuated 
 any of them, though his continual fighting with the king's ene- 
 mies, where occasion was, pleaded much on his part. Howso- 
 ever, he had his head cutoff."* 
 
 The queen and her party were daily gaining upon the mind 
 of the king ; and Cranmer himself, notwithstanding the high es- 
 teem entertained for him by Henry, had begun to be endangered 
 by their machinations, when an unexpected discovery put into 
 his hands the means of baffling all their designs, and producing 
 a total revolution in the face of the court. 
 
 It was towards the close of the year 1541 that private infor- 
 mation was conveyed to the primate of such disorders in the 
 conduct of the queen before her marriage as could not fail to 
 plunge her in infamy and ruin. Cranmer, if not exceedingly 
 grieved, was at least greatly perplexed by the incident : — at first 
 sight there appeared to be equal danger in concealing or dis- 
 covering circumstances of a nature so delicate, and the arch- 
 bishop was timid by nature, and cautious from the experience of 
 a court. At length, all things well weighed, he judiciously pre- 
 ferred the hazard of making the communication at once, without 
 reserve, and directly to the person most interested; and, forming 
 into a narrative, facts which his tongue dared not utter to the 
 face of a prince whose anger was deadly, he presented it to him 
 and entreated him to peruse it in secret. 9 
 
 Love and pride conspired to persuade the king that his Ca- 
 therine was incapable of having imposed upon him thus grossly, 
 and he at once pronounced the whole story a malicious fabrica- 
 tion ; but the strict inquiry which he caused to be instituted for 
 the purpose of punishing its authors, not only established the 
 truth of the accusations already brought, but served also to 
 throw the strongest suspicions on the conjugal fidelity of the 
 queen. 
 
 The agonies of Henry on this occasion were such as in any 
 other husband would have merited the deepest compassion : with 
 him they were quickly succeeded by the most violent rage ; and 
 his cry for vengeance was, as usual, echoed with alacrity by a 
 loyal and sympathizing parliament. Party animosity profitted 
 by the occasion and gave additional impulse to their proceed- 
 ings. After convicting by attainder the queen and her para- 
 mours, who were soon after put to death, the two houses pro- 
 
 * Many years after, the earl of Kildare solemnly assured the author of the 
 Chronicles of Ireland" in Holinshed, that lord Leonard Grey had no concern 
 ■whatever in his escape 
 
50 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 ceeded also to attaint her uncle, aunt, grand-mother, and aboufc 
 ten other persons, male and female, accused of being accessary 
 or privy to her disorders before marriage, anckwf not revealing 
 them to the king when they became acquaint^^vith his inten- 
 tion of making her his consort ; an offence declared to be mis- 
 prision of treason by an ex post facto law. But this was an ex- 
 cess of barbarity of which Henry himself was ashamed : the in- 
 famous lady Rochford was the only confident who suffered ca- 
 pitally ; the rest were released after imprisonments of longer 
 or shorter duration ; yet a reserve of bitterness appears to have 
 remained stored up in the heart of the king against the whole 
 race of Howard, which the enemies of that illustrious house well 
 knew how to cherish and augment against a future day. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 1542 to 1547. * • .'.% * '* 
 
 MM of Solway and death of James V. of Scotland. — Birth of 
 queen Mary. — Henry projects to marry her to his son. — Offers 
 the hand of Elizabeth to the earl of Arran. — Earl of Lenox 
 marries lady M. Douglas. — Marriage of the king to Catherine 
 Parr. — Her person and acquirements. — Influence of her 
 conduct on Elizabeth. — Henry joins the emperor against Fran- 
 cis I. — His campaign in France. — Princess Mary replaced in 
 order of succession, and Elizabeth cdso. — Proposals for a mar- 
 riage between Elizabeth and Philip of Spain. — The duke oj 
 Norfolk and earl of Hertford heads of the catholic and protest- 
 ant parties. — Circumstances which give a preponderance to the 
 latter. — Disgrace of the duke. — Trial of the earl of Surry. — 
 His death and character. — Sentence against the duke of Nor- 
 folk. — Death of Henry, 
 
 IN the month of December, 1542, shortly after the rout of 
 Solway, in which the English made prisoners the flower of the 
 Scottish nobility, the same messenger brought to Henry VI II. 
 the tidings that the grief and shame of this defeat had broken 
 the heart of king James V., and that his queen had brought into 
 the world a daughter, who had received the name of Mary, and 
 was now queen of Scotland. Without stopping to deplore he 
 melancholy fate of a nephew whom he had himself brought to 
 destruction, Henry instantly formed the project of uniting the 
 whole island under one crown, by the marriage of this infant so- 
 vereign with the prince his son. All the Scottish prisoners of 
 rank then in London were immediately offered the liberty of re- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 31 
 
 turning to their own country on the condition, to which they ac- 
 ceded with apparent alacrity, of promoting this union with all 
 their interest; so confident was the English monarch in the 
 success of his measures, that previously to their departure, seve- 
 ral of them were carried to the palace of Enfield, where young 
 Edward then resided, that they might tender homage to the 
 future husband of their queen. 
 
 The regency of Scotland at this critical juncture was claimed 
 by the earl of Arran, who was generally regarded as next heir to 
 the crown, though his legitimacy had been disputed ; and to this 
 nobleman, — but whether lor himself or his son seems doubtful, — 
 Henry, as a further means of securing the important object which 
 he had at heart, offered the hand of his daughter Elizabeth. So 
 earlvwere the concerns and interests blended, of two princesses 
 whose celebrated rivalry was destined to endure until the life oi 
 one of them had become its sacrifice ! So remarkably, too, in this 
 first transaction was contrasted the high pre-eminence from which 
 the Scottish princess was destined to hurl herself by her own 
 misconduct, with the abasement and comparative insignificance 
 out of which her genius and her good fortune were to be em- 
 ployed in elevating the future sovereign of England. 
 
 Horn in the purple of her hereditary kingdom, the monarchs 
 of France and England made it an object of eager contention 
 which of them should succeed in encircling with a second dia- 
 dem the baby brows of Mary ; while the hand of Elizabeth was 
 tossed as a trivial boon to a Scottish earl of equivocal birth, des- 
 picable abilities, and feeble character. So little too was even 
 this person flattered by the honour, or aware of the advantages, 
 of such a connection, that he soon after renounced it by quitting 
 the English for the French party. Elizabeth in consequence 
 remained unbetrothed, and her father soon afterwards secured 
 to himself a more strenuous ally in the earl of Lenox, also of 
 the blood -royal of Scotland, by bestowing upon this nobleman 
 the hand, not of his daughter, but of his niece the lady Marga- 
 ret Douglas. 
 
 Undeterred by his late severe disappointment, Henry was 
 bent on entering once more into the marriage state, and his 
 choice now fell on Catherine Parr, sprung from a knightly family 
 possessed of large estates in Westmoreland, and widow- of lord 
 Latimer, a member of the great house of Nevil. 
 
 A portrait of this lady still in existence, exhibits, with fine 
 and regular features, a character of intelligence and arch sim- 
 plicity extremely captivating. She was indeed a woman of un- 
 common talent and address ; and her mental accomplishments, 
 besides the honour which they reflect on herself, inspire us with 
 respect for the enlightened liberality of m age in which such ac- 
 quirements could be placed within the ambition and attainment 
 of a private gentlewoman, born in a remote county, remarkable 
 even in much later times for a primitive simplicity of manners 
 and domestic habits. Catherine was both learned herself, and, 
 after her elevation a zealous patroness of learning and of pro- 
 
111E COURT OF 
 
 testantism, to which she was become a convert. Nicholas Udal 
 master of Eton was employed by her to translate Erasmus's para- 
 phrase of the four gospels ; and there is extant a ^atin letter of hers 
 to the princess Mary, whose conversion from popery she seems 
 to have had much at heart, in which she entreats her to permit 
 this work to appear under her auspices. She also printed some 
 prayers and meditations, and there was found among her papers, 
 after her death, a piece entitled " The lamentations of a sinner 
 bewailing her blind life," in which she deplores the years that 
 she had passed in popish observances, and which was afterwards 
 published by secretary Cecil. 
 
 It is a striking proof of the address of this queen, that she con 
 ciliated the affection of all the three children of the king, letters 
 from each of whom have been preserved addressed to her after 
 the death of their father. 
 
 Elizabeth in particular maintained with her a very intimate 
 and frequent intercourse ; which ended however in a manner re- 
 flecting little credit on either party, as will be more fully ex- 
 plained in its proper place. 
 
 The adroitness with which Catherine extricated herself from 
 the snare in which her own religious zeal, the moroseness of the 
 king, and the enmity of Gardiner had conspired to entangle her, 
 has often been celebrated. May it not be conjectured, that such 
 an example, given by one of whom she entertained a high opinion, 
 might exert no inconsiderable influence on the opening mind of 
 Elizabeth, whose conduct in the many similar dilemmas to which 
 it was her lot to be reduced, partook so much of the same cha- 
 racter of politic and cautious equivocation ? 
 
 Henry discovered by experiment that it would prove a much 
 more difficult matter than he had apprehended, to accomplish, 
 either by force or persuasion, the marriage of young Edward 
 •with the queen of Scots ; and learning, that it was principally to 
 the intrigues of Francis I., against whom he had other causes 
 also of complaint, that he was likely to owe the disappointment 
 *>f this favourite scheme, he determined on revenge. With this 
 design he turned his eyes on the emperor ; and finding Charles 
 perfectly well disposed to forget all ancient animosities in sym- 
 pathy with his newly-conceived indignation against the French 
 king, he entered with him into a strict alliance. War was soon 
 declared against France by the new confederates ; and after a 
 campaign in which little was effected, it was agreed that Charles 
 and Henry, uniting their efforts, should assail that kingdom with 
 a force which it was judged incapable of resisting, and without 
 stopping at inferior objects, march straight to Paris. Accor- 
 dingly in July 1544, preceded by a fine army, and attended by 
 the flow r er of his nobility splendidly equipped, Henry took his 
 departure for Calais in a ship the sails of which were made of 
 cloth of gold. 
 
 He arrived in safety, and enjoyed the satisfaction of dazzling 
 with his magnificence the count de Buren whom the emperor 
 sent with a body of horse to meet him; quarrelled soon after 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH 
 
 with that potentate, who found it his interest to make a separate 
 peace; took the towns of Montreuil and Boulogne, neither of 
 them of any \alue to him, and returned. 
 
 So foolish and expensive a sally of passion, however charac- 
 teristic of the disposition of this monarch, would not merit com- 
 memoration in this place, but tor the important influence which 
 it unexpectedly exerted on the fortune and expectations of Eli- 
 zabeth through the following train of circumstances. 
 
 The emperor, whose long enmity with Henry had taken its rise 
 from what he justly regarded as the injuries of Catherine of Ar- 
 ragon his aunt, in whose person the whole royal family of Spain 
 .had been insulted, had required of him as a preliminary to their 
 treaty a formal acknowledgment of the legitimacy of his daugh- 
 ter Mary. This Henry could not, with any regard to consis- 
 tency, grant ; but desirous to accede as far as he conveniently 
 could to the wishes of his new ally, he consented to stipulate, 
 that without any explanation on this point, his eldest daughter 
 should by act of parliament be reinstated in the order of suc- 
 cession. At the same time, glad to relent in behalf of his fa- 
 vourite child, and unwilling perhaps to give the catholic party 
 the triumph of asserting that he had virtually declared his first 
 marriage more lawful than his second, he caused a similar pri- 
 vilege to be extended to Elizabeth, who was thus happily re- 
 stored to her original station and prospects, before she had at- 
 tained sufficient maturity of age to suffer by the cruel and morti- 
 fying degradation to which she had been for several years sub- 
 jected. 
 
 Henceforth, though the act which declared null the marriage 
 of the king with Anne Boleyn remained for ever unrepealed, 
 her daughter appears to have been universally recognised on the 
 footing of a princess of England ; and so completely w r ere the 
 old disputes concerning the divorce of Catherine consigned to 
 oblivion, that in 1546, when France, Spain, and England had 
 concluded a treaty of peace, proposals passed between the courts 
 of London and Madrid for the marriage of Elizabeth with Philip 
 prince of Spain ; that very Philip afterwards her brother-in-law 
 and in adversity her friend and protector, then a second time 
 her suitor, and afterwards again to the end of his days the most 
 formidable and implacable of her enemies. On which side, or on 
 what assigned objections, this treaty of marriage was relin- 
 quished, we do not learn ; but as the demonstrations of friend- 
 ship between Charles and Henry after their French campaign 
 were full of insincerity, it may perhaps be doubted whether 
 either party was ever bent in earnest on the completion of this 
 extraordinary union. 
 
 The popish and protestant factions which now divided the 
 English court had for several years acknowledged as their re- 
 spective leaders the duke of Norfolk and the earl of Hertford. 
 To the latter of these, the painful impression left on Henry's 
 mind by the excesses of Catherine Howard, the religious senti- 
 ments embraced by the present queen, the king's increasing 
 
 E 
 
34 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 jealousy of the ancient nobility of the country, and above all the 
 visible decline of his health, which brought into immediate pros- 
 pect the accession of young Edward under the tutelage of his 
 uncle, had now conspired to give a decided preponderancy. The 
 aged duke, sagacious, politic, and deeply versed in all the se- 
 crets and the arts of courts, saw in a coalition with the Sey- 
 mours the only expedient for averting the ruin of his house 
 and he proposed to bestow his daughter the duchess of Rich- 
 mond in marriage on sir Thomas Seymour, while he exerted all 
 his authority with his son to prevail upon him to address one of 
 the daughters of the earl of Hertford. But Surry's scorn of 
 the new nobility of the house of Seymour, and his animosity 
 against the person of its chief, was not to be overcome by any 
 plea of expedience or threatening of danger. He could not for- 
 get that it was at the instance of the earl of Hertford that he, 
 with some other nobles and gentlemen, had suffered the disgrace 
 of imprisonment for eating flesh in Lent ; that when a trifling 
 defeat which he had sustained near Boulonge had caused him to 
 be removed from the government of that town, it was the earl of 
 Hertford who ultimately profitted by his misfortune, in succeed- 
 ing to the command of the army. Other grounds of oftence the 
 haughty Surry had also conceived against him; and choosing 
 rather to fall, than cling for support to an enemy at once des- 
 pised and hated, he braved the utmost displeasure of his father, 
 by an absolute refusal to lend himself to such a scheme of alli- 
 ance. Of this circumstance his enemies availed themselves to 
 instil into the mind of the king a suspicion that the earl of Surry 
 aspired to the hand of the princess Mary ; they also comment- 
 ed with industrious malice on his bearing the arms of Edward 
 the Confessor, to which he was clearly entitled in right of his 
 mother, a daughter of the duke of Buckingham, but which his 
 more cautious father had ceased to quarter after the attainder 
 of that unfortunate nobleman. 
 
 The sick mind of Henry received with eagerness all these 
 suggestions, and the ruin of the earl was determined.* An in- 
 dictment of high treason was preferred against him : his propo- 
 sal of disproving the charge, according to a mode then legal, by 
 lighting his principal accuser in his shirt, was overruled ; his 
 spirited, strong and eloquent defence was disregarded — a jury 
 
 * One extraordinary, and indeed unaccountable, circumstance in the life of the 
 earl of Surry may here be noticed : that while his father urged him to connect him- 
 self in marriage with one lady, while the king; was jealous of his designs upon a 
 second, and while he himself, as may be collected from his poem " To a lady who 
 refused to dance with him," made proposals of marriage to a third, he had a wife 
 Viving. To this lady, wb,o was a sister ol the earl of Oxford, he was united at the 
 age of fifteen, she had borne h»m five children ; and it is pretty plain that they were 
 never divorced, for we find her, several years after his death, still bearing the title 
 of countess of Surry, and the guai dian of his orphans. Had the example of Henry 
 instructed his courtiers to find pretexts tor the dissolution of the matrimonial tie 
 whenever interest or inclination might prompt, and did our courts of law lend 
 themselves to this abuse ? A preacher of Edward the sixth's time brings such an 
 accusation against the morals of the age, but I find no particular examples of it in 
 the histories of noble familke, 
 
QURKN ELIZABETH. 
 
 3,5 
 
 devoted to the crown brought in a verdict of guilty ; and in Ja- 
 nuary 1547, at the early age of seven-and-twenty, lie under- 
 went the fatal sentence of the law. 
 
 No one during the whole sanguinary tyranny of Henry VII I. 
 fell more guiltless, or more generally deplored by all whom per- 
 sonal animosity or the spirit of party had not hardened against 
 sentiments of compassion, or blinded to the perception of merit.' 
 But much of Surry has survived the cruelty of his fate. His 
 beautiful songs and sonnets, which served as a model to the most 
 popular poets of the age of Elizabeth, still excite the admiration 
 of every student attached to the early literature of our country. 
 Amongst other frivolous charges brought against him on his trial, 
 it was. mentioned that he kept an Italian jester, thought to be a 
 spy, and that he loved to converse with foreigners and conform 
 his behaviour to them. For his personal safety, therefore, it was 
 perhaps unfortunate that a portion of his youth had been passed 
 in a visit to Italy, then the focus of literature and fount of in- 
 spiration ; but for his surviving fame, and for the progress of 
 English poetry, the circumstance was eminently propitious ; 
 since it is from the return of this noble traveller that we are to 
 date not only the introduction into our language of the Petrar- 
 chan sonnet, and with it of a tenderness and refinement of sen- 
 timent unknown to the barbarism of our preceding versifiers ; 
 but what is much more, that of heroic blank verse ; a noble mea- 
 sure, of which the earliest example exists in Surry's spirited 
 and faithful version of one book of the iEneid. 
 
 The exalted rank, the splendid talents, the lofty spirit of this 
 lamented nobleman seemed to destine him to a station second 
 to none among the public characters of his time ; and if, instead 
 of being cut off by the hand of violence in the morning of life, 
 he had been permitted to attain a length of days at all approach- 
 ing to the fourscore years of his father, it is probable that the 
 votary of letters would have been lost to us in the statesman or 
 the soldier. Queen Mary, who sought by her favour and confi- 
 dence to revive the almost extinguished energies of his father, 
 and called forth into premature distinction the aspiring boyhood 
 of his son, would have intrusted to his vigorous years the high- 
 est offices and most weighty affairs of state. Perhaps even the 
 suspicions of her father might have been verified by the event, 
 and her own royal hand might itself have become the reward of 
 his virtues and attachment. 
 
 Elizabeth, whose maternal ancestry closely connected her 
 with the house of Howard, might have sought and found, in her 
 kinsman the earl of Surry, a counsellor and friend deserving of 
 all her confidence and esteem ; and it is possible that he, with 
 safety and effect, might have placed himself as a mediator be- 
 tween the queen and that formidable catholic party of which his 
 misguided son, fatally for himself, aspired to be regarded as the 
 leader, and was in fact only the instrument. But the career of 
 ambition, ere he had well entered it, was closed upon him for 
 ever ; and it is as an accomplished knight, a polished lover, and 
 
THE COURT OF 
 
 above all as a poet, that the name of Surry now lives in the an- 
 nals of his country. 
 
 Of the five children who survived to feel the want of his pa- 
 ternal guidance, one daughter, married to the earl of Westmor- 
 land, was honourably distinguished by talents, erudition, and 
 the patronage of letters ; but of the two sons, the elder was that 
 unfortunate duke of Norfolk who paid on the scaffold the forfeit 
 of an inconsiderate and guilty enterprise ; and the younger, 
 created earl of Northampton by James I., lived to disgrace his 
 birtli and fine talents by every kind of baseness, and died just in 
 time to escape pu nishment as an accomplice in Overbury's murder. 
 
 The duke of Norfolk had been declared guilty of high treason 
 on grounds equally frivolous with his son ; but the opportune 
 death of Henry VIII. on the day that his cruel and unmerited 
 sentence was to have been carried into execution, saved his life, 
 when his humble submissions and pathetic supplications for 
 mercy had failed to touch the callous heart of the expiring des- 
 pot. The jealousies however, religious and political, of the 
 council of regency, on which the administration devolved, prompt- 
 ed them to refuse liberty to the illustrious prisoner after their 
 weakness or their clemency had granted him his life. During 
 the whole reign of Edward VI. the duke was detained under 
 close custody in the Tower ; his estates were confiscated, his 
 blood attainted, and for this period the great name of Howard 
 disappears from the page of English history. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 1547 to 1549. 
 
 . Testamentary provisions of Henry VIII. — Exclusion of the Scot- 
 tish line. — Discontent of the earl of Arundel. — His character 
 and intrigues. — Hertford declared protector — becomes duke of 
 Somerset. — Other titles conferred. — Thomas Seymour made 
 lord-admiral — marries tJie queen dowager. — His discontent and 
 intrigues. — His behaviour to Elizabeth. — Death of the queen. 
 — Seymour aspires to the hand of Elizabeth — conspires against 
 his brother — is attainted — put to death. — Particulars of his 
 intercourse with Elizabeth. — Examinations which she under- 
 went on this subject^- Traits of her early character. — Verses on 
 admiral Seymour. — The learning of Elizabeth. — Extracts from. 
 £scham?s Letters respecting her, Jane Grey, and other learned 
 ladies. — Two of her letters to Edward VI. 
 
 THE death of Henry VIII., which took place on January 
 28th 1517, opened a new and busy scene, and affected in several 
 important points the situation of Elizabeth* 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 S7 
 
 rhe te3tament by which the parliament had empowered the 
 king to regulate the government of the country during his son's 
 minority, and even to settle the order of succession itself, with 
 as full authority as the dist ribution of his private property, w as 
 the lirst object of attention ; and its provisions were found 
 strongly characteristic of the temper and maxims ot its author, 
 lie confirmed the act of parliament by which his two daughters 
 had been rendered capable of inheriting the crown, and ap- 
 pointed to each of them a pension of three thousand pounds, 
 with a marriage-portion often thousand pounds, but annexed the 
 condition of their marrying w ith the consent of such of his exe- 
 cutors as should be living. After them, he placed in order of 
 succession Frances marchioness of Dorset, and Eleanor countess 
 of Cumberland, daughters of his younger sister the queen 
 dowager of France by Charles Brandon duke of Suffolk ; and 
 failing the descendants of these ladies he bequeathed the crown 
 to the next heir. By this disposition he either totally excluded 
 or at least removed from their rightful place his eldest and still 
 surviving sister the queen-dow ager of Scotland, and all her issue ; 
 — a most absurd and dangerous indulgence of his feelings of 
 enmity against the Scottish line, which might eventually have 
 involved the nation in all the horrors of a civil war, and from 
 which in fact the whole calamitous destinies of the house of 
 Suffolk, which the progress of this work w ill record, and in some 
 measure also the long misfortunes of the queen of Scots herself, 
 will be found to draw their origin. Sixteen executors named in 
 the will were to exercise in common the royal functions till 
 young Edward should attain the age of eighteen ; and to these, 
 twelve others were added as a council of regency, invested how- 
 ever with no other privilege than that of giving their opinions 
 when called upon. The selection of the executors and counsel- 
 lors was in perfect unison with the policy of the Tudors- The 
 great officers of state formed of necessity a considerable portion 
 of the former body, and four of these, lord Wriothesley the chan- 
 cellor, the earl of Hertford lord-chamberlain, lord St. John 
 master of the household, and lord Russel privy-seal, were de- 
 corated with the peerage; but with the exception of sir John 
 Dudley, who had lately acquired by marriage the rank of vis- 
 count Lisle, these were the only titled men of the sixteen. Thus 
 it appeared, that not a single individual amongst the hereditary 
 nobility of the country enjoyed in a sufficient degree the favour 
 and confidence of the monarch, to be associated in a charge 
 which he had not hesitated to confer on persons of no higher 
 importance than the principal gentlemen of the bedchamber, the 
 treasurer of Calais, and the dean of Canterbury. 
 
 Even the council reckoned among its members only two peers: 
 one of them the* brother of the queen-dowager, on whom, since 
 the fall of Cromwel, the title of earl of Essex had at length been 
 conferred in right of his wife, the heiress of the Bourchiers : the 
 other, the earl of Arundel, premier earl of England and last of 
 the ancient name of Fitzalan; a distinguifhed nobleman, whom 
 
38 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 vast wealth, elegant tastes acquired in foreign travel, and a spirit 
 of magnificence, combined to render one of the principal orna- 
 ments of the court; while his political talents and experience of 
 affairs qualified him to assume a leading station in the cabinet. 
 The loyalty and prudence of the Fitzalans must have been con- 
 spicuous for ages, since no attainder, during so long a period ot 
 greatness, had stained the honour of the race ; and the moderation 
 or subserviency of the present earl had been shown by his per 
 feet acquiescence in all the measures of Henry, notwithstanding 
 his private preference of the ancient faith : to crown his merits, 
 his blood appears to have been unmingled with that of the Plan- 
 tagenets. Notwithstanding all this, the king had thought fit 
 to name him only a counsellor, not an executor. Arundel 
 deeply felt the injury ; and impatience of the insignificance to 
 which he was thus consigned, joined to his disapprobation of the 
 measures of the regency with respect to religion, threw him into 
 intrigues whicn contributed not a little to the turbulence of this 
 disastrous period. 
 
 It was doubtless the intention of Henry, that the religion of 
 the country, at least during the minority of his son, should be 
 left vibrating on the same nice balance between protestantism 
 and popery on which it had cost him so much pains to fix it; and 
 with a view to this object he had originally composed the regency 
 with a pretty equal distribution of power between the adhe- 
 rents of the two communions. But the suspicion, or disgust, 
 which afterwards caused him to erase the name of Gardiner from 
 the list, destroyed the equipoise, and rendered the scale of refor- 
 mation decidedly preponderant. In vain did Wriothesley, a 
 man of vigourous talents and aspiring mind, struggle with Hert- 
 ford for the highest place in the administration ; in vain did 
 Tunstal bishop of Durham, — no bigot, but a firm papist, — check 
 with all the authority that he could venture to exert, the bold 
 career of innovation on which he beheld Cranmer full of eager- 
 ness to enter ; in vain did the catholics invoke to their aid the 
 active interference of Dudley; he suffered them to imagine that 
 his heart was with them, and that he watched an opportunity to 
 interpose with effect in their behalf, whilst, in fact, he was only 
 waiting till the fall of one of the Seymours by the hand of the 
 other should enable him to crush the survivor, and rise to uncon- 
 trolled authority on the ruins of both. 
 
 The first attempt of the protestant party in the regency 
 showed their intentions ; its success proved their strength, and 
 silenced for the present all opposition. It was proposed, and 
 carried by a majroity of the executors, that the earl of Hertford 
 should be declared protector of the realm, and governor of the 
 king's person ; and the new dictator soon after procured the rati- 
 fication of this appointment, which overturned some of the most 
 important clauses of the late king's will, by causing a patent to 
 be drawn and sanctioned by the two houses which invested him, 
 during the minority, with all the prerogatives ever assumed by 
 the most arbitrary of* the English sovereigns, and many more 
 than were ever recognised by the constitution. 
 
QUERN ELIZABETH. 
 
 39 
 
 As if in compensation for any disrespect shown to the memory 
 of fhe deceased monarch by these proceedings, the executors 
 next declared their intention of fulfilling certain promises made 
 by him in his last illness, and which death alone had prevented 
 him from carrying into effect. On this plea, they bestowed upon 
 themselves and their adherents var ious titles of honour, and a 
 number of valuable church preferments, now first conferred upon 
 laymen, the protector himself unblushingly assuming the title of 
 duke of Somerset, and taking possession of benefices and impro- 
 priations to a vast amount. Viscount Lisle was created earl of 
 Warwick, and Wriothesley became earl of Southampton ; — an 
 empty dignity, which afforded him little consolation for seeing 
 himself soon after, on pretence of some irregular proceedings in 
 his oflice, stripped of the post of chancellor, deprived of his 
 place amongst the other executors of the king, who now formed 
 a privy council to the protector, and consigned to obscurity and 
 insignificance for the short remnant of his days. Sir Thomas 
 Seymour ought to have been consoled by the share allotted him 
 in this splended distribution, for the mortification of having been 
 named a counsellor only, and not an executor. He was made 
 lord Seymour of Sudley, and soon after, lord high-admiral — pre- 
 ferments greatly exceeding any expectations which his birth or 
 his services to the state could properly authorise. But he mea- 
 sured his claims by his nearness to the king ; he compared these 
 inferior dignities with the state and power usurped by his bro- 
 ther, and his arrogant spirit disdained as a meanness, the thought 
 of resting satisfied or appeased. Circumstances soon arose 
 which converted this general feeling of discontent in the mind 
 of Thomas Seymour into a more rancorous spirit of envy and 
 hostility against his brother, and gradually involved him in a suc- 
 cession of dark intrigues, which, on account of the embarrassments 
 and dangers in which they eventually implicated the princess 
 Elizabeth, it will now become necessary to unravel. The younger 
 Seymour, still in the prime of life, was endowed in a striking 
 degree with those graces of person and manner which serve to 
 captivate the female heart, and his ambition had sought in con- 
 sequence to avail itself of a splendid marriage. 
 
 It is said that the princess Mary herself was at first the object 
 of his hopes' or wishes : but if this were really the case, she must 
 speedily have quelled his presumption by the lofty sternness of 
 her repulse ; for it is impossible to discover in the history of his 
 life at what particular period he could have been occupied with 
 such a design. 
 
 Immediately after the death of Henry, he found means to re- 
 vive with such energy in the bosom of the queen dowager, an at- 
 tachment which she had entertained for him before her marriage 
 with the king, that she consented to become his wife with a pre- 
 cipitation highly indecorous and reprehensible. The connexion 
 proved unfortunate on both sides, and its first effect was to em- 
 broil him with his brother. 
 
 The protector, of a temper still weaker than his not very vigo- 
 
40 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 rous understanding, had long allowed himself to be governed both 
 in great and small concerns by his wife, a woman of little princi- 
 ple, and of a disposition in the highest degree violent, imperious, 
 and insolent. Nothing could be more insupportable to the spirit 
 of this lady, who prided herself on her descent from Thomas of 
 Woodstock, and now saw her husband governing the kingdom 
 with all the prerogatives and almost all the splendour of royalty, 
 than to find herself compelled to yield precedency to the wife of 
 his younger brother; and unable to submit patiently to a mortifi- 
 cation from which, after all, there was no escape, she could not 
 forbear engaging in continual disputes on the subject with the 
 queen dowager. Their husbands soon were drawn in to take 
 part in this senseless quarrel, and a serious difference ensued 
 between them. The protector and council soon after refused to 
 the lord admiral certain grants of land and valuable jewels which 
 he claimed as bequests to his wife from the late king, and the, 
 perhaps, real injury, thus added to the slights of which he before 
 complained, gave fresh exasperation to the pride and turbulence 
 of his character. 
 
 Taking advantage of the protector's absence on that campaign 
 in Scotland which ended with the victory of Pinkey, he formed 
 partisans among the discontented nobles, won from his brother 
 the affections of the young king, and believing every thing ripe 
 for an attack on his usurped authority, he designed to bring for- 
 ward in the ensuing parliament a proposal for separating, accord- 
 ing to ancient precedent, the office of guardian of the king's per- 
 son from that of protector of the realm, and for conferring upon 
 himself the former. But he discovered too late that he had 
 greatly miscalculated his forces ; his proposal was not even per- 
 mitted to come to a hearing. Having rendered himself further 
 obnoxious to the vengeance of the administration by menaces 
 thrown out in the rage of disappointment, he saw himself re- 
 duced, in order to escape a committal to the Tower, to make 
 submissions to his brother. An apparent reconciliation took 
 place; and the admiral was compelled to change, but not to re- 
 linquish, his schemes of ambition. 
 
 The princess Elizabeth had been consigned on the death of 
 her father to the protection and superintendance of the queen 
 dowager, with whom, at one or other of her jointure-houses of 
 Chelsea or Hanworth, she usually made her abode. By this 
 means it happened, that after the queen's re-marriage she found 
 herself domesticated under the roof of the lord admiral ; and in 
 this situation she had soon the misfortune to become an object of 
 his marked attention. 
 
 What were, at this particular period, Seymour's designs upon 
 the princess, is uncertain ; but it afterwards appeared from the 
 testimony of eye-witnesses, that neither respect for her exalted 
 rank, nor a sense of the high responsibility attached to the cha- 
 racter of a guardian, with which circumstances invested him, had 
 proved sufficient to restrain him from freedoms of behaviour to- 
 wards her, w r hich no reasonable allowance for the comparative 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 41 
 
 crossness of the age can reduce within the limits of propriety or 
 decorum. We learn that, oh some occasions at least, she endea- 
 voured to repel his presumption by such expedients as her youth- 
 ful inexperience suggested ; but her governess and attendants, 
 gained over or intimidated, were guilty of a treacherous or cow- 
 ardly neglect of duty, and the queen herself appears to have 
 been very deficient in delicacy and caution till circumstances 
 arose which suddenly excited her jealousy. * A violent scene 
 then took place between the royal step-mother and step-daugh- 
 ter, which ended, fortunately for the peace and honour of Eliza- 
 beth, in an immediate and final separation. 
 
 There is no ground whatever to credit the popular rumour 
 that the queen, who died in childbed soon after this affair, was 
 poisoned by the admiral ; but there is sufficient proof that he was 
 a harsh and jealous husband ; and he did not probably at this 
 juncture regard as unpropitious on the whole, an event which 
 enabled him to aspire to the hand of Elizabeth, though other and 
 more intricate designs were at the same time hatching in his 
 busy brain, to which his state of a widower seemed at first to 
 oppose some serious obstacles. 
 
 Lady Jane Grey, eldest daughter of the marchioness of Dor- 
 set, who had been placed immediately after the two princesses 
 in order of succession, had also resided in the house of the lord- 
 admiral during the lifetime of the queen-dowager, and he was 
 anxious still to retain in his hands a pledge of such importance. 
 To the applications of the marquis and marchioness for her re- 
 turn, he pleaded that the young lady would be as secure under 
 the superintendance of his mother, whom he had invited to re- 
 side in his house, as formerly under that of the queen, and that 
 a mark of the esteem of friends whom he so highly valued, would 
 in this season of his affliction be doubly precious to him. He 
 caused a secret agent to insinuate to the weak marquis, that if 
 the lady Jane remained under his roof, it might eventually be 
 in his power to marry her to the young king ; and finally, as 
 the most satisfactory proof of the sincerity of his professions of 
 regard, he advanced to this illustrious peer the sum of five hun- 
 dred pounds in ready money, requiring no other security for its 
 repayment than the person of his fair guest, or hostage. Such 
 eloquence proved irresistible : lady Jane was suffered to remain 
 undei this very singular and improper protection, and report for 
 some time vibrated between the sister and the cousin of the king 
 as the real object of the admiral's matrimonial projects. But in 
 his own mind there appears to have been no hesitation between 
 them. The residence of lady Jane in his house was no other- 
 
 * It seems that on one occasion the queen held the hands of the princess while 
 the lord-ad miral amused himself with cutting her gown to shreds; and that, on 
 another she introduced him into the chamber of Elizabeth before she had left her 
 bed, when a violent romping scene took place, which was afterwards repeated 
 without the presence of the queen. 
 
 Catherine was so ungarded in her own conduct, that the lord-admiral professed 
 himself jealous of the servant who carried up coals to her apartment, 
 
 F 
 
THE COURT OF 
 
 wise of importance to him, than as it contributed to insure to 
 him the support of her father, and as it enabled him to counter- 
 act a favourite scheme of the protector's, or rather of his duch- 
 ess's, for marrying her to their eldest son. With Elizabeth, or 
 the contrary, he certainly aimed at the closest of all connexions, 
 and he was intent on improving by every means the impression 
 which his dangerous powers of insinuation had already made on 
 her inexperienced heart. 
 
 Mrs. Ashley, her governess, he had long since secured in his 
 interests ; his next step was to gain one Parry, her cofferer, and 
 through these agents he proposed to open a direct correspond- 
 ence with herself. His designs prospered for some time ac- 
 cording to his desires ; and though it seems never to have been 
 exactly known, except to the parties themselves, what degree of 
 secret intelligence Elizabeth maintained with her suitor ; it 
 cannot be doubted that she betrayed towards him sentiments 
 sufficiently favourable to render the difficulty of obtaining that 
 consent of the royal executors which the law required, the prin- 
 cipal obstacle, in his own opinion, to the accomplishment of his 
 wishes. It was one, however, which appeared absolutely insu 
 perable so long as his brother continued to preside over the ad- 
 ministration with authority not to be resisted ; and despair of 
 gaining his object by fair and peaceful means, soon suggest 
 ed to the admiral further measures of a dark and dangerous cha 
 racter. 
 
 By the whole order of nobility, the protector, who affected the 
 love of the commons, was envied and hated ; but his brother, 
 on the contrary, had cultivated their friendship with assiduity 
 and success ; and he now took opportunities of emphatically 
 recommending it to his principal adherents, the marquis of 
 Northampton (late earl of Essex,) the marquis of Dorset, the 
 earl of Rutland, and others, to go into their counties and "make 
 all the strength" there which they could. He boasted of the 
 command of men which he derived from his office of high-admi- 
 ral ; provided a large quantity of arms for his followers ; and 
 gained over the master of Bristol mint to take measures for sup^ 
 plying him, on any sudden emergency, with a large sum of 
 money. He likewise opened a secret correspondence with the 
 young king, and endeavoured by many accusations, true or false, 
 to render odious the government of his brother. But happily 
 those turbulent dispositions and inordinate desires which prompt 
 men to form plots dangerous to the peace and welfare of a com- 
 community, are rarely found to co-exist with the sagacity and 
 prudence necessary to conduct them to a successful issue ; and 
 to this remark the admiral was not destined to afford an excep- 
 tion. Though he ought to have been perfectly aware that hi* 
 late attempt had rendered him an object of the strongest suspi- 
 cion to his brother, and that he was surrounded by his spies, 
 such was the violence and presumption of his temper, that he 
 could not restrain himself from throwing out vaunts and menaces 
 which served to put his enemies on the track of the most im- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 43 
 
 portant discoveries ; and in the midst of vain schemes and flat- 
 tering anticipations, he was surprised on the sudden by a war- 
 rant lor his committal to the Tower. His principal agents were 
 also seized, and compelled to give evidence before the council. 
 Still the protector seemed reluctant to proceed to extremities 
 against his brother ; but his own impetuous temper and the ill 
 offices of the earl of Warwick conspired to urge on his fate. 
 
 Far from submitting himself as before to the indulgence of the 
 protector, and seeking to disarm his indignation by promises 
 and entreaties, Seymour now stood, as it were, at bay, and bold- 
 ly demanded a fair and equal trial, — the birth right of English- 
 men. But this was a boon which it was esteemed on several 
 accounts inexpedient, if not dangerous, to grant. No overt act 
 of treason could be proved against him : circumstances might 
 come out which would compromise the young king himself, whom 
 a strong dislike of the restraint in which he was held by his el- 
 der uncle had thrown pretty decidedly into the party of the 
 younger. The name 01 the lady Elizabeth was implicated in 
 the transaction further than it was delicate to declare. An ac- 
 quittal, which the far-extended influence of the lord -admiral 
 over all classes of men rendered by no means impossible, would 
 probably be the ruin of the protector ; — and in the end it was 
 decided to proceed against him by the arbitrary and odious me- 
 thod of attainder. 
 
 Several of those peers, on whose support he had placed the 
 firmest reliance, rose voluntarily in their places, and betrayed 
 the designs which he had confided to them. The depositions 
 before the council were declared sufficient ground for his con- 
 demnation ; and in spite of the opposition of some spirited and 
 upright members of the house of commons, a sentence was pro- 
 nounced, in obedience to which, in March 1549, he was conduct- 
 ed to the scaffold. 
 
 The timely removal of this bad and dangerous man, however 
 illegal* and unwarrantable the means by which it was accom- 
 plished, deserves to be regarded as the first of those signal es- 
 capes with which the life of Elizabeth so remarkably abounds. 
 Her attachment for Seymour, certainly the earliest, was perhaps 
 also the strongest, impression of the tender kind which her 
 heart was destined to receive ; and though there may be a pro- 
 bability that in this, as in subsequent instances, where her in- 
 clinations seemed most to favour the wishes of her suitors, her 
 characteristic caution would have interfered to withhold her from 
 an irrevocable engagement, it might not much longer have been 
 in her power to recede with honour, or even, if the designs of 
 Seymour had prospered, with safety. 
 
 The original pieces relative to this affair have fortunately been 
 preserved, and furnish some very remarkable traits of the early 
 character of Elizabeth, and of the behaviour of those about her. 
 
 The confessions of Mrs. Ashley and of Parry before the privy- 
 council, contain all that is known of the conduct of the admiral 
 towards their lady during the lifetime of the queen. They 
 
44 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 seem to cast upon Mrs. Ashley the double imputation of having 
 suffered such behaviour to pass before her eyes as she ought not 
 to have endured for a moment, and of having needlessly dis- 
 closed to Parry particulars respecting it which reflected the ut- 
 most disgrace both on herself, the admiral, and her pupil. Yet 
 we know that Elizabeth, so far from resenting any thing that 
 Mrs. Ashley had either done or confessed, continued to love and 
 favour her in the highest degree, and after her accession pro- 
 moted her husband to a considerable office : — a circumstance 
 which affords ground for suspicion that some important secrets 
 were in her possession respecting later transactions between the 
 princess and Seymour which she had faithfully kept. It should 
 also be observed in palliation of the liberties which she accused 
 the admiral of allowing to himself, and the princess of enduring, 
 that the period of Elizabeth's life to which these particulars re- 
 late was only her fourteenth year. 
 
 We are told that she refused permission to the admiral to 
 visit her after he became a widower, on account of the general 
 report that she was likely to become his wife ; and not the 
 slightest trace was at this time found of any correspondence be^ 
 tween them, though Harrington afterwards underwent an impri- 
 sonment for having delivered to her a letter from the admiral. 
 Yet it is stated that the partiality of the young princess betrayed 
 itself by many involuntary tokens to those around her, who were 
 thus encouraged to entertain her with accounts of the admiral's 
 attachment, and to inquire whether, if the consent of the council 
 could be obtained, she would consent to admit his addresses. 
 The admiral is represented to have proceeded with caution 
 equal to her own. Anxious to ascertain her sentiments, earnestly 
 desirous to accomplish so splendid an union, but fully sensible 
 of the inutility as well as danger of a clandestine connection, he 
 may be thought rather to have regarded her hand as the recom- 
 pense which awaited the success of all his other plans of ambition, 
 than as the means of obtaining that success ; and it seemed to 
 have been only by distant hints through the agents whom he 
 trusted, that he had ventured as yet to intimate to her his views 
 and wishes ; but it is probable that much of the truth was by 
 these agents suppressed. 
 
 The protector, rather, as it seems, with the desire of crimi- 
 nating his brother than of clearing the princess, sent sir Robert 
 Tyrwhitt, to her residence at Hatfield, empowered to examine 
 her on the whole matter ; and his letters to his employer inform 
 us of many particulars. When, by the base expedient of a coun- 
 terfeit letter, he had brought her to believe that both Mrs. Ash- 
 ley and Parry were committed to the Tower, " her grace was." 
 as he expresses it, " marvellously abashed, and did weep very 
 tenderly a long time, demanding whether they had confessed any 
 thing or not." Soon after, sending for him, she related several 
 circumstances which she said she had forgotten to mention when 
 the master of the household and master Denny came from the 
 protector to examine her. " After all this," adds he, " I did re- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 45 
 
 quire her to consider her honour, and the peril that might ensue, 
 for she was but a subject; and I further declared what a woman 
 Mrs. Ashley was, with a long circumstance, saying that if she 
 would open all things herself, that all the evil and shame should 
 be ascribed to them, and her youth considered both with the 
 king's majesty, your grace, and the whole council. But in no 
 way she will hot confess any practice by Mrs. Ashley or the* 
 cofferer concerning my lord -admiral ; and yet I do see it in her 
 tace that she is guilty,' and do perceive as yet that she will abide 
 mo storms or she accuse Mrs. Ashley. 
 
 • Upon sudden news that my lord great-master and master Den- 
 ♦ ny was arrived at the gate, the cofferer went hastily to his cham- 
 ber, and said to my lady his wife, 'I would I had never been born, 
 for I am undone,' and wrung his hands, and castaway his chain 
 from his neck, and his rings from his fingers. This is confessed 
 by his own servant, and there is divers witnesses of the same." 
 
 The following day Tyrwhitt writes, that all he has yet gotten 
 from the princess was by 'gentle persuasion, whereby he began to 
 grow with her in credit, " for I do assure your grace she hath a 
 good wit, and nothing is gotten off her but by great policy." 
 
 A few days after, he expresses to the protector his opinion 
 that there had been some secret promise between the princess, 
 Mrs. Ashley, and the cofferer, never to confess till deatn ; " and 
 if it be so," he observes, " it will never be gotten of her but 
 either by the king's majesty or else by your grace." On another 
 occasion he confirms this idea by stating that he had tried her 
 with false intelligence of Parry's having confessed, on which she 
 called him " false wretch,"- and said that it was a great matter 
 for him to make such a promise and break it. He notices the 
 exact agreement between the princess and the other two in all 
 their statements, but represents it as a proof that M they had set 
 the knot before." It appears on the whole, that sir Robert with 
 all his pains was not able to elicit a single fact of decisive im- 
 portance ; but probably there was somewhat more in the matter 
 than we find acknowledged in a letter from Elizabeth herself to 
 the protector. She here states, that she did indeed send her 
 cofferer to speak with the lord -admiral, but on no other business 
 than to recommend to him one of her chaplains, and to request 
 him to use his interest that she might have Durham Place for her 
 town house ; that Parry on his return informed her, that the ad- 
 miral said she could not have Durham Place, which was wanted 
 for a mint, but offered her his own house for the time of her be- 
 ing in London ; and that Parry then inquired of her, whether, if 
 the council would consent to her marrying the admiral, she would 
 herself be willing? That she refused to answer this question, 
 requiring to know who bade him ask it. He said, No one ; but 
 from the admiral's inquiries what she spent in her house, and 
 whether she had gotten her patents for certain lands signed, and 
 other questions of a similar nature, he thought " that he was 
 given that way rather than otherwise." She explicitly denies 
 that her governess ever advised her to marry the admiral with- 
 
THE COURT OF 
 
 out the consent of the council ; but relates with great ap* 
 parent ingenuousness, the hints which Mrs. Ashley had thrown 
 out of his attachment to her, and the artful attempts which she 
 had made to discover how her pupil stood affected towards such 
 a connection. 
 
 The letter concludes with the following wise and spirited as- 
 sertion of herself. " Master Tyrwhitt and others have told me, 
 that there goeth rumours abroad which be greatly both against 
 my honour and honesty, (which above all things I esteem) which 
 be these ; that I am in the Tower, and with child by my lord ad- 
 miral. My lord, these are shameful slanders, for the which, be- 
 sides the desire I have to see the king's majesty, I shall most 
 humbly desire your lordship that 1 may come to the court after 
 your first determination, that I may show myself there as I am." 
 
 That the cofferer had repeated his visits to the admiral oftener 
 than was at first acknowledged either by his lady or himself, a 
 confession afterwards addressed by Elizabeth to the protector 
 seems to show ; but even with this confession Tyrwhitt declares 
 himself unsatisfied. 
 
 Parry, in that part of his confession where he relates what 
 passed between himself and the lord-admiral when he waited 
 upon him by his lady's command, takes notice of the earnest 
 manner in which the admiral had urged her endeavouring to 
 procure, by way of exchange, certain crown lands which had 
 been the queen's, and seem to have been adjacent to his own, 
 from which, he says, he inferred, that he wanted to have both 
 them and his lady for himself. He adds, that the admiral said 
 he wished the princess to go to the duchess of Somerset, and by 
 her means make suit to the protector for the lands, and for a 
 town house, and " to entertain her grace for her furtherance." 
 That when he repeated this to her, Elizabeth would not at first 
 believe that he had said such words, or could wish her so to do ; 
 but on his declaring that it was true, "she seemed to be angry 
 that she should be driven to make such suits, and said, * In faith 
 I will not come there, nor begin to flatter now.' 99 
 
 Her spirit broke out, according to Tyrwhitt, with still greater 
 vehemence, on the removal 'of Mrs. Ashley, whom lady Tyrwhitt 
 succeeded in her office : — the following is the account which he 
 gives of her behaviour. • 
 
 *' Pleaseth it your grace to be advertised, that after my wife's 
 repair hither, she declared to the lady Elizabeth's grace, that 
 she was called before your grace and the council and had a re- 
 buke, that she had not taken upon her the office to see her well 
 governed, in the lieu of Mrs. Ashley. Her answer was, that Mrs. 
 Ashley was her mistress, and that she had not so demeaned her- 
 self that the council should now need to put any mo mistresses 
 unto her. Whereunto my wife answered, seeing she did 
 allow Mrs. Ashley to be her mistress, she need not to be 
 ashamed to have any honest woman to be in that place. She 
 took the matter so heavily that she wept all that night and 
 lowered all the next day, till she received your letter ; and then 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 74 
 
 sent for me and asked me whether she was best to write to 
 you again or not: I said, if she would make answer that she 
 would follow the effect of your letter, I thought it well done that 
 six* should w rite ; but in the end of the matter I perceived thai 
 she was xwy loth to have a governor ; and to avoid the same, 
 said (lie world would note her to be a great offender, having so 
 hastily a governor appointed her. And all is no more, she fully 
 hopes to recover her old mistress again. The love she yet bear - 
 eth her is to be wondered at. I told her, if she would consider 
 her honour and the sequel thereof, she would, considering her 
 years, make suit to your grace to have one, rather than to make 
 delay to be without one one hour. She cannot digest such advice 
 in no way; but if I should say my phantasy, it were more meet she 
 should have two than one. She would in any wise write to your 
 grace, wherein I offered her my advice, which she would in no 
 wise follow, but write her own phantasy. She beginneth now a 
 little to droop, by reason she heareth that my lord -admiral's 
 houses be dispersed. And my wife telleth me now, that she 
 cannot hear him discommended but she is ready to make answer 
 therein : and so she hath not been accustomed to do, unless Mrs. 
 Ashley were touched, whereunto she was very ready to make 
 answer vehemently." &c. * 
 
 Parry had probably the same merit of fidelity as Mrs, Ashley ; 
 for though Tyrwhitt says he was found faulty in his accounts, 
 he was not only continued at this time by his mistress in his of- 
 fice of cofferer, but raised afterwards to that of comptroller of 
 the royal household, which he held till his death. 
 
 A gentleman of the name of Harrington, then in the admiral's 
 service, who was much examined respecting his master's inter- 
 course with the princess, and revealed nothing, was subsequently 
 taken by her into her own household and highly favoured ; and 
 so certain did this gentleman, who was a man of parts, account 
 himself of her tenderness for the memory of a lover snatched 
 from her by the hand of violence alone, that he ventured, several 
 years after her accession to the throne, to present her with a 
 portrait of him, under which was inscribed the following sonnet- 
 
 " Of person rare, strong limbs and manly shape, 
 
 By nature framed to serve on sea or land : 
 
 In friendship firm in good state or ill hap, 
 • In peace head-wise, in war, skill great, bold hand. 
 
 Or horse or foot, in peril or in play, 
 
 "Noje could excel, though many did e9say. 
 
 A subject true to king, a servant great, 
 
 Friend to God's truth, and foe to Rome's deceit. 
 
 Sumptuous abroad for honour of the land, 
 
 Temp'rate at home, yet kept great state with stay., 
 
 And noble house that fed more mouths with meal 
 
 Than some advanced on higher steps to stand ; 
 
 Yet against nature, reason, and just laws, 
 
 His blood was spilt, guiltless, without just cause." 
 
 * For the original documents relative to this affair see Burleigh Papers by 
 Haynes, passim 
 
48 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 The fall of Seymour, and the disgrace and danger in which, 
 she had herself been involved, afforded to Elizabeth a severe but 
 useful lesson ; and the almost total silence of history respecting 
 her during the remainder of her brother's reign affords satisfac- 
 tory indication of the extreme caution with which she now con 
 ducted herself. 
 
 This silence, however, is agreeably supplied by documents of 
 a more private nature, which inform us of her studies, her acquire- 
 ments, the disposition of her time, and the bent of her youthful 
 mind. 
 
 The Latin letters of her learned preceptor Roger Ascham 
 abound with anecdotes of a pupil in whose proficiency he justly 
 gloried ; and the particulars interspersed respecting other fe- 
 males of high rank, also distinguished by the cultivation of clas- 
 sical literature, enhance the interest of the picture, by affording 
 objects of comparison to the principal figure, and illustrating the 
 taste, almost the rage, for learning which pervaded the court of 
 Edward VI. 
 
 "Writing in 1550 to his friend John Sturmius, the worthy and 
 erudite rector of the protestant university of Strasburg, Ascham 
 has the following passages. 
 
 " Never was the nobility of England more lettered than at 
 present. Our illustrious king Edward in talent, industry, perse- 
 verance, and erudition, surpasses both his own years and the be* 
 lief of men * * * * I doubt not that France will also yield the just 
 praise of learning to the duke of Suffolk * and the rest of that 
 band of noble youths educated with the king in Greek and Latia 
 literature, who depart for that country on this very day. 
 
 " Numberless honourable ladies of the present time surpass 
 the daughters of sir Thomas More in every kind of learning. But 
 amongst them all, my illustrious mistress the lady Elizabeth 
 shines like a star, excelling them more by the splendour of her 
 virtues and her learning, than by the glory of her royal birth. In 
 the variety of her commendable qualities, I am less perplexed 
 to find matter for the highest panegyric than to circumscribe that 
 panegyric within just bounds. Yet I shall mention nothing re - 
 specting her but what has come under my own observation. 
 
 " For two years she pursued the study of Greek and Latin 
 under my tuition ; but the foundations of her knowlede in both 
 languages were laid by the diligent instruction of William 
 Grindal, my late beloved friend and seven years my pupil in 
 classical learning at Cambridge. From this university he was 
 summoned by John Cheke to court, where he soon after received 
 the appointment of tutor to this lady. After some years, when 
 through her native genius, aided by the efforts of so excellent a 
 master, she had made a great progress in learning, and Grindal, 
 by his merit and the favour of his mistress, might have aspired 
 to high dignities, he was snatched away by a sudden illness, leav- 
 
 * This was the second duke of the narae of Brandon,, who died young of the 
 
 fiweating sksknes 1 ;. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 49 
 
 ing a greater miss of himself in the court, than I remember any 
 other to have done these many years. 
 
 " I was appointed to succeed him in his office ; and the work 
 which he had so happily begun, without my assistance indeed, but 
 not without some counsels of mine, I diligently laboured to com- 
 plete. Now, however, released from the throng of a court, and 
 restored to the felicity of my former learned leisure, I enjoy, 
 through the bounty of the king, an honourable appointment in 
 this university. 
 
 " The lady Elizabeth has accomplished her sixteenth year ; 
 and so much solidity of understanding, such courtesy united with 
 dignity, have never been observed at so early an age. She has 
 the most ardent love of true religion and of the best kind of lite- 
 rature. The constitution of her mind is exempt from female 
 weakness, and she is endued with a masculine power of applica- 
 tion. No apprehension can be quicker than her's, no memory 
 more retentive. French and Italian she speaks like English ; 
 Latin, with fluency, propriety, and judgement ; she also spoke 
 Greek with me, frequently, willingly, and moderately well. No- 
 thing can be more elegant than her handwriting, whether in the 
 Greek or Roman character. In music she was very skilful, but 
 does not greatly delight. With respect to personal decoration, 
 she greatly prefers a simple elegance to show and splendour, so 
 despising * the outward adorning of plaiting the hair and of wear- 
 ing of gold;' that in the whole manner of her life she rather re- 
 sembles Hippolyta than Phaedra. 
 
 " She read with me almost the whole of Cicero, and a great 
 part of Livy : from these two authors, indeed, her knowledge of 
 the Latin language has been almost exclusively derived. The be- 
 ginning of the day was always devoted by her to the New Testa- 
 ment in Greek, after which she read select orations of Isocrates 
 and the tragedies of Sophocles, which I judged best adapted to 
 supply her tongue with the purest diction, her mind with the 
 most excellent precepts, and her exalted station with a defence 
 against the utmost power of fortune. For her religious instruc- 
 tion, she drew first from the fountains of Scripture, and after- 
 wards from St. Cyprian, the ' Common places' of Melancthon, 
 and similar works which convey pure doctrine in elegant lan- 
 guage. In every kind of writing she easily detected any ill - 
 adapted or far-fetched expression. She could not bear those 
 feeble imitators of Erasmus who bind the Latin language in the 
 fetters of miserable proverbs ; on the other hand, she approved 
 a style chaste in its propriety, and beautiful by perspicuity, and 
 she greatly admired metaphors, when not too violent, and anti- 
 theses when just, and happily opposed. By a diligent attention 
 to these particulars, her ears became so practised and so nice, 
 that there was nothing in Greek, Latin, or English, prose or 
 verse, which, according to its merits or defects, she did not 
 either reject with disgust, or receive with the highest delight 
 * * * * * Had I more leisure, I would speak to you at greater 
 length of the king, of the lady Elizabeth, and of the daughter' 
 
50 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 of the duke of Somerset, whose minds have also been formed by 
 the best literary instruction. But there are two English ladies 
 whom I cannot omit to mention ; nor would I have you, my 
 Sturmius, omit them, if you meditate any celebration of your 
 English friends, than which nothing could be more agreeable to 
 me. One is Jane Grey *, the other is Mildred Cecil, who under- 
 stands aud speaks Greek like English, so that it may be doubted 
 whether she is most happy in the possession of this surpassing 
 degree of knowledge, or m having had for her preceptor and fa- 
 ther sir Anthony Coke, whose singular erudition caused him to 
 be joined with John Cheke in the office of tutor to the king, or 
 finally, in having become the wife of William Cecil, lately ap- 
 pointed secretary of state ; a young man indeed, but mature in 
 wisdom, and so deeply skilled both in letters and in affairs, and 
 endued with such moderation in the exercise of public offices, 
 that to him would be awarded by the consenting voice of English- 
 men the four-fold praise attributed to Pericles by his rival Thu- 
 cydides — ' To know all that is fitting, to be able to apply what 
 he knows, to be a lover of his country, and superior to money.'" 
 The learned, excellent and unfortunate Jane Grey is repeated- 
 ly mentioned by this writer with warm and merited eulogium. 
 He relates to Sturmius, that in the month of August 1550, taking 
 his journey from Yorkshire to the court, he had deviated from 
 his course to visit the family of the marquis of Dorset at his seat 
 of Broadgate in Leicestershire. Lady Jane was alone at his ar- 
 rival, the rest of the family being on a hunting party ; and gain- 
 ing admission to her apartment, he found her reading by herself 
 the Phsedo of Plato in the original, which she understood so per- 
 fectly as to excite in him extreme wonder ; for she was at this 
 time under fifteen years of age. She also possessed the power 
 of speaking and writing Greek, and she willingly promised to 
 address to him a letter in this language. In his English work 
 ' The School -master,' referring again to this interview with Jane 
 Grey, Ascham adds the following curious and affecting particu- 
 lars. Having asked her how at her age she could have attained 
 to such perfection both in philosophy and Greek, " I will tell 
 you," said she, " and tell you a truth, which perchance you will 
 marvel at. One of the greatest benefits that ever God gave me 
 is, that he sent me so sharp and severe parents, and so gentle a 
 schoolmaster. For when I am in presence either of father or 
 mother, whether I speak, keep silence, sit, stand, or go ; eat, 
 drink, be merry or sad ; be sewing, playing, dancing, or doing 
 any thing else, I must do it, as it were, in such weight, measure, 
 and number, even so perfectly, as God made the world, or else 
 I am so sharply taunted, so cruelly threatened, yea presently 
 sometimes with pinches, nips, and bobs and other ways which 1 
 will not name, for the honour I bear them, so without measure 
 misordered, that I think myself in hell, till time come that I must 
 
 * This lady is commemorated at greater length in another place, and therefore 
 a clause is here omitted. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 51 
 
 go to Mr. Elmer, who teacheth me so gently, so pleasantly, with 
 such fair allurements to learning, that 1 think all the time no- 
 thing while 1 am with him. And when I am culled from him 1 
 fall on weeping, because whatsoever else I do but learning, is 
 full of grief, trouble, fear, and whole misliking unto me. And 
 thus my book hath been so much my pleasure and bringeth daily 
 to me more pleasure and more, that in repect of it, all other 
 pleasures, in very deed, be but trifles and troubles unto me." 
 
 The epistles from which the extracts in the preceding pages 
 are with some abridgement translated, and which are said to be 
 the first collection ot private letters ever published by any Eng- 
 lishman, were all written during the year 1550, when Ascham, 
 on some disgust, had quitted the court and returned to his situ- 
 ation of Greek reader at Cambridge ; and perhaps the eulo- 
 giums here bestowed, in epistles which his correspondent lost no 
 time in committing to the press, were not composed without the 
 secret hope of their procuring for him a restoration to that court 
 life which it seems difficult even for the learned to quit without 
 a sigh. It would be unjust, however, to regard Ascham in the 
 light of a flatterer ; for his praises are in most points corrobo- 
 rated by the evidence of history, or by other concurring testi- 
 monies. His observations, for instance, on the modest simpli- 
 city of Elizabeth's dress and appearance at this early period of 
 her life, which might be received with some incredulity by the 
 reader to whom instances are familiar of her inordinate love of 
 dress at a much more advanced age, and when the cares of a 
 sovereign ought to have left no room for a' vanity so puerile, re- 
 ceive strong confirmation from another and very respectable au- 
 thority. 
 
 Dr. Elmer or Aylmer, who was tutor to lady Jane Grey and 
 her sisters, and became afterwards, during Elizabeth's reign, 
 bishop of London, thus draws her character when young, in a 
 work entitled " A Harbour for faithful Subjects." "The king 
 left her rich cloaths and jewels ; and I know it to be true, that 
 in seven years after her father's death, she never in all that time 
 looked upon that rich attire and precious jewels but once, and 
 that against her will. And that there never came gold or stone 
 upon her head, till her sister forced her to lay off her former so- 
 berness, and bear her company in her glittering gayness. And 
 then she so wore it, as every man might see that her body carried 
 that which her heart misliked. I am sure that her maidenly ap- 
 parel which she used in King Edward's time, made the no- 
 blemen's daughters and wives to be ashamed to be dressed and 
 painted like peacocks ; being more moved with her most virtuous 
 example than with all that ever Paul or Peter wrote touching 
 that matter. Yea, this I know, that a great man's daughter (lady 
 Jane Grey) receiving from lady Mary before she was queen, good 
 apparel of tinsel, cloth of gold and velvet, laid on with parch- 
 ment lace of gold, when she saw it, said * What shall I do with 
 it ?' 'Mary,' said a gentlewoman, ' wear it.' « Nay,' quoth she, 
 1 that were a shame, to follow my lady Mary against God's 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF llUW 
 
52 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 word, and leave my lady Elizabeth which followeth God's 
 word.' And when all the ladies at the coming of the Scots 
 queen dowager, Mary of Guise, (she who visited England in 
 Edward's time,) went with their hair frownsed, curled, and 
 double curled, she altered nothing, but kept her old maidenly 
 shamefacedness." This extract may be regarded as particularly 
 curious, as an exemplification of the rigid turn of sentiment 
 whicli prevailed at the court of young Edward, and of the de- 
 gree in which Elizabeth conformed herself to it. There is a print 
 from a portrait of her when young, in which the hair is without a 
 single ornament and the whole dress remarkably simple. 
 
 But to return to Ascham. — The qualifications of this learned 
 man as a writer of classical Latin recommended him to queen 
 Mary, notwithstanding his known attachment to the protestant 
 faith, in the capacity of Latin secretary ; and it was in the year 
 1555, while holding this station, that he resumed his lessons to 
 his illustrious pupil. 
 
 "The lady Elizabeth and I," writes he to Sturmius, "are 
 reading together in Greek the Orations of iEschines and De- 
 mosthenes. She reads before ine, and at first sight she so learn- 
 edly comprehends not only the idiom of the language and the 
 meaning of the orator, but the whole grounds of contention, the 
 decrees of the people, and the customs and manners of the Athe- 
 nians, as you would greatly wonder to hear." 
 
 Under the reign of Elizabeth, Ascham retained his post of 
 Latin secretary, and was admitted to considerable intimacy by 
 his royal mistress. Addressing Sturmius he says, " I received 
 your last letters on the 15th of January 1560. Two passages in 
 them, one relative to the Scotch affairs, the other on the marriage 
 of the queen, induced me to give them to herself to read. She 
 remarked and graciously acknowledged in both of them your 
 respectful observance of her. Your judgment in the affairs of 
 Scotland, as they then stood, she highly approved, and she loves 
 you for your solicitude respecting us and our concerns. The 
 part respecting her marriage she read over thrice, as I well re- 
 member, and with somewhat of a gentle smile ; but still preserving 
 a modest and bashful silence. 
 
 " Concerning that point indeed, my Sturmius, I have nothing 
 certain to write to you, nor does any one truly know what to 
 judge. 1 told you rightly, in one of my former letters, that in 
 the whole ordinance of her life she resembled not Pheedra but 
 Hippolyta ; for by nature, and not by the counsels of others, she 
 is thus averse and abstinent from marriage. When I know any 
 thing for certain, I w ill write it to you as soon as possible ; in 
 the mean time 1 have no hopes to give you respecting the king 
 of Sweden." 
 
 In the same letter, after enlarging, somewhat too rhetorically 
 perhaps, on the praises of the queen and her government, Ascham 
 recurs to his favourite theme — her learning ; and roundly as- 
 serts, that there were not four men in England, distinguished 
 either in the church or the state, who understood more Greek 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 5S 
 
 than her majesty : and as an instance of her proficiency in other 
 tongues, he mentions that he was once present at court when 
 she gave answers at the same time to three ambassadors, the Im- 
 perial, the French, and the Swedish, in Italian, in French and in 
 Latin ; and all this, fluently, without confusion, and to the purpose. 
 
 A short epistle from queen Elizabeth to Sturmius, which is in- 
 serted in this collection, appears to refer to that of Sturmius which 
 Ascham answers above. She addresses him as her beloved friend, 
 expresses in the handsomest terms her sense of the attachment 
 towards herself and her country evinced by so eminent a culti- 
 vator of genuine learning and true religion, and promises that 
 her acknowledgments shall not be confined to words alone ; 
 but for a further explanation of her intentions she refers him to the 
 bearer ; consequently we have no data for estimating the actual 
 pecuniary value of these warm expressions of royal favour and 
 friendship. But we have good proof, unfortunately, that no mu- 
 nificent act of Elizabeth's ever interposed to rescue her zealous 
 and admiring preceptor from the embarrassments into which he 
 was plunged, probably indeed by his own imprudent habits, but 
 certainly by no faults which ought to have deprived him of his 
 just claims on the purse of a mistress whom he had served with 
 so much ability, and with such distinguished advantage to herself. 
 The other learned females of this age whom Ascham has com- 
 plimented by addressing them in Latin epistles, are, Anne coun- 
 tess of Pembroke, sister of queen Catherine Parr ; a young lady 
 of the name of Vaughan ; Jane Grey ; and Mrs. Clark, a grand 
 daughter of sir Thomas More, by his favourite daughter Mrs. 
 Roper. In his letter to this last lady, written during the reign 
 of Mary, after congratulating her on her cultivation, amid the 
 luxury and dissipation of a court, of studies worthy the descend- 
 ant of a man whose high qualities had enobled England in the 
 estimation of foreign nations, he proceeds to mention, that he is 
 the person whom, several years ago, her excellent mother had re- 
 quested to undertake the instruction of all her children in Greek 
 and Latin literature. At that time, he says, no offer could tempt 
 him to quit his learned retirement at Cambridge, and he was 
 reluctantly compelled to decline the proposal ; but being now 
 once more established at court, he freely offers to a lady whose 
 accomplishments he so much admires, any assistance in her 
 laudable pursuits which it may be in his power to afford. 
 
 A few more scattered notices may be collected relative to this 
 period of the life of Elizabeth. Her talents, her vivacity, her 
 proficiency in those classical studies to which he was himself 
 addicted, and especially the attachment which she manifested to 
 the reformed religion, endeared her exceedingly to the young 
 king her brother, who was wont to call her, — perhaps with re- 
 ference to the sobriety of dress and manners by which she was 
 then distinguished, — his sweet sister Temperance. On her part ' 
 his affection was met by every demonstration of sisterly tender- 
 ness, joined to those delicate attentions and respectful observ* 
 ances which his rank required. 
 
 I 
 
J4 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 It was probably about 1550 that she addressed to him the 
 following letter on his having desired her picture, which affords 
 perhaps the most favourable specimen extant of her youthful 
 style. 
 
 *« Like as the rich man that daily gathereth riches to riches, 
 and to one bag of money liyeth a great sort till it come to infi- 
 nite : so methinks your majesty, not being sufficed with so many 
 benefits and gentleness shewed to me afore this time, doth now 
 increase them in asking and desiring where you may bid and 
 command ; requiring a thing not worthy the desiring for itself, 
 but made worthy for your highness' request. My picture I 
 mean : in which, if the inward good mind toward your grace 
 might as well be declared, as the outward face and countenance 
 shall be seen, I would not have tarried the commandment but 
 prevented it, nor have been the last to grant but the first to 
 offer it. For the face I grant I might well blush to offer, but 
 the mind I shall never be ashamed to present. But though from 
 the grace of the picture the colours may fade by time, may give 
 by weather, may be spited by chance ; yet the other, nor time 
 with her swift wings shall overtake, or the misty clouds with 
 their lowering may darken, nor chance with her slippery foot 
 may overthrow. 
 
 " Of this also yet the proof could not be great, because the 
 occasions have been so small ; notwithstanding, as a dog hath a 
 day, so may I perchance have time to declare it in deeds, which 
 now I do write them but in words. And further, I shall humbly 
 beseech your majesty, that when you shall look on my picture, 
 you will witsafe to think, that as you have but the outward sha- 
 dow of the body afore you, so my inward mind wisheth that the 
 body itself were oftener in your presence. Howbeit because 
 both my so being I think could do your majesty little pleasure, 
 though myself great good ; and again, because I see not as yet 
 the time agreeing thereunto, I shall learn to follow this saying 
 of Horace, ' Feras, non cidpes, quod vitari non potest? And thus 
 I will (troubling your majesty I fear) end with my most humble 
 thanks ; beseeching God long to preserve you to his honour, to 
 your comfort, to the realms profit, and to my joy. 
 (From Hatfield this 15th day of May.)' 
 
 Your majesty's most humble sister and servant, 
 
 Elizabeth." 
 
 An exact memorialist* has preserved an instance of the high 
 consideration now enjoyed by Elizabeth in the following passage, 
 which is further curious as an instance of the state which she 
 already assumed in her public appearances. " March 17th (1551.) 
 The lady Elizabeth, the king's sister, rode through London unto 
 St. James's, the king's palace, with a great company of lords, 
 knights, and gentlemen; and after her a great company of ladies 
 and gentlemen on horse-back, about two hundred. On the 19th 
 she came from St. James's through the park to the court ; the 
 
 * Strype. 
 
 t AT 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 55 
 
 way from the park gate unto the court spread with fine sand. 
 She was attended with a very honourable confluence of noble 
 and worshipful persons of both sexes, and received with much 
 ceremony at the court gate." 
 
 The ensuing letter, however, seems to intimate that there were 
 those about the young king who envied her these tokens of favour 
 and credit, and were sometimes but too successful in estranging 
 her from the royal presence, and perhaps in exciting prejudices 
 against her : — It is unfortunately without date of year. 
 
 " The princess Elizabeth to king Edward VI. 
 
 " Like as a shipman in stormy weather plucks down the sails 
 tarrying for better wind, so did I, most noble king, in my un- 
 fortunate chance a Thursday pluck down the high sails of my 
 joy and comfort; and do trust one day, that as troublesome 
 waves have repulsed me backward, so a gentle wind will bring 
 me forward to my haven. Two chief occasions moved me much 
 and grieved me greatly : the one, for that I doubted your ma- 
 jesty's health ; the other, because for all my long tarrying, I 
 went without that I came for. Of the first I am relieved in a 
 part, both that I understood of your health, and also that your 
 majesty's lodging is far from my lord marques' chamber : of 
 my other grief I am not eased ; but the best is, that whatsoever 
 other folks will suspect, I intend not to fear your grace's good 
 will, which as I know that I never deserved to faint, so I trust 
 will stick by me. For if your grace's advice that I should re- 
 turn, (whose will is a commandment) had not been, I would not 
 have made the half of my way the end of my journey. 
 
 "And thus as one desirous to hear of your majesty's health, 
 though unfortunate to see it, I shall pray God to preserve you. 
 (From Hatfield this present Saturday.) 
 
 " Your majesty's humble sister to commandment, 
 
 Elizabeth." 
 
 ■ i 
 
56 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 1549 to 1553. 
 
 Decline of the protector's authority. — He is imprisoned — accused oj 
 misdemeanors — loses his office — is liberated — reconciled with 
 Dudley, who succeeds to his authority. — Dudley pushes on the 
 reformation. — The celebration of mass prohibited. — Princess 
 Mary persecuted. — The emperor attempts to get her out of the 
 kingdom, but without success — interferes openly in her behalf 
 Effect of persecution on the mind of Mary. — Marriage proposed 
 
 for Elizabeth with the prince of Denmark. — She declines i/.— 
 King betrothed to a princess of France. — Sweating sickness. — 
 Death of the duke of Suffolk. — Dudley procures that title for the 
 marquis of Dorset, and the dukedom of Northumberland for 
 himself. — Particulars of the last earl of Northumberland. — 
 Trial, conviction, and death of the duke of Somerset. — Christmas 
 
 festivities of the young king. —Account of George Ferrers, mas- 
 ter of the king' s pastimes and his works. — Views of Northum- 
 berland. — Decline of the king's health. — Scheme of Northum- 
 berland for Lady Jane Grey's succession. — TJiree marriages con- 
 trived by him for this purpose. — He procures a settlement of the 
 crown on Lady Jane. — Subserviency of the council. — Death of 
 Edward concealed by Northumberland. — The princesses nar- 
 rowly escape falling into his hands — Courageous conduct of 
 Elizabeth. — Northumberland deserted by the council and the 
 army. — Jane Grey imprisoned. — Northumberland arrested. — 
 Mary mounts the throne. 
 
 IT was to little purpose that the protector had stained his 
 hands with the blood of his brother, for the exemption thus pur- 
 chased from one kind of fear or danger, was attended by a degree 
 of public odium which could not fail to render feeble and totter- 
 ing an authority based, like his, on a plain and open usurpation. 
 
 Other causes conspired to undermine his credit and prepare hi9 
 overthrow. The hatred of the great nobles, which he augmented 
 by a somewhat too ostentatious patronage of the lower classes 
 against the rich and powerful, continually pursued and watched 
 the opportunity to ruin him. Financial difficulties pressed upon 
 him, occasioned in great measure by the wars with France and 
 Scotland which he had carried on, in pursuance of Henry's de- 
 sign of compelling the Scotch to marry their young queen to his 
 son ; an object which had finally been frustrated, notwithstand- 
 ing the vigilance of the English fleet, by the safe arrival of Mary 
 in France, and her solemn betrothment to the dauphin. The great 
 and glorious work of religious reformation, though followed by 
 Somerset, under the guidance of Cranmer, with a moderation and 
 prudence which reflect the highest honour on both, could not be 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 57 
 
 brought to perfection without exciting the rancorous hostility of 
 thousands, whom various motives and interests attached to the 
 cause of ancient superstition ; and the abolition, by authority, of 
 the mass, and the destruction of images and crucifixes, had given 
 birth to serious disturbances in different parts of the country. 
 The want and oppression under .which the lower orders groaned, 
 — and which they attributed partly to the suppression of the mo- 
 nasteries to which they had been accustomed to resort for the 
 supply of their necessities, partly to a general inclosure bill ex- 
 tremely cruel and arbitrary in its provisions, — excited commo- 
 tions still more violent and alarming. In order to suppress the 
 insurrection in Norfolk, headed by K.ett, it had at length been 
 found necessary to send thither a large body of troops under the 
 earl of Warwick, who had acquired a very formidable degree of 
 celebrity by the courage and conduct which he exhibited in bring- 
 ing this difficult enterprise to a successful termination. 
 
 A party was now formed in the council, of which Warwick, 
 Southampton, Arundel, and St. John, were the chiefs ; and strong 
 resolutions were entered into against the assumed authority of 
 the protector. This unfortunate man, whom an inconsiderate 
 ambition, fostered by circumstances favourable to its success, had 
 pushed forward into a station equally above his talents and his 
 birth, was now found destitute of all the resources of courage 
 and genius which might yet have retrieved his authority and his 
 credit. He suffered himself to be surprised into acts indicative 
 of weakness and dismay, which soon robbed him of his remain- 
 ing partisans, and gave to his enemies all the advantage which 
 they desired. 
 
 His committal to the tower on several charges, of which his 
 assumption of the whole authority of the state was the principal, 
 soon followed. A short time after he was deprived of his high 
 office, which was nominally vested in six members of the coun- 
 cil, but really in the earl of Warwick, whose pri vate ambition 
 seems to have been the main spring of the whole intrigue, and 
 who thus became, almost without a struggle, undisputed master 
 of the king and kingdom. 
 
 That poorness of spirit which had sunk the duke of Somerset 
 into insignificance, saved him at present from further mischief. 
 In the beginning of the ensuing year, 1550, having on his knees 
 confessed himself guilty of all the matters laid to his charge, 
 without reservation or exception, and humbly submitted himself 
 to the king's mercy, he was condemned in a heavy fine, on re- 
 mission 01 which by the king he was liberated. Soon after, by 
 the special favour of his royal nephew, he was re -admitted into 
 the council ; and a reconciliation was mediated for him with 
 Warwick, cemented by a marriage between one of his daughters 
 and the son and heir of this aspiring leader. 
 
 The Catholic party which had flattered itself that the earl of 
 Warwick, from gratitude for the support which some of its lead- 
 ers had afforded him, and perhaps also from principle, no less 
 than from opposition to the duke of Somerset, would be led t« 
 
 H 
 
 m A 
 
THE COURT OF 
 
 embrace its defence, was now destined to deplore its disappoint- 
 ment. 
 
 Determined to rule alone, he soon shook off his able but too 
 aspiring colleague, the earl of Southampton, and disgraced, by 
 the imposition of a fine for some alleged embezzlement of pub- 
 lic money, the earl of Arundel, also a known assertor of the an- 
 cient faith. Finally, having observed how closely the principles 
 of protestantism, which Edward had derived from instructors 
 equally learned and zealous, had interwoven themselves with the 
 whole texture and fabric of his mind, he resolved to merit the 
 lasting attachment to the royal minor by assisting him to com- 
 plete the overthrow of popery in England. 
 
 A confession of faith was now drawn up by commissioners ap- 
 pointed for the purpose, and various alterations were made in the 
 Liturgy, which had already been translated into the vulgar tongue 
 for church use. Tests were imposed, which Gardiner, Bonner, 
 and several others of the bishops felt themselves called upon by 
 conscience, or a regard to their own reputation, to decline sub- 
 scribing, even at the price of deprivation ; and prodigious devas- 
 tations were made by the courtiers on the property of the church. 
 To perform, or assist at the performance, of the mass was also 
 rendered highly penal. But no dread of legal animadversion was 
 capable of deterring the lady Mary from the observance of this 
 essential rite of her religion ; and finding herself and her house- 
 hold exposed to serious inconveniences on account of their in- 
 fraction of the new statute, she applied for protection to her po- 
 tent kinsman, the emperor Charles V., who is said to have under- 
 taken her rescue by means which could scarcely have failed t© 
 involve him in a war with England. By his orders, or conniv- 
 ance, certain ships were prepared in the ports of Flanders, man- 
 ned and armed for an attempt to carry off the princess either by 
 stealth or open force, and land her at Antwerp. In furtherance 
 of the design, several of her gentlemen had already taken their 
 departure for that city, and Flemish light vessels were observed 
 to keep watch on the English coast. But by these appearances 
 the apprehensions of the council were awakened, and a sudden 
 journey of the princess from Hunsdon, in Hertfordshire, towards 
 Norfolk, for which she was unable to assign a satisfactory reason, 
 served as strong confirmation of their suspicions. 
 
 A violent alarm was immediately sounded through the nation, 
 of foreign invasion designed to co-operate with seditions at home ; 
 bodies of troops were dispatched to protect different points of the. 
 coast ; and several ships of war were equipped for se*a ; while a 
 communication on the subject was made by the council to the no- 
 bility throughout the kingdom, in terms calculated to awaken in- 
 dignation against the persecuted princess, and all who were sus- 
 pected, justly or unjustly, of regarding her cause with favour. A 
 few extracts from this paper will exhibit the fierce and jealous 
 spirit of that administration of which Dudley formed the soul. 
 
 " So it is, that the lady Mary, not many days past, removed 
 from Newhall in Essex to her house of Hunsdon in Hertford- 
 
 4 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 shire, the cause whereof, although we knew not, yet did we ra- 
 ther think it likely that her grace would have come to have seen 
 his majesty ; but now, upon Tuesday last, she hath suddenly, with- 
 out knowledge given either to us here or to the country there, and 
 without any cause in the world by us to her given, taken her jour- 
 ney from Hunsdon towards Norfolk," &c. " This her doing we 
 be sorry for, both for the evil opinion the king's majesty, our mas- 
 ter, may conceive thereby of her, and for that by the same doth 
 appear manifestly the malicious rancour of such as provoke her 
 thus to breed and stir up, as much as in her and them lieth, oc- 
 casion of disorder and unquiet in the realm," &c. " It is not un- 
 known to us, but some near about the said lady Mary, have very 
 lately in the night seasons had privy conferences with the empe- 
 ror's ambassador here being, which councils can no wise tend to 
 the weal of the king's majesty, our master, or his realm, nor to 
 the nobility of this realm. And whatsoever the lady Mary shall, 
 upon investigation of these forward practices further do, like to 
 these her strange beginnings, we doubt not but your lordship will 
 provide that her proceedings shall not move any disobedience or 
 disorder — The effect whereof, if her counsellors should procure, 
 as it must be to her grace, and to all other good Englishmen there- 
 in seduced, damnable, so shall it be most hurtful to the good sub- 
 jects of the country," &c* 
 
 Thus did the fears, the policy, or the party-spirit, of the mem- 
 bers of the council lead them to magnify the peril of the nation 
 from the enterprises of a young and defenceless female, whose 
 best friend was a foreign prince, whose person was completely 
 within their power, and who, at this period of her life " more sinned 
 against than sinning," was not even suspected of any other design 
 than that of withdrawing herself from a country in which she was 
 no longer allowed to worship God according to her conscience. 
 Some slight tumults in Essex and Kent, in which she was not 
 even charged with any participation, were speedily suppressed ; 
 and after some conference with the chancellor and secretary 
 Petre, Mary obeyed a summons to attend them to the court, 
 where she was now to be detained for greater security. 
 
 On her arrival she received a reprimand from the council for 
 her obstinacy respecting the mass, with an injunction to instruct 
 herself, by reading, in the grounds of protestant belief. To this 
 she replied, with the inflexible resolution of her character, that 
 as to protestant books, she thanked God that she never had read 
 any, and never intended so to do ; that for her religion she was 
 ready to lay down her life, and only feared that she might not 
 be found worthy to become its martyr. One of her chaplains 
 was soon after thrown into prison ; and further severities seemed 
 to await her, when a message from the emperor, menacing the 
 country with war in case she should be debarred from the free 
 exercise of her religion, taught the council the expediency of re- 
 laxing a little the sternness of their intolerance. But the scru- 
 
 * Burleigh Papers by Haynes. 
 
THE COURT OF 
 
 pies of the zealous young king on this head could not be brought 
 to yield to reasons of state, till he had " advised with the arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury and the bishops of London and Rochester, 
 who gave their opinion that to give licence to sin was sin, but to 
 connive at sin might be allowed in case it were neither long, nor 
 without hope of reformation ."* 
 
 By this prudent and humane but somewhat Jesuitical decision 
 this perplexing affair was set at rest for the present ; and during 
 the small remainder of her brother's reign, a negative kind of 
 persecution, consisting in disfavour, obloquy, and neglect, was 
 all, apparently, that the lady Mary was called upon to undergo. 
 But she had already endured enough to sour her temper, to ag- 
 gravate with feelings of personal animosity her systematic ab- 
 horrence of what she deemed impious heresy, and to bind to her 
 heart by fresh and stronger ties that cherished faith, in defence 
 of which she was proudly conscious of having struggled and suf- 
 fered with a lofty and unyielding intrepidity. 
 
 In order to counterbalance the threatened hostility of Spain, 
 and impose an additional check on the catholic party at home, it 
 was now judged expedient for the king to strengthen himself by 
 an alliance with Christian III. king of Denmark ; an able and 
 enlightened prince, who in the early part of his reign had op- 
 posed with vigour the aggressions of the emperor Charles V. on 
 the independence of the north of Europe, and more recently had 
 acquired the respect of the whole protestant body by establish- 
 N ing the reformation in his dominions. An agent was accordingly 
 dispatched with a secret commission to sound the inclinations of 
 the court of Copenhagen towards a marriage between the prince 
 royal and the lady Elizabeth. 
 
 That this negotiation proved fruitless, was apparently owing to 
 the reluctance to the connection manifested by Elizabeth; of 
 whom it is observable, that she never could be prevailed upon to 
 afford the smallest encouragement to the addresses of any foreign 
 prince whilst she herself was still a subject; well aware that to 
 accept of an alliance which would carry her out of the kingdom, 
 was to hazard the loss of her succession to the English crown, a 
 splendid reversion never absent from her aspiring thoughts. 
 
 Disappointed in this design, Edward lost no time in pledging 
 his own hand to the infant daughter of Henry II. of France, 
 which contract he did not live to complete. 
 
 The splendid French embassy which arrived in England dur- 
 ing the year 1550 to make arrangements respecting the dower of 
 the princess, and to confer on her intended spouse the order of 
 St. Michael, was received with high honours, but found the court 
 festivities damped by a visitation of that strange and terrific 
 malady the sweating sickness. 
 
 This pestilence, first brought into the island by the foreign mer- 
 cenaries who composed the army of the earl of Richmond, after- 
 wards Henry VIL, now made its appearance for the fourth and 
 
 * Hayward'a life of Edward VI. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 61 
 
 last time in our annals. It seized principally, it is said, on 
 males, on such as were in the prime of their age, and rather on 
 the higher than the lower classes : within the space of twenty- 
 four hours the fate of the sufferer was decided for life or death. 
 Its ravages were prodigious ; and the general consternation was 
 augmented by a superstitious idea which went forth, that Eng- 
 lishmen alone were the destined victims of this mysterious minis 
 ter of fate, which tracked their steps, with the malice and saga- 
 city of an evil spirit, into every distant country of the earth whi- 
 ther they might have wandered, whilst it left unassailed all for- 
 eigners in tlheir own. 
 
 Two of (he king's servants died of this disease, and he in con- 
 sequence removed to Hampton Court in haste and with very few 
 attendants. The duke of Suffolk and his brother, students at 
 Cambridge;, were seized with it at the same time, sleeping in the 
 same bed, and expired within two hours of each other. They 
 were the children of Charles Brandon by his last wife, who was, 
 in her own right, baroness Willoughby of Eresby. This lady had 
 already made herself conspicuous by that earnest profession of 
 the protectant faith for which, in the reign of Mary, she under- 
 went many perils and a long exile. She was a munificent pa- 
 troness of the learned and zealous divines of her own persuasion, 
 whether natives or foreigners ; and the untimely loss of these 
 illustrious youths, who seem to have inherited both her religious 
 principles and her love of letters, was publicly bewailed by the 
 principal members of the university. 
 
 But by the earl of Warwick the melancholy event was render- 
 ed doubly conducive to the purposes of his ambition. In the first 
 place it enabled him to bind to his interests the marquis of Dor- 
 set, married to the half sister of the young duke of Suffolk, by 
 procuring a renewal of the ducal title in his behalf, and next au- 
 thorised him by a kind of precedent to claim for himself the 
 same exalted dignity. 
 
 The circumstances attending Dudley's elevation to the ducal 
 rank, are worthy of particular notice, as connected with a melan- 
 choly part of the story of that old and illustrious family of the 
 Percies, celebrated through so many ages of English history. 
 
 The last of this house who had borne the title of earl of Nor- 
 thumberland was that ardent and favoured suitor of AnneBoleyn, 
 who was compelled by his father to renounce his pretensions to 
 her hand in deference to the wishes of a royal competitor. 
 
 The disappointment and the injury impressed themselves in 
 indelible characters on the heart of Percy : in common with the 
 object of his attachment, he retained against Wolsey, whom he 
 believed to have been actively instrumental in fostering the king's 
 passion, a deep resentment, which is said to have rendered pecu- 
 liarly acceptable to him the duty afterwards imposed upon him., 
 of arresting that celebrated minister in order to his being brought 
 to his trial. For the lady to whom a barbarous exertion of pa- 
 rental authority had compelled him to give his hand, while hi? 
 whole heart was devoted to another, he also conceived an aver 
 sion rather to be lamented than wondered at. 
 
62 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 Unfortunately, she brought him no living offspring; and after a 
 few years he separated himself from her to indulge his melan- 
 choly alone and without molestation. In this manner he spun 
 out a suffering existence, oppressed with sickness of mind and 
 body, disengaged from public life, and neglectful of his own em- 
 barrassed affairs, till the fatal catastrophe of his brother, brought 
 to the scaffold in 1537 for his share in the popish rebellion under 
 Aske. By this event, and the attainder of sir Thomas Percy's 
 children which followed, the earl saw himself deprived of the 
 only consolation which remained to him, — that of transmitting to 
 the posterity of a brother whom he loved, the titles and estates 
 derived to him through a long and splendid ancestry. As a last 
 resource, he bequeathed all his land to the king, in the hope, 
 which was not finally frustrated, that a return of royal favour 
 might one day restore them to the representatives of the Percies. 
 
 This done, he yielded his weary spirit on the last day of the 
 same month which had seen the fatal catastrophe of his misguided 
 brother. 
 
 From this time the title had remained dormant, till the earl of 
 Warwick, untouched by commisseration or respect for the mis- 
 fortunes of so great a house, cut off for the present all chance of 
 its restoration, by causing the young monarch whom he governed 
 to confer upon himself the whole of the Percy estates, with the 
 new dignity of duke of Northumberland ; an honour undeserved 
 and ill -acquired, which no son of his was ever permitted to inherit. 
 
 But the soaring ambition of Dudley regarded even these splen- 
 did acquisitions of wealth and dignity only as steps to that sum- 
 mit of power and dominion which he was resolved by all means, 
 and at all hazards to attain ; and his next measure was to pro- 
 cure the removal of the only man capable in any degree of ob- 
 structing his further progress. This was the late protector, by 
 whom some relics of authority were still retained. 
 
 At the instigation of Northumberland, a law was passed mak- 
 ing it felony to conspire against the life of a privy-counsellor ; 
 and by various insidious modes of provocation, he was soon ena- 
 bled to bring within the danger of this new act an enemy who 
 was rash, little sagacious, by no means scrupulous, and surround- 
 ed with violent or treacherous advisers. On October 16th, 1551, 
 Somerset, and several of his relations and dependants, and on the 
 following day his haughty duchess with certain of her favourites, 
 were committed to the Tower, charged with treason and felony. 
 The duke, being put upon his trial, so clearly disproved most of 
 the accusations brought against him that the peers acquitted him 
 of treason ; but the evidence of his having entertained designs 
 against the lives of the duke of Northumberland, the marquis of 
 Northampton, and the earl of Pembroke, appeared so conclusive 
 to his judges, — among whom these three noblemen themselves 
 did not blush to take their seats — that he was found guilty of the 
 felony. 
 
 After his condemnation, Somerset acknowledged with contri- 
 tion that he had once mentioned to certain persons an intention 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 of assassinating theste lords ; but he protested that he had never 
 taken any measures for carrying this wicked purpose into exe 
 cution. However this might be, no act of violence had been 
 committed, and it was hoped by many and expected by more, 
 that the royal mercy might yet be extended to preserve his life : 
 but Northumberland spared no efforts to incense the king against 
 his unhappy uncle ; he also contrived by a course of amusements 
 and festivities to divert him from serious thought; and on 
 January 21st 1552, to the great regret of the common people and 
 the dismay of the protestant party, the duke of Somerset un- 
 derwent the fatal stroke on Tower-hill. 
 
 During the whole interval between the condemnation and 
 death of his uncle, the king, as we are informed, had been en- 
 tertained by the nobles of his court with " stately masques, brave 
 challenges at tilt and at barriers, and whatsover exercises or 
 disports they could conjecture to be pleasing to him. Then also 
 he first began to keep hall,* and the Christmas-time was passed 
 over with banquetings, plays, and much variety of mirth. "t 
 
 We learn that it was an ancient custom, not only with the 
 kings of England but with noblemen and "great housekeepers 
 who used liberal feasting in that season," to appoint for the 
 twelve days of the Christmas festival a lord of misrule, whose 
 office it was to provide diversions for their numerous guests. Of 
 what nature these entertainments might be we are not exactly 
 kiformed ; they probably comprised some rude attempts at dra- 
 matic representation : but the taste of an age rapidly advancing 
 in literature and general refinement, evidently began to disdain 
 the flat and coarse buffooneries which had formed the solace of 
 its barbarous predecessors ; and it was determined that devices 
 of superior elegance and ingenuity should distinguish the festi- 
 vities of the new court of Edward. Accordingly, George Ferrers, 
 a gentleman regularly educated at Oxford, and a member of the 
 society of Lincoln's inn, was chosen to preside over the " merry 
 disports " who," says Holinshed, " being of better credit and 
 estimation than commonly his predecessors had been before, re- 
 ceived all his commissions and warrants by the name of master 
 of the king's pastimes. Which gentleman so well supplied his 
 office, both in show of sundry sights and devices of rare inventions, 
 and in act of divers interludes and matters of pastime played 
 by persons, as not only satisfied the common sort, but also were 
 very well liked and allowed by the council, and other of skill in 
 the like pastimes ; but best of all by the young king himself, as 
 appeared by his princely liberality in rewarding that service." 
 
 " On Monday the fourth day of January," pursues our chroni- 
 cler, whose circumstantial detail is sometimes picturesque and 
 imusing, "the said lord of merry disports came by water to Lon- 
 oon, and landing at the Tower wharf entered the Tower, then 
 rode through Tower-street, where he was received by Vause, 
 
 * To keep hall, was to keep " open household with /.'nink resort to court," 
 | Hay ward's Life of Edward VI. 
 
64 
 
 \ 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 lord of misrule to John Mainard, one of t'he sheriffs of London, 
 and so conducted through the city with a great company of young 
 lords and gentlemen to the house of sir George Burne lord-mayor, 
 where he with the chief of his company dined, and after had a 
 great banquet, and at his departure the lord-mayor gave him a 
 standing cup with a cover of silver and gilt, of the value of ten 
 pounds, for a reward, and also set a hogshead of wine and a barrel 
 of beer at his gate, for his train that followed him. The residue 
 of his gentlemen and servants dined at other alderman's houses 
 and with the sheriffs, and then departed to the Tower wharf 
 again, and so to the court by water, to the great commendation 
 of the mayor and aldermen, and highly a.ccepted of the king and 
 council." 
 
 From this time Ferrers became " a composer almost by pro- 
 fession of occasional interludes for the diversion of the court."* 
 None of these productions of his have come down to posterity ; 
 but their author is still known to the student of early English 
 poetry, as one of the contributors to an extensive work entitled 
 " The Mirror for Magistrates," which will be mentioned here- 
 after in speaking of the works of Thomas Sackville lord Buck- 
 hurst. The legends contained in this collection, which came 
 from the pen of Ferrers, are not distinguished by any high flights 
 of poetic fancy, nor by a versification extremely correct or melo- 
 dious. Their merit is that of narrating after the chronicles, 
 facts in English history, in a style clear, natural, and energetic, 
 with an intermixture of political reflections conceived in a spirit 
 of wisdom and moderation, highly honourable to the author, and 
 well adapted to counteract the turbulent spirit of an age in 
 which the ambition of the high and the discontent of the low 
 were alike apt to break forth into outrages destructive of the 
 public tranquillity. 
 
 Happy would it have been for England in more ages than one, 
 had the sentiment of the following humble stanza been indelibly 
 inscribed on the hearts of her children. 
 
 cc Some haply here will move a further doubt. 
 And as for York's part allege an elder right : 
 O brainless heads that so run in and out ! 
 When length ot time a state hath firmly pight, 
 And good accord halh put all strife to flight, 
 
 Were it not better such titles still to sleep 
 
 Than all a realm about the trial weep ?" 
 
 This estimable writer had been a member of parliament in the 
 time of Henry VIII., and was imprisoned by that despot in 1542, 
 very probably without any just cause. He about the same time 
 translated into English the great charter of Englishmen which 
 had become a dead letter through the tyranny of the Tudorsj 
 and he rendered the same public service respecting several im- 
 portant statutes which existed only in Latin or Norman French ; 
 
 * See Warton's History of English Poetry, vol. iii. p. 213 et seq. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 65 
 
 pi- oofs of a free and courageous spirit extrem°ly rare in thai 
 servile age ! 
 
 Ferrers lived far into the reign of Elizabeth, finishing his ca- 
 reer at Flamstead in his native county of Herts- in 1579. 
 
 From the pleasing contemplation of a life devoted to those 
 honourable arts by which society is cultivated, enlightened and 
 adorned, we must now return to tread with Northumberland the 
 maze of dark and crooked politics. By many a bold and many a 
 crafty step this adept in his art had wound his way to the highest 
 rank of nobility attainable by a subject, and to a station of emi- 
 nence and command scarcely compatible with that character. 
 But no sooner had he reached it, than a sudden cloud lowered 
 over the splendid prospect stretched around him, and threatened 
 to snatch it for ever from his sight. The youthful monarch in 
 whom, or over whom, he reigned, was seized with a lingering 
 disease which soon put on appearances indicative of a fatal ter- 
 mination. Under Mary, the next heir, safety with insignificance 
 was the utmost that could be hoped by the man who had taken a 
 principal and conspicuous part in every act of harshness towards 
 herself, and every demonstration of hostility towards the faith 
 which she cherished, and against whom, when he should be no 
 longer protected by the power which he wielded, so many law- 
 less and rapacious acts were ready to rise up in judgment. 
 
 One scheme alone suggested itself for the preservation of his 
 authority : it was dangerous, almost desperate ; but loss of pow- 
 er was more dreaded by Dudley than any degree of hazard to 
 others or himself ; and he resolved at all adventures to make the 
 attempt. 
 
 By means of the new honours which he had caused to be con- 
 ferred on the marquis of Dorset, now duke of Suffolk, he en- 
 gaged this weak and inconsiderate man to give his eldest daughter, 
 the lady Jane Grey, in marriage to his fourth son Guildford Dud- 
 ley. At the same time he procured an union between her sister, 
 the lady Catherine, and the eldest son of his able but mean- 
 spirited and time-serving associate, the earl of Pembroke ; and 
 a third between his own daughter Catherine and lord Hastings, 
 son of the earl of Huntingdon by the eldest daughter and co-heir 
 of Henry Pole lord Montacute ; M whom the claims of the line 
 of Clarence now vested. 
 
 These nuptials were all celebrated on one day, and with an 
 ostentation of magnificence and festivity which the people ex- 
 claimed against as higHy indecorous in the present dangerous 
 state of the king's health. But it was not on their good will that 
 Northumberland /bunded his hopes, and their clamours were 
 braved or disregarded. 
 
 His next measure was to prevail upon the dying king to dis- 
 pose of the crown by will in favour of the lady Jane. The ani- 
 mosity against his sister Mary, to which their equal bigotry in 
 opposite modes of faith had given birth in the mind of Edward, 
 would naturally induce him to lend a willing ear to such specioua 
 arguments as might be produced in justification of her exclusion ; 
 
66 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 but that he could be brought with equal facility to disinherit also 
 Elizabeth, a sister whom he loved, a princess judged in all res- 
 pects worthy of a crown, and one with whose religious profes- 
 sion he had every reason to be perfectly satisfied, appears an in- 
 dication of a character equally cold and feeble. Much allow- 
 ance, however, may be made for the extreme youth of Edward , 
 the weakness of his sinking frame ; his affection for the pious and 
 amiable Jane, his near relation and the frequent companion of 
 his childhood ; and above all, for the importunities, the artifices, 
 of the practised intriguers by whom his dying couch was sur- 
 rounded* 
 
 The partisans of Northumberland did not fail to urge, that if 
 one of the princesses were set aside on account of the nullifica- 
 tion of her mother's marriage, the same ground of exclusion was 
 valid against the other. If, on the contrary, the testamentary 
 dispositions of the late king were to be adhered to, the lady Ma- 
 ry must necessarily precede her sister, and the cause of religous 
 reformation was lost, perhaps for ever. 
 
 With regard to the other claimants who might still be inter- 
 posed between Jane and the English throne, it was pretended 
 that the Scottish branch of the royal family was put out of the 
 question by that clause of Henry's will which placed the Suf- 
 folk line next in order to his own immediate descendants ; as if 
 an instrument which was set aside as to several of its most im- 
 portant provisions was necessarily to be held binding in all the 
 rest. Even admitting this, the duchess of Suffolk herself stoojd 
 before her daughter in order of succession ; but a renunciation 
 obtained from this lady by the authority of Northumberland, not 
 only of her own title but of that of any future son who might be 
 born to her, was supposed to obviate this objection. 
 
 The right of the king, even if he had attained the age of ma- 
 jority, to dispose of the crown by will without the concurrence 
 of parliament, was absolutely denied by the first law authorities : 
 but the power and violence of Northumberland overruled all ab- 
 jections, and in the end the new settlement received the sig- 
 nature of all the privy council, and the whole bench of judges, 
 with the exception of justice Hales, and perhaps of Cecil, then 
 secretary of state, who afterwards affirmed that he put his name 
 to this instrument only as a witness to the signature of the king. 
 Cranmer resisted for some time, '* u t was at length won to com- 
 pliance by the tears and entreaties of Edward. 
 
 Notwithstanding this general concurrence, it is probable that 
 very few of the council either expected 01 desired that this act 
 should be sanctioned by the acquiescence of the nation ; they 
 signed it merely as a protection from the present effects of the 
 anger of Northumberland, whom most of them hated as well as 
 feared ; each privately hoping that he should find opportunity to 
 disavow the act of the body in time to obtain the forgiveness of 
 Mary, should her cause be found finally to prevail. The selfish 
 meanness and political profligacy of such a conduct it is need- 
 less to stigmatize ; but this was not the age of public virtue in 
 England, 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 A just detestation of the character of Northumberland had 
 rendered verv prevalent an idea, that the constitution of the 
 king was undermined by slow poisons of his administering ; and 
 i( was significantly remarked, that his health had begun to de- 
 cline from the period of lord Robert Dudley's being placed 
 about him as gentleman of the bedchamber. Nothing, however, 
 could be more destitute both of truth and probability than such 
 a suspicion. Besides the satisfactory evidence that Edward's 
 disease was a pulmonary consumption, such as no poison could 
 produce, it has been well remarked, that if Northumberland were 
 a sound politician, there could be no man in England more sin- 
 cerely desirous, for his own sake, of the continuance of the life 
 and reign of this young prince. By a change he had every thing 
 to lose, and nothing to gain. Several circumstances tend also 
 to show that the fatal event, hastened by the treatment of a fe- 
 male empiric to whom the royal patient had been very impro- 
 perly confided, came upon Northumberland at last somewhat by 
 surprise, and compelled him to act with a precipitation injurious 
 to his designs. Several preparatoy steps were yet wanting ; in 
 particular the important one of securing the persons of the two 
 princesses: but this omission it seemed still possible to supply; 
 and he ordered the death of the king to be carefully concealed, 
 while he wrote letters in his name requiring the immediate at- 
 tendance of his sisters on his person. With Mary the strata- 
 gem had nearly succeeded : she had reached Hoddesdon on her 
 journey to London, when secret intelligence of the truth, con- 
 veyed to her by the earl of Arundel, caused her to change her 
 course. It is probably a similar intimation from some friendly 
 hand, Cecil's perhaps, which caused Elizabeth to disobey the 
 summons, and remain tranquil at one of her houses in Hertford- 
 shire. 
 
 Here she was soon after waited upon by messengers from 
 Northumberland, who apprised her of the accession of the lady 
 Jane, and proposed to her to resign her own title in consider- 
 ation of a sum of money, and certain lands which should be as- 
 signed her. But Elizabeth wisely and courageously replied, 
 that her elder sister was first to be agreed with, during whose 
 lifetime she, for her part, could claim no right at all. And de- 
 termined to make common cause with Mary against their com- 
 mon enemies, she equipped with all speed a body of a thousand 
 horse, at the head of which she went forth to meet her sister on 
 her approach to London. 
 
 The event quickly proved that she had taken the right part. 
 Though the council manifested their present subserviency to 
 Northumberland by proclaiming queen Jane in the metropolis, 
 and by issuing in her name a summons to Mary to lay aside her 
 pretensions to the crown, this leader was too well practised in 
 the arts of courts, to be the dupe of their hollow professions of at- 
 tachment to a cause unsupported, as he soon perceived, by the 
 favour of the people. 
 
 The march of Northumberland at the head of a small body oi 
 
68 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 troops to resist the forces levied by Mary in Norfolk and Suf- 
 folk, was the signal for the defection of a great majority of the 
 council. They broke from the kind of honourable custody in the 
 Tower in which, from a well-founded distrust of their intentions, 
 Northumberland had hitherto held them ; and ordering Mary to 
 be proclaimed in London, they caused the hapless Jane, after a 
 nominal reign of ten days, to be detained as a prisoner in that 
 fortress which she had entered as a sovereign. 
 
 Not a hand was raised, not a drop of blood was shed, in de- 
 fence of this pageant raised by the ambition of Dudley. De- 
 serted by his partisans, his soldiers and himself, the guilty wretch 
 sought, as a last feeble resource, to make a merit of being the 
 first man to throw up his cap in the market-place of Cambridge, 
 and cry " God save queen Mary !" But on the following day the 
 earl of Arundel, whom he had disgraced, and who hated him, 
 though a little before he had professed that he could wish to 
 spend his blood at his feet, came and arrested him in her majes- 
 ty's name, and Mary, proceeding to London, seated herself with 
 out opposition on the throne of her ancestors. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 1553 and 1554. 
 
 Maty affects attachment to Elizabeth. — Short duration of her 
 kindness. — Earl of Devonshire liberated from the Tower. — His 
 character. — He rejects the love of Mary — shows partiality to 
 Elizabeth. — Anger of Mary. — Elizabeth retires from court. — 
 Queen's proposed marriage unpopular. — Character of sir T. 
 Wyat. — His rebellion. — Earl of Devonshire remanded to the 
 Tower. — Elizabeth summoned to court — is detained by illness. 
 Wyat taken — is said to accuse Elizabeth. — She is brought pri- 
 soner to the court — examined by the council — dismissed — 
 brought again to court — re-examined — commited to the Tower. 
 Particulars of her behaviour. — Influence of Mary's government 
 on various eminent characters — Reinstatement of the duke of 
 Norfolk in honour and office. — His retirement and death. — Li- 
 beration from the Tower of Tonstal. — His character and af- 
 ter fortunes. — Of Gardiner and Bonner. — Their views and 
 characters. — Of the duchess of Somerset and the marchioness 
 of Exeter. — Imprisonment of the Dudleys — of several protestant 
 bishops — of judge Hales. — His sufferings and death. — Charac- 
 ters and fortunes of sir John Cheke, sir Anthony Cook, Dr. Cox, 
 and other protestant exiles. 
 
 THE conduct of Elizabeth during the late alarming crisis, 
 earned for her from Mary, during the first days of her reign. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 69 
 
 ,ome demonstration of sisterly affection. She caused her to bear 
 her company in her public entry into London; kindly detained her 
 for a time near her own person ; and seemed to have consigned 
 for ever to an equitable oblivion all the mortifications and heart- 
 burnings of which the child of Anne Boleyn had been the inno- 
 cent occasion to her in times past, and under circumstances 
 which could never more return. 
 
 In the splendid procession which attended her majesty from 
 the Tower to Whitehall previously to her coronation on October 
 1st, 1553, the royal chariot, sumptuously covered with cloth of 
 tissue and drawn by six horses with trappings of the same mate- 
 rial, was immediately followed by another, likewise drawn by six 
 horses and covered with cloth of silver, in which sat the princess 
 Elizabeth and the lady Anne of Cleves, who took place in this 
 ceremony as the adopted sister of Henry VIII. 
 
 But notwithstanding these fair appearances, the rancorous 
 feelings of Mary's heart witji respect to her sister were only re- 
 pressed or disguised, not eradicated ; and it was not long before 
 a new subject of jealousy caused them to revive in all their pris- 
 tine energy. 
 
 Amongst the state prisoners committed to the Tower by Henry 
 VIII., whose liberation his executors had resisted during the 
 whole reign of Edward, but whom it was Mary's first act of roy- 
 alty to release and reinstate in their offices or honours, was Ed- 
 ward Courtney, son of the unfortunate marquis of Exeter. From 
 the age of fourteen to that of six-and-twenty, this victim of ty- 
 ranny had been doomed to expiate in a captivity which threatened 
 to be perpetual, the involuntary offence of inheriting through an 
 attainted father the blood of the fourth Edward. To the surprise 
 and admiration of the court, he now issued forth a comely and 
 accomplished gentleman ; deeply versed in the literature of the 
 age ; skilled in music, and still more so in the art of painting, 
 which had formed the chief solace of his long seclusion ; and 
 graced with that polished elegance of manners, the result, in most 
 who possess it, of early intercourse with the world, and an assi- 
 duous imitation of the best examples, but to a few of her favour- 
 ites the free gift of nature herself. To all his prepossessing 
 qualities was superadded that deep romantic kind of interest 
 with which sufferings, long unmerited and extraordinary, never 
 fail to invest a youthful sufferer. 
 
 What wonder that Courtney speedily became the favourite of 
 the nation ! — what wonder that even the severe bosom of Mary 
 herself was touched with tenderness ! With the eager zeal of 
 the sentiment just awakened in her heart, she hastened to re- 
 store to her too amiable kinsman the title of earl of Devonshire, 
 long hereditary in the illustrious house of Courtney, to which she 
 added the whole of those patrimonial estates which the forfeiture 
 of his father had vested in the crown. She went further ; she 
 lent a propitious ear to the whispered suggestion of her people,, 
 still secretly partial to the house of York, that an English prince 
 of the blood was most worthy to share the throne of an English 
 
70 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 queen. It is even affirmed, that hints were designedly thrown 
 out to the young man himself of the impression which he had 
 made upon her heart. But Courtney generously disdained, as 
 it appears, to barter his affections for a crown. The youth, the 
 talents, the graces of Elizabeth had inspired him with a prefer- 
 ence which he was either unwilling or unable to conceal ; Mary 
 was left to vent her disappointment in resentment against the ill- 
 fated object of her preference, and in every demonstration of a 
 malignant jealousy towards her innocent and unprotected rival. 
 
 By the first act of a parliament summoned immediately after 
 the coronation, Mary's birth had been pronounced legitimate, the 
 marriage of her father and mother valid, and their divorce null 
 and void. A stigma was thus unavoidably cast on the offspring 
 of Henry's second marriage ; and no sooner had Elizabeth incur- 
 red" the displeasure of her sister, than she was made to feel how 
 far the consequences of this new declaration of the legislature 
 might be made to extend. Notwithstanding the unrevoked suc- 
 cession act which rendered her next heir to the crown, she 
 was forbidden to take place of the countess of Lenox, or the 
 duchess of Suffolk, in the presence-chamber, and her friends 
 were discountenanced or affronted obviously on her account. Her 
 merit, her accomplishments, her insinuating manners, which at- 
 tracted to her the admiration and attendance of the young no- 
 bility, and the favour of the nation, were so many crimes in the 
 eyes of a sovereign who already began to feel her own unpopu- 
 larity ; and Elizabeth, who was not of a spirit to endure public 
 and unmerited slights with tameness, found it at Once the most 
 dignified and the safest course, to seek, before the end of the 
 year, the peaceful retirement of her house of Ashridge in Buck- 
 inghamshire. It was, however, made a condition of the leave of 
 absence from court which she was obliged to solicit, that she 
 should take with her sir Thomas Pope and sir John Gage, who 
 were placed about her as inspectors and superintendants of her 
 conduct, under the name of officers of her household. 
 
 The marriage of Mary to Philip of Spain was now openly talk- 
 ed of. It was generally and justly unpopular : the protestant 
 party, whom the measures of the queen had already filled with 
 apprehensions, saw, in her desire of connecting herself yet more 
 closely with the most bigoted royal family of Europe, a confirma- 
 tion of their worst forebodings ; and the tyranny of the Tudors 
 had not yet so entirely crushed the spirit of Englishmen as to 
 render them tamely acquiescent in the prospect of their coun- 
 try's becoming a province to Spain, subject to the sway of that 
 detested people whose rapacity, and violence, and unexampled 
 cruelty, had filled both hemispheres with groans and execrations. 
 
 The house of commons petitioned the queen against marrying 
 a foreign prince : she replied by dissolving them in anger ; and 
 all hope of putting a stop to the connexion by legal means being 
 thus precluded, measures of a more dangerous character began 
 to be resorted to. 
 
 Sir Thomas Wyat, of Allingham Castle in Kent, son of the 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 71 
 
 poet, Wit, and courtier of that name, had hitherto been distin 
 guished by a zealous loyalty; and he is said to have been also a 
 catholic. Though allied in blood to the Dudleys, not only had 
 he refused to Northumberland his concurrence in the nomina- 
 tion of Jane Grey, but, without waiting a moment to see which 
 party would prevail, he had proclaimed queen Mary in the mar- 
 ket-place at Maidstone, for which instance of attachment he had 
 received her thanks.* But Wyathad been employed during se- 
 veral years of his life in embassies to Spain ; and the intimate 
 acquaintance which he had thus acquired of the principles and 
 practices of its court, filled him with such horror of their intro- 
 duction into his native country, that, preferring patriotism to 
 loyalty where their claims appeared incompatible, he incited his 
 neighbours and friends to insurrection. 
 
 In the same cause sir Peter Carew, and sir Gawen his uncle, 
 endeavoured to raise the West, but with small success ; and the 
 attempts made by the duke of Suffolk, lately pardoned and libe- 
 rated, to arm his tenantry and retainers in Warwickshire and 
 Leicestershire, proved still more futile. Notwithstanding how- 
 ever this want of co-operation, Wyat's rebellion wore for some 
 time a very formidable appearance. The London trained-bands 
 sent out to oppose him, went over to him in a body under Bret, 
 their captain ; the guards, almost the only regular troops in the 
 kingdom, were chiefly protestants, and therefore little trusted 
 by the queen ; and it was known that the inhabitants of the me- 
 tropolis, for which he was in full march, were in their hearts in- 
 clined to his cause. 
 
 It was pretty well ascertained that the earl of Devonshire had 
 received an invitation to join the western insurgents ; and though 
 he appeared to have rejected the proposal, he was arbitrarily 
 remanded to his ancient abode in the Tower. 
 
 Elizabeth was naturally regarded under all these circum- 
 stances of alarm with extreme jealousy and suspicion. It was 
 well known that her present compliance with the religion of the 
 court was merely prudential ; that she was the only hope of the 
 protestant party, a party equally formidable by zeal and by 
 numbers, and which it was resolved to crush ; it was more than 
 suspected, that though Wyat himself still professed an inviolable 
 fidelity to the person of the reigning sovereign, and strenuously 
 declared the Spanish match to be the sole grievance against 
 which he had taken arms, many of his partisans had been led by 
 their religious zeal to entertain the further view ot dethroning 
 the queen, in favour of her sister, whom they desired to marry 
 to the earl of Devonshire. It was not proved that the princess 
 herself had given any encouragement to these designs ; but sir 
 James Croft, an adherent of Wyat's, had lately visited Ashridge, 
 and held conferences with some of her attendants ; and it had 
 since been rumored that she was projecting a removal to her 
 manor of Donnington castle in Berkshire, on the south side of 
 
 * See Carte's History of England. 
 
72 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 the Thames, where nothing but a days' march through an open 
 country would be interposed between her residence and the sta- 
 tion of the Kentish rebels. 
 
 Policy seemed now to dictate the precaution of securing her 
 person ; and the queen addressed to her accordingly the follow 
 ing letter. 
 
 " Right dear and entirely beloved sister, 
 
 « g ree t you well : And whereas certain evil -disposed per- 
 sons, minding more the satisfaction of their own malicious and 
 seditious minds than their duty of allegiance towards us, have 
 of late foully spread divers lewd and untrue rumours ; and by 
 that means and other devilish practices do travail to induce our 
 good and loving subjects to an unnatural rebellion against God, 
 us, and the tranquility of our realm : We, tendering the surety 
 of your person, which might chance to be in some peril if any 
 sudden tumult should arise where you now be, or about Don- 
 nington, whither, as we understand, you are minded shortly to 
 remove, do therefore think expedient you should put yourself in 
 good readiness, with all convenient speed, to make your repair 
 hither to us. Which we pray you fail not to do : Assuring you, 
 that as you may most safely remain here, so shall you be most 
 heartily welcome to us. And of your mind herein we pray you 
 to return answer by this messenger. 
 
 " Given under our signet at our manor of St. James' the 26th 
 of January in the 1st year of our reign. 
 
 " Your loving sister 
 
 Mary, the queen." 
 
 This summons found Elizabeth confined to her bed by sick- 
 ness ; and her officers sent a formal statement of the fact to the 
 privy-council, praying that the delay of her appearance at court 
 might not, under such circumstances, be misconstrued either 
 with respect to her or to themselves. Monsieur de Noailles, the 
 French ambassador, in some papers of his, calls this " a favoura- 
 ble illness" to Elizabeth, " since," adds he, " it seems likely to 
 save Mary from the crime of putting her sister to death by vio- 
 lence." And true it is, that by detaining her in the country till 
 the insurrection was effectually suppressed, it preserved her from 
 any sudden act of cruelty which the violence of the alarm might 
 have prompted: but other and perhaps greater dangers still 
 awaited her. 
 
 A few days after the date of the foregoing letter, Wyat en- 
 tered Westminster, but with a force very inadequate to his un- 
 dertaking : he was repulsed in an attack on the palace ; and 
 afterwards, finding the gates of London closed against him and 
 seeing his followers slain, taken, or flying in all directions, he 
 voluntarily surrendered himself to one of the queen's officers' 
 and was conveyed to the Tower. It was immediately given out, 
 that he had made a full discovery of his accomplices, and named 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 73 
 
 amongst them the princess and the earl of Devonshire ; and on 
 this pretext, for it was probably no more, three gentlemen were 
 sent, ai fended by a troop of horse, with peremptory orders to 
 bring Elizabeth back with them to London. 
 
 They reached her abode at ten o'clock at night, and bursting 
 into her sick chamber, in spite of the remonstrances of her ladies, 
 abruptly informed her of their errand. Affrighted at the sum- 
 mons, she declared however her entire willingness to wait upon 
 the queen her sister, to whom she warmly protested her loyal 
 attachment ; but she appealed to their own observation for the 
 reality of her sickness, and her utter inability to quit her cham- 
 ber. The gentlemen pleaded, on the other side, the urgency of 
 their commission, and said that they had brought the queen's 
 litter for her conveyance. Two physicians were then called in, 
 who gave it as their opinion that she might be removed without 
 danger to her life ; and on the morrow her journey commenced. 
 
 The departure of Elizabeth from Ashridge was attended by 
 the tears and passionate lamentations of her afflicted household, 
 who naturally anticipated from such beginnings the worst that 
 could befal her. So extreme was her sickness, aggravated 
 doubtless by terror and dejection, that even these stern conduc- 
 tors found themselves obliged to allow her no less than four 
 nights' rest in a journey of only twenty-nine miles. 
 
 Between Highgate and London her spirits were cheered by the 
 appearance of a number of gentlemen who rode out to meet her, 
 as a public testimony of their sympathy and attachment ; and as 
 she proceeded, the general feeling was further manifested by 
 crowds of people lining the waysides, who flocked anxiously 
 about her litter, weeping and bewailing her aloud. A manuscript 
 chronicle of the time describes her passage on this occasion 
 through Smithfield and Fleet-street, in a litter open on both sides, 
 with a hundred " velvet coats" after her, and a hundred others 
 " in coats of fine red guarded with velvet ;" and with this train 
 she passed through the queen's garden to the court. 
 
 This open countenancing of the princess by a formidable party 
 in the capital itself, seems to have disconcerted the plans of 
 Mary and her advisers ; and they contented themselves for the 
 present with detaining her in a kind of honourable custody at 
 Whitehall. Here she underwent a strict examination by the privy- 
 council respecting Wyat*s insurrection, and the rising in the West 
 under Carew; but she steadfastly protested her innocence and igno- 
 rance of all such designs; and nothing coming out against her, in 
 about a fortnight she was dismissed, and suffered to return to her 
 own house. Her troubles, however, were as yet only beginning. Sir 
 William St. Low, one of her officers, was apprehended as an adhe- 
 rent of Wyat's; and this leader himself, who had been respited for 
 the purpose of working on his love of life, and leading him to be- 
 tray his confederates, was still reported to accuse the princess. 
 An idle story was officiously circulated of his having conveyed to 
 her in a bracelet the whole scheme of his plot; and on March 15th, 
 she was again taken into custody and brought to Hampton-court, 
 
74 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 Soon after her arrival, it was finally announced to her by a de= 
 putation of the council, not without strong expressions of con- 
 cern from several of the members, that her majesty had determi- 
 ned on her committal to the Tower till the matter could be fur- 
 ther investigated. Bishop Gardiner, now a principal counsellor, 
 and two others, came soon after, and, dismissing the princess's 
 attendants, supplied their places with some of their queen's, and 
 set a guard round the palace for that night. The next day, the 
 earl of Sussex and another lord were sent to announce to her that 
 a barge was in readiness for her immediate conveyance to the 
 Tower. She entreated first to be permitted to write to the queen ; 
 and the earl of Sussex assenting, in spite of the angry opposition 
 of his companion, whose name is concealed by the tenderness of 
 his contemporaries, and undertaking to be himself the bearer of 
 her letter, she took the opportunity to repeat her protestations of 
 innocence and loyalty, concluding, with an extraordinary vehe- 
 mence of asseveration, in these words : " As for that traitor 
 Wyat, he might peradventure write me a letter; but on my faith 
 I never received any from him. And as for the copy of my letter 
 to the French king, I pray God confound me eternally, if ever I 
 sent him word, message, token, or letter, by any means." With 
 respect to the last clause of this disavowal, it may be fit to ob- 
 serve, that there is indeed no proof that Elizabeth ever returned 
 any answer to the letters or messages of the French king ; but 
 that it seems a well authenticated fact, that during some period 
 of her adversity, Henry II. made her the offer of an asylum in 
 France. The circumstance of the dauphin's being betrothed to 
 the queen of Scots, who claimed to precede Elizabeth in the or- 
 der of succession, renders the motive of this invitation somewhat 
 suspicious ; at all events, it was one which she was never tempted 
 to accept. 
 
 Her letter did not obtain for the princess what she sought, — an 
 interview with her sister ; and the next day being Palm Sunday, 
 strict orders were issued for all people to attend the churches 
 and carry their palms ; and in the mean time she was pri- 
 vately removed to the Tower, attended by the earl of Sussex 
 and the other lord, three of her own ladies, three of the queen's,, 
 and some of her officers. Several characteristic traits of her 
 behaviour have been preserved. On reaching her melancholy 
 place of destination, she long refused to land at Traitor's gate ; 
 and when the uncourteous nobleman declared " that she should 
 not choose," offering her, however, at the same time, his cloak to 
 protect her from the rain, she retained enough of her high spirit 
 to put it from her " with a good dash." As she set her foot on 
 the ill-omened stairs, she said, " Here landeth as true a subject, 
 being a prisoner, as ever landed at these stairs ; and before thee, 
 O God ! I speak it, having no other friends but thee alone." 
 
 On seeing a number of warders and other attendants drawn 
 out in order, she asked, " What rneaneth this ?" Some one an- 
 swered, that it was customary on receiving a prisoner. *« If it 
 be," said she, " I beseech you that for my cause they may be 
 
QUEKN ELIZABETH. 
 
 75 
 
 dismissed." Immediately the poor men kneeled down and pray 
 ed God to preserve her; for which action they all lost their 
 places the next day. 
 
 Going a little further, she sat down on a stone to rest herself; 
 and the lieutenant urging her to rise and come in out of the cold 
 and wet, she answered, " Better sitting here than in a worse 
 place, for God knoweth whither you bring me." On hearing 
 these words, her gentleman-usher wept, for which she reproved 
 him, telling him he ought rather to be her comforter, especially 
 since she knew her own truth to be such, that no man should 
 have cause to weep for her. Then rising, she entered the prison, 
 and its gloomy doors were locked and bolted on her. Shocked 
 and dismayed, but still resisting the weakness of unavailing la- 
 mentation, she called for her book and devoutly prayed that she 
 might build her house upon the rock." 
 
 Meanwhile her conductors retired to concert measures for keep- 
 ing her securely ; and her firm friend, the earl of Sussex, did not 
 neglect the occasion of reminding all whom it might concern, that 
 the king their master's daughter was to be treated in no other 
 manner than they might be able to justify, whatever should hap- 
 pen hereafter ; and that they were to take heed to do nothing but 
 what their commission would bear out. To this the others cor- 
 dially assented; and having performed their office, the two lords 
 departed. 
 
 Having now conducted the heroine of the protestant party to 
 the dismal abode which she was destined for a time to occupy, it 
 will be proper to revert to the period of Mary's accession. 
 
 Little more than eight months had yet elapsed from the death, 
 of Edward ; but this short interval had sufficed to change the 
 whole face of the English court ; to alter the most important re- 
 lations of the country with foreign states ; and to restore in great 
 measure the ancient religion, which it had been the grand object 
 of the former reign finally and totally to overthrow. It is the bu- 
 siness of the historian to record the series of public measures by 
 which this calamitous revolution was accomplished : the humbler 
 but not uninteresting task, of tracing its effects on the fortunes of 
 eminent individuals, belongs to the compiler of memoirs, and 
 forms an appropriate accompaniment to the relation of the perils, 
 sufferings, and obloquy, through which the heiress of the English 
 crown passed on safely to the accomplishment of her high desti- 
 nies. 
 
 The liberation of the state prisoners confined in the Tower — 
 an act of grace usual on the accession of a prince — was one which 
 the causes of detention of the greater part of them rendered it 
 peculiarly gratifying to Mary to perform. The enemies of Henry's 
 or of Edward's government she regarded with reason as her friends 
 and partisans, and the adherents, open or concealed, of that church 
 establishment which was to be forced back on the reluctant con- 
 sciences of the nation. 
 
 The most illustrious of the caotives was that aged duke of 
 Norfolk, whom the tyrant Henry had condemned to die without 
 
76 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 a crime, and who had been suffered to languish in confinement 
 during the whole reign of Edward ; chiefly, it is probable, be- 
 cause the forfeiture of his vast estates afforded a welcome supply 
 to the exhausted treasury of the young king ; though the exten- 
 sive influence of this nobleman, and the attachment for the old 
 religion which he was believed to cherish, had served as plausi- 
 ble pretexts for his detention. His high birth, his hereditary au- 
 thority, his religious predilections, were so many titles of merit 
 in the eyes of the new queen, who was also desirous of profiting 
 by his abilities and long experience in all affairs civil and mili- 
 tary. Without waiting for the concurrence of parliament, she 
 declared by her own authority his attainder irregular and null, 
 restored to him such of his lands as remained vested in the crown, 
 and proceeded to reinstate him in offices and honours. On 
 August luth he took his seat at the council-board of the eighth 
 English monarch whose reign he had survived to witness ; on the 
 same day he was solemnly reinvested with the garter, of which he 
 had been deprived on his attainder ; and a few days after, he sat 
 as lord -high -steward on the trial of that very duke of Northum- 
 berland to whom, not long before, his friends and adherents had 
 been unsuccessful suitors for his own liberation. 
 
 There is extant a remarkable order of council, dated August 
 27th of this year, " for a letter to be written to the countess of 
 Surry to send up to Mountjoy Place, in London, her youngest 
 son, and the rest of her children, by the earl of Surry, where 
 they shall be received by the duke of Norfolk, their grand- 
 father."* It may be conjectured that these young people were 
 thus authoritatively consigned to the guardianship of the duke, 
 for the purpose of correcting the protestant predilections in 
 which they had been educated; and the circumstance seems also 
 to indicate, what indeed might be well imagined, that little har- 
 mony or intercourse subsisted between this nobleman and a 
 daughter-in-law whom he had formerly sought to deprive of her 
 husband in order to form for him a new and more advantageous 
 connection. 
 
 The eldest son of the earl of Surry, now in the seventeenth 
 year of his age, was honoured with the title of his father ; and 
 he began his distinguished, though unfortunate career, by per- 
 forming, as deputy to the duke of Norfolk, the office of earl- 
 marshal at the queen's coronation. On the first alarm of Wyat's 
 rebellion, the veteran duke was summoned to march out against 
 him ; but his measures, which otherwise promised success, were 
 completely foiled by the desertion of the London bands to the 
 insurgents ; and the last military expedition of his life was des- 
 tined to conclude with a hasty and ignominious flight. He soon 
 after withdrew entirely from the fatigues of public life, and after 
 all the vicissitudes of court and camp, palace and prison, with 
 which the lapse of eighty eventful years had rendered him 
 acquainted, calmly breathed his last at his own castle of Fram- 
 iingham in September, 1554. 
 
 * See Burleigh Papers by Raynes. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 77 
 
 Three deprived bishops were released from the Tower, and 
 restored with honour to their sees. These were, Tonstal of Dur- 
 ham, Gardiner of Winchester, and Bonner of London. Tonstal, 
 many of whose younger years had been spent in diplomatic mis- 
 sions, was distinguished in Europe by his erudition, which had 
 gained him the friendship and correspondence of Erasmus; he 
 was also mild, charitable, and of unblemished morals. Attached 
 by principle to the faith of his forefathers, but loth either to in- 
 cur personal hazard, or to sacrifice the almost princely emolu- 
 ments of the see of Durham, he had contented himself with regu- 
 larly opposing in the house of lords all the ecclesiastical inno- 
 vations of Edward's reign, and as regularly given them his con- 
 currence when once established. It was not, therefore, profes- 
 sedly on a religious account (hat he had suffered deprivation 
 and imprisonment, but on an obscure charge of having partici- 
 pated in some traitorous or rebellious design : a charge brought 
 against him, in the opinion of most, falsely, and through the cor- 
 rupt procurement of Northumberland, to whose project of erect- 
 ing the bishopric of Durham into a county palatine for himself, 
 the deprivation of Tonstal, and the abolition of the see by act of 
 parliament, were indispensable preliminaries. This meek and 
 amiable prelate returned to the exercise of his high functions, 
 without a wish of revenging on the protestants, in their adversity, 
 the painful acts of disingenuousness which their late ascendency 
 had forced upon him. During the whole of Mary's reign, no 
 person is recorded to have suffered for religion within the limits 
 of his diocess. The mercy which he had shown, he afterwards 
 most deservedly experienced. Refusing on the accession of 
 Elizabeth, to preserve his mitre by a repetition of compliances 
 of which so many recent examples of conscientious suffering in 
 men of both persuasions must have rendered him ashamed, he 
 suffered a second deprivation ; but his person was only com- 
 mitted to the honourable custody of archbishop Parker. By this 
 learned and munificent prelate the acquirements and virtues of 
 Tonstal were duly appreciated and esteemed. He found at 
 Lambeth a retirement suited to his age, his taste, his favourite 
 pursuits ; by the arguments of his friendly host he was brought 
 to renounce several of the grosser corruptions of popery ; and dy- 
 ing in the year 1560, an honourable monument was erected by 
 the primate to his memory. 
 
 With views and sentiments how opposite did Gardiner and 
 Bonner resume the crosier ! A deep-rooted conviction of the 
 truth and vjtai importance of the religious opinions which he 
 defends, supplies to the persecutor the only apology of which 
 his foolish and atrocious barbarity admits ; and to men naturally 
 mild and candid, we feel a consolation in allowing it in all its 
 force ; — but by no particle of such indulgence should Bonner or 
 Gardiner be permitted to benefit. It would be credulity, not 
 candour, to yield to either of these bad men the character of 
 sincere, though over zealous, religionists. True it is that they 
 had subjected themselves to the loss of their bishoprics, and to a 
 
THE COURT OF 
 
 severe imprisonment, by a refusal to give in their renunciation 
 of certain doctrines of the Romish church ; but they had previ- 
 ously gone much further in compliance than conscience would 
 allow to any real catholic : and they appear to have stopped 
 short in this career only because they perceived in the council 
 such a determination to strip them, under one pretext or another, 
 of all their preferments, as manifestly rendered further compli- 
 ance useless. Both of them had policy enough to restrain them, 
 under such circumstances, from degading their characters gra- 
 tuitously, and depriving themselves of the merit of having 
 suffered for a faith which might soon become again predomi- 
 nant. They received their due reward in the favour of Mary, 
 who recognised them with joy as the fit instruments of all her 
 bloody and tyrannical designs, to which Gardiner supplied the 
 crafty and contriving head, Bonner the vigorous and unsparing 
 arm. 
 
 The proud wife of the protector Somerset, — who had been im- 
 prisoned, but never brought to trial, as an accomplice in her hus- 
 band's plots, — was now dismissed to a safe insignificance. The 
 marchioness of Exeter, against whom, in Henry's reign, an at- 
 tainder had passed too iniquitous for even him to carry into 
 effect, was also rescued from her long captivity, and indemni- 
 fied for the loss of her property by some valuable grants from 
 the new confiscations of the Dudleys and their adherents. 
 
 The only state prisoner to whom the door was not opened on 
 this occasion was Geffrey Pole, that base betrayer of his brother 
 and his friends by whose evidence lord Montacute and the mar- 
 quis of Exeter had been brought to an untimely end. It is some 
 satisfaction to know, that the commutation of death for perpe- 
 tual imprisonment was all the favour which this wretch obtained 
 from Henry ; that neither Edward nor Mary broke his bonds ; 
 and that, as far as appears, his punishment ended only with his 
 miserable existence. 
 
 Not long, however, were these dismal abodes suffered to re- 
 main unpeopled. The failure of the criminal enterprise of 
 Northumberland first filled the Tower with the associates, or 
 victims, of his guilt. Nearly the whole of the Dudley family were 
 its tenants for a longer or shorter time ; and it was another re- 
 markable coincidence of their destinies, which Elizabeth in the 
 after days of her power and glory might have pleasure in recal- 
 ling to her favourite Leicester, that during the whole of her cap- 
 tivity in this fortress he also was included in the number of its 
 melancholy inmates. * 
 
 The places of Tonstal, Gardiner, and Bonner, were soon after 
 supplied by the more zealous of Edward's bishops, Holgate, Co- 
 verdale, Ridley, and Hooper ; and it was not long before the 
 vehement Latimer and even the cautious Cranmer were added 
 to their suffering brethren. 
 
 The queen made no difficulty of pardoning and receiving into 
 favour those noblemen and others, members of the privy-council, 
 whom a base dread of the resentment of Northumberland had 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 79 
 
 driven into compliance with his measures in favourof Jane Grey ; 
 wisely considering, perhaps, that the men who had submitted to 
 be the instruments of his violent and illegal proceedings, would 
 feel little hesitation in lending their concurrence to hers also. 
 On this principle, the marquis of Winchester and the earls of 
 Arundel and Pembroke were employed and distinguished; the 
 last of these experienced courtiers making expiation for his past 
 errors, by causing his son, lord Herbert, to divorce the lady 
 Catherine Grey, to whom it had so lately suited his political 
 views to unite him. 
 
 Sir James Hales, on the contrary, that conscientious and up- 
 right judge, who alone, of all the privy-counsellors and crown- 
 lawyers, had persisted in refusing his signature to the act by 
 which Mary was disinherited of the crown, found himself unre- 
 warded and even discountenanced. The queen well knew, what 
 probably the judge was not inclined to deny, that it was attach- 
 ment, not to her person, but to the constitution of his country, 
 which had prompted his resistance to that violation of the legal 
 order of succession ; and had it even been otherwise, she would 
 have regarded all her obligations to him as effectually cancelled 
 by his zealous adherence to the church establishment of the pre- 
 ceding reign. For daring to urge upon the grand juries whom 
 he addressed in his circuit, the execution of some of Edward's 
 laws in matter of religion, yet unrepealed, judge Hales was soon 
 after thrown into prison. He endured with constancy the suf- 
 ferings of a long and rigorous confinement, aggravated by the 
 threats and ill-treatment of a cruel jailor. At length some per- 
 sons in authority were sent to propound to him terms of release. 
 It is suspected that they extorted from him some concessions on 
 the point of religion ; for immediately after their departure, re- 
 tiring to his cell, in a fit of despair he stabbed himself with his 
 knife in different parts of the body, and was only withheld by 
 the sudden entrance of his servant from inflicting a mortal wound. 
 Bishop Gardiner had the barbarity to insult over the agony or 
 distraction of a noble spirit overthrown by persecution ; he even 
 converted his solitary act into a general reflection against pro- 
 testantism, which he called "the doctrine of desperation.'' 
 Some time after, Hales obtained his enlargement on payment of 
 an arbitrary fine of six thousand pounds. But he did not with 
 his liberty recover his peace of mind ; and after struggling for a, 
 few months with an unconquerable melancholy, he sought and 
 found its final cure in the waters of a pond in his garden. 
 
 No blood except of principals, was shed by Mary on account 
 of the proclamation of Jane Grey ; but she visited with lower 
 degrees of punishment, secretly proportioned to the zeal which 
 they had displayed in the reformation of religion, several of the 
 more eminent partisans of this "meek usurper." The three 
 tutors of king Edward, sir Anthony Cook, sir John Cheke and 
 Dr. Cox, were sufficiently implicated in this affair to warrant 
 their imprisonment for some time on suspicion ; and all were 
 eager, on their release, to shelter themselves from the approach- 
 ing storm by flight. 
 
so 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 Cheke, after confiscation of his estate, obtained permission to 
 travel for a given time on the continent. Strasburgh was se- 
 lected by Cook for his place of exile. The wise moderation of 
 character by which this excellent person was distinguished, 
 seems to have preserved him from taking any part in the angry 
 contentions of protestant with protestant, exile with exile, by 
 which the refugees of Strasburgh and Frankfort scandalised their 
 brethren and afforded matter of triumph to the church of Rome. 
 On the accession of Elizabeth he returned with alacrity to re- 
 occupy and embellish the modest mansion of his forefathers, and 
 " through the loop-holes of retreat" to view with honest exultation 
 the high career of public fortune run by his two illustrious sons- 
 in-law, Nicholas Bacon and William Cecil. 
 
 The enlightened views of society taken by sir Anthony led 
 him to extend to his daughters the noblest privileges of the other 
 sex, those which concern the early and systematic, acquisition 
 of solid knowledge. Through his admirable instructions their 
 minds were stored with learning, strengthened with principles, 
 and formed to habits of reasoning and observation, which ren- 
 dered them the worthy partners of great statesmen, who knew 
 and felt their value. The fame, too, of these distinguished fe- 
 males has reflected back additional lustre on the character of a 
 father, who was wont to say to them in the noble confidence of 
 unblemished integrity, " My life is your portion, my example 
 your inheritance." 
 
 Dr. Cox was quite another manner of man. Repairing first 
 to Strasburgh, where the English exiles had formed themselves 
 into a congregation using the liturgy of the church of England, 
 he went thence to Frankfort, another city of refuge to his coun- 
 trymen at this period ; where the intolerance of his zeal against 
 such as more inclined to the form of worship instituted by the 
 Genevan reformer, embarked him in a violent quarrel with John 
 Knox, against whom, on pretext of his having libelled the em- 
 peror, he found means to kindle the resentment of the magi- 
 strates, who compelled him to quit the city. After this disgrace- 
 ful victory over a brother reformer smarting under the same 
 scourge of persecution with himself, he returned to Strasburgh, 
 where he more laudably employed himself in establishing a kind 
 of English university. 
 
 His zeal for the church of England, his sufferings in the 
 cause, and his services to learning, obtained, for him from 
 Elizabeth the bishopric of Ely ; but neither party enjoyed from 
 this appointment all the satisfaction which might have been an- 
 ticipated. The courage, perhaps the self opinion, of Dr. Cox, en- 
 gaged him on several occasions in opposition to the measures of 
 the queen ; and his narrow and persecuting spirit involved him 
 in perpetual disputes and animosities, which rendered the close 
 of a long life turbulent and unhappy, and took from his learning 
 and gray hairs their due reverence. The rapacity of the cour- 
 tiers, who obtained grant after grant of the lands belonging to 
 his bishopric, was another fruitful source to him of vexation : 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 81 
 
 and he had actually tendered the resignation of his see on very 
 humiliating terms, when death caine to his relief in the year 
 1581, the eighty-second of his age. 
 
 If in this and a few other instances, the polemical zeal natural 
 to men who had sacrificed their worldly all for the sake of re- 
 ligion, was observed to degenerate among the refugees into per- 
 sonal quarrels disgraceful to themselves and injurious to their 
 noble cause, it ought on the other hand to be observed, that some 
 of the firmest and most affectionate friendships of the age were 
 formed amongst these companions in adversity; and that by many 
 who attained under Elizabeth the highest preferments and dis- 
 tinctions, the title of fellow-exile never ceased to be regarded as 
 the most sacred and endearing bond of brotherhood. 
 
 Other opportunities will arise of commemorating some of the 
 more eminent of the clergy who renounced their country during 
 the persecutions of Mary ; but respecting the laity, it may 
 here be remarked, that with the exception of Catherine duchess- 
 dowager of Suffolk, not a single person of quality was found in 
 this list of conscientious sufferers ; though one peer, probably 
 the earl of Bedford, underwent imprisonment on a religious ac- 
 count at home. Of the higher gentry, however, there were con- 
 siderable numbers who either went and established themselves 
 in the protestant cities of Germany, or passed away the time in 
 travelling. 
 
 Sir Francis Knowles, whose lady was niece to Anne Boleyn, 
 took the former part, residing with his eldest son at Frankfort ; 
 Walsingham adopted the latter. With the views of a future 
 minister of state, he visited in succession the principal courts of 
 Europe, where he employed his diligence and sagacity in laying 
 the foundations of that intimate knowledge of their policy and 
 resources by which he afterwards rendered his services so im- 
 portant to his queen and country. 
 
s THE COURT OF 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 1554 and 1555. 
 
 Arrival of Wyat and his associates at the Tower. — Savage treat 
 merit of them. — Further instances of Mary's severity. — Duke of 
 Suffolk beheaded. — Death of lady Jane Grey — of Wyat, who 
 clears Elizabeth of all share in his designs, — Trial of Throg- 
 morton. — Bill for the exclusion of Elizabeth thrown out. — 
 Parliament protects her rights — is dissolved. — Rigorous con- 
 finement of Elizabeth in the Tower. — She is removed under 
 guard of Bedding field — carried to Richmond — offered liberty 
 with the hand of the duke of Savoy — refuses — is carried to 
 Ricot, thence prisoner to Woodstock. — Anecdotes of her beha- 
 viour. — Cruelty of Gardiner towards her attendants. — Verses 
 by Harrington. — Marriage of the queen. — Alarms of the pro 
 testants. — Arrival of cardinal Pole. — Popery restored.— ? Perse- 
 cution begun. — King Philip procures the liberation of state 
 prisoners. — Earl of Devon travels into Raly — dies — Obligation 
 of Elizabeth to Philip discussed. — She is invited to court — 
 keeps her Christmas there — returns to Woodstock — is brought 
 again to court by Philip' *s intercession. — Gardiner urges her 
 to make submissions, but in vain. — She is brought to the queen 
 —permitted to reside without guards at one of the royal seats— 
 finally settled at Hatfield. — Character of sir Thomas Pope — 
 Notice of the Harringtons. — Philip quits England. — Death of 
 Gardiner. 
 
 IT is now proper to return to circumstances more closely 
 connected with the situation of Elizabeth at this eventful period 
 of her life. 
 
 Two or three weeks before her arrival in the Tower, Wyat, 
 with some of his principal adherents had been carried thither. 
 Towards these unhappy persons, none of those decencies of be 
 haviour were observed which the sex and rank of Elizabeth had 
 commanded from the ministers of her sister's severity ; and Ho- 
 linshed's circumstantial narrative of the circumstances attend - 
 ing their committal, may be cited as an instructive example of 
 the fierce and brutal manners of the age. 
 
 " Sir Philip Denny received them at the bulwark, and as Wyat 
 passed by, he said, ' Go, traitor, there was never such a traitor 
 in England.' To whom sir Thomas Wyat turned and said, lam 
 no traitor ; I would thou shouldest well know that thou art more 
 traitor than I ; it is not the point of an honest man to call me 
 so." And so went forth. When he came to the Tower gate, sir 
 Thomas Bridges, lieutenant, took in through the wicket first 
 Mantel], and said, «Ah, thou traitor! what hast thou and thy 
 company wrought ?' But he, holding down his head, said no- 
 
QUKKN ELIZABETH. 
 
 thing. Then came Thomas Knevet, whom master Chamberlain, 
 gentleman -porter of (lie Tower, took in. Then came Alexander 
 Bret, (captain of the white coats,) whom sir Thomas Pope took 
 by the bosom, saying, ' 0 traitor! how could st thou find in thy 
 heart to work such a villainy as to take wages, and being trusted 
 over a band of men, to fall to her enemies, returning against her 
 in battle ?' Bret answered, « Yea, I have offended in that case." 
 Then came Thomas Cobham, whom, sir Thomas Poins took in, 
 and said ; ' Alas, master Cobham, what wind headed you to work 
 such treason ?' And he answered, ' 0 sir ! I was seduced.' Then 
 came sir Thomas Wyat, whom sir Thomas Bridges took by the 
 collar, and said; "O thou villain! how couldst thou find in thy 
 heart to work such detestable treason to the queen's majesty, 
 who gave thee thy life and living once already, although thou 
 didst before this time bear arms in the field against her If 
 it were not (saith he) but that the law must pass upon thee, I 
 would stick thee through with my dagger.' To the which, Wyat, 
 holding his arms under his sides and looking grievously with a 
 grim look upon the lieutenant, said, * It is no mastery now ;' and 
 so passed on." 
 
 Other circumstances attending the suppression of this rebellion 
 mark with equal force the stern and vindictive spirit of Mary's go- 
 vernment, and the remaining barbarity of English customs. The. 
 inhabitants of London being for the most part protestants and 
 well affected, as the defection of their trained bands had proved , 
 to the cause of Wyat, it was thought expedient to admonish them 
 of the fruits of rebellion by the gibbeting of about sixty of his 
 followers in the most public parts of the city. Neither were the 
 bodies suffered to be removed till the public entry of king Philip 
 after the royal nuptials ; on which festal occasion the streets 
 were cleared of these noisome objects which had disgraced them 
 for nearly half a year. 
 
 Some hundreds of the meaner rebels, to whom the queen was 
 pleased to extend her mercy, were ordered to appear before her 
 bound two-and-two together, with halters about their necks ; and 
 kneeling before her in this guise, they received her gracious par- 
 don of all offences ; but no general amnesty was ever granted. 
 
 That the rash attempt of the duke of Suffolk should have been 
 visited upon himself by capital punishment, is neither to be won- 
 dered at nor censured ; but it was a foul act of cruelty to make 
 this the pretext for taking away the lives of a youthful pair en- 
 tirely innocent of this last design, and forgiven, as it was fondly 
 hoped, for the almost involuntary part which they had taken in 
 a former and more criminal enterprise. But religious bigotry 
 and political jealousy, each perhaps sufficient for the effect, com- 
 bined in this instance to urge on the relentless temper of Mary; 
 and the lady Jane Grey and Guildford Dudley, her husband, were 
 
 * It is plain that Wyat is here accused of having taken arms for Jane Grey ; 
 but most wrongfully, if Carte's account, of him is to be credited, which there seems | 
 no reason to disbelieve. 
 
84 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 ordered to prepare for the execution of the sentence which had 
 remained suspended over them. 
 
 Every thinking mind must have been shocked at the vengeance 
 taken on Guildford Dudley, — a youth too insignificant, it might 
 be thought, to call forth the animadversion of the most appre- 
 hensive government, and guilty of nothing but having accepted, 
 in obedience to his father's pleasure, the hand of Jane Grey. 
 But the fate of this distinguished lady herself was calculated to 
 awaken stronger feelings. The fortitude, the piety, the genuine 
 humility and contrition evinced by her in the last scene of an 
 unsullied life, furnished the best evidence of her guiltlessness 
 even of a wish to resume the sceptre which paternal authority 
 had once forced on her reluctant grasp ; and few could witness 
 the piteous spectacle of her violent and untimely end, without 
 a thrill of indignant horror, and secret imprecations against the 
 barbarity of her unnatural kinswoman. 
 
 The earl of Devonshire was still detained in the Tower on 
 Wyat's information, as was pretended, and on other indications 
 of guilt, all of which were proved in the end equally fallacious : 
 and at the time of Elizabeth's removal hither this state-prison 
 was thronged with captives of minor importance implicated in 
 the designs of Wyat. These were assiduously plied on one hand 
 with offers of liberty and reward, and subjected on the other to 
 the most rigorous treatment, the closest interrogatories, and one 
 of them even to the rack, in the hope of eliciting from them some 
 evidence which might reconcile to Mary's conscience, or colour 
 to the nation, the death or perpetual imprisonment of a sister 
 whom she feared and hated. 
 
 To have brought her to criminate herself would have been 
 better still ; and no pains were spared for this purpose. A few 
 days after her committal, Gardiner and other privy-councillors 
 came to examine her respecting the conversation which she had 
 held with sir James Croft touching her removal to Donnington 
 Castle. She said, after some recollection, that she had indeed 
 such a place, but that she never occupied it in her life, and she 
 did not remember that any one had moved her so to do. Then, 
 " to enforce the matter," they brought forth sir James Croft, and 
 Gardiner demanded what she had to say to that man ? She an- 
 swered that she had little to say to him or to the rest that were 
 in the Tower. " But my lords," said she, " you do examine 
 every mean prisoner of me, wherein methinks you do me great 
 injury. If they have done evil and offended the queen's ma- 
 jesty, let them answer to it accordingly. I beseech you, my 
 lords, join not me in this sort with any of these offenders. And 
 concerning my going to Donnington Castle, I do remember that 
 master Hobby and mine officers and you sir James Croft had 
 such talk ; — but what is that to the purpose, my lords, but that 
 I may go to mine own houses at all times ?" The earl of Arun- 
 del kneeling down said, " Your grace sayeth true, and certainly 
 we are very sorry that we have troubled you about so vain mat- 
 ter." She then said, " My lords, you do sift me very narrowly ; 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 85 
 
 1mt I am well assured you shall not do more to me than God 
 h;ith appointed, and so God forgive you all. 
 
 Before ♦heir departure sir James Croft kneeled down before 
 her, declaring that he was sorry to see the day in which he should 
 be brought as a witness against her grace. But he added, that 
 he had been "marvellously tossed and examined touching her 
 grace and ended by protesting his innocence of the crime 
 laid to his charge.* 
 
 Wyat was at length, on April 11th, brought to his death ; 
 when he confounded all the hopes and expectations of Eliza- 
 beth's enemies, by strenuously and publicly asserting her en- 
 tire innocence of any participation in his designs. 
 
 Sir Nicholas Throgmorton was brought to the bar immediately 
 afterwards. His trial at length, as it has come down to us in 
 Holinshed's Chronicle, is one of the most interesting documents 
 of that nature extant. He was esteemed " a deep conspirator, 
 whose post was thought to be at London as a factor, to give in- 
 telligence as well to them in the West, as to Wyat and the rest 
 in Kent. It was believed that he gave notice to Wyat to come 
 forward with his power, and that the Londoners would be ready 
 to take his part. And that he sent a post to sir Peter Carew 
 also, to advance with as much speed as might be, and to bring 
 his forces with him. 
 
 " He was said moreover to be the man that excited the earl 
 of Devon to go down into the W est, and that sir James Croft 
 and he had many times consulted about the whole matter."! 
 
 To these political offences, sir Nicholas added religious prin- 
 ciples still more heinous in the eyes of Mary. He, with two 
 other gentlemen of his family, had been of the number of those 
 who attended to the stake that noble martyr Anne Askew, 
 burned for heresy in the latter end of Henry's reign ; when they 
 were bid to take care of their lives, for they were all marked 
 men. Since the accession of Mary also he had "bemoaned to 
 his friend sir Edward Warner, late lieutenant of the Tower, his 
 own estate and the tyranny of the times extending upon divers 
 honest persons for religion, and wished it were lawful for all ot 
 each religion to live safely according to their conscience. For 
 the law ex-officio he said would be intolerable, and the clergy 
 discipline now might rather be resembled to the Turkish tyranny 
 than the teaching of the Christian religion. Which words he 
 was not afraid at his trial openly to acknowledge that he had 
 said to the said Warner."^ 
 
 The prosecution was conducted with all the inqiuity which the 
 corrupt practice of that age admitted. Not only was the pri- 
 soner debarred the assistance of counsel on his trial, he was 
 even refused the privilege of calling a single witness in his fa- 
 vour. He defended himself however under all these disadvan- 
 tages, with surprising skill, boldness and presence of mind ; and 
 
 * Fox's narrative in Holinshed. $ Strype's Ecclesiatical Memorials, 
 ■j- Strype's Ecclesiastical Memorials. 
 
THE COURT Ofr 
 
 he retorted with becoming spirit the brutal taunts of the crown 
 lawyers and judges, who disgraced themselves on the occasion 
 by all the excesses of an unprincipled servility. Fortunately 
 for Throgmorton, the additional clauses to- the -treason laws 
 added under Henry VIII. had been abolished under his succes- 
 sor and were not yet re-enacted. Only the clear and equitable 
 statute of Edward III. remained therefore in force ; and the 
 lawyers were reduced to endeavour at such an explanation of 
 it as should comprehend a kind of constructive treason. " If," 
 said they, "it be proved that the prisoner was connected with 
 Wyat, and of his counsel, the overt acts of Wyat are to be taken 
 as his, and visited accordingly." But besides that no participa- 
 tion with Wyat after he had taken up arms, was proved upon 
 Throgmorton, the jury were moved by his solemn protest against 
 so unwarrantable a principle as that the overt acts of one man 
 might be charged as overt acts upon another. They acquitted 
 him therefore with little hesitation, to the inexpressible disap- 
 pointment and indignation of the queen and her ministers, who 
 then possessed the power of making their displeasure on such 
 an occasion deeply felt. The jury were immediately committed 
 to custody, and eight of them, who refused to confess themselves 
 in fault, were further imprisoned for several months and heavily 
 lined. 
 
 The acquitted person himself, in defiance of all law and jus- 
 tice, was remanded to the Tower, and did not regain his liberty 
 till the commencement of the following year, when the inter- 
 cession of king Philip obtained the liberation of almost all the 
 prisoners there detained. 
 
 Throgmorton, like all the others called in question for the 
 late insurrections, was closely questioned respecting Elizabeth 
 and the earl of Devon; "and very fain," we are told, "the 
 privy-councillors employed in this work would have got out of 
 him something against them. For when at Throgmorton's trial, 
 his writing containing his confession was read in open court, he 
 prayed the queen's serjeant that was reading it to read further, 
 * that hereafter,' said he, ' whatsoever become of me, my words 
 may not be perverted and abused to the hurt of some others, 
 and especially against the great personages of whom I have been 
 sundry times, as appears by my answers, examined. For I per- 
 ceive the net was not cast only for little fishes but for great 
 ones."* 
 
 This generous concern for the safety of Elizabeth in the midst 
 of his own perils appears not to have been lost upon her; and 
 under the ensuing reign we shall have the satisfaction of seeing 
 the abilities of sir Nicholas displayed in other scenes and under 
 happier auspices. 
 
 All manifestations of popular favour towards those whom the 
 court had proscribed and sought to ruin, were at this juncture 
 visited with the extreme of arbitrary severity. Two merchant? 
 
 * Strype's Memorials. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 87 
 
 ol London, for words injurious to the queen, but principally for 
 having affirmed that Wyat at bis death had cleared the lady 
 Elizabeth and the earl of Devonshire, were set in the pillory, to 
 which their ears were fastened with large nails. 
 
 It was in fact an object of great importance to the catholic 
 part) to keep up the opinion, so industriously inculcated, of the 
 princess being implicated in the late disturbances ; since it was 
 only on this talse pretext that she could be detained close pri- 
 soner m the Tower while a fatal stroke was aimed against her 
 rights and interests. 
 
 Gardiner, now chancellor and prime minister, tlu most inve-. 
 terate of Elizabeth's enemies and the most devotee partisan of 
 the Spanish interest, thinking that all was subdued t> the wishes 
 of the court, brought before the new parliament a bill for de- 
 claring the princess illegitimate and incapable of succeeding: — 
 it was indignantly rejected, however, by a great mijority ; but 
 the failure only admonished him to renew the attacc in a more 
 indirect and covert manner. Accordingly, the aricles of the 
 marriage treaty between Mary and the prince of Sjain, artfully 
 drawn with great seeming advantage to England, hid no sooner 
 received the assent of the two houses, than he pro>osed a law 
 for conferring upon the queen the same power enpyed by her 
 father ; that of naming a successor. But neither ould this be 
 obtained from a house of commons attached for the most part to 
 the protestant cause and the person of the rightiil heir, and 
 justly apprehensive of the extinction of their fev remaining 
 privileges under the yoke of a detested foreign tyrait. Nobody 
 doubted that it was the purpose of the queen, in cefault of im- 
 mediate issue of her own, to bequeath the crown toiler husband^ 
 whose descent from a daughter of John of Gaunt lad been al- 
 ready much insisted on by his adherents. The bil was there- 
 fore thrown out ; and the alarm excited by its introduction had 
 caused the house to pass several spirited resolutons, one of 
 which declared that her majesty should reign as i sole queen 
 without any participation of her authority, while the :est guarded 
 in various points against the anticipated encroachnents of Phi- 
 lip, when Mary thought good, to put a stop to the further dis- 
 cussion of the subject by a prorogation of parliament 
 
 After these manifold disappointments, the court pa*ty was com- 
 pelled to give up, with whatever reluctance, its deip-Iaid plots 
 against the unoffending princess. Her own prudence lad protected 
 her life ; and the independent spirit of a house of ommons con- 
 scious of speaking the sense of the nation guarantied her suc- 
 cession. One only resource remained to Gardiner and his fac- 
 tion : — they judged that a long-continued absence, while it gra- 
 tlually loosened her hold upon the affections of the people, would 
 afford many facilities for injuring or supplanting her ; and it was 
 determined soon to provide for her a kind of honourable banish- 
 ment. 
 
 The confinement of the princess in the Tower had purposely 
 been rendered as irksome and comfortless as possible. It was 
 
83 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 not till after a month's close imprisonment, by which her health 
 had suffered severely, that she obtained, after many difficulties, 
 permission to walk in the royal apartments ; and this under the 
 constant inspection of the constable of the Tower and the lord- 
 chamberlain, with the attendance of three of the queen's women ; 
 the windows also being shut, and she not permitted to look out 
 at them. Afterwards she had liberty to walk in a small garden, 
 the gates and doors being carefully closed ; and the prisoners 
 whose rooms looked into it being at such times closely watched 
 by their keepers, to prevent the interchange of any word or 
 sign with the princess. Even a child of five years old belonging 
 to some inferior officer in the Tower, who was wont to cheer 
 her by his cjaily visits, and to bring her flowers, was suspected 
 of being employed as a messenger between her and the earl of 
 Devonshire j and notwithstanding the innocent simplicity of his 
 answers to the lord-chamberlain, by whom he was strictly ex 
 amined, wal ordered to visit her no more. The next day the 
 child peepei in through a hole of the door as she walked in the 
 garden, cryiig out, " Mistress, I can bring you no more flowers !" 
 for which, itseems, his father was severely chidden and ordered 
 to keep his j>oy out of the way. 
 
 From the beginning of her imprisonment, orders had been 
 given that jhe princess should have mass regularly said in her 
 apartment. It is probable that Elizabeth did not feel any great 
 repugnance to this rite : however this may be, she at least ex- 
 pressed non^; and by this compliance deprived her sister of all 
 pretext for persecuting her on a religious ground. But some of 
 her householl were found less submissive on this head, and she 
 had the mortfication of seeing Mrs. Sands, one of her ladies, 
 carried forcibly away from her under an accusation of heresy 
 and her plaoe supplied by another. 
 
 All these severities failed however of their intended effect : 
 neither sufferings nor menaces could bring the princess to ac- 
 knowledge terself guilty of offending even in thought against 
 her sovereim and sister; and as the dying asseverations of 
 Wyat had Mly acquitted her in the eyes of the country, it be- 
 came eviden; that her detention in the Tower could not much 
 longer be pe sisted in. Yet the habitual jealousy of Mary's go- 
 vernment, a^d the apparent danger of furnishing a head to the 
 protestants rendered desperate by her cruelties, forbade the en- 
 tire liberation of the princess ; and it was resolved to adopt as a 
 middle course the expedient sanctioned by many examples in 
 that age, of committing her to the care of certain persons who 
 should be answerable for her safe keeping, either in their own 
 houses, or at some one of the royal seats. Lord Williams of 
 Thame, and sir Henry Beddingfield, captain of the guard, were 
 accordingly joined in commission for the execution of this deli- 
 cate and important trust. 
 
 The unfortunate prisoner conceived neither hope nor comfort . 
 from this approaching change in her situation, nor probably was 
 it designed that she should ; for intimidation seems still to have 
 
QIJHKN ELIZABETH. 
 
 89 
 
 formed an essential feature in the policy of her relentless ene- 
 mies. Sir Henry Beddingfield entered the Tower at the head 
 of a hundred of his men; and Elizabeth, struck with the unex 
 pet led sight, could not forbear enquiring with dismay, whether 
 the lady Jane's scaffold were removed ? On being informed 
 that it was, she received some comfort, but this was not of long 
 duration; for soon a frightful rumour reached her, that she was 
 to be carried away by this captain and his soldiers no one knew 
 whither. She sent immediately for lord Chandos, constable of 
 the Tower, whose humanity and courtesy had led him to soften 
 as much as possible the hardships of her situation, though at the 
 hazard of incurring the indignation of the court; and closely 
 questioning him, he at length plainly told her that there was no 
 help for it, orders were given and she must be consigned to 
 Beddingfield's care to be carried, as he believed, to Woodstock. 
 Anxious and alarmed, she now asked of her attendants what 
 kind of a man this Beddingfield was; and whether, if the mur- 
 dering of her were secretly committed to him, his conscience 
 would allow him to see it executed ? None about her could 
 give a satisfactory answer, for he was a stranger to them all ; 
 but they bade her trust in God that such wickedness should not 
 be perpetrated against her. 
 
 At length, on May 19th, after a close imprisonment of three 
 months, she was brought out of the Tower under the conduct ot 
 Beddingfield and his troop ; and on the evening of the same day 
 found herself at Richmond Palace, where her sister then kept her 
 eourt. She was still treated in all respects like a captive : the 
 manners of Beddingfield were harsh and insolent ; and such ter- 
 ror did she conceive from the appearances around her, that send- 
 ing for her gentleman -usher, she desired him and the rest of her 
 officers to pray for her ; " For this night," said she, " I think to 
 die." The gentleman, much affected by her distress, encou- 
 raged her as well as he was able : then going down to lord Wil- 
 liams, who was walking with Beddingfield, he called him aside 
 and implored him to tell him sincerely, whether any mischief 
 were designed against his mistress that night or no ; " that he 
 and his men might take such part as God should ?ilease to ap- 
 point." " For certainly," added this faithful servant, "we will 
 rather die than she should secretly and innocently miscarry." 
 " Marry, God forbid," answered Williams, " that any such wicked 
 purpose should be wrought ; and rather than it should be so, I 
 with my men are ready to die at her feet also." 
 
 In the midst of her gloomy apprehensions, the princess was sur- 
 prised by an offer from the highest quarter, of immediate liber- 
 ty on condition of her accepting the hand of the duke of Savoy 
 in marriage. 
 
 Oppressed, persecuted, and a prisoner, sequestered from every 
 friend and counsellor, guarded day and night by soldiers, and in 
 hourly dread of some attempt upon her life, it must have been 
 confidently expected that the young princess would embrace as a 
 most joyful and fortunate deliverance this unhoped-for proposal ; 
 
m 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 and by few women, certainly, under all the circumstances, would 
 such expectations have been frustrated. But the firm mind of 
 Elizabeth was not thus to be shaken, nor her penetration deceived. 
 She saw that it was banishment which was held out to her in the 
 guise of marriage ; she knew that it was her reversion of an inde 
 pendent English crown which she was required to barter for the 
 matrimonial coronet of a foreign dukedom ; and she felt the pro - 
 posal as what in truth it was ; — an injury in disguise. Fortunate- 
 ly for herself and her country, she had the magnanimity to dis- 
 dain the purchase of present ease and safety at a price so dis- 
 proportionate ; and returning to the overture a modest but de- 
 cided negative, she prepared herself to endure with patience and 
 resolution the worst that her enraged and baffled enemies might 
 dare against her. 
 
 No sooner was her refusal of the offered marriage made known, 
 than orders were given for her immediate removal into Oxford- 
 shire. On crossing the river at Richmond on this melancholy 
 journey, she descried on the other side " certain of her poor ser- 
 vants," who had been restrained from giving their attendance 
 during her imprisonment, and were anxiously desirous of seeing 
 her again, " Go to them," said she to one of her men, " and say 
 these words from me, Tanquam ovis" (Like a sheep to the 
 slaughter). 
 
 As she travelled on horseback, the journey occupied four days, 
 and the slowness of her progress gave opportunity for some strik- 
 ing displays of popular feeling. In one place, numbers of peo- 
 ple were seen standing by the way-side who presented to her 
 various little gifts ; for which Beddingfield did not scruple, in 
 his anger, to call them traitors and rebels. The bells were every 
 where rung as she passed through the villages, in token of joy 
 for her liberation ; but the people were soon admonished that she 
 was still a prisoner and in disgrace, by the orders of Bedding- 
 field to set the ringers in the stocks. 
 
 On the third evening she arrived at Ricot, the house of lord 
 Williams, where its owner, gracefully sinking the character of 
 a watchful superintendant in that of a host who felt himself ho- 
 noured by her visit, introduced her to a large circle of nobility 
 and gentry whom he had invited to bid her welcome. The se- 
 vere or suspicious temper of Beddingfield took violent umbrage 
 at the sight of such an assemblage ; he caused his soldiers to keep 
 strict watch ; insisted that none of the guests should be permit- 
 ted to pass the night in the house ; and asked lord Williams if 
 he were aware of the consequences of thus entertaining the 
 queen's prisoner? But he made answer, that he well knew 
 what he did, and that " her grace might and should in his house 
 be merry." Intelligence however had no sooner reached the 
 court of the reception afforded to the princess at Ricot, than di- 
 rections arrived for her immediate removal to Woodstock. Here, 
 under the harsher inspection of Beddingfield, she found herself 
 once more a prisoner. No visitant was permitted to approach: 
 the doors were closed upon her as in the Tower ; and a military 
 guard again kept watch around the walls both day and night. 
 
QliRKN ELIZABETH. 
 
 91 
 
 YW possess many particulars relative to the captivity of Eliza- 
 beth a I Wood slock, hi some of them we may recognise that 
 spirit of exaggeration which the anxious sympathy excited by her 
 sufferings at the time, and the unbounded adulation paid to her 
 afterwards, were certain to produce ; others bear all the charac- 
 ters of truth and nature. 
 
 It is certain that her present residence, though less painful 
 and especially less opprobrious than imprisonment in the Tower, 
 was yet a state of rigorous constraint and jealous inspection, in 
 which she was haunted with cares and fears which robbed her 
 youth of its bloom and vivacity, and her constitution of its vigour. 
 On June 8th such was the state of her health that two physicians 
 were sent from the court who remained for several days in at- 
 tendance on her. On their return, they performed for their pa- 
 tient the friendly office of making a favourable report of her be- 
 haviour and of the dutiful humility of her sentiments towards 
 her majesty, which was received, we are told, with more com- 
 placency by Mary than by her bishops. Soon after, she was ad- 
 vised by some friend to make her peace with the queen by sub- 
 missions and acknowledgments, which, with her usual constancy, 
 she absolutely refused, though apparently the only terms on 
 which she could hope for liberty. 
 
 Under such circumstances we may give easy belief to the 
 touching anecdote, that " she, hearing upon a time out of her 
 garden at Woodstock, a milkmaid singing pleasantly, wished her- 
 self a milkmaid too ; saying that her case was better, and her life 
 merrier than hers." 
 
 The instances related of the severity and insolence of sir 
 Henry Beddingfield are to be received with more distrust. We 
 are told, that observing a chair of state prepared for the princess 
 in an upper chamber at lord Williams's house he seized upon it for 
 himself and insolently ordered his boots to be pulled off in that 
 apartment. Yet we learn from the same authority that after- 
 wards at Woodstock, when she seems to have been in his sole 
 custody, Elizabeth having called him her jailor, on observing him 
 lock the gate of the garden while she was walking in it, he fell 
 on his knees and entreated her grace not to give him that name, 
 for he was appointed to be one of her officers. It has also been 
 asserted, that on her accession to the throne she dismissed him 
 from her presence with the speech, that she prayed God to for- 
 give him, as she did, and that when she had a prisoner whom she 
 would have straitly kept and hardly used, she would send for 
 him. But if she ever used to him words like these, it must have 
 been in jest ; for it is known from the best authority, that Bed- 
 dingfield was frequently at the court of Elizabeth, and that she 
 once visited him on a progress. If there is any truth in the sto- 
 ries told of persons of suspicious appearance lurking about the 
 walls of the palace, who sought to gain admittance for the pur- 
 pose of taking away her life, the exact vigilance of her keeper, 
 by which all access was barred, might more deserve her thanks 
 than her reproaches. 
 
 i 
 
THE COURT OF 
 
 During the period that the princess was thus industriously 
 secluded from conversation with any but the few attendants who 
 had been allowed to remain about her person, her correspon- 
 dence was not less watchfully restricted. We are told, that 
 when, after urgent application to the council, she had at length 
 been permitted to write to the queen, Beddingfield looked over 
 her as she wrote, took the paper into his own keeping when she 
 paused, and brought it back to her when she chose to resume 
 her task. 
 
 Yet could not his utmost precaution entirely cut off her com- 
 munications with the large and zealous party who rested upon 
 her all their hopes of better times for themselves or for the coun- 
 try. Through the medium of a visitor to one of her ladies, she 
 received the satisfactory assurance that none of the prisoners 
 for Wyat's business had been brought to utter any thing by 
 which she could be endangered. Perhaps it was with immediate 
 reference to this intelligence that she wrote with a diamond on 
 her window the homely but expressive distich, 
 
 " Much suspected by me 
 Nothing proved can be, 
 Quoth Elizabeth prisoner." 
 
 But these secret intelligencers were not always fortunate 
 enough to escape detection, of which the consequences were 
 rendered very grievous through the arbitrary severity of Mary's 
 government, and the peculiar malice exercised by Gardiner 
 against the adherents of the princess. 
 
 Sir John Harrington, son to the gentleman of the same name 
 formerly mentioned as a follower of admiral Seymour, thus in 
 his Brief View of the Church, sums up the character of this 
 * celebrated bishop of Winchester, with reference to this part of 
 his conduct. 
 
 "Lastly, the plots he laid to entrap the lady Elizabeth, and 
 his terrible hard usage of all her followers, I cannot yet scarce 
 think of with charity, nor write of with patience. My father, 
 for only carrying a letter to the lady Elizabeth, and professing 
 to wish her well, he kept in the Tower twelve months, and made 
 him spend a thousand pounds ere he could be free of that trou- 
 ble. My mother, that then served the lady Elizabeth, he caused, 
 to be sequestered from her as an heretic, insomuch that her own 
 father durst not take her into his house, but she was glad to so- 
 journ with one Mr. TopclifF; so as I may say in some sort, this 
 bishop persecuted me before I was born." 
 
 In the twelfth month of his imprisonment, this unfortunate 
 Harr ington, having previously sent to the bishop many letters and 
 petitions for liberty without effect, had the courage to address to 
 him a " Sonnet," which his son has cited as " no ill verse for 
 those unrefined times ;" a modest commendation of lines so spi- 
 rited, which the taste of the more modern reader, however fasti- 
 dious, need not hesitate to confirm. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 TO BISHOP GARDINER. 
 
 ;B©pi'. ■ ; . V- ;;*$| : * L i ' • ^.^$|i$^Jw 
 
 " At least withdraw your cruelty, 
 Or force the time to work your will ; 
 It is too much extremity 
 To keep me pent in prison still, 
 Free from all fault, void of all cause, 
 Without all right, against all laws. 
 How can you do more cruel spite 
 Than pl otter wrong and promise right ? 
 Nor can accuse, nor will acquight. 
 
 " " 2. 
 Eleven months past and longer space 
 I have abode your dev'lish drifts, 
 While you have sought both man and place, 
 And set your snares, with all your shifts, 
 The faultless foot to wrap in wile 
 With any guilt, by any guile : 
 
 And now you see that will not be, 
 How can you thus for shame agree 
 To keep him bound you should set free ? 
 
 3. 
 
 Your chance was once as mine is now, 
 To keep this hold against your will, 
 And then you sware you well know how, 
 Though now your swerve, I know how ill. 
 But thus this world his course doth pass, 
 The priests forgets a clerk he was, 
 And you that have cried justice still, 
 And now have justice at your will, 
 W r rest justice wrong against all skill. 
 
 4. 
 
 But why do I thus coldly plain 
 
 As if it were my cause alone ? 
 
 When cause doth each man so constrain 
 
 As England through hath cause to moan, 
 
 To see your bloody search of such 
 
 As all the earth can no way touch. 
 And better were that all your kind 
 Like hounds in hell with shame were shrined, 
 Than you add might unto your mind. 
 
 5. 
 
 But as the stone that strikes the wall 
 Sometimes bounds back on th' hurler's head, 
 So your foul fetch, to your foul fall 
 May turn, and 'noy the breast that bred. 
 
94 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 And then, such measure as you gave 
 Of right and justice look to have, 
 
 If good or ill, if short or long ; 
 
 If false or true, if right or wrong ; 
 
 And thus, till then, I end my song." 
 
 Such were the trials and sufferings which exercised the for- 
 titude of Elizabeth and her faithful followers during her deplo- 
 rable abode at Woodstock. Mary, meanwhile, was rapt in fond 
 anticipations of the felicity of her married life with a prince for 
 whom, on the sight of his picture, she is said to have conceived 
 the most violent passion. The more strongly her people express- 
 ed their aversion and dread of the Spanish match, trie more ve- 
 hemently did she show herself bent on its conclusion; and hav- 
 ing succeeded in suppressing by force the formidable rebellion 
 to which the first report of such an union had given birth, she 
 judged it unnecessary to employ any of those arts of popularity 
 to which her disposition was naturally adverse, for conciliating 
 to herself or her destined spouse the good will of her subjects. 
 After many delays which severely tried her temper, the arrival 
 of the prince of Spain at Southampton was announced to the 
 expecting queen, who went as far as Winchester to meet him, 
 in which city Gardiner blessed their nuptials on July the 27th. 
 1554. 
 
 The royal pair passed in state through London a few days 
 after, and the city exhibited by command the outward tokens of 
 rejoicing customary in that age. Bonfires were kindled in the 
 open places, tables spread in the streets at which all passers-by 
 might freely regale themselves with liquor: every parish sent, 
 forth its procession singing Te Deum ; the fine cross in Cheap- 
 side was beautified and newly gilt, and pageants were set up in 
 the principal streets. But there was little gladness of heart 
 among the people ; and one of these festal devices gave occasion 
 to a manifestation of the dispositions of the court respecting re- 
 ligion, which filled the citizens with grief and horror. A large 
 picture had been hung over the conduit in Gracechurch street re- 
 presenting h© nine Worthies, and among them king Henry VIII. 
 made his appearance, according to former draughts of him, hold- 
 ing in his hand a book on which was inscribed " Verbum Dei." 
 This accompaniment gave so much offence, that Gardiner sent 
 for the painter ; and after chiding him severely, ordered that a 
 pair of gloves should be substituted for the bible. 
 
 Religion had already been restored to the state in which it re- 
 mained at the death of Henry ; but this was by no means suffi- 
 cient to satisfy the conscience of the queen, which required the 
 entire restoration in all its parts, of the ancient church-establish- 
 ment. It had been, in fact, one of the first acts of her reign to 
 forward to Rome a respectful embassy which conveyed to the 
 sovereign pontiff her recognition of the supremacy of the holy 
 see, and a petition that he would be pleased to invest with the 
 character of his legate for England Cardinal Pole, — that earnest 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 95 
 
 champion of her own legitimacy and the church's unity, who had 
 been for so many years the object of her father's bitterest ani 
 mosi ty. 
 
 Mary's precipitate zeal had received somccheck in this in- 
 stance from the worldly policy of the emperor Charles V., who, 
 either entertaining some jealousy of the influence of Pole with 
 the queen, or at least judging it fit to secure the great point of 
 his son's marriage before the patience of the people of England 
 should be proved by the arrival of a papal legate, had impeded 
 the journey of the cardinal by a detention of several weeks in 
 his court at Brussels. But no sooner was Philip in secure pos- 
 session of his bride, than Pole was suffered to proceed on his 
 mission. The parliament, which met early in November 1554, 
 reversed the attainder which had laid him under sentence of 
 death, and on the 24th of the same month he was received at 
 court with great solemnity, and with every demonstration of 
 affection on the part of his royal cousin. 
 
 From this period the cause of popery proceeded triumphantly : 
 a reign of terror commenced ; and the government gained fresh 
 strength and courage by every exertion of the tyrannic power 
 which it had assumed. After the married clergy had been ren- 
 duced to give up either their wives or their benefices, and the 
 protestant bishops deprived, and many of them imprisoned, 
 without exciting any popular commotion in their behalf, the court 
 became emboldened to propose in parliament a solemn recon- 
 ciliation of the country to the papal see. A house of commons 
 more obsequious than the former acceded to the motion, and 
 on November 29th the legate formally absolved the nation from 
 all ecclesiastical censures, and readmitted it within the pale 
 of the church. 
 
 The ancient statutes against heretics were next revived ; and 
 the violent counsels of Gardiner proving more acceptable to the 
 queen than the milder ones of Pole, a furious persecution was 
 immediately set on foot. Bishops Hooper and Rogers were the first 
 victims ; Saunders and Taylor, two eminent divines, succeeded ; 
 upon all of whom Gardiner pronounced sentence in person ; 
 after which he resigned to Bonner, his more brutal but not more 
 merciless colleague, the inglorious task of dragging forth to 
 punishment the heretics of inferior note and humbler station. 
 In the midst however of his barbarous proceedings, of which 
 London was the principal theatre, the bench of bishops thought 
 proper in solemn assembly to declare that they had no part in 
 such severities ; and Philip, who shrank from the odium of the 
 very deeds most grateful to his savage soul, caused a Spanish 
 friar his confessor to preach before him in praise of toleration, 
 and to show that Christians could bring no warrant from Scrip- 
 ture for shedding the blood of their brethren on account of reli 
 gious differences. But justly apprehensive that so extraordinary 
 a declaration of opinion from such a person might not of itself 
 suffice to establish in the minds of the English that character of 
 lenity and moderation which he found it his interest to acquire, 
 he determined to add some few deeds to worcU. 
 
96 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 About the close of the year 1554, sir Nicholas Throgmorton, 
 Pobert Dudley, and all the other prisoners on account of the 
 usurpation of Jane Grey or the insurrection of Wyat, were libe- 
 rated, at the intercession, as was publicly declared, of king Phi- 
 lip ; and he soon after employed his good offices in the cause 
 of two personages still more interesting to the feelings of the 
 nation, — the princess Elizabeth and the earl of Devonshire. 
 
 It is worth while to estimate the value of these boasted acts 
 of generosity. With regard to Courtney it may be -sufficient to 
 observe, that a close investigation of facts had proved him to 
 have been grateful for the liberation extended to him by Mary 
 on her accession, and averse from all schemes for disturbing her 
 government, and that the queen's marriage had served to banish 
 from her mind some former grounds of displeasure against him. 
 Nothing but an union with Elizabeth could at this time have 
 rendered him formidable ; and it was easy to guard effectually 
 against the accomplishment of any such design, without the 
 odious measure of detaining the earl in perpetual imprisonment 
 at Fotheringay Castle, whither he had been already removed from 
 the Tower After all, it was but the shadow of liberty which he 
 was permitted to enjoy ; and he found himself so beset with 
 spies and suspicion, that a very few months after his release he 
 requested and obtained the royal license to travel. Proceeding 
 into Italy, he shortly after ended at Padua his blameless and 
 unfortunate career. Popular fame attributed his early death to 
 poison administered by the Imperialists, but probably, as in a 
 multitude of similar cases, on no sufficient authority. 
 
 As to Elizabeth, certain writers have ascribed Philip's pro- 
 tection of her at this juncture to the following deduction of con- 
 sequences ; — that if she were taken off, and if the queen should 
 die childless, England would become the inheritance of the 
 queen of Scots, now betrothed to the dauphin, and thus go to 
 augment the power of France, already the most formidable rival 
 of the Spanish monarchy. Admitting however that such a cal- 
 culation of remote contingencies might not be too refined to act 
 upon the politic brain of Philip, it is yet plainly absurd to sup- 
 pose that the life or death of Elizabeth was at this time at all the 
 matter in question. Secret assassination does not appear to have 
 been so much as dreamed of, and Mary and her council, even 
 supposing them to have been sufficiently wicked, were certainly 
 not audacious enough to think of bringing to the scaffold, with- 
 out form of trial, without even a plausible accusation, the imme- 
 diate heiress of the crown, and the hope and favourite of the na- 
 tion. The only question must now have been, what degree of 
 liberty it would be advisable to allow her ; and a due considera- 
 tion of the facts, that she had already been removed from the 
 Tower, and that after her second release, (that, namely from 
 Woodstock,) she was never, to the end of the reign, permitted 
 to reside in a house of her own without an inspector of her con- 
 duct, will reduce within very moderate limits the vaunted claims 
 of Philip to her lasting gratitude. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 97 
 
 The project of marrying the princess to the duke of Savoy 
 had doubtless originated with the Spanish court ; and it was 
 still persisted in by Philip, from the double motive of providing 
 for the head of the protestant party in England a kind of honour- 
 able exile, and of attaching to himself by the gift of her hand, a 
 young prince whom he favoured and destined to high employ- 
 ments in his service. But as severity had already been tried in 
 vain to bring Elizabeth to compliance on this point, it seems now 
 to have been determined to make experiment of opposite mea- 
 sures. The duke of Savoy, who had attended Philip to England, 
 was still in the country ; and as he was in the prime of life and 
 a man of merit and talents, it appeared not unreasonable to hope 
 that a personal interview might incline the princess to lend a 
 more propitious ear to his suit. To this consideration then we 
 are probably to ascribe the invitation which admitted Elizabeth 
 to share in the festivals of a Christmas celebrated by Philip and 
 Mary at Hampton Court with great magnificence, and which 
 must have been that of the year 1554, because this is well known 
 to have been the only one passed by the Spanish prince in Eng- 
 land 
 
 A contemporary chronicle still preserved amongst the MSS. 
 of the British Museum, furnishes several particulars of her en- 
 tertainment. On Christmas eve, the great hall of the palace 
 being illuminated with a thousand lamps artificially disposed, 
 the king and queen supped in it ; the princess being seated at 
 the same table, next to the cloth of estate. After supper she was 
 served with a perfumed napkin and *a plate of " comfects" by 
 lord Paget, but retired to her ladies before the revels, masking, 
 and disgui sings began. On St. Stephen's day she heard mat- 
 tins in the queen's closet adjoining to the chapel, where she was 
 attired in a robe of white satin, strung all over with large pearls ; 
 and on December the 29th she sat with their majesties and the 
 nobility at a grand spectacle of justing, when two hundred spears 
 were broken by combatants of whom half were accoutered in the 
 Almaine and half in the Spanish fashion. 
 
 How soon the princess again exchanged the splendours of a 
 court for the melancholy monotony of Woodstock does not ap- 
 pear from this document, nor from any other with which I am 
 acquainted ; but several circumstances make it clear, that we 
 ought to place about this period an incident recorded by Holin- 
 shed, and vaguely stated to have occurred soon after " the stir 
 of Wyat" and the troubles of Elizabeth for that cause. A ser- 
 vant of the princess's had summoned a person before the magis- 
 trates for having mentioned his lady by the contumelious appel- 
 lation of a Jill, and having made use of other disparaging language 
 respecting her. Was it to be endured, asked the accuser, that a 
 low fellow like this should speak of her grace thus insolently, 
 when the greatest personages in the land treated her with every 
 ma k of respect ? He added, " I saw yesterday in the court that 
 my lord cardinal Pole, meeting her in the chamber of presence, 
 kneeled down on his knee and kissed her hand ; and I saw also. 
 
 N 
 
THE COURT OF 
 
 that king Philip meeting her made her such obeisance that his 
 knee touched the ground." 
 
 If this story be correct, which is not indeed vouched by the 
 chronicler, but which seems to bear internal evidence of genuine- 
 ness, it will go far to prove that the situation of Elizabeth dur- 
 ing her abode at Woodstock was by no means that opprobrious 
 captivity which it has usually been represented. She visited the 
 court, it appears, occasionally, perhaps frequently ; and was 
 greeted in public by the king himself with every demonstration 
 of civilrty and respect ; — demonstrations which, whether accom- 
 panied or not by the corresponding sentiments, would surely 
 suffice to protect her from all harsh or insolent treatment on the 
 part of those to whom the immediate superintendance of her 
 actions was committed. 
 
 Her enemies however were still numerous and powerful ; and 
 it is certain that she found no advocate in the heart of her sister. 
 That able, but thoroughly profligate politician lord Paget, not- 
 withstanding his serving the princess with " comfects," is re- 
 ported to have said, that the queen would never have peace ia 
 the country till her head were smitten off ; and Gardiner never 
 ceased to look upon her with an evil eye. Lord Williams, it 
 seems, had made suit that he might be permitted to take her 
 from Woodstock to his own home, giving large bail for her safe 
 keeping ; and as he was a known catholic and much in favour, 
 it was supposed at first that his petition would be heard : but by 
 some secret influence the mind of Mary was indisposed to the 
 granting of this indulgence and the proposal was dropped. But 
 the Spanish counsellors who attended their prince never ceased, 
 we are told, to persuade him " that the like honour he should 
 never obtain as he should in delivering the lady Elizabeth" out 
 of her confinement: and Philip, who was now labouring ear- 
 nestly at the design, which he had entertained ever since his 
 marriage, of procuring himself to be crowned king of England, 
 was himself aware of the necessity of previously softening the 
 prejudices of Ihe nation by some act of conspicuous popularity : 
 he renewed therefore his solicitations on this point with a zeal 
 which rendered them effectual. The moment indeed was favour- 
 able ; — Mary, who now believed herself far advanced in preg- 
 nancy, was too happy in her hopes to remain inflexible to 
 the entreaties of her husband ; and the privy-council, in their 
 sanguine expectations of an heir, viewed the princess as less 
 than formerly an object of political jealousy. And thus, by a 
 contrariety of cause and effect by no means rare in the compli- 
 cated system of human affairs, Elizabeth became indebted for pre- 
 sent tranquillity and comparative freedom to the concurrence of 
 projects and expectations the most fatal to all her hopes of fu- 
 ture greatness. 
 
 About the end of April, 1555, the princess took at length her 
 final departure from Woodstock, and proceeded, — but still un- 
 der the escort of Beddingfield and his men, — to Hampton Court. 
 At Colnbrook she was met by her own gentlemen .and yeomen to 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 the number of sixty, " much," says John Fox, " to all their com- 
 {oris, which had not seen her of long season before, notwith- 
 standing they were immediately commanded in the queen's name 
 to depart the town, and she not suffered once to speak to them." 
 
 The next day she reached Hampton Court, and was ushered 
 into the prince's lodgings; but the doors were closed upon her 
 and guarded as at Woodstock, and it was a fortnight, according 
 to the martyrologist, before any one had recourse to her. 
 
 At the end of this time she was solaced by a visit from lord 
 William Howard, son of the old duke of Norfolk, and first-cousin 
 to her mother, who " very honourably used her," and through 
 whom she requested to speak to some of the privy-council. Several 
 ol its members waited upon her in consequence, and Gardiner 
 among the rest, who " humbled himself before her with all humi- 
 lity," but nevertheless seized the opportuity to urge her once 
 more to make submission to the queen, as a necessary prelimi- 
 nary to the obtaining of her favour. Elizabeth, with that firm- 
 ness and wisdom which had never, in her severest trials, forsa- 
 ken her, declared that rather than do so, she would lie in prison 
 all the days of her life ; adding, that she craved no mercy at her 
 majesty's hand, but rather the law, if ever she did offend her in 
 thought, word, or deed. " And besides this," said she, " in 
 yielding I should speak against myself, and confess myself an 
 offender, by occasion of which the king and queen might ever 
 after conceive of me an ill opinion ; and it were better for me 
 to lie in prison for the truth, than to be abroad and suspected of 
 my prince." The councillors now departed, promising to de- 
 liver her message to the queen.. The next day Gardiner waited 
 upon her again and told her that her majesty " marvelled she 
 would so stoutly carry herself, denying to have offended ; so 
 that it should seem the queen had wrongfully imprisoned her 
 grace :" and that she must tell another tale ere she had her li- 
 berty. The lady Elizabeth declared she would stand to her for- 
 mer resolution, for she would never belie herself. " Then," said 
 the bishop, " your grace hath the 'vantage of me and the other 
 councillors for your long and wrong imprisonment." She took 
 God to witness that she sought no 'vantage against them for their 
 so dealing with her. Gardiner and the rest then kneeled, desiring 
 that all might be forgotten, and so departed; she bei lg locked 
 up again." 
 
 About a week after the failure of this last effort of her crafty 
 enemy to extort some concession which might afterwards be em- 
 ployed to criminate her or justify himself, she received a sudden 
 summons from the queen, and was conducted by torch-light tp 
 the royal apartments. 
 
 Mary received her in her chamber, to which she had now con- 
 fined herself in expectation of that joyful event which was des- 
 tined never to arrive. The princess on entering kneeled down, 
 and protested herself a true and loyal subject, adding, that she 
 did not doubt that her majesty would one day find her to be such, 
 whatever different report had gone of her. The queen express- 
 
109 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 ed at first sorcffc dissatisfaction at her still persisting so strongly 
 in her assertions of innocence, thinking that she might take occa- 
 sion to inveigh against her imprisonment as the act of injustice 
 and oppression which in truth it was ; but on her sister's reply- 
 ing in a submissive manner, that it was her business to bear 
 what the queen was pleased to inflict, and that she should make 
 no complaints, she appears to have been appeased. Fox's ac 
 count however is, that they parted with few comfortable words 
 of the queen in English, but what she said in Spanish was not 
 known : that it was thought that king Philip was there behind 
 a cloth, and not seen, and that he showed himself " a very- 
 friend" in this business. From other accounts we learn that 
 Elizabeth scrupled not the attempt to ingratiate herself with 
 Mary at this interview by requesting that her majesty would be 
 pleased to send her some catholic tractates for confirmation of 
 her faith and to counteract the doctrines which she had imbibed 
 from the works of the reformers. Mary showed herself some- 
 what distrustful of her professions on this point, but dismissed 
 her at length with tokens of kindness. She put upon her finger, 
 as a pledge of amity, a ring worth seven hundred crowns ; — men- 
 tioned that sir Thomas Pope was again appointed to reside with 
 her, and observing that he was already well known to her sister 
 commended him as a person whose prudence, humanity, and other 
 estimable qualities, were calculated to render her new situation 
 perfectly agreeable. 
 
 To what place the princess was first conveyed from this au- 
 dience does not appear, but it must have been to one of the royal 
 seats in the neighbourhood of London, to several of which she 
 was successively removed during some time ; after which she 
 was permitted to establish herself permanently at the palace of 
 Hatfield in Hertfordshire. 
 
 From this auspicious interview the termination of her pri- 
 soner-state may be dated. Henceforth she was released from 
 the formidable parade of guards and keepers ; no doors were 
 closed, no locks were turned upon her ; and though her place 
 of residence was still prescribed, and could not, apparently, be 
 changed by her at pleasure, she was treated in all respects as 
 at home and mistress of her actions. 
 
 Sir Thomas Pope was a man of worth and a gentleman ; and 
 such were the tenderness and discretion with which he exercised 
 the delicate trust reposed in him, that the princess must soon 
 have learned to regard him in the light of a real friend. It is 
 not a little remarkable at the same time, that the person selected 
 by Mary to receive so distinguished a proof of her confidence, 
 should have made his first appearance in public life as the active 
 assistant of Cromwel in the great work of the destruction of monas- 
 teries ; and that from grants of abbey lands, which the queen 
 esteemed it sacrilege to touch, he had derived the whole of that 
 wealth of which he was now employing a considerable portion 
 in the foundation of Trinity college Oxford. 
 
 But sir Thomas Pope, even in the execution of the arbitrary 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 401 
 
 and rapacious mandates of Henry, had been advantageously dis- 
 tinguished amongst his colleagues by the qualities of mildness 
 and integrity; and the circumstance of his having obtained a 
 seat at the council-board of Mary from the very commencemenl 
 of her reign, proves him to have acquired some peculiar merits 
 in her eyes. Certain it is, however, that a furious zeal, whether 
 real or pretended, for the Romish faith, was not amongst his 
 courtly arts ; for though strictly enjoined to watch over the due 
 performance and attendance 01 mass in the family of the prin- 
 cess, he connived at her retaining about her person many ser- 
 vants who were earnest protestants. 
 
 This circumstance unfortunately reached the vigilant ears of 
 Gardiner ; and it was to a last expiring effort of his indefatiga- 
 ble malice that Elizabeth owed the mortification of seeing two 
 gentlemen from the queen arrive at Lamer, a house in Hertford- 
 shire which she then occupied, who carried away her favourite 
 Mrs. Ashley and three of her maids of honour, and lodged them 
 in the Tower. 
 
 Isabella Markham, afterwards the wife of that sir John Har- 
 rington whose sufferings in the princess's service have been 
 already adverted to, was doubtless one of these unfortunate 
 ladies. Elizabeth, highly to her honour, never dismissed from 
 remembrance the claims of such as had been faithful to her in 
 her adversity ; she distinguished this worthy pair by many tokens 
 of her royal favour : stood godmother to their son, and admitted 
 him from his tenderest youth to a degree of affectionate intimacy 
 little inferior to that in which she indulged the best beloved of 
 her own relations. 
 
 In the beginning of September 1555, king Philip, mortified by 
 the refusal of his coronation, in which the parliament with steady 
 patriotism persisted ; disappointed in his hopes of an heir ; and 
 disgusted by the fondness and the jealousy of a spouse devoid 
 of every attraction personal and mental, quitted England for 
 the continent, and deigned not to revisit it during a year and a 
 half. Elizabeth might regret his absence, as depriving her of 
 the personal attentions of a powerful protector ; but late events 
 had so firmly established her as next heir to the crown, that she 
 was now perfectly secure against the recurrence of any attempt 
 to degrade her from her proper station ; and her reconciliation 
 with the queen, whether cordial or not, obtained for her occa- 
 sional admission to the courtly circle. 
 
 A few days after the king's departure we find it mentioned 
 that " the queen's grace, the lady Elizabeth, and all the court, 
 did fast from flesh to qualify them to take the Pope's jubilee and 
 pardon granted to all out of his abundant clemency ;"* a trait 
 which makes it probable that Mary was now in the habit of ex- 
 acting her sisters attendance at court, for the purpose of wit- 
 nessing with her own eyes her punctual observance of the rites 
 
 * Strype'a Ecclesiastical Memorials. 
 
102 
 
 THE COURT 0¥ 
 
 of that church to which she still believed her a reluctant con- 
 formist. 
 
 A few weeks afterwards, the death of her capital enemy, Gar- 
 diner, removed the worst of the ill instruments who had inter- 
 posed to aggravate the suspicions of the queen, and there is rea- 
 son to believe that the princess found in various ways the benefi- 
 cial effects of this event. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 1555 to 1558. 
 
 Elizabeth applies herself to classical literature, —Its neglected 
 state. — Progress of English poetry. — Account of Sackville and 
 
 his works. — Plan of his Mirror for Magistrates. — Extracts. 
 
 Notice of the contributors to this collection. — Its popularity and 
 literary merits. — Entertainment given to Elizabeth by sir Tho- 
 mas Pope. — Dudley Ashton's attempt. — Elizabeth acknowledged 
 innocent of his designs. — Her letter to the queen. — She returns 
 to London — quits it in some disgrace after again refusing the 
 duke of Savoy. — Violence of Philip respecting this match. — 
 Mary protects her sister. — Festivities at Hatfield, Enfield, and 
 Richmond. — King of Sweden's addresses to Elizabeth rejected. 
 — Letter of sir T. Pope respecting her dislike of marriage. — 
 Proceedings of the ecclesiastical commission. — Cruel treatment 
 of sir John Cheke. — General decay of national prosperity. — 
 Loss of Calais. — Death of Mary. 
 
 Notwithstanding the late fortunate change in her situation, 
 Elizabeth must have entertained an anxious sense of its remain- 
 ing difficulties, if not dangers ; and the prudent circumspection 
 of her character again, as in the latter years of her brother, dic- 
 tated the expediency of shrouding herself in all the obscurity com- 
 patible with her rank and expectations. To literature, the never 
 failing resource of its votaries, she turned again for solace and 
 occupation ; and claiming the assistance which Ascham was 
 proud and happy to afford her, she resumed the diligent perusal 
 of the Greek and Latin classics. 
 
 The concerns of the college of which sir Thomas Pope was 
 the founder likewise engaged a portion of her thoughts ; and 
 this gentleman, in a letter to a friend, mentions that the lady 
 Elizabeth, whom he served, and who was " not only gracious but 
 right learned," often asked him of the course which he had de- 
 vised for his scholars. 
 
 Classical literature was now daily declining from the eminence* 
 on which the two preceding sovereigns had laboured to place it. 
 The destruction of monastic institutions, and the dispersion of 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH, 
 
 103 
 
 libraries, with the impoverishment of public schools and colleges 
 through the rapacity of Edward's courtiers, had inflicted far 
 deeper injury on the cause of learning than the studious ex- 
 ample of the young monarch and his chosen companions was 
 able to compensate. The persecuting spirit of Mary, by driving 
 into exile or suspending from the exercise of their functions the 
 able and enlightened professors of the protestant doctrine, had 
 robbed the church and the universities of their brightest lumina- 
 ries ; and it was not under the auspices of her fierce and igno- 
 rant bigotry that the cultivators of the elegant and humanizing 
 arts would seek encouragement or protection. Gardiner indeed, 
 where particular prejudices did not interfere, was inclined to 
 favour the learned ; and Ascham owed to him the place of La- 
 tin secretary. Cardinal Pole also, himself a scholar, was desir- 
 ous to support, as much as present circumstances would permit, 
 his ancient character of a patron of scholars, and he earnestly 
 pleaded with sir Thomas Pope to provide for the teaching of 
 Greek as well as Latin in his college ; but sir Thomas persisted in 
 his opinion that a Latin professorship was sufficient, considering 
 the general decay of erudition in the country, which had caused 
 an almost total cessation of the study of the Greek language. 
 
 It was in the department of English poetry alone that any 
 perceptible advance was effected or prepared during this deplor- 
 able sera ; and it was to the vigorous genius of one man, whose 
 vivid personifications of abstract beings were then quite unrival- 
 led, and have since been rarely excelled in our language, and 
 whose clear, copious, and forcible style of poetic narrative in- 
 terested all readers, and inspired a whole school of writers who 
 worked upon his model, that this advance is chiefly to be attri- 
 buted. This benefactor to our literature was Thomas Sackville, 
 son of sir Richard Sackville, an eminent member of queen Ma- 
 ry's council, and second cousin to the lady Elizabeth by his pa- 
 ternal grandmother, who was a Boleyn. The time of his birth 
 is doubtful, some placing it in 1536, others as early as 1527. He 
 studied first at Oxford and afterwards at Cambridge, distinguish- 
 ing himself at both universities by the vivacity of his parts and 
 the excellence of his compositions both in verse and prose. Ac- 
 cording to the custom of that age, which required that an Eng- 
 lish gentleman should acquaint himself intimately with the 
 laws of his country before he took his seat amongst her legisla- 
 tors, he next entered himself of the Inner Temple, and about the 
 last year of Mary's reign he served in parliament. But at this 
 early period of life poetry had more charms for Sackville than 
 law or politics ; and following the bent of his genius, he first 
 produced " Gorbodoc," confessedly the earliest specimen of re- 
 gular tragedy in our language ; but which will be noticed with 
 more propriety when we reach the period of its representation 
 before queen Elizabeth. He then, about the year 1557 as is 
 supposed, laid the plan of an extensive work to be called "A 
 Mirror for Magistrates ;'* of which the design is thus unfolded 
 in a highly poetical " Induction," 
 
104 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 The poet wandering forth on a winter's evening, and taking 
 occasion from the various objects which "told the cruel season,'* 
 to muse on the melancholy changes of human affairs, and espe- 
 cially on the reverses incident to greatness, suddenly encoun- 
 ters a " piteous wight," all clad in black, who was weeping, sigh- 
 ing, and wringing her hands, in such lamentable guise, that 
 
 " never man did see 
 
 A wight but half so woe-begone as she." 
 
 Struck with grief md horror at the view, he earnestly requires 
 her to " unwrap" her woes, and inform him who and whence she 
 is, since her anguish, if not relieved, must soon put an end to her 
 life. She answers, 
 
 " Sorrow am I, in endless torments pained 
 Among the furies in th' infernal lake :" 
 
 from these dismal regions she is come, she says, to bemoan the 
 luckless lot of those 
 
 " Whom Fortune in this maze of misery, 
 Of wretched chance most woful Mirrors chose ;" 
 
 and she ends by inviting him to accompany her in her return-: 
 
 " Come, come, quoth she, and see what I shall show. 
 Come hear the plaining and the bitter bale 
 Of worthy men by Fortune's overthrow : 
 Come thou and see them ruing all in row. 
 They were but shades that erst in mind thou rolled, 
 Come, come with me, thine eyes shall then behold." 
 
 He accepts the invitation, having first done homage to Sorrow- 
 as to a goddess, since she had been able to read his thought. 
 The scenery and personages are now chiefly copied from the 
 sixth book of the iEneid ; but with the addition of many highly 
 picturesque and original touches. 
 
 The companions enter, .hand in hand, a gloomy wood, through 
 which Sorrow only could have found the way. 
 
 " But lo, while thus amid the desert dark 
 We passed on with steps and pace unmeet, 
 A rumbling roar, confused with howl and bark 
 Of dogs, shook all the ground beneath our feet, 
 And struck the din within our ears so deep, 
 As half distraught unto the ground I fell ; 
 besought return, and not to visit hell." 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 105 
 
 His guide however encourages him, and they proceed by the 
 " lothly lake" Avernus, 
 
 " In dreadful fear amid the dreadful place." 
 
 M And first within the porch and jaws of hell 
 Sat deep Remorse of Conscience, all besprent 
 With tears ; and to herself oft would she tell 
 Her wretchedness, and cursing never stent 
 To sob and sigh : but ever thus lament 
 W ith thoughtful care, as she that all in vain 
 Should wear .and waste continually in pain. 
 
 Her eyes, unsteadfast rolling here and there, 
 
 Whirled on each place as place that vengeance brought, 
 
 So was her mind continually in fear, 
 
 Tossed and tormented with tedious thought 
 
 Of those detested crimes that she had wrought : 
 
 With dreadful cheer and looks thrown to the sky, 
 
 Longing for death, and yet she could not die. 
 
 Next saw we Dread, all trembling how he shook 
 With foot uncertain proffered here and there, 
 Benumbed of speech, and with a ghastly look 
 Searched every place, all pale and dead with fear, 
 His cap borne up with staring of his hair." &c. 
 
 All the other allegorical personages named, and only named, by 
 Virgil, as well as a few additional ones, are pourtrayed in succes- 
 sion, and with the same strength and fullness of delineation ; but 
 with the exception of War, who appears in the attributes of 
 Mars, they are represented simply as examples of Old age, Ma- 
 lady, &c. not as the agents by whom these evils are inflicted 
 upon others. Cerberus and Charon occur in their appropriate 
 offices, but the monstrous forms Gorgon, Chimsera, &c, are ju- 
 diciously suppressed ; and the poet is speedily conducted to the 
 fcanks of that " main broad flood" 
 
 " Which parts the gladsome fields from place of woe." 
 
 " With Sorrow for my guide, as there I stood, 
 A troop of men the most in arms bedight, 
 In tumult clustered 'bout both sides the flood : 
 'Mongst whom, who were ordained t' eternal night, 
 Or whom to blissful peace and sweet delight, 
 I wot not well, it seemed that they were all 
 Such as by death's untimely stroke did fall." 
 
 Sorrow acquaints him that these are all illustrious examples of 
 
 0 
 
106 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 the reverses which he was lately deploring, who will themselves 
 relate to him their misfortunes ; and that he must afterwards 
 
 " Recount the same to Kesar, king and peer." 
 
 The first whom he sees advancing towards him from the throng 
 of ghosts is Henry duke of Buckingham, put to death under 
 Richard III. : and his "Legend," or story, is unfortunately the 
 only one which its author ever found leisure to complete ; the 
 favour of his illustrious kinswoman on her accession causing 
 him to sink the poet in the courtier, the ambassador, and finally 
 the minister of state. But he had already done enough to earn 
 himself a lasting name amongst the improvers of poetry in Eng- 
 land. In tragedy he gave the first regular model; in personifi- 
 cation he advanced far beyond all his predecessors, and funished 
 a prototype to that master of allegory, Spenser. A greater than 
 Spenser has also been indebted to him : as will be evident, I 
 think, to all who compare the description of the figures on the 
 shield of war in his Induction, and especially those of them which 
 relate to the siege of Troy, with the exquisitely rich and vivid 
 description of a picture on that subject in Shakespeare's early 
 poem on Tarquin and Lucretia. 
 
 The legend of the duke of Buckingham is composed in a style 
 rich, free and forcible ; the examples brought from ancient his- 
 tory, of the suspicion and inward wretchedness to which tyrants 
 have ever been a prey, and afterwards, of the instability of popu- 
 lar favour, might in this age be accounted tedious and pedantic ; 
 they are however pertinent, well recited, and doubtless possessed 
 the charm of novelty with respect to the majority of contem- 
 porary readers. The curses which the unhappy duke pours forth 
 against the dependent who had betrayed him, may almost com- 
 pare, in the energy and inventiveness of malice, with those of 
 Shakespeare's queen Margaret; but they lose their effect by 
 being thrown into the form of monologue and ascribed to a de- 
 parted spirit, whose agonies of grief and rage in reciting his own 
 death have something in them bordering on the burlesque. 
 
 The mind of Sackville was deeply fraught, as we have seen, 
 with classic stores ; and at a time when England possessed as 
 yet no complete translation of Virgil, he might justly regard it 
 as a considerable service to the cause of national taste to trans- 
 plant into our vernacular poetry some scattered flowers from 
 his rich garden of poetic sweets. Thus he has embellished his 
 legend with an imitation or rather paraphrase of the celebrated 
 description of night in the fourth book of the iEneid. The lines 
 well merit transcription. 
 
 "Midnight was come, when ev'ry vital thing 
 With sweet sound sleep their weary limbs did rest ; 
 The beasts were still, the little birds that sing 
 Now sweetly slept besides their mother's breast. 
 The old and all were shrouded in their nest : 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 The waters calm, the Gruel seas did cease ; 
 
 The woods, the fields, and all things held their peace. 
 
 The golden stars were whirled amid their race, 
 And on the earth did laugh with twinkling light, 
 When each thing nestled in his resting place 
 Forgat day's pain with pleasure of the night: 
 The hare had not the greedy hounds in sight; 
 The fearfubdeer had not the dogs in doubt, 
 The partridge dreamt, not of the falcon's foot. 
 
 The ugly bear now minded not the stake, 
 Nor how the cruel mastives do him tear; 
 The stag lay still unroused from the brake ; 
 The foamy boar feared not the hunter's spear: 
 All things were still in desert, bush and breer. 
 With quiet heart now from their travails ceast 
 Soundly they slept in midst of all their rest." 
 
 The allusion to bear-bating in the concluding stanza may of- 
 fend the delicacy of a modern reader ; but let it be remembered 
 that in the days of Mary, and even of Elizabeth, this amusement 
 was accounted " sport for ladies." 
 
 The " Mirror for Magistrates" was not lost to the world by 
 the desertion of Sackville from the service of the muses ; for a 
 similar or rather perhaps the same design was entertained, and 
 soon after carried into execution, by other and able though cer- 
 tainly inferior hands. 
 
 During the reign of Mary, — but whether before or after the 
 composition of Sackville's Induction does not appear, — a certain 
 printer, having communicated to several "worshipful and ho- 
 nourable persons" his intention of republishing Lydgate's trans- 
 lation in verse of Boccacio's " Fall of Princes," was by them 
 advised to procure a continuation of the work, chiefly in English 
 examples ; and he applied in consequence to Baldwyne, an ec- 
 clesiastic and graduate of Oxford. Baldwyne declined to em- 
 bark alone in so vast a design, and one, as he thought, so little 
 likely to prove profitable ; but seven other contemporary poets, 
 of whom George Ferrers has already been mentioned as one, 
 having promised their assistance, he consented to assume the 
 editorship of the work. The general frame agreed upon by these 
 associates was that employed in the original work of Boccacio, 
 who feigned, that a party of friends being assembled, it was de- 
 termined that each of them should contribute to the pleasure of 
 the company by personating some illustrious and unfortunate 
 character, and relating his adventures in the first person. A 
 contrivance so tame and meagre compared with the descent to 
 the regions of the dead sketched with so much spirit by Sack- 
 ville, that it must have preceded, in all probability, their know - 
 ledge at least of his performance. The first part of the work, 
 almost entirely by Baldwyne, was written, and partly printed.. 
 
10$ 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 in Mary's time, but its publication was prevented by the inter- 
 ference of the lord -chancellor, — a trait of the mean and cowardly 
 jealousy of the administration, which speaks volumes. In the 
 first year of Elizabeth, lord Stafford, an enlightened patron of 
 letters, procured a licence for its appearance. A second part 
 soon followed, in which Sackville's Induction and Legend were 
 inserted. The success of this collection was prodigious ; edition 
 after edition was given to the public under the inspection of dif- 
 ferent poetical revisers, by each of whom copious additions were 
 made to the original work. Its favour and reputation continued 
 during all the reign of Elizabeth, and far into that of James ; for 
 Mr. Warton tells us that in Chapman's " May-day," printed in 
 1611, "a gentleman of the most elegant taste for reading and 
 highly accomplished in the current books of the times, is called 
 'one that has read Marcus Aurelius, Gesta Romanorum, and the 
 Mirror of Magistrates.' "* 
 
 The greater part of the contributors to this work were law- 
 yers : an order of men who, in most ages and nations, have ac- 
 counted it a part of professional duty to stand in opposition to 
 popular seditions on one hand, and to the violent and illegal ex- 
 ertion of arbitrary power on the other. Accordingly, many of 
 the legends are made to exemplify the evils of both these ex- 
 cesses ; and though, in more places than one, the unlawfulness, 
 on any provocation, of lifting a hand against " the Lord's anoint- 
 ed," is in strong terms asserted, the deposition of tyrants is often 
 recorded with applause ; and no mercy is shown to the corrupt 
 judge or minister who wrests law and justice in compliance with 
 the wicked will of his prince. 
 
 The newly published chronicles of the wars of York and Lan- 
 caster by Hall, a writer who made some approach to the charac- 
 ter of a genuine historian, furnished facts to the first composers 
 of the Mirror ; the later ones might draw also from Holinshed 
 and Stow. There is some probability that the idea of forming 
 plays on English history was suggested to Shakespeare by the 
 earlier of these legends ; and it is certain that his plays, in their 
 turn, furnished some of their brightest ornaments of sentiment 
 and diction to the legends added by later editors. 
 
 To a modern reader, the greater part of these once admired 
 pieces will appear trite, prosaic, and tedious ; but an uncultiva- 
 ted age — like the children and the common people of all ages — 
 is most attracted and impressed by that mode of narration which 
 leaves the least to be supplied by the imagination of the hearer 
 or reader ; and when this collection of history in verse is com- 
 pared, not with the finished labours of a Hume or a Robertson, 
 but with the prolix and vulgar narratives of the chroniclers, the 
 admiration and delight with which it was received will no longer 
 surprise. 
 
 One circumstance more respecting a work so important by the 
 * quantity of historical knowledge which it diffused among the 
 
 History of English Poetry, vol. iii. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 109 
 
 mass of readers, and the influence which it exerted over the pub- 
 lic mind during half a century, deserves to be here adverted to. 
 Baldwyne and his fellow-labourers began their series from the 
 Norman conquest, and the same starting point had been judi- 
 ciously chosen by Sackville ; but the fabulous history of Geffrey 
 of Monmouth still found such powerful advocates in national 
 vanity, ignorance and credulity, that succeeding editors found it 
 convenient to embellish their work with moral examples drawn 
 from his fictitious series of British kings before the invasion of 
 the Romans. Accordingly they have brought forward a long 
 line of worthies, beginning with king Albanact, son of Brute 
 the Trojan, and ending with Cadwallader the last king of the 
 Britons, scarcely one of whom, excepting the renowned prince 
 Arthur, is known even by name to the present race of students 
 in English history ; though amongst poetical readers, the immor- 
 tal verse of Spenser preserves some recollection that such cha- 
 racters once were fabled. In return for this superfluity, our 
 Saxon line of kings is passed over with very little notice, only 
 three legends, and those of very obscure personages, being inter- 
 posed between Cadwallader and king Harold. The descent of 
 the royal race of Britain from the Trojans was at this period 
 more than an article of poetical faith; it was maintained, or rather 
 taken for granted, by the gravest and most learned writers. One 
 Kelston, who dedicated a versified chronicle of the Brutes to Ed- 
 ward VI., went further still, and traced up the pedigree of his 
 majesty through two -and -thirty generations, to Osiris king of 
 Egypt. Troynovant, the name said to have been given to Lon- 
 don by Brute, its founder, was frequently employed in verse. A 
 song, addressed to Elizabeth, entitles her the " beauteous queen 
 of second Troy and in describing the pageants which celebra- 
 ted her entrance into the provincial capitals which she visited in 
 her progresses, it will frequently be necessary to introduce to 
 the reader, personages of the ancient race of this fabled conque- 
 ror of our island, who claimed for his direct ancestor, — but whe- 
 ther in the third or fourth degree authors differ, — no less a hero 
 than the pious iEneas himself. 
 
 But to return to the personal circumstances of Elizabeth. 
 
 The public and splendid celebration of the festivals of the 
 church was the least reprehensible of the measures employed by 
 Mary for restoring the ascendancy of her religion over the minds 
 of her subjects. She had been profuse in her donations of sacred 
 vestments and ornaments to the churches and the monasteries, 
 of whici^ she had restored several ; and these gaudy trappings of 
 a ceremonial worship were exhibited, rather indeed to the scan- 
 dal than the edification of a dejected people, in frequent proces- 
 sions conducted with the utmost solemnity and magnificence. 
 Court entertainments always accompanied these devotional ce- 
 remonies, and Elizabeth seems, by assisting at the latter, to have 
 purchased admission to the former. The Christmas festivities in 
 which she shared have already been described in the words of a 
 contemporary chronicler ; and from the same source we derive 
 
110 
 
 the Court of 
 
 the following account of the "antique pageantries" with which 
 another season of rejoicing was celebrated for her recreation, by 
 the munificence of the indulgent superintendent of her conduct 
 and aftairs. "In Shrovetide, 1556, sir Thomas Pope made for 
 the lady Elizabeth, all at his own costs, a great and rich mask- 
 ing in the great hall at Hatfield, where the pageants were mar- 
 vellously furnished. There were there twelve minstrels anticly 
 disguised ; with forty six or more gentlemen and ladies, many 
 of them knights or nobles, and ladies of honour, apparelled in 
 crimson satin, embroidered upon with wreaths of gold, and gar- 
 nished with borders of hanging pearl. And the devise of a castle 
 of cloth of gold, set with pomegranates about the battlements, 
 with shields of knights hanging therefrom ; and six knights in 
 rich harness tourneyed. At night the cupboard in the hall was 
 of twelve stages mainly furnished with garnish of gold and silver 
 vessul, and a banquet of seventy dishes, and after a voidee of 
 spices and suttleties with thirty-six spice-plates; all at the 
 charges of sir Thomas Pope. And the next day the play of Ho- 
 lophernes. But the queen percase misliked these folleries as by 
 her letters to sir Thomas it did appear; and so their disguisings 
 ceased."* 
 
 A circumstance soon afterwards occured calculated to recal 
 past dangers to the mind of the princess, and perhaps to disturb 
 ier with apprehensions of their recurrence. 
 
 Dudley Ashton, formerly a partisan of Wyat, had escaped 
 into France, after the defeat and capture of his leader, whence 
 he was still plotting the overthrow of Mary's government. By 
 the connivance or assistance of that court, now on the brink of 
 war with England, he was at length enabled to send over one 
 Cleberry, a condemned person, whom he instructed to counter- 
 feit the earl of Devonshire, and endeavour to raise the country 
 in his cause. Letters and proclamations were at the same time dis- 
 persed by Ashton, in which the name of Elizabeth was employed 
 without scruple. The party had even the slanderous audacity 
 to pretend, that between Courtney and the heiress of the crown 
 the closest of all intimacies, if not an actual marriage, subsisted ; 
 and the matter went so far that at Ipswich, one of the strong 
 holds of protestantism, Cleberry proclaimed the earl of Devon- 
 shire and the princess, king and queen. But the times were past 
 when any advantage could be taken of this circumstance against 
 Elizabeth, whose perfect innocence was well known to the go- 
 vernment ; and the council immediately wrote in handsome terms 
 to sir Thomas Pope, directing him to acquaint her, in whatever 
 manner he should judge best, with the abominable falsehoods 
 circulated respecting her. A few days after the queen herself 
 wrote also to her sister in terms fitted to assure her of perfect 
 safety. The princess replied, says Strype, " in a well penned 
 letter," " utterly detesting and disclaiming all concern in the en- 
 terprise, and declaiming against the actors in it." Of the epistle 
 
 * See Nichols's " Progresses," vol. i. p. 19. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 thus commended, a single paragraph will probably be esteemed 
 
 a sufficient specimen "And among earthly things I chiefly 
 
 wish this one ; that there were as good surgeons for making ana- 
 tomies of hearts, that might show my thoughts to your majesty, 
 as there are expert physicians of the bodies, able to express the 
 inward griefi of their maladies to the patient. For then I doubt 
 not, but know well, that whatsoever others should suggest by 
 malice, yet your majesty should be sure by knowledge; so that 
 the more such misty clouds oiluscate the clear light of my truth, 
 the more my tried thoughts should glister to the dimming of 
 their hidden malice." &c. It must be confessed that this eru- 
 dite princess had not perfectly succeeded in transplanting into 
 her own language the epistolary graces of her favourite Cicero; 
 — but to how many much superior classical scholars might a si- 
 milar remark be applied ! 
 
 The frustration of Mary's hope of becoming a mother, her sub- 
 sequent ill state of health, and the resolute refusal of the parlia- 
 ment to permit the coronation of her husband, who had quitted 
 England in disgust to attend his affairs on the continent, con- 
 ferred, in spite of all the efforts of the catholic party, a daily aug- 
 menting importance on Elizabeth. When therefore in Novem- 
 ber 1536, she had come in state to Somerset Place, her town- 
 residence, to take up her abode for the winter, a kind of court 
 was immediately formed around her; and she might hope to be 
 richly indemnified for any late anxieties or privations, by the 
 brilliant festivities, the respectful observances, and the still more 
 welcome flatteries, of which she found herself the distinguished 
 object : — But disappointment awaited her. 
 
 She had been invited to court for the purpose of receiving a 
 second and more solemn offer of the hand of the duke of Savoy, 
 whose suit was inforced by the king her brother-in-law with the 
 whole weight of his influence or authority. This alliance had 
 been the subject of earnest correspondence between Philip and 
 the English council ; the Imperial ambassadors were waiting in 
 England for her answer ; and the disappointment of the high 
 raised hopes of the royal party, by her reiteration of a decided 
 negative, was followed by her quitting London in a kind of dis- 
 grace early in the month ot December. 
 
 But Pfrrlip would not suffer the business to end here. Indig- 
 nant at the resistance opposed by the princess to his measures, 
 he seems to have urged the queen to interfere in a manner au- 
 thoritative enough to compel obedience ; but by a remarkable ex- 
 change of characters, Mary now appeared as the protectress of 
 her sister from the violence of Philip. 
 
 In a letter still preserved, she tells him, that unless the con- 
 sent of parliament were first obtained, she fears that the accom- 
 plishment of the marriage would fail to procure for him the ad- 
 vantages which he expected ; but that, however this might be, 
 her conscience would not allow her to press the matter further. 
 That the friar Alphonso, Philip's confessor, whom he had sent 
 to argue the point with her, had entirely failed of convincing 
 
THE COURT OF 
 
 her ; that in fact she could not comprehend the drift of his ar- 
 guments. Philip, it is manifest, must already have made use of 
 very harsh language towards the queen respecting her conduct 
 in this affair, for she deprecates his further displeasure in very 
 abject terms ; but yet persists in her resolution with laudable 
 firmness. Her husband was so far, however, from yielding with 
 a good grace a point on which he had certainly no right to dic- 
 tate either to Mary or to her sister, that soon afterwards he sent 
 into England the duchesses of Parma and Lorrain for the pur- 
 pose of conducting the princess into Flanders : — but this step 
 was ill-judged. His coldness and neglect had by this time nearly 
 extinguished the fond passion of the queen, who is said to have 
 torn his picture in a fit of rage, on report of some disrespectful 
 language which he had used concerning her since his departure 
 for the continent. Resentment and jealousy now divided her 
 gloomy soul ; and Philip's behaviour, on which she had doubtless 
 her spies, caused her to regard the duchess of Lorrain as the 
 usurper of his heart. The extraordinary circumstances of pomp 
 and parade with which this lady, notwithstanding the smallness 
 of her revenues, now appeared in England, confirmed and ag- 
 gravated her most painful suspicions ; and so far from favouring 
 the suit urged by such an ambassadress, Mary became more than 
 ever determined on thwarting it. She would not permit the 
 duchesses to pay the princess a single visit at Hatfield ; and her 
 reception gave them so little encouragement to persevere, that 
 they speedily returned to report their failure to him who sent- 
 them. 
 
 These circumstances seem to have produced a cordiality of 
 feeling and frequency of intercourse between the sisters which 
 had never before existed. In February 1557, the princess ar- 
 rived with a great retinue at Somerset Place, and went thence 
 to wait upon the queen at Whitehall ; and when the spring was 
 somewhat further advanced, her majesty honoured her by re- 
 turning the visit at Hatfield. The royal guest was, of course, to 
 be entertained with every species of courtly and elegant delight; 
 and accordingly, on the morning after her arrival, she and the 
 princess, after attending mass, went to witness a grand exhibi- 
 tion of bear-bating, " with which their highnesses were right well 
 content." In the evening the chamber was adorned with a sump- 
 tuous suit of tapestry, called, but from what circumstance does 
 not appear, "the hangings of Antioch." After supper a play was 
 represented by the choristers of St Paul's, then the most applaud- 
 ed actors in London ; and after it was over, one of the children 
 accompanied with his voice, the performance of the princess on 
 the virginals. 
 
 Sir Thomas Pope could now without offence gratify his lady 
 with another show, devised by him in that spirit of romantic 
 magnificence equally agreeable to the taste of the age and the 
 temper of Elizabeth herself. She was invited to repair to En- 
 field Chase to take the amusement of hunting the hart. Twelve 
 ladies in white satin attended her on their " ambling palfreys," 
 
QUERN ELIZABETH. 
 
 113 
 
 Und twenty yeomen clad in green. At the entrance of the forest 
 the was met by fifty archers in scarlet boots and yellow caps, 
 armed with gilded bows, one of whom presented to her a silver- 
 headed arrow wii.ged with peacock's feathers. 1 he splendid 
 show concluded, according to the established laws of the chase, 
 by (he offering of the knife to the princess, as first lady on the 
 field; and her taking *«ay of the buck with her own fair and 
 royal hand. 
 
 During the summer of the same year the queen was pleased to 
 invite her sister to an entertainment at Richmond, of which we 
 have received some rather interesting particulars. The princess 
 was brought from Somerset Place in the queen's barge, which was 
 richly hung with garlands of artificial flowers and covered with 
 a canopy of green sarsenet, wrought with branches of eglantine in 
 embroidery and powdered with blossoms of gold. In the barge 
 she was accompanied by sir Thomas Pope and four ladies of her 
 chamber. Six boats attended filled with her retinue, habited in 
 russet damask and blue embroidered satin, tasseled and spangled 
 with silver ; their bonnets cloth of silver with green feathers. 
 The queen received her in a sumptuous pavilion, in the la- 
 byrinth of the gardens. This pavilion which was of cloth of 
 gold and purple velvet, was made in the form of a castle, pro 
 bably in allusion to the kingdom of Castile; its sides were 
 divided in compartments, which bore alternately the fleur de lis 
 in silver, and the pomegranate, the bearing of Granada, in gold. 
 A sumptuous banquet was here served up to the royal ladies, in 
 which there was introduced a pomegranate-tree in confectionary 
 work, bearing the arms of Spain : — so offensively glaring was the 
 preference given by Mary to the country of her husband and of 
 her maternal ancestry over that of which she was a native and in 
 her own right queen ! There was no masking or dancing, but a 
 great number of minstrels performed. The princess returned to 
 Somerset Place the same evening, and the next day to Hatfield. 
 
 The addresses of a new suitor soon after furnished Elizabeth 
 with an occasion of gratifying the queen by fresh demonstrations 
 of respect and duty. The king of Sweden was earnestly desi- 
 rous of obtaining for Eric his eldest son the hand of a lady whose 
 reversionary prospects, added to her merit and accomplishments, 
 rendered her without dispute the first match in Europe. He had 
 denied his son's request to be permitted to visit her in person, fear- 
 ing that those violences of temper and eccentricities of conduct of 
 which this ill-fated prince had already given strong indications, 
 might injure his cause in the judgment of so discerning a prin- 
 cess. The business was therefore to be transacted through the 
 Swedish ambassador; but he was directed by his sovereign ^o 
 make his application by a message to Elizabeth herself, in which 
 the queen and council were not for the present to participate. 
 The princess took hold of this circumstance as a convenient 
 pretext for rejecting a proposal which she felt no disposition to 
 encourage ; and she declared that she could never listen to any 
 overtures of this nature which had not first received the sanctiou 
 
 P 
 
114 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 of her majesty. The ambassador pleaded in answer, that as a 
 gentleman his master had judged it becoming that his first ap 
 plication should be made to herself; but that should he be so happy 
 as to obtain her concurrence, he would then, as a king, make his 
 demand in form to the queen her sister. The princess replied, 
 that if it were to depend on herself, a single life would ever be 
 her choice ; and she finally dismissed the suit with a negative. 
 
 On receiving some hint of this transaction, Mary sent for sir 
 Thomas Pope, and having learned from him all the particulars, 
 she directed him to express to her sister her high approbation of 
 her proper and dutiful conduct on this occasion ; and also to 
 make himself acquainted with her sentiments on the subject of 
 matrimony in general. He soon after transmitted to her majesty 
 all the information she could desire, in the following letter : 
 
 " First after I had declared to her grace how well the queen's 
 majesty liked of her prudent and honourable answer made to the 
 same messenger ; I then opened unto her grace the effects of the 
 said messenger's credence ; which, after her grace had heard, I 
 said, the queen's highness had sent me to her grace, not only to 
 declare the same, but also to understand how her grace liked the 
 said motion. Whereunto, after a little pause taken, her grace 
 answered in form following: 'Master Pope, I require you, after 
 my most humble commendations to the queen's majesty, to ren- 
 der unto the same like thanks that it pleased her highness, of her 
 goodness to conceive so well of my answer made to the same 
 messenger; and herewithal, of her princely consideration, with 
 such speed to command you by your letters to signify the same 
 unto me : who before remained wonderfully perplexed, fearing 
 that her majesty might mistake the same : for which, her good- 
 ness, I acknowledge myself bound to honour, serve, love, and 
 obey her highness during my life. Requiring you also to say 
 unto her majesty, that in the king my brother's time there was 
 offered me a very honourable marriage, or two ; and ambassadors 
 sent to treat with me touching the same ; whereupon, I made 
 my humble suit unto his highness, as some of honour yet living 
 can be testimonies, that it would like the same to give me leave, 
 with his grace's favour, to remain in that estate I was, which, of 
 all others, best liked me or pleased me. And, in good faith, I 
 pray you say unto her highness, I am even at this present of the 
 same mind, and so intend to continue, with her majesty's favour : 
 and assuring her highness I so well like this estate, as [ persuade 
 myself there is not any kind of life comparable unto it. And as 
 concerning my liking the said motion made by the said messen- 
 ger, I beseech you say unto her majesty, that, to my remem- 
 brance, 1 never heard of his master before this time ; and that 1 
 so well like both the message and the messenger, as I shall most 
 humbly pray God upon my knees, that from henceforth I never 
 hear of the one nor the other: assure you that if he should eft- 
 soons repair unto me, I would forbear to speak to him. And 
 were there nothing else to move me to mislike the motion, other 
 than that his master would attempt the same without making the 
 queen's majesty privy thereunto, it were cause sufficient.' 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 115 
 
 14 And when her grace had thus ended, I was so bold as of my- 
 self to say unto her grace, her pardon first required, that 1 thought 
 few or none would believe but that her grace could be right well 
 contented to marry ; so that there were some honourable mar- 
 riage offered her by the queen's highness, or by her majesty's as- 
 sent. Whereunto her grace answered, ' What I shall do here- 
 after I know not ; but 1 assure you, upon my truth and fidelity, 
 and as God be merciful unto me, I am not at this time otherwise 
 minded than I have declared unto you ; no, though I were offer- 
 ed the greatest prince in all Europe, and yet paixase, the queen's 
 majesty may conceive this rather to proceed of a maidenly 
 *hamefacedness, than upon any such certain determination."* 
 
 This letter appears to have been the last transaction which oc- 
 curred between Mary and Elizabeth : from it, and from the 
 whole of the notices relative to the situation of the latter thrown 
 together in the preceding pages, it may be collected, that during 
 the three last years of her sister's reign, — the period, namely, of 
 her residence at Hatfield — she had few privations, and no per- 
 sonal hardships to endure: but for individuals whom she esteem- 
 ed, for principles to which her conscience secretly inclined, for 
 her country which she truly loved, her apprehensions must have 
 been continually excited, and too often justified by events the 
 most cruel and disastrous. 
 
 The re-establishment, by solemn acts of the legislature, of the 
 Romish ritual and the papal authority, though attended with the 
 entire prohibition of all protestant worship, was not sufficient for 
 the bigotry of Mary. Aware that the new doctrines still found 
 harbour in the bosoms of her subjects, she sought to drag them 
 by her violence from this last asylum ; for to her, as to all tyrants, 
 it appeared both desirable and possible to subject the liberty of 
 thinking to the regulation and control of human laws. 
 
 By virtue of her authority as head of the English church — a title 
 which the murmurs of her parliament had compelled her against 
 her conscience to resume after laying it aside for some time, — she 
 issued an ecclesiastical commission, which wanted nothing of the 
 Spanish inquisition but the name. The commissioners were em- 
 powered to call before them the leading men in every parish of 
 the kingdom, and to compel them to bind themselves by oath to 
 give information against such of their neighbours as, by abstain- 
 ing from attendance at church or other symptoms of disaffection 
 to the present order of things, afforded room to doubt the sound- 
 ness of their belief. Articles of faith were then offered to the 
 suspected persons for their signature, and on their simple refu- 
 sal they were handed over to the civil power, and fire and fagot 
 awaited them. By this barbarous species of punishment, about 
 two hundred and eighty persons are stated to have perished dur- 
 
 * Thi' hint of" some honourable marriage," in the above letter, has been suppo- 
 sed to refer to the duke of Savoy ; but if the date inscribed upon the copv which is 
 found among the Harleian MSS. be correct, (April 26th, i 558,) this could not well 
 be, sine- the queen, early in the preceding year, had declined to interfere further 
 fa his behalf. 
 
116 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 mg the reign of Mary ; but, to the disgrace of the learned, the 
 rich,. and the noble, these martyrs, with the exception of a few 
 distinguished ecclesiastics, were almost all from the middling or 
 lower, some from the very lowest classes of society. 
 
 Amongst these glorious sufferers, therefore, the princess could 
 have few personal friends to regret ; but in the much larger num- 
 ber of the disgraced, the suspected, the imprisoned, the fugitive, 
 she saw the greater part of the public characters, whether states- 
 men or divines, on whose support and attachment she had learn- 
 ed to place reliance. 
 
 The extraordinary cruelties exercised upon sir JohmCheke, 
 who, whilst he held the post of preceptor to her brother, nfd also 
 assisted in her own education, must have been viewed by Eliza- 
 beth with strong emotion of indignation and grief. 
 
 It has been already mentioned, that after his release from im- 
 prisonment incurred in the cause of lady Jane Grey, — a release, 
 by the way, which was purchased by the sacrifice of his landed 
 property and all his appointments, — this learned and estimable 
 person obtained permission to travel for a limited period. This 
 was regarded as a special favour ; for it was one of Mary's ear- 
 liest acts of tyranny to prohibit the escape of her destined vic- 
 tims, and it was only by joining themselves to the foreign con- 
 gregations of the reformed, who had license to depart the king- 
 dom, or by eluding with much hazard the vigilance of the officers 
 by whom the seaports were watched, that any of her protestant 
 subjects had been enabled to secure liberty of conscience in a 
 voluntary exile. It is a little remarkable that Rome should 
 have been Cheke's first city of pilgrimage ; but classical associ- 
 ations in this instance overcame the force of protestant antipa- 
 thies. He took the opportunity however of visiting Basil in his 
 way, where an English congregation was established, and where 
 he had the pleasure of introducing himself to several learned 
 characters, once perhaps the chosen associates of Erasmus. 
 
 In the beginning of 1 556, he had reached Strasburgh, for it was 
 thence that he addressed a letter to his dear friend and brother- 
 in-law sir William Cecil, who appears to have made some com- 
 pliances with the times which alarmed and grieved him. It is 
 in a strain of the most affectionate earnestness that he entreats 
 him to hold fast his faith, and " to take heed how he did in the 
 least warp or strain his conscience by any compliance for his 
 worldly security." But such exhortations, however salutary in 
 themselves, did not come with the best grace from those who had 
 found in flight a refuge from the terrors of that persecution 
 which was raging in all its fierceness before the eyes of such of 
 their unfortunate brethren as had found themselves necessitated 
 to abide the fiery trial. A remark by no means foreign to the 
 case before us! Sir John Cheke's leave of absence seems now 
 to have expired ; and it w r as probably with the design of making 
 interest for its renewal that he privately repaired, soon after 
 the d;;te of his letter, to Brussels, on a visit to his two learned 
 friends, lord Paget and sir John Mason, then residing in thai 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 117 
 
 city as Mary's ambassadors. These men were recent converts, 
 u more likely conformists, to the court religion; and Paget's 
 furious councils against Elizabeth have been already mentioned. 
 It is to be hoped that they did not add to the guilt of self-inte- 
 rested compliances in matters of faith the blacker crime of a bar- 
 barous act of perfidy against a former associate and brother-pro - 
 testant who had scarcely ceased to be their guest; — but certain 
 it is, that on some secret intimation of his having entered his ter- 
 ritories, king Philip issued special orders for the seizure of Cheke. 
 On his return, between Brussels and Antwerp, the unhappy 
 man, with sir Peter Carew his companion, was apprehended by 
 a provost-marshal, bound hand and foot, thrown into a cart, and 
 so conveyed on board a vessel sailing for England. He is said 
 to have been brought to the Tower muffled, according to an odi- 
 ous practice of Spanish despotism introduced into the country 
 during the reign of Mary. Under the terror of such a surprise 
 the awful alternative " Comply or burn" was laid before him. 
 Human frailty under these trying circumstances prevailed ; and 
 in an evil hour this champion of light and learning was tempted 
 to subscribe his false assent to the doctrine of the real presence 
 and the whole list of Romish articles. This was but the begin- 
 ning of humiliations : he was now required to pronounce two 
 ample recantations, one before the queen in person, the other 
 before cardinal Pole, who also imposed upon him various acts of 
 penance. Even this did not immediately procure his liberation 
 from prison ; and while he was obliged in public to applaud the 
 mercy of his enemies in terms of the most abject submission, he 
 bewailed in private, with abundance of bitter tears, their cruel- 
 ty, and still more his own criminal compliance. The savage 
 zealots knew not how to set bounds to their triumph over a man 
 whom learning and acknowledged talents and honorable employ- 
 ments had rendered so considerable. 
 
 Even when at length he was set free, and flattered himself 
 that he had drained to the dregs his cup of bitterness, he disco- 
 vered that the masterpiece of barbarity, the refinement of insult, 
 was yet in store. He was required, as evidence of the sinceri- 
 ty of his conversion and a token of his complete restoration to 
 royal favour, to take his seat on the bench by the side of the sa- 
 vage Bonner, and assist at the condemnation of his brother-pro- 
 testants. The unhappy man did not refuse, — so thoroughly was 
 his spirit subdued within him, — but it broke his heart ; and re- 
 tiring at last to the house of an old and learned friend, whose 
 door was open to him in Christian charity, he there ended within 
 a few .months, his miserable life, a prey to shame, remorse, and 
 melancholy. A sadder tale the annals of persecution do not fur- 
 nish, or one more humbling to the pride and confidence of hu- 
 man virtue. Many have failed under lighter trials ; few have 
 expiated a failure by sufferings so severe. How often must this 
 victim of a wounded spirit have dwelt with envy, amid his slower 
 torments, on the brief agonies and lasting crown of a courageous 
 martyrdom! 
 
118 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 It is happily not possible for a kingdom to flourish under the 
 crushing weight of such a tyranny as that of Mary. The re- 
 treat of the foreign protestants had robbed the country of hun- 
 dreds of industrious and skilful artificers ; the arbitrary exac- 
 tions of the queen impoverished and discouraged the trading 
 classes, against whom they principally operated ; tumults and 
 insurrections were frequent, aud afforded a pretext for the in- 
 troduction of Spanish troops ; the treasury was exhausted in ef- 
 forts for maintaining the power of the sovereign, restoring the 
 church to opulence and splendour, and re-edifying the fallen mo- 
 nasteries. To add to these evils, a foreign marriage rendered 
 both the queen and country subservient to the interested or am- 
 bitious projects of the Spanish sovereign. For his sake a need- 
 less war was declared against France, which, after draining en 
 tirely an already failing treasury, ended in the loss of Calais, 
 the last remaining trophy of the victories by which the Edwards 
 and the Henrys had humbled in the d«st the pride and power of 
 France. 
 
 This last stroke completed the dejection of the nation ; and 
 Mary herself, who was by no means destitute of sensibility where 
 the honour of her crown was concerned, sunk into an incurable 
 melancholy. " When I die," said she to her attendants who 
 sought to discover the cause of her despondency, " Calais will 
 be found at my heart." 
 
 The unfeeling desertion of her husband, the consciousness of 
 having incurred the hatred of her subjects, the unprosperous state 
 of her affairs, and the well founded apprehension that her suc- 
 cessor would once more overthrow the whole edifice of papal 
 power which she had laboured with such indefatigable ardour to 
 restore, may each be supposed to have infused its own drop of 
 bitterness into the soul of this unhappy princess. The long and 
 severe mortifications of her youth, while they soured her temper, 
 had also undermined her constitution, and contributed to bring 
 upon her a premature old age ; dropsical symptoms began to ap- 
 pear, and, after a lingering illness of nearly half a year she sunk 
 into the grave on the 17th day of November, 1558, in the fortv- 
 fourth year of her age. 
 
 4 
 
QUERN ELIZABETH. 
 
 MM 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 1558 and 1559. 
 
 General joy on the accession of Elizabeth. — Views of the nobility 
 —of the middling and lower classes. — Flattery with which she 
 is addressed. — Descriptions of her person. — Her first privy -coun- 
 cil. — Parry and Cecil brought into office. — Notices of each. — 
 Death of cardinal Pole. — The queen enters London — passes to 
 the Tower. — Lord Robert Dudley her master of the horse. — No- 
 tices respecting him.— Hie queen' 's treatment of her relations. — 
 The Howard family. — Sir Richard Sackville. — Henry Gary. — 
 Hie last created lord Hunsdon. — Preparations in London 
 against the queen'' s coronation. — Splendid costume of the age. 
 — She passes by water from Westminster to the Tower. — 
 The procession described. — Her passage through the city. — 
 Pageants exhibited. — The bishops refuse to crown her. — Bishop 
 of Carlisle prevailed on. — Religious sentiments of the queen. — 
 Prohibition of preaching — of theatrical exhibition. 
 
 Never, perhaps, was the accession of any prince the subject 
 ©f such keen and lively interest to a whole people as that of Eli- 
 zabeth. 
 
 Both in the religious establishments and political relations of 
 the country, the most important changes were anticipated ; 
 changes in which the humblest individual found himself concern- 
 ed, and to which a vast majority of the nation looked forward 
 with hope and joy. 
 
 With the courtiers and great nobles, whose mutability of faith 
 had so happily corresponded with every ecclesiastical vicissitude 
 of the last three reigns, political and personal considerations may 
 well be supposed to have held the first place ; and though the 
 old religion might still be endeared to them by many cherished 
 associations and by early prejudice, there were few among them 
 who did not regard the liberation of the country from Spanish 
 influence as ample compensation for the probable restoration of 
 the religious establishment of Henry or of Edward. Besides, 
 there was scarcely an individual belonging to these classes who 
 had not, in some manner, partaken of the plunder of the church, 
 and whom the avowed principles of Mary had not disquieted with 
 apprehensions that some plan of compulsory restitution would 
 sooner or later be attempted by an union of royal and papal au- 
 thority. 
 
 With the middling and lower classes religious views and feel- 
 ings were predominant. The doctrines of the new and better 
 system of faith and worship had now become more precious and 
 important than ever in the eyes of its adherents from the hard- 
 ships which many of them had encountered for its sake, and 
 
120 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 from the interest which each disciple vindicated to himself in the 
 glory and merit of the holy martyrs whose triumphant exit they 
 had witnessed. With all the fervour of pious gratitude they of- 
 f-red up their thanksgivings for the signal deliverance by which 
 their prayers had been answered. The bloody tyranny of Mary 
 was at an end ; and though the known conformity of Elizabeth 
 to Romish rites might apparently give room for doubts and sus- 
 picions, it should seem that neither catholics nor protestants 
 were willing to believe that the daughter of Anne Boleyn could 
 in her heart be a papist. Under this impression the citizens of 
 London, who spoke the sense of their own class throughout the 
 kingdom, welcomed the new queen as a protectress sent by Hea- 
 ven itself: but even in the first transports of their joy, and amid 
 the pompous pageantries by which their loyal congratulations 
 were expressed, they took care to intimate, in a manner not to be 
 misunderstood, their hopes and expectations on the great concern 
 now nearest to their hearts. 
 
 Prudence confined within their own bosoms the regrets and 
 murmurs of the popish clergy; submission and a simulated loy- 
 alty were at present obviously their only policy : thus not a whis- 
 per breathed abroad but of joy and gratulation and happy pre- 
 sage of the days to come. 
 
 The sex, the youth, the accomplishments, the graces, the past 
 misfortunes of the princess, all served to heighten the interest 
 with which she was beheld : the age of chivalry had not yet ex- 
 pired ; and in spite of the late unfortunate experience of a fe- 
 male reign, the romantic image of a maiden queen dazzled all 
 eyes, subdued all hearts, inflamed the imaginations of the brave 
 and courtly youth with visions of love and glory, exalted into a 
 passionate homage the principle of loyalty, and urged adulation 
 to the very brink of idolatry. , 
 The fulsome compliments on her beauty which Elizabeth, al- 
 most to the latest period of her life, not only permitted but re- 
 quired and delighted in, have been adverted to by all the writers 
 who have made her reign and character their theme : and those 
 of the number whom admiration and pity of the fair queen of 
 Scots have rendered hostile to her memory, have taken a mali- 
 cious pleasure in exaggerating the extravagance of this weak- 
 ness, by denying her, even in her freshest years, all pretensions 
 to those personal charms by which her rival was so eminently 
 distinguished. Others, however, have been more favourable, and 
 probably more just, to her on this point; and it would be an injury 
 to her memory to withhold from the reader the following por- 
 traitures which authorise us to form a pleasing as well as majes- 
 tic image of this illustrious female at the period of her accession 
 and at the age of five-and -twenty. 
 
 " She was a lady of great beauty, of decent stature, and of an 
 excellent shape. In her youth she was adorned with a more 
 than usual maiden modesty ; her skin was of pure white, and her 
 hair of a yellow colour ; her eyes were beautiful and lively. In 
 short, her whole body was well made, and her face was adorned 
 
v QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 121 
 
 with a wonderful and sweet beauty and majesty. This beauty 
 lasted till her middle age, though it declined/" &c. 
 
 "She was of personage tall, of hair and complexion fair, and 
 therewith well favoured, but high nosed ; of limbs and feature 
 neat, and, which added to the lustre of those exterior graces, of 
 stately and majestic comportment; participating in this more of 
 her father than her mother, who was of an inferior allay, plausible, 
 or, as the French hath it, more debonnaire and affable, virtues 
 which might suit well with majesty, and which descending as 
 hereditary to the daughter, did render her of a more sweeter 
 temper, and endeared her more to the love and liking of her 
 people, who gave her the name and fame of a most gracious and 
 popular prince.t" 
 
 The death of Mary was announced to the two houses, which 
 were then sitting, by Heath bishop of Ely, the lord-chancellor. 
 In both assemblies, after the decorum of a short pause, the notifi- 
 cation was followed by joyful shouts of " God save queen Eliza- 
 beth ! long and happily may she reign !" and with great alacrity 
 the members issued out to proclaim the new sovereign before 
 the palace in Westminster and again at the great cross in Cheap- 
 side. 
 
 The Londoners knew not how to contain their joy on this 
 happy occasion : — the bells of all the churches were set ringing, 
 bonfires were kindled, and tables were spread in the streets ac- 
 cording to the bountiful and hospitable custom of that day, 
 •* where was plentiful eating, drinking, and making merry." 
 On the following Sunday Te Deum was sung in the churches ; 
 probably an unexampled, however merited, expression of disre- 
 spect to the memory of the former sovereign. 
 
 Elizabeth received the news of her own accession at Hatfield. 
 We are not told that she affected any great concern for the loss 
 of her sister, much less did any unbecoming sign of exultation 
 escape her ; but " falling on her knees, after a good time of re- 
 spiration she uttered th is verse of the Psalms : A Domino factum 
 est istud, et est mirabile oculis nostris%; which to this day we 
 find on the stamp of her gold : with this on her silver, Posui 
 Deum adjutorem meiwi§." || 
 
 Several noblemen of the late queen's council now repairing to 
 her, she held at Hatfield on November the 20th her first privy- 
 council ; at which she declared sir Thomas Parry comptroller of 
 her household, sir Edward Rogers captain of the guard, and sir 
 William Cecil principal secretary of state, all three being at the 
 same time admitted to the council-board. From these appoint- 
 ments, the first of her reign, some presages might be drawn of her 
 future government favourable to her own character and corres^ 
 pondent to the wishes of her people. 
 
 * Bohun's " Character of Queen Elizabeth." 
 
 f Naunton's «' Fragmenta Regalia." 
 
 + It is the Lord's doing, it is marvellous in our eyes. 
 
 $ I have ehosen God for my helper. | « Fragmenta Regalia.?' 
 
122 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 Parry was the person who had filled for many years the office 
 of her cofferer, who was perfectly in the secret of whatever con- 
 fidential intercourse she might formerly have held with the lord- 
 admiral, and whose fidelity to her in that business had stood firm 
 against all the threats of the protector and council, and the arti- 
 fices of those by whom his examination had been conducted. 
 That mindfulness of former services, of which the advancement 
 of this man formed by no means a solitary instance in the conduct 
 of Elizabeth, appeared the more commendable in her, because 
 she accompanied it with a generous oblivion of the many slights 
 and injuries to which her defenceless and persecuted condition 
 had so long exposed her from others. 
 
 The merit of Cecil was already in part known to the public ; 
 and his promotion to an office of such importance was a happy 
 omen for the protestant cause, his attachment to which had been 
 judged the sole impediment to his advancement under the late 
 reign to situations of power and trust corresponding with the 
 opinion entertained of his integrity and political wisdom. A 
 brief retrospect of the scenes of public life in which he had al- 
 ready been an actor will best explain the character and senti- 
 ments of this eminent person, destined to wield for more than 
 forty years with unparalleled skill and felicity, under a mistress 
 who knew his value, the energies of the English state. 
 
 Born, in 1520, the son of the master of the royal wardrobe, 
 Cecil early engaged the notice of Henry VIII. by the fame of a re- 
 ligous dispute which he had held in Latin with two popish priests 
 attached to the Irish chieftain O'Neal. A place in reversion 
 freely bestowed on him by the king at once rewarded the zeal of 
 the young polemic, and encouraged him to desert the profession 
 of the law, in which he had embarked, for the political career. 
 
 His marriage with the sister of sir John Cheke strengthened 
 his interest at court by procuring him an introduction to the earl 
 of Hertford, and early in the reign of Edward this powerful pa- 
 tronage obtained for him the office of secretary of state. In the 
 first disgrace of the protector he lost his place, and was for a 
 short time a prisoner in the Tower ; but his compliant conduct 
 soon restored him to favour : he scrupled not to draw the articles 
 of impeachment against the protector; and Northumberland, 
 finding him both able in business and highly acceptable to the 
 young monarch, procured or permitted his re-instatement in 
 office in September 1550. 
 
 Cecil, however, was both too wary and too honest to regard 
 himself as pledged to the support of Northumberland's inordinate 
 schemes of ambition ; and scarcely any public man of the day, 
 attached to the protestant cause, escaped better in the affair of 
 lady Jane Grey. It is true that one writer accuses him of having 
 drawn all the papers in her favour ; but this appears to be, iu part 
 at least, either a mistake or a calumny ; and it seems, on the 
 contrary, that he refused to Northumberland some services of 
 this nature. It has already been mentioned that his name ap- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 123 
 
 peared with those of the other privy-councillors to Edward's 
 settlement of the crown ; and his plea of having signed it merely 
 as a witness to the king's signature, deserves to be regarded as 
 a kind of subterfuge. But he was early in paying his respects to 
 Mary, and he took advantage of the graciousness with which she 
 received his explanations to obtain a general pardon, which pro- 
 tected hiin from all personal danger. He lost however his place 
 of secretary, which some have affirmed that he might have re- 
 tained by further compliances in religion. This however is 
 the more doubtful, because it cannot be questioned that he must 
 have yielded a good deal on this point, without which he neither 
 could nor would have made one of a deputation sent to conduct 
 to England cardinal Pole the papal legate, nor probably would 
 he have been joined in commission with the cardinal and other 
 persons sent to treat of a peace with France. 
 
 But admitting, as we must, that this eminent statesman was 
 far from aspiring to the praise of a confessor, he will still be 
 found to deserve high commendation for the zeal and courage 
 with which, as a member of parliament, he defended the interests 
 of his oppressed and suffering fellow-protestants. At consi- 
 derable hazard to himself, he opposed with great freedom of 
 speech a bill for confiscating the property of exiles for religion ; 
 and he appears to have escaped committal to the Tower on 
 this account, solely by the presence of mind which he exhibited 
 before the council, and the friendship of some of its members. 
 
 He is known to have maintained a secret and intimate corres- 
 pondence with Elizabeth during the time of her adversity, and 
 to have assisted her on various trying occasions with his salutary 
 counsels ; and nothing could be more interesting than to trace 
 the origin and progress of that confidential relation between 
 these eminent and in many respects congenial characters, which 
 after a long course of years was only terminated by the hand of 
 death ; — but materials for this purpose are unfortunately wanting. 
 
 The letters on both sides were probably sacrificed by the 
 parties themselves to the caution which their situation required ; 
 and among the published extracts from the Burleigh papers, only 
 a single document is found relative to the connexion subsisting 
 between them during the reign of Mary. This is a short and 
 uninteresting letter addressed to Cecil by sir Thomas Benger» 
 one of the princess's officers, in which, after some mention of 
 accounts, not now intelligible, he promises that he and sir 
 Thomas Parry will move the princess to grant his correspondent's 
 request, which is not particularised, and assures him that as his 
 coming thither would be thankfully received, so he wishes that 
 all the friends of the princess entertained the same sense of that 
 matter as he does. The letter seems to point at some official 
 concern of Cecil in the affairs of Elizabeth. It is dated October 
 24th 1556. 
 
 The private character of Cecil was in every respect exemplary, 
 and his disposition truly amiable. His second marriage with 
 one of the learned daughters of sir Anthony Cook conferred upon 
 
124 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 him that exalted species of domestic happiness which a sympa- 
 thy in mental endowments can alone bestow; whilst it had the 
 further advantage of connecting him with the excellent man her 
 father, with sir Nicholas Bacon and sir Thomas Hobby, the hus- 
 bands of two of her sisters, and generally with the wisest and 
 most conscientious supporters of the protestant interest. This 
 great minister was honourably distinguished through life by an 
 ardour and constancy of friendship rare in all classes of men, 
 but esteemed peculiarly so in those whose lives are occupied 
 amid the heartless ceremonial of courts and the political intrigues 
 of princes. His attachments, as they never degenerated into 
 the weakness of favouritism, were as much a source of benefit to 
 his country as of enjoyment to himself ; for his friends were 
 those of virtue and the state. And there were few among the 
 more estimable public men of this reign who were not indebted 
 either for their first introduction to the notice of Elizabeth, their 
 continuance in her favour, or their restoration to it when unde- 
 servedly lost, to the generous patronage or powerful interces- 
 sion of Cecil. 
 
 On appointing him a member of her council, the queen ad- 
 dressed her secretary in the following gracious words : 
 
 " I give you this charge, that you shall be of my privy-council, 
 and content yourself to take pains for me and my realm. This 
 judgment I have of you, that you will not be corrupted with any 
 gift, and that you will be faithful to the state, and that, without 
 respect of my private will, you will give me that counsel that 
 you think best : And that if you shall know any thing necessary 
 to be declared to me of secrecy, you shall show it to myself only, 
 and assure yourself 1 will not fail to keep taciturnity therein. 
 And therefore herewith I charge you.''* 
 
 Cardinal Pole was not doomed to be an eye-witness of the 
 relapse of the nation into what he must have regarded as heresy 
 of the most aggravated nature ; he expired a few hours after his 
 royal kinswoman : and Elizabeth, with due consideration for the 
 illustrious ancestry, the learning, the moderation, and the blame- 
 less manners of the man, authorised his honourable interment 
 at Canterbury among the archbishops his predecessors, with the 
 attendance of two bishops, his ancient friends and the faithful 
 companions of his long exile. 
 
 On November 23d, the queen set forward for her capital at- 
 tended by a train of about a thousand nobles, knights, gentlemen, 
 and ladies, and took up her abode for the present at the dissolved 
 monastery of the Chartreux, or Charterhouse, then the residence 
 of lord North; a splendid pile which offered ample accommoda- 
 tion for a royal retinue. Her next remove, in compliance with 
 ancient custom, was to the Tower. On this occasion all the 
 streets from the Charterhouse were spread with fine gravel ; 
 singers and musicians were stationed by the way, and a vast 
 concourse of people freely lent their joyful and admiring accla- 
 
 * " Nugse Antiquse." 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 125 
 
 mations, a9 preceded by her heralds and great officers, and richly 
 attired in purple velvet, she passed along mounted on her palf rey, 
 and returning the salutations of the humblest of her subjects 
 with graceful and winning affability. 
 
 With what vivid and what affecting impressions of the vicissi- 
 tudes attending on the great, must she have passed again within 
 the antique walls of that fortress once her dungeon, now her pa- 
 lace ! She had entered it by the Traitor's gate, a terrified and 
 defenceless prisoner, smarting under many wrongs, hopeless of 
 deliverance, and apprehending nothing less than an ignominious 
 death. She had quitted it, still a captive, under the guard of 
 armed men, to be conducted she knew not whither. She return- 
 ed to it in all the pomp of royalty, surrounded by the ministers 
 of her power, ushered by the applauses of her people ; the che- 
 rished object of every eye, the idol of every heart. 
 
 Devotion alone could supply becoming language to the emotions 
 which swelled her bosom ; and no sooner had she reached the 
 royal apartments, than falling on her knees she returned humble 
 and fervent thanks to that Providence which had brought her in 
 safety, like Daniel from the den of lions, to behold this day of 
 exaltation. 
 
 Elizabeth was attended on her passage to the Tower by one 
 who like herself returned with honour to that place of his former 
 captivity ; but not, like herself, with a mind disciplined by ad- 
 versity to receive with moderation and wisdom " the good vicis- 
 situde of joy." This person was lord Robert Dudley, whom the 
 queen had thus early encouraged to aspire to her future favours 
 by appointing him to the office of master of the horse. 
 
 We are totally uninformed of the circumstances which had 
 recommended to her peculiar patronage this bad son of a bad 
 father; whose enterprises, if successful, would have disinherited 
 of a kingdom Elizabeth herself no less than Mary. But it is re- 
 markable, that even under the reign of the latter, the surviving 
 members of the Dudley family had been able to recover in great 
 measure from the effects of their late signal reverses. Lord 
 Robert, soon after his release from the Tower, contrived to make 
 himself so acceptable to king Philip by his courtier-like atten- 
 tions, and to Mary by his diligence in posting backwards and 
 forwards to bring her intelligence of her husband during his long 
 visits to the continent, that he earned from the latter several 
 marks of favour. Two of his brothers fought, and one fell, in 
 the battle of St. Quintin's ; and immediately afterwards the 
 duchess their mother found means, through some Spanish inte- 
 rests and connexions, to procure the restoration in blood of all 
 her surviving children. The appointment of Robert to the place 
 of master of the ordnance soon followed ; so that even before 
 the accession of Elizabeth he might be regarded as a rising man 
 in the state. His personal graces and elegant accomplishments, 
 are on all hands acknowledged to have been sufficiently striking 
 to dazzle the eyes and charm the heart of a young princess of a 
 lively imagination and absolute mistress of her own actions. 
 
126 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 The circumstance of his being already married, blinded her per- 
 haps to the nature of her sentiments towards him, or at least it 
 was regarded by her as a sufficient sanction in the eyes of the 
 public for those manifestations of favour and esteem with which 
 she was pleased to honour him. But whether the affection which 
 she entertained for him best deserved the name of friendship or 
 a still tenderer one, seems after all a question of too subtile and 
 obscure a nature for sober discussion ; though in a French " cour 
 d? amour" it might have furnished pleas and counterpleas of ex- 
 quisite ingenuity, prodigious sentimental interest, and length 
 interminable. What is unfortunately too certain is, that he was 
 a favourite, and in the common judgment of the court, of the 
 nation, and of posterity, an unworthy one ; but calumny and 
 prejudice alone have dared to attack the reputation of the queen. 
 
 Elizabeth had no propensity to exalt immoderately her rela- 
 tions by the mother's side ; — for she neither loved nor honoured 
 that mother's memory ; but several of the number may be men- 
 tioned, whose merits towards herself, or whose qualifications for 
 the public service, justly entitled them to share in her distribu- 
 tion of offices and honours, and whom she always treated with 
 distinction. The whole illustrious family ef the Howards were 
 her relations ; and in the first year of her reign she conferred on 
 the duke of Norfolk, her second -cousin, the order of the garter. 
 Her great-uncle lord William Howard, created baron of Effing- 
 ham by Mary, was continued by her in the high office of lord- 
 chamberlain, and soon after appointed one of the commissioners 
 for concluding a peace with France. Lord Thomas Howard, 
 her mother's first-cousin, who had treated her with distinguished 
 respect and kindness on her arrival at Hampton Court from 
 Woodstock, and had the further merit of being indulgent to pro- 
 testants during the persecutions of Mary, received from her the 
 title of viscount Bindon, and continued much in her favour to 
 the end of his days. 
 
 Sir Richard Sackville, also her mother's first-cousin, had filled 
 different fiscal offices under the three last reigns ; he was a man, 
 of abilities, and derived from a long line of ancestors great es- 
 tates and extensive influence in the county of Sussex. The peo- 
 ple, who marked his growing wealth, and to whom he was per- 
 haps officially obnoxious, nicknamed him Fill-sack: in Mary's 
 time he was a catholic, a privy-councillor, and chancellor of the 
 court of Augmentations ; under her successor he changed the 
 first designation and retained the two last, which he probably 
 valued more. He is chiefly memorable as the father of Sackville 
 the poet, afterwards lord Buckhurst and progenitor of the dukes 
 of Dorset. 
 
 Sir Francis Knolles, whose lady was one of the queen's near- 
 est kinswomen, was deservedly called to the privy-council on 
 his return from his voluntary banishment for conscience' sake; 
 his sons gained considerable influence in the court of Elizabeth : 
 his daughter, the mother of Essex, and afterwards the wife of 
 Leicester, was for various reasons long an object of the queen's 
 3 particular aversion. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 127 
 
 But of all her relations, the one who had deserved most at her 
 hands was Henry Carey, brother to a lady Knolles, and son to 
 Mary Boleyn, her majesty's aunt. This gentleman had expended 
 several thousand pounds of his own patrimony in her service and 
 relief during the time of her imprisonment, and she liberally 
 requited his friendship at her first creation of peers, by confer- 
 ring upon him, with the title of baron Hunsdon, the royal resi- 
 dence of that name, with its surrounding park and several bene- 
 ficial leases of crown lands. He was afterwards joined in va- 
 rious commissions and offices of trust: but his remuneration 
 was, on the whole, by no means exorbitant ; for he was not ra- 
 pacious, and consequently not importunate ; and the queen, in 
 the employments which she assigned him, seemed rather to con- 
 sult her own advantage and that of her country, by availing her- 
 self of the abilities of a diligent and faithful servant, than to 
 please herself by granting rewards to an affectionate and gene- 
 rous kinsman. In fact, lord Hunsdon was skilled as little in 
 the ceremonious and sentimental gallantry which she required 
 from her courtiers, as in the circumspect and winding policy 
 which she approved in her statesmen. " As he lived in a ruffling 
 time," says Naunton, " so he loved sword and buckler men, and 
 such as our fathers wont to call men of their hands, of which 
 sort he had many brave gentlemen that followed him ; yet not 
 taken for a popular or dangerous person." Though extremely 
 choleric, he was honest, and not at all malicious. It was said of 
 him, that " his Latin and his dissimulation were both alike," 
 equally bad, and that " his custom in swearing and obscenity in 
 speech made him seem a worse Christian than he was." 
 
 Fuller relates of him the following characteristic anecdote. 
 " Once, one Mr. Colt chanced to meet him coming from Huns- 
 don to London, in the equipage of a lord of those days. The 
 lord, on some former grudge, gave him a box on the ear : Colt 
 presently returned the principal with interest ; and thereupon 
 his servants drawing their swords, swarmed about him. * You 
 rogues,' said my lord, 'may not I and my neighbour change a 
 blow but you must interpose ?' Thus the quarrel was begun and 
 ended in the same minute."* 
 
 The queen's attachment to such of her family as she was 
 pleased to honour with her notice, was probably the more con- 
 stant because there was nothing in it of excess or of blindness ; 
 — even Leicester in the height of his favour felt that he must 
 hold sacred their claims to her regard : according to Naunton's 
 phrase, he used to say of Sackville and Hunsdon, " that they 
 were of the tribe of Dan, and were Noli me tangere's" 
 
 After a few days spent in the Tower, Elizabeth passed by 
 water to Somerset Place ; and thence, about a fortnight after, 
 when the funeral of her predecessor was over, to the palace of 
 Westminster, where she kept her Christmas. 
 
 Busy preparation was now making in her good city of London 
 
 * « Worthies" in Herts. 
 
128 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 against the solemn day of her passage in state from the Tower 
 to her coronation at Westminster. The usages and sentiments 
 of that age conferred upon these public ceremonials a character 
 of earnest and dignified importance now lost ; and on this me- 
 morable occasion, when the mingled sense of deliverance re- 
 ceived and of future favour to be conciliated had opened the 
 hearts of all men, it was resolved to lavish in honour of the new 
 sovereign every possible demonstration of loyal affection, and 
 every known device of festal magnificence. 
 
 The costume of the age was splendid. Gowns of velvet or 
 satin, richly trimmed with silk, furs, or gold lace, costly gold 
 chains, and caps or hoods of rich materials adorned with feathers 
 ©r ouches, decorated on all occasions of display the persons not 
 of nobles or courtiers alone, but of their crowds of retainers and 
 higher menials, and even of the plain substantial citizens. Fe- 
 male attire was proportionally sumptuous. Hangings of cloth, 
 of silk, of velvet, cloth of gold or silver, or "needlework sub- 
 lime," clothed on days of family-festivity the upper chamber * 
 of every house of respectable appearance; these on public festi- 
 vals were suspended from the balconies, and uniting with the 
 banners and pennons floating overhead, gave to the streets al- 
 most the appearance of a suit of long and gayly-dressed saloons. 
 Every circumstance thus conspired to render the public entry 
 of queen Elizabeth the most gorgeous and at the same time the 
 most interesting spectacle of the kind ever exhibited in the Eng- 
 lish metropolis. 
 
 Her majesty was first to be conducted from her palace in 
 Westminster to the royal apartments in the Tower ; and a splen- 
 did water procession was appointed for the purpose. At this 
 period, when the streets were narrow and ill -paved, the roads 
 bad, and the luxury of close carriages unknown, the Thames was 
 the great thoroughfare of the metropolis. The old palace of 
 Westminster, as well as those of Richmond and Greenwich, the 
 favourite summer residences of the Tudor princes, stood on its 
 banks, and the court passed from one to the other in barges. 
 The nobility were beginning to occupy with their mansions and 
 gardens the space between the Strand and the water, and it had 
 become a reigning folly amongst them to vie with each other in 
 the splendour of their barges and of the liveries of the rowers, 
 who were all distinguished by the crests or badges of their 
 lords. 
 
 The corporation and trading companies of London possessed, 
 as now, their state-barges enriched with carved and gilded figures 
 and " decked and trimmed with targets and banners of their 
 
 misteries." 
 
 On the 12th of January 1559, these were all drawn forth in 
 
 * As long as that style of domestic architecture prevailed in which every story 
 ■was made to project considerably beyond the one beneath it, the upper room, from • 
 its superior size, and lightsomeness, appears to have been that dedicated to the enter- 
 tainment of guests. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 129 
 
 grand array ; and to enliven the pomp, " the bachelor's barge of 
 the lord-mayor's company, to wit the mercers, had their barge 
 with a foist trimmed with three tops and artillery a board, gal- 
 lantly appointed to wait upon them, shooting off lustily as they 
 went, with great and pleasant melody of instruments, which 
 played in most sweet and heavenly manner." In this state they 
 rowed up to Westminster and attended her majesty with the 
 royal barges back to the Tower. 
 
 Her passage through the city took place two days after. 
 
 She issued forth drawn in a sumptuous chariot, preceded by 
 trumpeters and heralds in their coat-armour and "most honour- 
 ablv accompanied as well with gentlemen, barons, and other the 
 nobility of this realm, as also with a notable train of goodly and 
 beautiful ladies, richly appointed." The ladies were on horse- 
 back, and both they and the lords were habited in crimson vel- 
 Tet, with which their horses were also trapped. Let it be re- 
 marked by the way, that the retinue of fair equestrians constant- 
 ly attendant on the person of tjhe maiden queen in all her public 
 appearances, was a circumstance of prodigious effect ; the gor- 
 geousness of royal pomp was thus heightened, and at the same 
 rendered more amiable and attractive by the alliance of grace 
 and beauty : and a romantic kind of charm, comparable to that 
 which seizes the imagination in the splendid fictions of chivalry, 
 was cast over the heartless parade of courtly ceremonial. 
 
 It was a very different spirit, however, from that of romance 
 or of knight-errantry which inspired the bosoms of the citizens 
 whose acclamations now rent the air on her approach. They 
 beheld in the princess whom they welcomed, the daughter of that 
 Henry who had redeemed the land from papal tyranny and ex- 
 tortion ; the sister of that young and godly Edward, — the Josiah 
 of English story, — whose pious hand had reared again the altars 
 of pure and primitive religion ; and they had bodied forth for 
 her instruction and admonition, in a series of solemn pageants, 
 the maxims by which they hoped to see her equal or surpass 
 these deep-felt merits of her predecessors. 
 
 These pageants were erections placed across the principal 
 streets in the manner of triumphal arches : illustrative sentences 
 in English and Latin were inscribed upon them ; and a child was 
 stationed in each, who explained to the queen in English verse 
 the meaning of the whole. The first was of three stories, and 
 represented by living figures : first, Henry VII. and his royal 
 spouse Elizabeth of York, from whom her majesty derived her 
 name ; secondly, Henry VIII. and Anne Boleyn ; and lastly, her 
 majesty in person ; all in royal robes. The verses described 
 the felicity of that union of the houses to which she owed her 
 existence, and of concord in general. The second pageant was 
 styled " The seat of worthy governance," on the summit of 
 which sat another representative of the queen ; beneath were 
 the cardinal virtues trampling under their feet the opposite 
 vices, among whom Ignorance and Superstition were not forgot- 
 ten. The third exhibited the eight Beatitudes, all ascribed with 
 
130 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 some ingenuity of application to her majesty. The fourth ven- 
 tured upon a more trying topic : its opposite sides represented 
 in lively contrast the images of a decayed and of a flourishing 
 commonwealth ; and from a cave below issued Time leading 
 forth his daughter Truth, who held in her hand an English bible, 
 which she offered to the queen's acceptance. Elizabeth re- 
 ceived the volume, and reverently pressing it with both hands 
 to her heart and to her lips, declared aloud, amid the tears and 
 grateful benedictions of her people, that she thanked the city 
 more for that gift than for all the cost they had bestowed upon 
 her, and ,that she would often read over that book. The lasi 
 pageant exhibited " a seemly and mete personage, richly appa- 
 relled in parliament robes, with a sceptre in her hand, over whose 
 head was written ' Deborah, the judge and restorer of the house 
 of Israel." 
 
 To render more palatable these grave moralities, the recorder 
 of London, approaching her majesty's chariot near the further 
 end of Cheapside, where ended-* the long array of the city com- 
 panies, which had lined the streets all the way from Fenchurch, 
 presented her with a splendid and ample purse, containing one 
 thousand marks in gold. The queen graciously received it with 
 both hands, and answered his harangue " marvellous pithily." 
 
 To crown the whole, those two grisly personages vulgarly 
 called Gog and Magog, but described by the learned as Gog- 
 magog the Albion and Corineus the Briton, deserted on this 
 memorable day that accustomed station in Guildhall where they 
 appear as the tutelary genii of the city, and were seen rearing 
 up their stately height on each side of Temple-bar. With joined 
 hands they supported above the gate a copy of Latin verses, in 
 which they obligingly expounded to her majesty the sense of all 
 the pageants which had been offered to her view, concluding 
 with compliments and felicitations suitable to the happy occa- 
 sion. The queen, in few but cordial words, thanked the citizens 
 for all their cost and pains, assured them that she would " stand 
 their good queen," and passed the gate amid a thunder of ap- 
 plause. 
 
 Elizabeth possessed in a higher degree than any English 
 prince who ever reigned, the innocent and honest arts of popu- 
 larity; and the following traits of her behaviour on this day are 
 recorded by our chroniclers with affectionate delight. "'Yon 
 der is an ancient citizen,' said one of the knights attending on 
 her person, ' which weepeth and turneth his face backward : 
 How may it be interpreted ? that he doth so for sorrow or for 
 gladness ?' With a just and pleasing confidence, the queen re- 
 plied, ' I warrant you it is for gladness., " " How many nose- 
 gays did her grace receive at poor women's hands ! How many 
 times staid she her chariot when she saw any simple body offer 
 to speak to her grace ! A branch of rosemary given her grace 
 with a supplication by a poor woman about Fleet-bridge was seeH 
 in her chariot till her grace came to Westminster 
 
 * Holinshed's Chronicles, 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 131 
 
 The reader may here be reminded, that five -and -twenty years 
 before, when the mother of this queen passed through London to 
 her coronation, the pageants exhibited derived their personages 
 and allusions chiefly from pagan mythology or classical fiction. 
 Hut all was now changed ; the earnestness of religious contro- 
 versy in Edward's time, and the fury of persecution since, had 
 put to flight Apollo, the Muses, and the Graces : Learning, in- 
 deed, had kept her station and her honours, but she had lent her 
 lamp to other studies, and whether in the tongue of ancient 
 Rome or modern England, Elizabeth was hailed in Christian 
 strains, and as the sovereign of a Christian country. A people 
 idled with earnest zeal in the best of causes, implored her to free 
 them once again from popery ; to overthrow the tyranny of error 
 and of superstition ; to establish gospel truth ; and to accept at 
 their hands, as the standard of her faith and the rule of her con- 
 duct, that holy book of which they regarded the free and undis- 
 turbed possession as their brightest privilege. 
 
 How tame, how puerile, in the midst of sentiments serious and 
 profound as these, would have appeared the intrusion of classi- 
 cal imagery, however graceful in itself or ingenious in its appli- 
 cation ! Frigid must have been the spectator who could even 
 have remarked its absence, while shouts of patriotic ardour and 
 of religious joy were bursting from the lips of the whole assem- 
 bled population. 
 
 The august ceremonies of the coronation, which took place on 
 the following day, merit no particular description ; regulated in 
 every thing by ancient custom, they afforded little scope for that 
 display of popular sentiment which had given so intense an in- 
 terest to the procession of the day before. Great perplexity was 
 occasioned by the refusal of the whole bench of bishops to per- 
 form the coronation service ; but at length, to the displeasure of 
 his brethren, Ogelthorp, bishop of Carlisle, suffered himself to be 
 gained over, and the rite was duly celebrated. This refractori- 
 ness of the episcopal order was wisely overlooked for the pre- 
 sent by the new government ; but it proceeded no doubt from 
 the principle, that the marriage of Henry VIII. with Catherine 
 of Arragon, having been declared lawful and valid, the child of 
 Anne Boleyn must be regarded as illegitimate and incapable of 
 the succession. The compliance of Ogelthorp could indeed be 
 censured by the other bishops on no other ground than their dis- 
 allowance of the title of the sovereign ; in the office itself, as he 
 performed it, there was nothing to which the most rigid catholic 
 could object, for the ancient ritual is said to have been followed 
 without the slightest modification. This circumstance has been 
 adduced, among others, to show that it was rather by the politi- 
 cal necessities of her situation, than by her private judgment and 
 conscience in religious matters, that Elizabeth was impelled 
 finally to abjure the Roman catholic system, and to declare her- 
 self the general protectress of the protestant cause. 
 
 Probably, had she found herself free to follow entirely the dic- 
 tates of her own inclinations, she would have established in the 
 
132 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 church of which she found herself the head, a kind of middle 
 scheme like that devised by her father, for whose authority she 
 was impressed with the highest veneration. To the end of her 
 days she could never be reconciled to married bishops ; indeed 
 with respect to the clergy generally, a sagacious writer of her 
 own time observes, that " ceteris paribus, and sometimes impa- 
 ribus too, she preferred the single man before the married."* 
 
 She would allow no one " to speak irreverently of the sacra- 
 ment of the altar;" that is, to enter into discussions respecting 
 the real presence ; she enjoined the like respectful silence con- 
 cerning the intercession of saints ; and we learn that one Patch, 
 who had been Wolsey's fool, and had contrived, like some others, 
 to keep in favour through all the changes of four successive 
 reigns, was employed by sir Francis Knolles to break down a 
 crucifix which she still retained in her private chapel to the scan- 
 dal of all good protestants. 
 
 A remarkable incident soon served to intimate the coolness 
 and caution with which it was her intention to proceed in re-es- 
 tablishing the maxims of the reformers. Lord Bacon thus re- 
 lates the anecdote : " Queen Elizabeth on the morrow of her co- 
 ronation, (it being the custom to release prisoners at the inaugu- 
 ration of a prince,) went to the chapel ; and in the great cham- 
 ber one of her courtiers, who was well known to her, either out of 
 his own motion, or by the instigation of a wiser man, presented 
 her with a petition, and before a great number of courtiers be- 
 sought her with a loud voice that now this good time there might 
 be four or five more principal prisoners released: these were the 
 four evangelists, and the apostle St. Paul, who had been long 
 shut up in an unknown tongue, as it were in prison ; so as they 
 could not converse with the common people. The queen an- 
 swered very gravely, that it was best first to inquire of them- 
 selves whether they would be released or not."t 
 
 It was nor! long, however, ere this happy deliverance was fully 
 effected. Before her coronation, Elizabeth had taken the im- 
 portant step of authorising the reading of the liturgy in English ; 
 but she forbade preaching on controverted topics generally, and 
 all preaching at Paul's Cross in particular, till the completion of 
 that revision of the service used in the time of Edward VI. which 
 she had intrusted to Parker, archbishop-elect of Canterbury, with 
 several of her wisest counsellors. It was the zeal of the minis- 
 ters lately returned from exile, many of whom had imbibed at 
 Geneva or Zunch ideas of a primitive simplicity in Christian 
 worship widely remote from the views and sentiments of the 
 queen, which gave occasion to this prohibition. The learning, 
 the piety, the past sufferings of the men gave them great power 
 over the minds and opinions of the people, who ran in crowds to 
 listen to their sermons ; and Elizabeth began already to appre- 
 hend that the hierarchy which she desired to establish, would 
 gtand as much in need of protection from the disciples of Calvin 
 
 * Harrington's " Brief View, 
 
 j Bacon's (t Apophthegms,'- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 133 
 
 and Zw ingle on the one hand, as from the adherents of popery on 
 the other. 
 
 There is good reason to believe, that a royal proclamation 
 issued some time after, by which all manner of plays and inter- 
 ludes were forbidden to be represented till after the ensuing 
 haliovvmass, was dictated by similar reasons of state with the 
 prohibition of popular and unlicensed preaching. 
 
 From the earliest beginnings of the reformation under Henry 
 VIII. the stage had come in aid of the pulpit ; not, according to 
 the practice of its purer ages, as the " teacher best of moral wis- 
 dom, with delight received," but as the vehicle of religious con- 
 troversy, and not seldom of polemical scurrility. Several times 
 already had this dangerous novelty attracted the jealous eyes 
 of authority, and measures had in vain been taken for its sup- 
 pression. 
 
 In 1542 Henry added to an edict for the destruction of Tyn 
 dale's English bible, with all the controversial works on both 
 sides of which it had been the fertile parent, an injunction that 
 "the kingdom should be purged and cleansed of all religious 
 plays, interludes, rhymes, ballads, and songs, which are equally 
 pestiferous and noisome to the peace of the church." During 
 the reign of Edward, when the papists had availed themselves 
 of the license of the theatre to attack Cranmer and the protec- 
 tor, a similar prohibition was issued against all dramatic per- 
 formances, as tending to the growth of " disquiet, division, tu- 
 mults and uproars." Mary's privy-council, on the other hand, 
 found it necessary to address a remonstrance to the president 
 of the North, respecting certain players, servants to sir Francis 
 Lake, who had gone about the country representing pieces in 
 ridicule of the- king and queen and the formalities of the mass ; 
 and the design of the proclamation of Elizabeth was rendered 
 evident by a solemn enactment of heavy penalties against such 
 as should abuse the Common-prayer in any interludes, songs, or 
 rhymes.* 
 
 * Warton's "History of English Poetry," vol. iii. p. 202 seq. 
 
134 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 1559. 
 
 Meeting of parliament — Prudent counsel of sir N. Bacon. — Act 
 declaratory of the queen's title. — Her answer to an address pray- 
 ing her to marry. — Philip II offers her his hand. — Motives of 
 Iter refusal. — Proposes to her the archduke Charles. — The king 
 of Sweden renews his addresses by the duke of Finland. — 
 Honourable reception of the duke. — Addresses of the duke of 
 Holstein. — Tlie duke of Norfolk, lord R. Dudley, the marquis 
 of North ampton, the earl of Rutland, made knights of th e gar- 
 ter. — Notices of the two last. — Queen visits the earl of Pem- 
 broke. — His life and character. — Arrival and entertainment oj 
 a French embassy. — Review of the London trained-bands. — Till 
 in Greenwich park. — Band of gentlemen-pensioners. — Royal 
 progress to Hartford, Cobham Hall, Eltham and Nonsuch. — 
 The earl oj Arundel entertains her at the latter place. — Obse- 
 quies for the king of France. — Heath of Frances duchess of 
 Suffolk. — Sumptuary law respecting apparel. — Fashions of 
 dress. — Law against ivitchcraft. 
 
 IN the parliament which met in January 1559, two matters 
 personally interesting to the queen were agitated ; her title to 
 the crown, and her marriage ; and both were disposed of in a 
 manner calculated to afford a just presage of the maxims by 
 which the whole tenor of her future life and reign was to be 
 guided. By the eminently prudent and judicious counsels of sir 
 Nicholas Bacon keeper of the seals, she omitted to require of 
 parliament the repeal of those acts of her father's reign which 
 had declared his marriage with her mother null, and herself ille- 
 gitimate-; and reposing on the acknowledged maxim of law, that 
 the crown once worn takes away all defects in blood, she con- 
 tented herself with an act declaratory in general terms of her 
 right of succession. Thus the whole perplexing subject of her 
 mother's character and conduct was consigned to an oblivion 
 equally safe and decent ; and the memory of her father, which, 
 in spite of all his acts of violence and injustice, was popular in 
 the nation and respected by herself, was saved from the stigma 
 which the vindication of Anne Boleyn must have impressed in- 
 delibly upon it. 
 
 On the other topic she explained herself with an earnest sin- 
 cerity which might have freed her from all further importunity 
 in any concern less interesting to the wishes of her people. To 
 a deputation from the house of commons with an address, " the 
 special matter whereof was to move her grace to marriage," after 
 a gracious reception, she delivered an answer in which the fol- 
 lowing passages are remarkable. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 135 
 
 "....From my years of understanding, sith I first had const- 
 deration of my life, to be bor n a servitor of almighty God, 1 hap- 
 pily chose this kind of life, in the which I yet live ; which I as- 
 sure you for mine own part hath hitherto best contented myself, 
 and I trust hath been most acceptable unto God. From the 
 which, if either ambition of high estate, offered to me in marriage 
 by the pleasure and appointment of my prince, whereof I have 
 some records in this presence (as you our treasurer well know ;) 
 or if eschewing the danger of mine enemies, or the avoiding of 
 the peril of jleath, whose messenger, or rather a continual watch- 
 man, the prince's indignation, was no little time daily before 
 mine eyes, (by whose means although I know, or justly may 
 suspect, yet I will not now utter, or if the whole cause were in 
 my sister herself, I will not now burden her therewith, because 
 i will not charge the dead ;) if any of these, I say, could have 
 drawn or dissuaded me from this kind of life, I had not now re- 
 mained in this estate wherein you see me ; but so constant have 
 I always continued in this determination, although my youth 
 and words may seem to some hardly to agree together ; yet it is 
 most true that at this day I stand free from any other meaning 
 lhat either I have had in times past, or have at this present." 
 
 After a somewhat haughty assurance that she takes ihe recom- 
 mendation of the parliament in good part, because it contains 
 no limitation of place or person, which she should have regarded 
 as great presumption in them, " whose duties are to obey," and 
 " not to require them that may command;" having declared that 
 should she change her resolution, she will choose one for her 
 husband who shall, if possible, be as careful for the realm as her- 
 self, she thus concludes : " And in the end, this shall be for me 
 sufficient, that a marble stone shall declare, that a queen, having 
 reigned such a time, lived and died a virgin." 
 
 One matrimonial proposal her majesty had already received, 
 and that at once the most splendid and the least suitable which 
 Europe could afford. Philip of Spain, loth to relinquish his hold 
 upon England, but long since aware of the impracticability of 
 establishing any claims of his own in opposition to the title of 
 Elizabeth, now sought to reign by her ; and to the formal an- 
 nouncement which she conveyed to him of the death of his late 
 wife, accompanied with expressions of her anxiety to preserve 
 his friendship, he had replied by an offer of his hand. 
 
 The objections to this union were so peculiarly forcible and 
 so obvious to every eye, that it appears at first view almost in- 
 credible that the proposal should have been made, as it yet un- 
 doubtedly was, seriously and with strong expectations of success. 
 But Philip, himself a politician, believed Elizabeth to be one 
 also ; and he flattered himself that he should be able to point out 
 such advantages in the connexion as might overbalance in her 
 mind any scruples of patriotism, of feeling, or of conscience. 
 She stood alone, the last of her father's house, unsupported at 
 home by the authority of a powerful royal family, or abroad by 
 great alliances. The queen of Scots, whom few of the subjects 
 
136 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 of Elizabeth denied to be next heir to the crown, and whose 
 claim was by most of the catholics held preferable to her own, 
 was married to the dauphin of France, consequently her title 
 whould be upheld by the whole force of that country, with which, 
 as well as with Scotland, Elizabeth at her accession had found 
 the nation involved in an unsuccessful war. The loss of Calais, 
 the decay of trade, the failure of the exchequer, and the recent 
 visitations of famine and pestilence, had infected the minds of 
 the English with despondency, and paralysed all their efforts. 
 
 In religion they were confessedly a divided peopje ; but it is 
 probable that Philip, misled by his own zeal and that of the ca- 
 tholic clergy, confidently anticipated the extirpation of heresy 
 and the final triumph of the papal system, if the measures of 
 salutary rigor which had distinguished the reign of Mary should 
 be persisted in by her successor ; and that he actually supposed 
 the majority of the nation to be at this time sincerely and cor- 
 dially catholic. In offering therefore his hand to Elizabeth, he 
 seemed to lend her that powerful aid against her foreign foe and 
 rival without which her possession of the throne could not be 
 secure, and that support against domestic faction without which 
 it could not be tranquil. He readily undertook to procure from 
 the pope t'le necessary dispensation for the marriage, which he 
 was certain would be granted with alacrity ; and before the an- 
 swer of Elizabeth could reach him, he had actually dispatched 
 envoys to Rome for this purpose. 
 
 A princess, in fact, of a character less firm and less sagacious 
 than Elizabeth, might have found in these seeming benefits 
 temptations not to be resisted ; the splendour of Philip's rank 
 and power would have dazzled and overawed, the difficulties of 
 her own situation would have affrighted her, and between ambi- 
 tion and alarm she would probably have thrown herself into the 
 arms, and abandoned her country to the mercy, of a gloomy, cal- 
 culating, relentless tyrant. 
 
 But Elizabeth was neither to be deceived nor intimidated. 
 She well knew how odious this very marriage had rendered her 
 unhappy sister ; she understood and sympathised in the religious 
 sentiments of the great mass of her subjects ; she felt too all the 
 pride, as well as the felicity, of independence ; and looking 
 around with a cheerful confidence on a people who adored her, 
 she formed at once the patriotic resolution to wear her English 
 diadem by the suffrage of the English nation alone, unindebted 
 to the protection and free from the participation of any brother- 
 monarch living, even of him who held the highest place among 
 the potentates of Europe. 
 
 Her best and wisest counsellors applauded her decision, but 
 they unanimously advised that no means consistent with the 
 rejection of his suit should be omitted, by which the friendship 
 of the king of Spain might be preserved and cultivated. Expe- 
 dients were accordingly found, without actually encouraging his 
 hopes, for protracting the negotiation till a peace was concluded 
 with France and with Scotland, and finally of declining the 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 137 
 
 marriage without a breach of amity. Yet the duke de Feria, 
 the Spanish ambassador, had not failed to represent to the queen, 
 that as the addresses of his master were founded on personal 
 acquaintance and high admiration of her charms and merit, a 
 negative could not be returned without wounding equally his 
 pride and his feelings. Philip, however, soon consoled himself 
 for this disappointment by taking to wife the daughter of the 
 king of Fiance ; and before the end of the year we find him re- 
 < ommending to Elizabeth as a husband his cousin the archduke 
 Charles, son of the emperor Ferdinand. The overture w r as at 
 this time declined by the queen without hesitation ; but some 
 time afterwards, circumstances arose which caused the negotia- 
 tion to be resumed with a prospect of success, and the preten- 
 sions and qualifications of the Austrian prince became, as we 
 «hall see, an object of serious discussion. 
 
 Eric, who had now ascended the throne of Sweden, sent his 
 brother the duke of Finland to plead once more with the Eng- 
 lish princess in his behalf; and the king of Denmark, unwilling 
 that his neighbour should bear off* without a contest so glorious 
 a prize, lost no time in sending forth on the same high adventure 
 his nephew the duke of Holstein. It is more than probable that 
 Shakespeare, in his description of the wooers of all countries 
 who contend for the possession of the fair and wealthy Portia,* 
 satirically alludes to several of these royal suitors, whose de- 
 parture would often be accounted by his sovereign " a gentle 
 ridance," since she might well exclaim with the Italian heiress, 
 " while we shut the gate on one wooer, another knocks at the 
 door." 
 
 The duke of Finland was received with high honours. The 
 earl of Oxford and lord Robert Dudley repaired to him at Col- 
 chester and conducted him into London. At the corner of. 
 Gracechurch-street he was received by the marquis of North- 
 ampton and lord Ambrose Dudley, attended by many gentlemen, 
 and, what seems remarkable, by ladies also; and thence, follow- 
 ed by a great troop of gentlemen in gold chains and yeomen of 
 the guard, he proceeded to the bishop of Winchester's palace in 
 Southward, " which was hung with rich cloth of arras, and wrought 
 with gold and silver and silks. And there he remained." 
 
 Mil the last circumstance it may be remarked, that it appears 
 at this time to have been the invariable custom for ambassadors, 
 and other royal visitants to be lodged at some private house, 
 where they were entertained, nominally perhaps at the expense 
 of the sovereign, but really to the great cost as well as incon- 
 venience of the selected host. The practice discovers a kind of 
 feudal right of ownership still claimed by the prince in the man- 
 sions of his barons, some of which indeed were royal castles or 
 manor-houses and held perhaps under peculiar obligations : at 
 the same time it gives us a magnificent idea of the size and ac- 
 commodation of these mansions and of the style of house-keep - 
 
 * See " The Merchant of Venice.'' 
 
13S 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 ing used in them. It further intimates that an habitual distrust 
 
 of these foreign guests caused it to be regarded as a point of pru- 
 dence to place them under the secret inspection of some native 
 of approved loyalty and discretion. Prisoners of state, as well as 
 ambassadors and royal strangers, were thus committed to the 
 private custody of peers or bishops. 
 
 The duke of Holstein, on his arrival, was lodged at Somerset 
 Place, of which the queen had granted the use to lord Hunsdon. 
 He came, it seems, with sanguine expectations of success in his 
 suit ; but the royal fair one deemed it sufficient to acknowledge 
 his pains by an honourable re ception, the order of the garter, and 
 the grant of a yearly pension. 
 
 Meantime, the queen herself, with equal assiduity and better 
 success than awaited these princely wooers, was applying her 
 cares to gain the affections of her subjects of every class, and, if 
 possible, of both religious denominations. 
 
 On her young kinsman, the duke of Norfolk, the first peer of 
 the realm by rank, property, and great alliances, and the most 
 popular by his known attachment to the protestant faith, she now 
 conferred the distinction of the garter, decorating with it at the 
 same time the marquis of Northampton, the earl of Rutland, and 
 lord Robert Dudley. 
 
 The marquis, a brother of queen Catharine Parr, whom he re- 
 sembled in the turn of his religious opinions, had been for these 
 opinions a great sufferer under the last reign. On pretext of his 
 adherence to the cause of Jane Grey, in which he had certainly 
 not partaken more deeply than many others who found nothing 
 but favour in the sight of Mary, he was attainted of high treason, 
 and, though his life was spared, his estates were forfeited and he 
 had remained ever since in disgrace and suspicion A divorce 
 which he had obtained from an unfaithful wife under the eccle- 
 siastical law of Henry VIII. was also called in question, and an 
 after marriage which he had contracted declared null, but it ap- 
 pears to have been confirmed under Elizabeth. He was account- 
 ed a modest and upright character, endowed with no great talents 
 for military command, in which he had been unsuccessful, nor 
 yet for civil business ; but distinguished by a fine taste in music 
 and poetry, which formed his chief delight. From, the new so- 
 vereign substantial benefits, as well as flattering distinctions, 
 awaited him, being reinstated by her in the possession of his con- 
 fiscated estates and appointed a privy-councillor. 
 
 Henry, second earl of Rutland, of the surname of Manners, 
 was the representative of a knightly family seated, during many 
 generations, at Ettal, in Northumberland, and known in border 
 history amongst the stoutest champions on the English side. But 
 Ettal, a place of strength, was more than once laid in ruins, and 
 the lands devastated and rendered " nothing worth," by incur- 
 sions of the Scots ; and though successive kings rewarded the 
 services and compensated the losses of these valiant knights, by 
 grants of land and appointments to honourable offices in the 
 north, it was many an age before they attained to such a degree 
 of wealth as would enable them to appear with distinction 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 139 
 
 amongst the great families of the kingdom. At length, sir Robert 
 Manners, high sheriff of Northumberland, having recommended 
 himself to the favour of the king-making Warwick, and of Rich- 
 ard, duke of Gloucester, was fortunate enough, by a judicious 
 marriage with the daughter of lord Roos, heiress of the Tiptofts, 
 earls of Worcester, to add the noble castle and fertile vale of 
 Belvoir to the battered towers and wasted fields of his paternal 
 inheritance. 
 
 A second splendid alliance completed the aggrandisement of 
 the house of Manners. The son of sir Robert, bearing in right of 
 his mother the title of lord Roos, and knighted by the earl of 
 Surry for his distinguished bravery in the Scottish wars, was ho- 
 noured with the hand of Anne, sole heiress of sir Thomas St. 
 Leger, by the duchess-dowager of Exeter, a sister of king Edward 
 IV. The heir of this marriage, in consideration of his maternal 
 ancestry, was advanced by Henry VIII. to the title of earl of 
 Rutland, never borne but by princes of the blood. His succes- 
 sor, whom the queen was pleased to honour on this occasion, had 
 suffered a short imprisonment in the cause of Jane Grey, but was 
 afterwards intrusted by Mary with a military command. Under 
 Elizabeth he was lord lieutenant of the counties of Nottingham 
 and Rutland, and one of the commissioners for enforcing the 
 oath of supremacy on all persons in offices of trust or profit sus- 
 pected of adherence to the old religion. He died in 1563. 
 
 Of lord Robert Dudley it is only necessary here to observe, 
 that his favour with the queen became daily more apparent, and 
 began to give fears and jealousies to her best friends and wisest 
 counsellors. 
 
 The hearts of the.common people, as this wise princess well 
 knew, were easily and cheaply to be won by gratifying their eyes 
 with the frequent view of her royal person, and she neglected no 
 opportunity of offering herself, all smiles and affability, to their 
 ready acclamations. 
 
 On one occasion she passed publicly through the city to visit 
 the mint and inspect the new coinage, which she had the great 
 merit of restoring to its just standard from the extremely depre- 
 ciated state to which it had been brought by the successive en- 
 croachments of her immediate predecessors. Another time she vi- 
 sited the dissolved priory of St.Mary Spittle in Bishopsgate-street, 
 which was noted for its pulpit-cross, where, on set days, the lord 
 mayor and aldermen attended to hear sermons. It is conjectured 
 that the queen went thither for the same purpose; but if this 
 were the case, her equipage was somewhat whimsical. She was 
 attended, as Stow informs us, by a thousand men in harness, with 
 shirts of mail and corselets and morice-pikes, and ten great 
 pieces carried through the city unto the court, with drums and. 
 trumpets sounding, and two morice dancings, and in a cart two 
 white bears. 
 
 Having supped one afternoon with the earl of Pembroke at 
 Baynard's castle, in Thames-street, she afterwards took boat and 
 was rowed upland down the river, " hundreds of boats and barges 
 
140 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 rowing about her, and thousands of people thronging at the wa 
 ter side, to look upon her majesty; rejoicing to see her, and par- 
 taking of the music and sights upon the Thames." 
 
 This peer was the offspring of a base-born son of William Her- 
 bert, earl of Pembroke, and coming early to court to push his 
 fortune, became an esquire of the body to Henry VIII. .Soon 
 ingratiating himself with this monarch, he obtained from his cus- 
 tomary profusion towards his favourites, several offices in Wales 
 and enormous grants of abbey-lands in some of the southern 
 counties. In the year 1554, the 37th of his age, we find him con- 
 siderable enough to procure the king's license "to retain thirty 
 persons at his will and pleasure, over and above such persons as 
 attended on him, and to give them his livery, badges, and cogni- 
 sance." The king's marriage with Catherine Parr, his wife's 
 sister, increased his consequence, and Henry, on his death-bed, 
 appointed him one of his executors, and a member of the young 
 king's council. He was actively useful, in the beginning of Ed- 
 ward's reign, in keeping down commotions in Wales and sup- 
 pressing some which had arisen in Wiltshire and Somersetshire. 
 This service obtained for him the office of master of the horse ; 
 and that more important service which he afterwards performed 
 at the head of one thousand Welshmen, with whom he took the 
 field against the Cornish rebels, was rewarded by the garter, the 
 presidency of the council, for Wales, and a valuable wardship. 
 He figured next as commander of part of the forces in Picardy 
 and governor of Calais, and found himself strong enough to claim 
 of the feeble protector as his reward the titles of baron Herbert 
 and earl of Pembroke, become extinct by the failure of legitimate 
 heirs. As soon as his sagacity prognosticated the fall of Somer- 
 set, he judiciously attached himself to theorising fortunes of 
 Northumberland. With this aspiring leader it was an object of 
 prime importance to purchase the support of a nobleman who 
 now appeared at the head of three hundred retainers, and whose 
 authority in Wales and the southern counties was equal, or su- 
 perior, to the hereditary influence of the most powerful and an- 
 cient houses. To engage him, therefore, the more firmly in his 
 interest, Northumberland proposed a marriage between Pem- 
 broke's son, lord Herbert, and lady Catherine Grey, which was 
 solemnised at the same time with that between lord Guildford 
 Dudley and the lady Jane, her eldest sister. 
 
 But no ties of friendship or alliance could permanently engage 
 Pembroke on the losing side ; and though he concurred in the 
 first measures of the privy-council in behalf of the lady Jane's 
 title, it was he who devised a pretext for extricating its members 
 from the Tower, where Northumberland had detained them in 
 order to secure their fidelity, and, assembling them in Baynard's 
 castle, procured their concurrence in the proclamation of Mary. 
 By this act he secured the favour of the new queen, whom he fur- 
 ther propitiated by compelling his son to repudiate the innocent 
 and ill-fated lady Catherine, whose birth caused her to be re- 
 garded at court with jealous eyes. Mary soon confided to him 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH 
 
 141 
 
 the charge of effectually suppressing Wyat's rebellion, and af- 
 terwards constituted him her captain -general beyond the seas, 
 in which capacity he commanded the English forces at the battle 
 of St. Quintin's. Such was the respect entertained for his ex- 
 perience and capacity, that Elizabeth admitted him to her privy- 
 council immediately after her accession, and as a still higher 
 mark of her confidence named him, — with .the marquis of North- 
 ampton, the earl of Bedford, and lord John Grey, leading men of 
 the protestant party, — to assist at the meetings of divines and 
 men of learning by whom the religious establishment of the coun- 
 try was to be settled. He was likewise -appointed a commis- 
 sioner for administering the oath of supremacy. In short, he 
 retained to his death, which occurred in 1570, in the 63d year of 
 his age, the same high station among the confidential servants of 
 the crown which he had held unmoved through all the mutations 
 of the eventful period of his public life. 
 
 Naunton, in his " Fragmenta Regalia," speaking of Paulet, 
 marquis of Winchester and lord-treasurer, who, he says, had 
 then served four princes "in as various and changeable season 
 that well I may say, neither time nor age hath yielded the like 
 precedent," thus proceeds : " This man being noted to grow 
 high in her" (queen Elizabeth's) " favour, as his place and ex 
 perience required, was questioned by an intimate friend of his, 
 how he stood up for thirty years together amidst the changes 
 and reigns of so many chancellors and great personages. ' Why,' 
 quoth the marquis, ' ortus sum ex salice, non ex quercu,' (By 
 being a willow and not an oak). And truly the old man hath 
 taught them all, especially William earl of Pembroke, for they 
 two were ever of the king's religion, and over-zealous professors. 
 Of these it is said, that 'both younger brothers, yet of noble 
 houses, they spent what was left them and came on trust to the 
 court ; where, upon the bare stock of their wits, theyj^egan to 
 traffic for themselves, and prospered so well, that they got, spent, 
 and left, more than any subjects from the Norman conquest to 
 their own times: whereunto it hath been prettily replied, that 
 they lived in a time of dissolution. — Of any of the former reign, 
 it is said that these two lived and died chiefly in the queen's 
 favour." 
 
 Among the means employed by Pembroke for preserving the 
 good graces of the new queen, the obvious one of paying court to 
 her prime favourite, Robert Dudley, was not neglected ; and lord 
 Herbert, whose first marriage had been contracted in compli- 
 ance with the views of the father, now formed a third in obedi- 
 ence to the wishes of the son The lady to whom he was thus 
 united by motives in which inclination had probably no share on 
 either side, was the niece of Dudley and sister of sir Philip Sid- 
 ney, one of the most accomplished women of her age, celebrated 
 during her life by the wits and poets whom she patronised, and 
 preserved in the memory of posterity by an epitaph from the pen 
 of Ben Jonson, w r hich w ill not be forgotten whilst English poetry 
 remains. 
 
142 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 The arrival of ambassadors of high rank from France, on oc- 
 casion of the peace recently concluded with that country, afford- 
 ed the queen an opportunity of displaying all the magnificence of 
 her court ; and their entertainment has furnished for the curious 
 inquirer in later times some amusing traits of the half-barbarous 
 manners of the age. The duke de Montmorenci, the head of the 
 embassy, was lodged at the bishop of London's, and the houses 
 of the dean and canons of St. Paul's were entirely filled with his 
 numerous retinue. The gorgeousness of the ambassador's dress 
 was thought remarkable even in those gorgeous times. The day 
 after their arrival they were conducted in state to court, where 
 they supped with the queen, and afterwards partook of a "goodly 
 banquet," with all manner of entertainment till midnight. The 
 next day her majesty gave them a sumptuous dinner, followed 
 by a baiting of bulls and bears. "The queen's grace herself" 
 stood with them in a gallery, looking on the pastime, till six 
 o'clock, when they returned by water to sup with the bishop their 
 host. On the following day, they were conducted to the Paris 
 Garden, then a favourite place of amusement on the Surry side 
 of the Thames, and there regaled with another exhibition of bull 
 and bear baiting. Two days afterwards they departed, " taking 
 their barge towards Gravesend," highly delighted, it is to be 
 hoped, with the elegant taste of the English in public diversions, 
 and carrying with them a number of mastiffs, given them to hunt 
 wolves in their own country. 
 
 But notwithstanding all outward shows of amity with France, 
 Elizabeth had great cause to apprehend that the pretensions of 
 the queen of Scots and her husband the dauphin, who had openly 
 assumed the royal arms of England, might soon reinvolve her in 
 hostilities with that country and with Scotland ; and it conse- 
 quently became a point of policy with her to animate, by means 
 of military spectacles, graced with her royal presence and en- 
 couragement, the warlike preparations of her subjects. She was 
 now established for a time in her favourite summer-palace of 
 Greenwich, and the London companies were ordered to make a 
 muster of their men at arms in the adjoining park. 
 
 The employment of fire-arms had not as yet consigned to dis- 
 use either the defensive armour or the weapons of offence of the 
 middle ages ; and the military arrays of that time amused the 
 eye of the spectator with a rich variety of accoutrement far more 
 picturesque in its details, and probably more striking, even in its 
 general effect, than that magnificent uniformity which, at a mo- 
 dern review, dazzles, but soon satiates, the sight. 
 
 Of the fourteen hundred men whom the metropolis sent forth 
 on this occasion, eight hundred, armed in fine corselets, bore the 
 long Moorish pike ; two hundred were halberdiers, wearing a 
 different kind of armour, called Almain rivets; and the gunners, 
 or musketeers, were equipped in shirts of mail, with morions or 
 steel caps. Her majesty, surrounded by a splendid court, beheld 
 all their evolutions from a gallery over the park gate, and finally 
 
QUKEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 143 
 
 dismissed them, confirmed in loyalty and valour by praises, 
 thanks, and smiles of graciousness. 
 
 A few days afterwards the queen's pensioners were appoint- 
 ed "to run with the spear," and this chivalrous exhibition was 
 ac companied with such circumstances of romantic decoration as 
 peculiarly delighted the fancy of Elizabeth. She caused to be 
 erected for her in Greenwich park a banqueting-house "made 
 with fir poles and decked with birch branches and all manner of 
 (lowers both of the field and the garden, as roses, julyflowers, 
 lavender, marygolds, and all manner of strewing-herbs and 
 rushes." Tents were also set up for her household, and a place 
 was prepared for the tilters. After the exercises were over, the 
 queen gave a supper in the banquetting-house, succeeded by a 
 masque, and that by a splendid banquet. " And then followed 
 great casting of fire and shooting of guns till midnight." 
 
 This band of gentlemen pensioners, the boast and ornament 
 of the court of Elizabeth, was probably the most splendid esta- 
 blishment of the kind in Europe. It was entirely composed of 
 the flower of the nobility and gentry, and to be admitted to 
 serve in its ranks was. during the whole of the reign regarded 
 as a distinction worthy the ambition of young men of the high- 
 est families and most brilliant prospects. Sir John Holies, af- 
 terwards earl of Clare, was accustomed to say, that while he 
 was a pensioner to Queen Elizabeth, he did not know a worse 
 man in the whole band than himself ; yet he was then in pos- 
 session of an inheritance of four thousand a year. " It was the 
 constant custom of that queen," pursues the earl's biographer, 
 "to call out of all the counties of the kingdom, the gentlemen 
 of the greatest hopes and the best fortunes and families, and 
 with them to fill the more honourable rooms of her household 
 servants, by which she honoured them, obliged their kindred and 
 alliance, and fortified herself."* 
 
 On this point of policy it deserves to be remarked, that how- 
 ever it might strengthen the personal influence of the sovereign 
 to enroll amongst the menial servants of the crown gentlemen 
 of influence and property, it is chiefly perhaps to this practice 
 that we ought to impute that baseness of servility which infected, 
 with scarcely one honourable exception, the public characters of 
 the reign of Elizabeth. 
 
 On July 17th the queen set out on the first of those royal pro- 
 gresses which form so striking a feature in the domestic history 
 of her reign. In them, as in most of the recreations in which 
 she at any time indulged herself, Elizabeth sought to unite po- 
 litical utilities with the gratification of her taste for magnificence, 
 and especially for admiration. It has also been surmised, that, 
 she was not inattentive to the savings occasioned to her privy 
 purse by maintaining her household for several weeks in every 
 year at the expense of her nobles, or of the towns through which 
 she passed; and it must be admitted that more than one dis- 
 
 * Coll ins's " Historical Collections." 
 
144 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 graceful instance might be pointed out, of a great man obliged 
 to purchase the continuance or restoration of her favour by soli- 
 citing the almost ruinous honour of a royal visit. On the whole, 
 however, her deportment on these occasions warrants the con- 
 clusion, that an earnest and constant desire of popularity was 
 her principal motive for persevering to the latest period of her 
 life to encounter the fatigue of these frequent journeys, and of 
 the acts of public representation which they imposed upon her- 
 
 "In her progress," says an acute and lively delineator of her 
 character, " she was most easy to be approached ; private per- 
 sons and magistrates, men and women, country -people and chil- 
 dren, came joyfully and without fear to wait upon her and see 
 her. Her ears were then open to the complaints of the afflicted 
 and of those that had been any way injured. She would not suf 
 fer the meanest of her people to be shut out from the places where 
 she resided, but the greatest and the least were then in a man 
 ner levelled. She took with her own hand, and read with the 
 greatest goodness, the petitions of the meanest rustics. And 
 she would frequently assure them that she would take a parti- 
 cular care of their affairs, and she would, ever be as good as her 
 word. She was never seen angry with the most unseasonable or 
 uncourtly approach ; she was naver offended with the most im 
 pudent or importunate petitioner. Nor was there any thing in 
 the whole course of her reign that more won the hearts of the, 
 people than this her wonderful facility, condescension, and the 
 sweetness and pleasantness with which she entertained all that 
 came to her."* 
 
 The first stage of the queen's progress was to Dartford in Kent , 
 where Henry VIII., whose profusion in the article of royal resi- 
 dences was extreme, had fitted up a dissolved priory as a palace 
 for himself and his successors. Elizabeth kept this mansion in 
 her own hands during the whole of her reign, and once more, after 
 an interval of several years, is recorded to have passed two days 
 under its roof. James I. granted it to the earl of Salisbury : the 
 lords Darcy were afterwards its owner. The embattled gate- 
 house with an adjoining wing, all that remains in habitable con- 
 dition, are at the present time occupied as a farm house ; while 
 foundations of walls running along the neighbouring fields to a 
 considerable distance, alone attest the magnitude, and leave to 
 ' be imagined the splendour, of the ancient edifice. Such is at 
 this day the common fate of the castles of our ancient barons, 
 the mansions of our nobles of a following age, and the palaces 
 of the Plantagenets, the Tudors, and the Stuarts ! 
 
 From Dartford she proceeded to Cobham Hall, — an exception 
 to the general rule, — for this venerable mansion is at present the 
 noble seat of the earl of Darnley ; and though the centre has 
 been rebuilt in a more modern style, the wings remain untouch- 
 ed, and in one of them the apartment occupied by the queen on 
 this visit is still pointed out to the stranger. She was here 
 
 * Bohun's " Character of Queen Elizabeth. 5 ' 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 145 
 
 sumptuously entertained by William lord Cobham, a nobleman 
 who enjoyed a considerable share of her favour, and who, after 
 acquitting himself to her satisfaction in an embassy to the Low- 
 Countries, was rewarded with the garter and the place of a privy- 
 councillor. He was however a person of no conspicuous ability, 
 and his wealth and his loyalty appear to have been his principal 
 titles of merit. 
 
 Eltham was her next stage ; an ancient palace frequently com- 
 memorated in the history of our early kings as the scene of rude 
 magnificence and boundless hospitality. In 1270 Henry ill. 
 kept a grand Christmas at Ealdham palace, — so it was then 
 called. A son of Edward II. was named John of Eltham, from 
 its being the place of his birth. 
 
 Edward III. twice held his parliament in its capacious hall. 
 It was repaired at great cost by Edward IV., who made it a fre- 
 quent place of residence : but Henry VIII. began to neglect it 
 for Greenwich, and Elizabeth was the last sovereign by whom it 
 was visited. 
 
 Its hall, 100 feet in length, with a beautifully carved roof re- 
 sembling that of Westminster-hall and windows adorned with 
 all the elegance of gothic tracery, is still in being, and admira- 
 bly serves the purposes of a barn and granary. 
 
 Elizabeth soon quitted this seat of antique grandeur to con- 
 template the gay magnificence of Nonsuch, regarded as the tri- 
 umph of her father's taste and the masterpiece of all the decora- 
 tive arts. This stately edifice, of which not a vestige now re- 
 mains, was situated near Ewel in Surry, and commanded from 
 its lofty turrets extensive views of the surrounding country. 
 
 It was built round two courts, an outer and an inner one, both 
 very spacious ; and the entrance to each was by a square gate- 
 house highly ornamented, embattled, and having turrets at the 
 four corners. These gatehouses were of stone, as was the lower 
 story of the palace itself ; but the upper one was of wood, " richly 
 adorned and set forth and garnished with variety of statues, 
 pictures, and other antic forms of excellent art and workman- 
 ship, and of no small cost :" all which ornaments, it seems, were 
 made of rye dough. In modern language the " pictures" would 
 probably be called basso-relievos. From the eastern and western 
 angles of the inner court rose two slender turrets five stories 
 high, with lanthorns on the top, which were leaded and surround- 
 ed with wooden balustrades. These towers of observation, from 
 which the two parks attached to the palace and a wide expanse 
 of champaign country beyond might be surveyed as in a map, 
 were celebrated as the peculiar boast of Nonsuch. 
 
 Henry was prevented by death from beholding the completion 
 of this gaudy structure, and queen Mary had it in contemplation 
 to pull it down to save further charges ; but the earl of Arundel, 
 " for the love and honour he bare to his old master," purchased 
 the place, and finished it according to the original design. It was 
 to this splendid nobleman that the visit of the queen was paid. 
 He received her with the utmost magnificence. On Sunday 
 
146 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 night a banquet, a mask, and a concert were the entertainments ; 
 the next day she witnessed a course from a standing made for 
 her in the park, and " the children of Paul's" performed a play ; 
 after which a costly banquet was served up in gilt dishes. On 
 her majesty's departure her noble host further presented her 
 with a cupboard of plate. The earl of Arundel was wealthy, 
 munificent, and one of the finest courtiers of his day : but it 
 must not be imagined that even by him such extraordinary cost 
 and pains would have been lavished upon his illustrious guest 
 as a pure and simple homage of that sentimental loyalty which 
 feels its utmost efforts overpaid by their acceptance. He looked 
 in fact to a high and splendid recompense, — one which as yet 
 perhaps he dared not name, but which the sagacity of his royal 
 mistress would, as he flattered himself, be neither tardy nor re- 
 luctant to divine. 
 
 The death of Henry II. of France, which occurred during the 
 summer of this year, gave occasion to a splendid ceremony in St. 
 Paul's cathedral, which was rendered remarkable by some cir- 
 cumstances connected with the late change of religion. This was 
 the performance of his obsequies, then a customary tribute among 
 the princes of Europe to the memory of each other ; which Eliza- 
 beth therefore would by no means omit, though the custom was so 
 intimately connected with doctrines and practices characteristic 
 of the Romish church, that it was difficult to divest it, in the 
 judgment of a protestant people, of the character of a supersti- 
 tious observance. A hearse magnificently adorned with the ban- 
 ners and scutcheous of the deceased was placed in the church; 
 a great train of lords and gentlemen attended as mourners ; and 
 all the ceremonies of a real funeral were duly performed, not 
 excepting the offering at the altar of money, originally designed; 
 without doubt, for the purchase of masses for the dead. The 
 herald, however, was ordered to substitute other words in place 
 of the ancient request to all present to pray for the soul of the 
 departed ; and several reformations were made in the service, 
 and in the communion with which this stately piece of pageantry 
 concluded. 
 
 In the month of December was interred with much ceremony 
 in Westminster Abbey, Frances duchess-dowager of Suffolk, 
 grand -daughter to Henry VII. After the tragical catastrophe 
 of her misguised husband and of lady Jane Grey her eldest 
 daughter, the duchess was suffered to remain in unmolested 
 privacy, and she had since rendered herself utterly insignificant, 
 not to say contemptible, by an obscure marriage with one Stoke, 
 a young man who was her master of the horse. There is a tra- 
 dition, that on Elizabeth's exclaiming with surprise and indig- 
 nation when the news of this connexion reached her ears, " What, 
 hath she married her horse keeper ?" Cecil replied, " Yes, ma- 
 dam, and she says your majesty would like to do so too ;" lord 
 Robert Dudley then filling the office of master of the horse to 
 the queen. 
 
 The impolicy or inutility of sumptuary laws was not in this 
 
QUERN ELIZABETH. 
 
 <*ge acknowledged. A proclamation, therefore, was issued in 
 October, 1559, to check that prevalent excess in apparel which 
 was felt as a serious evil at this period, when the manufactures 
 of England were in so rude a state that almost every article for 
 the use of the higher classes was imported from Flanders, France, 
 or Italy, in exchange for the raw commodities of the country, or 
 perhaps for money. 
 
 The invectives of divines, in various ages of the Christian 
 church, have placed upon lasting record some transient follies 
 which would otherwise have sunk into oblivion, and the sermons 
 of bishop Pilkington, a warm polemic of this time, may be quoted 
 as a kind of commentary on the proclamation. He reproves 
 M fine fingered rufflers, with their sables about their necks, cork- 
 ed slippers, trimmed buskins, and warm mittons." — " These ten- 
 der Parnels," he says, " must have one gown for the day, ano- 
 ther for the night ; one long, another short ; one for winter, ano- 
 ther for summer. One furred through, another but faced ; one 
 for the work-day, another for the holiday. One of this colour, 
 another of that. One of cloth, another of silk or damask. Change 
 of apparel ; one afore dinner, another at after : one of Spanish 
 fashion, another of Turkey. And to be brief, never content with 
 enough, but always devising new fashions and strange. Yea, a 
 ruffian will have more in his ruff and his hose than he should 
 spend in a year. He which ought to go in a russet coat, spends 
 as much on apparel for him and his wife, as his father would have 
 kept a good house with." 
 
 The costly furs here mentioned, had probably become fashion- 
 able since a direct intercourse had been opened in the last reign 
 with Russia, from which country ambassadors had arrived, whose 
 barbaric splendour astonished the eyes of the good people of 
 London. The affectation of wearing by turns the costume of all 
 the nations of Europe, with which the queen herself was not a 
 little infected, may be traced partly to the practice of importing 
 articles of dress from those nations, and that of employing for- 
 eign tailors in preference to native ones, and partly to the taste 
 for travelling, which since the revival of letters had become lau- 
 dably prevalent among the young nobility and gentry of Eng- 
 land. That more in proportion was expended on the elegant 
 luxuries of dress, and less on the coarser indulgences of the ta- 
 ble, ought rather to have been considered as a desirable approach 
 to refinement of manners than a legitimate subject of censure. 
 
 An act of parliament was passed in this year subjecting the 
 use of enchantment and witchcraft to the pains of felony. The 
 malcontent catholics, it seems, were accused of employing prac- 
 tices of this nature ; their predictions of her majesty's death had 
 given uneasiness to government by encouraging plots against her 
 government; and it was feared, ''by many good and sober men," 
 that these dealers in the black art might even bewitch the queen 
 herself. That it was the learned bishop Jewel who had led the 
 way in inspiring these superstitious terrors, to which religious 
 animosities lent additional violence, may fairly be inferred from 
 
148 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 the following passage of a discourse which was delivered by him 
 in the queen's presence the year before . . . . " Witches and sor- 
 cerers within these last few years are marvellously increased 
 within your grace's realm. These eyes have seen most evident 
 and manifest marks of their wickedness. Your grace's subjects 
 pine away even unto the death ; their colour fadeth, their flesh 
 rotteth, their speech is benumbed, their senses are bereft. 
 Wherefore your poor subjects' most humble petition to your 
 highness is, that the laws touching such malefactors may be put 
 in due execution. For the shoal of them is great, their doing- 
 horrible, their malice intolerable, the examples most miserable. 
 And I pray God they never practice further than upon the sub- 
 ject." 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 1560. 
 
 Successful campaign in Scotland. — Embassy of viscount Monta- 
 cute to Spain — of sir T. Chaloner to the Emperor. — Account of 
 Chaloner. — Letter of his respecting Dudley and the queen. — 
 Dudley loses his wife. — Mysterious manner of her death. — Sus- 
 picion cast upon her husband. — Dudley and several other cour- 
 tiers aspire to the hand of their sovereign. — Tournaments in her 
 honour. — Impresses.- — Sir W. Pickering. — Rivalry of Arundel 
 and Dudley. 
 
 The accession of Francis II., husband to the queen of Scots, 
 to the French throne had renewed the dangers of Elizabeth from 
 the hostility of France and of Scotland ; and in the politic reso- 
 lution of removing from her own territory to that of her enemies 
 the seat of a war which she saw to be inevitable, she levied a 
 strong army and sent it under the command of the duke of Nor- 
 folk and lord Grey de Wilton to the frontiers of Scotland. She 
 also entered into a close connection with the protestant party in 
 that country, who were already inarms against the queen -regent 
 and her French auxiliaries. Success attended this well-planned 
 expedition, and at the end of a single campaign Elizabeth was 
 able to terminate the war by the treaty of Edinburgh ; a con- 
 vention, the terms of which were such as effectually to secure 
 her from all fear of future molestation in this quarter. 
 
 During the period of these hostilities, however, her situation 
 was an anxious one. It was greatly to be feared that the empe- 
 ror and the king of Spain, forgetting, in their zeal for the catho- 
 lic church, the habitual enmity of the house of Austria against 
 that of Bourbon, would make common cause with France against 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 J 49 
 
 a sovereign who now stood forth the, avowed protectress of pro 
 testantism ; and suc h a combination of the great powers of Eu- 
 rope, seconded by a largo catholic party at home, England was 
 by no moans in a condition to withstand. By skilful negotiation 
 it seemed possible to avert these evils : and Elizabeth, by her 
 selection of diplomatic agents on this important occasion, gave 
 striking evidence of her superior judgment. 
 
 To plead her cause with the king of Spain, she dispatched 
 Anthony Browne viscount Montacute ; a nobleman who, to the 
 general recommendation of wisdom and experience in public af- 
 fairs, added the peculiar one, for this service, of a zealous attach- 
 ment to the Romish faith, proved by his determined opposition in 
 the house of lords to the bill of uniformity lately carried by a 
 great majority. The explanations and arguments of the viscount 
 prevailed so far with Philip, that he ordered his ambassador at 
 Rome to oppose the endeavours of the French court to prevail 
 on the pope to fulminate his ecclesiastical censures against Eli- 
 zabeth. It was found impracticable, however, to bring him to 
 terms of cordial amity with a heretic sovereign, whose principles 
 he both detested and dreaded ; and by returning, some time 
 after, the decorations of the order of the garter$he distinctly in- 
 timated to the queen, that motives of policy alone restrained him 
 from becoming her open enemy. 
 
 For ambassador to the emperor, she made choice, at the recom- 
 mendation probably of Cecil, of his relation and beloved friend 
 sir Thomas Chaloner the elder, a statesman, a soldier, and a man 
 of letters ; and in these three characters, so rarely united, one 
 of the distinguished ornaments of his age. He was born in 1515, 
 of a good family in Wales, and, being early sent to Cambridge, 
 became known as a very elegant Latin poet, and generally as a 
 young man of the most promising talents. After a short resi- 
 dence at court, his merit caused him to be selected to attend into 
 Germany sir Henry Knevet, the English ambassador, with a view 
 to his qualifying himself for future diplomatic employment. At 
 the court of Charles V. he was received with extraordinary fa- 
 vour ; and after waiting upon that monarch in several of his 
 journeys, he was at length induced, by admiration of his cha- 
 racter, to accompany him as a volunteer in his rash expedition 
 against Algiers. He was shipwrecked in the storm which almost 
 destroyed the fleet, and only escaped drowning by catching in his 
 mouth, as he was struggling with the waves, a cable, by which he 
 was drawn up into a ship with the loss of several of his teeth. 
 
 Returning home, he was made clerk of the council, which of- 
 fice he held during the remainder of Henry's reign. Early in 
 the next he was distinguished by the protector, and, having sig- 
 nalised his valour in the battle of Pinkey, was knighted by him 
 on the field. The fall of his patron put a stop to his advance- 
 ment; but he solaced himself under this reverse by the cultiva- 
 tion of literature, and of friendship with such men as Cook, 
 Smith, Cheke, and Cecil. The strictness of his protestant prin- 
 ciples rendered his situation under the reign of Mary, both disa- 
 
150 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 grecable and hazardous, and he generously added to its perils 
 by his strenuous exertions in behalf of the unfortunate Cheke ; 
 but the services which he had rendered in Edward's time to many 
 of the oppressed catholics now interested their gratitude in his 
 protection, and were thus the means of preserving him unhurt 
 for better times. 
 
 Soon after his return from his embassy to the emperor Ferdi- 
 nand, we find him engaged in a very perplexing and disagreea- 
 ble mission to the unfriendly court of Philip II., where the mor- 
 tifications which he encountered, joined to the insalubrity of the 
 climate, so impaired his health that he found himself obliged to 
 solicit his recal, which he did in an Ovidian elegy addressed to 
 the queen. The petition of the poet was granted, but too late ; 
 he sunk under a lingering malady in October, 1 565, a few months 
 after his return. 
 
 The poignant grief of Cecil for his loss found its best allevia- 
 tion in the exemplary performance of all the duties of surviving 
 friendship. He officiated as chief mourner at his funeral, and 
 superintended, with solicitude truly paternal, the education of 
 his son, Thomas Chaloner the younger, afterwards a distinguish- 
 ed character. By his encouragement, the Latin poems of his 
 friend, chiefly consisting of epitaphs and panegyrics on his most 
 celebrated contemporaries, were collected and published ; and it 
 was under his patronage, and prefaced by a Latin poem from his 
 pen, in praise of the author, that a new and complete edition ap • 
 peared of the principal work of this accomplished person ; — a 
 tractate " on the right ordering of the English republic," also 
 in Latin. 
 
 Sir Thomas Chaloner was the first ambassador named by Eli- 
 zabeth ; a distinction of which he proved himself highly deserv- 
 ing. Wisdom and integrity he was already known to possess ; 
 and in his negotiations with the imperial court, where it was his 
 business to draw the bonds of amity as close as should be found 
 practicable without pledging his mistress to the acceptance of 
 the hand of the archduke Charles, he also manifested a degree of 
 skill and dexterity which drew forth the warmest commendations 
 from Elizabeth herself. His conduct, she said, had far exceeded 
 all her expectations of his prudence and abilities. 
 
 This testimony may be allowed to give additional weight to 
 his opinion on a point of great delicacy in the personal conduct 
 of her majesty, as well as on some more general questions of po- 
 licy, expressed in a postscript to one of his official letters to se- 
 cretary Cecil. The letter, it should be observed, was written 
 near the close of the year 1559, when the favour of the queen to 
 Dudley had first become a subject of general remark, and before 
 all hopes were lost of her finally closing with the proposals of 
 the archduke. 
 
 "I assure you, sir, these folks are broad-mouthed where I 
 spake of one too much in favour, as they esteem. I think ye 
 guess whom they named ; if ye do not I will upon my next let- 
 ters write further. To tell you what I conceive ; as I count the 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 151 
 
 slander most false, so a young princess cannot be too wary what 
 countenance or familiar demonstration she maketh, more to one 
 than another. I judge no man's service in the realm worth the 
 entertainment with such a tale of obloquy, or occasion of speech 
 to such men as of evil will are ready to find faults. This delay 
 of ripe time for marriage, besides the loss of the realm (for with- 
 out posterity of her highness what hope is left unto us ?) minis 
 tereth matter to these leud tongues to descant upon, and breed 
 elh contempt. 1 would I had but one hour's talk with you. 
 Think if i trusted not your good nature, I would not write thus 
 much; which nevertheless I humbly pray you to reserve as writ- 
 ten to yourself, 
 
 " Consider how ye deal now in the emperor's matter: much 
 dependeth on it. Here they hang in expectation as men desirous 
 it should go forward, but yet they have small hope : In mine 
 opinion (be it said to you only) the affinity is great and honour- 
 able ; The amity necessary to stop and cool many enterprises. 
 Ve need not fear his greatness should overrule you : he is not a 
 Philip, but better for us than a Philip. Let the time work for 
 Scotland as God will, for sure the French, I believe, shall never 
 long enjoy them ; and when we be stronger and more ready, we 
 may proceed with that, that is yet unripe. The time itself will 
 work, when our great neighbours fall out next. In the mean 
 time settle we things begun ; and let us arm and fortify our fron- 
 tiers." &c.*~ 
 
 Sufficient evidence remains that the sentiments of Cecil re- 
 specting the queen's behaviour to Dudley coincided with those 
 of his friend, and that fears for her reputation gave additional 
 urgency about this period to those pleadings in favour of matri- 
 mony which her council were doomed to press upon her attention 
 so often and so much in vain. But a circumstance occurred 
 soon after which totally changed the nature of their apprehen- 
 sions respecting her future conduct, and rendered her antici- 
 pated choice of a husband no longer an object of hope and joy, 
 but of general dissatisfaction and alarm. 
 
 Just when the whispered scandal of the court had apprised 
 him how obvious to all beholders the partiality of his sovereign 
 had become, — just when her rejection of the proposals of so 
 many foreign princes had confirmed the suspicion that her heart 
 had given itself at home, — just, in short, when every thing con- 
 spired to sanction hopes which under any other circumstances 
 would have appeared no less visionary than presumptuous, — at 
 the very juncture most favourable to his ambition, but most pe- 
 rilous to his reputation, lord Robert Dudley lost his wife, and 
 by a fate equally sudden and mysterious. 
 
 This unfortunate lady had been sent by her husband, under the 
 conduct of sir Richard Verney, one of his retainers, — but for 
 what reason or under what pretext does not appear, — to Cumnor 
 House in Berkshire, a solitary mansion inhabited by Anthony 
 
 • BurleighS Papers," by Havue?, p. 212. 
 
152 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 Foster, also a dependent of Dudley's and bound to him by par- 
 ticular obligations. Here she soon after met with her death ; 
 and Verney and Foster, who appear to have been alone in the 
 house with her, gave out that it happened by an accidental fall 
 down stairs. But this account, from various causes, gained so 
 little credit in the neighbourhood, that reports of the most sinis- 
 ter import were quickly propagated. These discourses soon 
 reached the ears of Thomas Lever, a prebendary of Coventry 
 and a very conscientious person, who immediately addressed to 
 the secretaries of state an earnest letter, still extant, beseeching 
 them to cause strict enquiry to be made into the case, as it was 
 commonly believed that the lady had been murdered : but he 
 mentioned no particular grounds of this belief, and it cannot 
 now be ascertained whether any steps were taken in consequence 
 of his application. If there were, they certainly produced no sa- 
 tisfactory explanation of the circumstance ; for not only the po- 
 pular voice, which was ever hostile to Dudley, continued to ac- 
 cuse him as the contriver of her fate, but Cecil himself, in a me- 
 morandum drawn up some years after of reasons against the 
 queen's making him her husband, mentions among other objec- 
 tions, " that he is infamed by the death of his wife." 
 
 Whether the thorough investigation of this matter was evaded 
 by the artifices of Dudley, or whether his enemies, finding it im- 
 practicable to bring the crime home to him, found it more ad- 
 visable voluntarily to drop the enquiry, certain it is, that the 
 queen was never brought in any manner to take cognisance of 
 the affair, and that the credit of Dudley continued as high with 
 her as ever. But in the opinion of the country, the favourite 
 passed ever after for a dark designer, capable of perpetrating 
 any secret villainy in furtherance of his designs, and skilful 
 enough to conceal his atrocity under a cloak of artifice and hy- 
 pocrisy impervious to the partial eyes of his royal mistress, 
 though penetrated by all the world besides. This idea of his cha- 
 racter caused him afterwards to be accused ol practising against 
 the lives of several other persons who were observed to perish 
 opportunely for his purposes. Each of these charges will be par- 
 ticularly examined in its proper place : but it ought here to be 
 observed, that not one of them appears to be supported by so 
 many circumstances of probability as the first; and even in sup- 
 port of this, no direct evidence has ever been adduced. 
 
 Under all the circumstances of his situation, Dudley could not 
 venture as yet openly to declare himself the suitor of his sove- 
 reign ; but she doubtless knew how to interpret both the vehe- 
 mence of his opposition to the pretensions of the archduke, and 
 the equal vehemence with which those pretensions were sup- 
 ported by an opposite party in her council, of which the earl of 
 Sussex was the head. 
 
 Few could yet be persuaded that the avowed determination of 
 the queen in favour of the single state would prove unalterable : 
 most therefore who observed her averseness to a foreign connex- 
 ion believed that she was secretly meditating to honour with her 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 153 
 
 'and some subject of her own, who could never have a separate 
 interest from that of his country, and whose gratitude for the 
 *plendid distinction would secure to her the possession of his 
 lasting attachment. 
 
 This idea long served to animate the assiduities of her nobles 
 and courtiers, and two or three besides Dudley were bold^enough 
 to publish their pretensions. Secret hopes or wishes were che- 
 rished in the bosoms of others ; and it thus became a fashion to 
 accost her in language where the passionate homage of the lover 
 mingled with the base adulation of the menial. Her personal 
 vanity, triumphant over her good sense and her perceptions of 
 l egal dignity, forbade her to discourage a style of address equally 
 disgraceful to those who employed and to her who permitted it; 
 and it was this unfortunate habit of receiving, and at length re- 
 quiring, a species of ilattery which became every year more 
 grossly preposterous, which depraved by degrees her taste, in- 
 fected her whole disposition, and frequently lent to the wisest 
 sovereign of Europe, the disgusting affectation of a heroine of 
 French romance. 
 
 Tilts and tournaments were still the favourite amusements of 
 all the courts of Europe ; and it was in these splendid exhibi- 
 tions that the rival courtiers of Elizabeth found the happiest oc- 
 casions of displaying their magnificence, giving proof of their 
 courage and agility, and at the same time insinuating, by a va- 
 riety of ingenious devices, their hopes and fears, their amorous 
 pains, and their profound devotedness to her service. 
 
 In the purer ages of chivalry, no other cognisances on shields 
 were adopted, either in war or in these games which were its 
 image, than the armorial bearings which each warrior had de- 
 rived from his ancestors, or solemnly received at the hands of 
 the heralds before he entered on his first campaign. But as the 
 spirit of the original institution declined, and the French fashion 
 of gallantry began to be engrafted upon it, an innovation had 
 taken place in this matter, which is thus commemorated and 
 deplored by the worthy Camden, Clarencieux king-at-arms, who 
 treats the subject with a minuteness and solemnity truly pro- 
 fessional. " Whoever," says he, " would note the manners of 
 our progenitors, — in wearing their coat-armour over their harness, 
 and bearing their arms in their shields, their banners and pen- 
 nons, and in what formal manner they were made bannerets, and 
 had license to rear their banner of arms, which they presented 
 rolled up, unto the prince, who unfolded and re-delivered it with 
 happy wishes ; I doubt not but he will judge that our ancestors 
 wei ; as valiant and gallant as they have been since they left off 
 their arms and used the colors and curtains of their mistress' 
 bed instead of them." The same author afterwards observes, that 
 these fopperies, as well as the adoption of impresses, first pre- 
 vailed in the expedition of Charles VIII. against Maples in 3 494, 
 and that it was about the beginning of the reign of Henry VIII. 
 that the English wits first thought of imitating the French and 
 Italians in the invention of these devices. 
 
 U 
 
154 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 An impress, it seems, was an emblematical device assumed 
 at the will of the bearer, and illustrated by a suitable motto; 
 whereas the coat of arms had either no motto, or none appro- 
 priate. Of this nature therefore was the representation of an 
 English archer, with the words, " Cui adhsereo prseest" (He pre- 
 vails to whom I adhere,) used by Henry VIII., at his meeting 
 with Charles and Francis. 
 
 Elizabeth delighted in these whimsical inventions. Camden 
 says, that she " used upon different occasions so many heroical 
 devices as would require a volume." but most commonly a sieve 
 without a word. Her favourite mottos were " Video taceo" (I 
 see and am silent,) and " Semper eadem" (Always the same.) 
 Thus patronised, the use of impresses became general. Scarcely 
 a public character of that age, whether statesman, courtier, scho- 
 lar, or soldier, was unprovided with some distinction of this na- 
 ture ; and at tournaments in particular, the combatants all vied 
 with each other in the invention of occasional devices, sometimes 
 quaintly, sometimes elegantly, expressive of their situation or 
 sentiments, and for the most part conveying some allusion at 
 once gallant and loyal. 
 
 It may be worth while to cite a few of the most remarkable of 
 these out of a considerable number preserved by Camden. The 
 prevalence amongst them of astronomical emblems is worthy of 
 observation, as indicative of that general belief of the age in the 
 delusions of judicial astrology, which rendered its terms familiar 
 aiike to the learned, the great, and the fair. 
 
 A dial with the sun setting, " Occasu desines esse" (Thy being 
 ceases with its setting.) The sun shining on a bush, " Si dese- 
 rts pereo" (Forsake me, and I perish.) The sun reflecting his 
 rays from the bearer, " Quousque avertes" (How long wilt thou 
 avert thy face ?) Venus in a cloud, " Salva me, Domina" (Mis- 
 tress, save me.) The letter I, " Omnia ex uno" (All things from 
 one.) A fallow field, " Jit quando messis" (When will be the 
 harvest ?) The full moon in heaven, Quid sine te ccelum" (What 
 is heaven without thee ?) Cynthia, it should be observed, was a fa- 
 vourite fancy-name of the queen's; she was also designated occa- 
 sionally by that of Astrrea, whence the following devices. A man 
 hovering in the air, " Feror ad Astrseam" (I am borne to Astrsea.) 
 The zodiac with Virgo rising, "Jam redit el Virgo" (The Maid 
 returns;) and a zodiac with no characters but those of Leo and 
 Virgo, "His ego prsesidiis" (With these to friend.) A star, 
 " Mihi vita Spica Virginis" (My life is in Spica Virginis) — a 
 star in the left hand of Virgo so called : here the allusion was 
 probably double ; to the queen, and to the horoscope of the 
 bearer. The twelve houses of heaven with neither sign nor 
 planet therein, "Dispone" (Dispose.) A white shield, " Fatum 
 inscrihat Eliza" (Eliza writes my fate.) An eye in a heart, 
 " Vulnus alo" (I feed the wound.) A ship sinking and the rain- 
 bow appearing, " Quid tu si pereo" (To what avail if I perish?) 
 As the rainbow is an emblem seen in several portraits of the 
 queen, this device probably reproaches some tardy and ineft'ec- 
 
QUKKN ELIZABETH. 
 
 155 
 
 ual token of her favour. The sun shining on a withered tree 
 wlii eh blooms again, His radiis rediviva viresco" (These, rays 
 revive me.) A pair of scales, fire in one, smoke in the other, 
 •• Ppnderare errare*' (To weigh is to err.) 
 
 At line till were borne all the following devices which Camden 
 particularly recommends to the notice and interpretation of the 
 reader. Many flies about a candle, " Sic splendidiora petuntur," 
 (Tins brighter things ore sought.) Drops falling into a lire, 
 " Tamen non ex/inguenda. ,> (Yet not to be extinguished.) The 
 sun, partly clouded over, casting its rays upon a star, " Tantum 
 quantum" (As much as is vouchsafed.) A folded letter, " Lege 
 it relege,"* (Read and re-reajd.) 
 
 It would have increased our interest in these very significant 
 impresses, if our author could have informed us who were the re- 
 spective bearers. Perhaps conjecture would not err in ascribing 
 one of the most expressive to sir William Pickering, a gentleman 
 whose name has been handed down to posterity as an avowed 
 pretender to the royal marriage. That a person, illustrious nei- 
 ther by rank nor ancestry, and so little known to fame that no 
 other mention of him occurs in the history of the age, should 
 ever have been named amongst the suitors of his sovereign, is a 
 circumstance which must excite more curiosity than the scanty 
 biographical records of the time will be found capable of satisfy- 
 ing. A single paragraph of Camden's Annals seems to contain 
 nearly all that can now be learned of a man once so remarkable. 
 
 " Nor were lovers wanting at home, who deluded themselves 
 with vain hopes of obtaining her in marriage. Namely, sir Wil- 
 liam Pickering, a man of good family though little wealth, and 
 who had obtained reputation by the cultivation of letters, by the 
 elegance of his manners, and by his embassies to France and 
 Germany," &c. 
 
 Rapin speaks of him as one who was encouraged to hope by 
 some distinguished mark of the queen's favour, which he does 
 not however particularise. Lloyd, in his " Worthies," ados no- 
 thing to Camden's information but the epithet " comely" applied 
 to his person, the vague statement that " his embassies in France 
 and Germany were so well managed, that, in king Edward's 
 day's he was, by the council, pitched upon as the oracle whereby 
 our agents were to be guided abroad," and a hint that he soon 
 retired from the court of Elizabeth to devote himself to his stu- 
 dies. 
 
 The earl of Arundel might be the bearer of another of these 
 devices. We have already seen with what magnificence of ho- 
 mage this nobleman had endeavoured to bespeak the favourable 
 sentiments of his youthful sovereign ; and if illustrious ancestry, 
 vast possessions, established consequence in the state, and long 
 experience in public affairs, might have sufficed to recommend a 
 subject to her choice, none could have advanced fairer preten- 
 sions than the representative of the ancient house of Fitzalan. 
 
 * See Camden's " Remains." 
 
156 THE COURT OF 
 
 The advanced age of the earl was indeed an objection of corisi 
 derable and daily increasing weight ; he persevered, however, in 
 his suit, notwithstanding the queen's visible preference of Dud- 
 ley, and every other circumstance of discouragement, till the 
 year 1566. Losing, then, all hopes of success, and becoming sen- 
 sible at length of pecuniary difficulties from the vast expense 
 which he had lavished on this splendid courtship, he solicited 
 the permission of his royal mistress to retire for a time into 
 Italy. 
 
 While it lasted, however, the rivalry of Arundel and Dudley, 
 or rather, in the heraldic phraseology of the day, that of the 
 White Horse and the Bear, divided the court, inflamed the pas- 
 sions of the numerous retainers of the respective candidates, and 
 but for the impartial vigilance of Cecil might have ended in deeds 
 of blood. 
 
 In the Burleigh papers is a confession of one Guntor, a servant 
 or retainer of the earl of Arundel, who was punished for certain 
 rash speeches relative to this competition, from which we learn 
 some curious particulars. He says, that he once fell in talk with 
 a gentleman named Cotton, who told him that the queen, having 
 supped one evening at lord Robert Dudley's, it was dark before 
 she could get away ; and some servants of the house were sent 
 with torches to light her home. That by the way her highness 
 was pleased to enter into conversation with the torch -bearers, 
 and was reported to have said, that she would make their lord 
 the best that ever was of his name. As the father of lord Robert 
 was a duke, this promise was understood to imply nothing less 
 than her design of marrying him. On this, Guntor answered, 
 that he prayed all men might take it well, and that no trouble 
 might arise thereof ; afterwards he said, that he thought if a par- 
 liament were held, some men would recommend lord Robert, 
 and some his own master to the queen for a husband ; and so it 
 might fortune there would rise trouble among the noblemen, add- 
 ing, "I trust the White Horse will be in quiet, and so shall we 
 be out of trouble ; it is well known his blood as yet was never 
 attaint, nor was he ever man of war, wherefore it is likely that 
 we shall sit still ; but if he should stomach it, he were able to 
 make a great power." In his zeal for the cause of his lord, he 
 also wished that his rival had been put to death with his father, 
 "• or that some ruffian would have dispatched him by the way as 
 he hath gone, with some dag, (pistol,) or gun." 
 
 So high did words run on occasion of this great contest. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 157 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 1560. 
 
 #/i the conduct of Elizabeth as head of the church. — Sketch of the 
 history of the reformation in England. — Notices of Parker, 
 Grindal, and Jewel. 
 
 There was no part of the regal office, the exercise of which 
 appeared so likely to expose Elizabeth to invidious reflections, 
 as that which comprehended the management of ecclesiastical 
 affairs. Few divines, though protestant, could behold without a 
 certain feeling of mingled jealousy and disdain, a female placed 
 at the head of the religion of the country; and by the whole papal 
 party such a supremacy was regarded perhaps as the most horri- 
 ble, certainly as the most preposterous, of all the prodigies which 
 heresy had yet brought forth. " I have seen the head of the 
 English church dancing !" exclaimed, it is said, with a sarcastic 
 air, an ambassador from one of the catholic courts in Europe. 
 
 A more striking incongruity indeed could scarcely be imagin 
 ed, than between the winning manners and sprightly disposition 
 of this youthful princess, as they displayed themselves amid the 
 festivities of her court and the homage of her suitors, and the 
 grave and awful character of Governess of the church, with 
 which she had been solemnly invested. 
 
 In virtue of this office, it was the right and duty of the queen 
 to choose a religion for the country ; to ordain its rites and cere- 
 monies, discipline, and form of church government ; and to fix 
 the rank, offices, and emoluments of its ministers. She was also 
 to exercise this power entirely at her own discretion, free from 
 the control oY parliament or the interference of the clerical body, 
 and assisted only by such commissioners, lay or ecclesiastical, 
 as it should please herself to appoint. 
 
 This exorbitant authority was first assumed by her arbitrary 
 father when it became his will that his people should acknow- 
 ledge no other pope than himself ; and the servile spirit of the 
 age, joined to the ignorance and indifference on religious sub 
 jects then general, had caused it to be submitted to without dif 
 ficulty. In consequence, the title of Head of the Church had 
 quietly devolved upon Edward VI. as part of his regal style ; 
 and while the duties of the office were exercised by Cranmer 
 and the Protector, the nation, now generally favourable to the 
 cause of reform, was more inclined to rejoice in its existence than 
 to dispute the authority by which it had been instituted. Mary 
 abhorred the title, as a badge of heresy and a guilty usurpation 
 on the rights of the sovereign pontiff, and in the beginning of her 
 reign she laid it aside, but was afterwards prevailed upon to re- 
 sume it, because there was a convenience in the legal sanction 
 
158 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 which it afforded to her acts of tyranny over the consciences ot 
 men. e 
 
 The first parliament of Elizabeth, in the fervour of its loyalty, 
 decreed to her, as if bv acclamation, all the honours or preroga- 
 tives ever enjoyed by her predecessors, and it was solely at her 
 own request that the appellation of Head, was now exchanged 
 for the less assuming one of Governess, of the English church. 
 The power remained the same ; it was, as we have seen, of the 
 most absolute nature possible ; since, unlimited by law, it was 
 also owing to its recent establishment, equally uncontrolled by 
 custom. It remains to the delineator of the character of Eliza- 
 beth to inquire in what manner she acquitted herself, to her 
 country and to posterity, of the awful responsibility imposed 
 upon her by its possession. 
 
 A slight sketch of the circumstances attending the introduc- 
 tion of the reformation into England, will serve to illustrate this 
 important branch of her policy. 
 
 On comparing the- march of this mighty revolution in our own 
 country with its mode of progress amongst the other nations of 
 Europe, one of the first remarks which suggests itself is, that in 
 no other country was its course so immediately or effectually 
 subjected to the guidance and control of the civil power. 
 
 In Switzerland, the system ofZwingle, the earliest of the re- 
 formers, had fully established itself in the hearts of his fellow- 
 citizens before the magistracies of Zurich and its neighbouring 
 republics thought proper to interfere. They then gave the sanc- 
 tion of law to the religion which had become that of the majority, 
 but abstained from all dictation on points of which they felt 
 themselves incompetent judges. 
 
 In Germany, the impulse originating in the daring mind of 
 Luther, was first communicated to the universities, to jtfre lower 
 orders of the clergy, and through them to the people. The 
 princes of the empire afterwards took their part a> patrons or 
 persecutors of the new opinions ; but in either case they acted 
 under the influence of ecclesiastics, and no where arrogated to 
 themselves the character of lawgivers in matters of faith. 
 
 At Geneva, the vigour and dexterity of Calvin's measures 
 brought the magistracy under a complete subjection to the 
 church, of which he had made himself the head, and restricted 
 its agency in religious concerns to the execution of such decrees 
 as the spiritual ruler saw good to promulgate. 
 
 The system of the same reformer had recently been introduc- 
 ed into Scotland by the exertions of John Knox, a disciple who 
 equalled his matter m the fierceness of his bigotry, in self-opi- 
 nion, and in the love of power, whilst he exceeded him in tur- 
 bulence of temper and ferocity of manners : and here the inde- 
 pendence of the church on the state, or rather its paramount le- 
 gislative authority in all matters of faith, discipline, and worship, 
 was held in the loftiest terms. The opposition which this doc-' 
 trine, so formed for popularity, experienced from the govern- 
 ment in the outset, was o* om* <w j: > - yarded, sp 1 :i was in 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 159 
 
 despite of the utmost efforts of regal authority that the new reli- 
 gion was established by an act of the Scottish parliament. 
 
 [n England, on the contrary, the passions of Henry VIII. had 
 prompted him to disclaim submission to the papal decrees before 
 the spirit of the people demanded such a step, — before any apos- 
 tle of reformation had arisen in the land capable of inspiring the 
 multitude w ith that zeal which makes its will omnipotent, and 
 leaves to rulers no other alternative than to comply or fall, — yet 
 not before the attachment of men to the ancient religion was so 
 far w eakened, that the majority could witness its overthrow with 
 patience if not with complacency. 
 
 To have timed this momentous step so fortunately for the 
 cause of prerogative, might in some princes have been esteemed 
 the result of profound combinations, — the triumph of political 
 sagacity ; in Henry it was the pure effect of accident : but the 
 advantages which he derived from the quiescent state of the pub- 
 lic mind w ere not on this account the less real or the less im- 
 portant, nor did.he suffer them to go unimproved. On one hand, 
 no considerable opposition was made to his assumption of the 
 supremacy ; on the other, the spoil of the monasteries was not 
 intercepted in its passage to the royal coffers by the more rapid 
 movements of a populace intoxicated with fanatical rage or fired 
 with hopes of plunder. What appeared still more extraordinary, 
 he found it practicable, to the end of his reign, to keep the nation 
 suspended, as to doctrine and the forms of worship, in that nice 
 equilibrium between protestant and papist which happened best 
 to accord with his individual views or prejudices. 
 
 Cranmer, who has a better title than any other to be revered 
 as the father of the Anglican church, showed himself during the 
 life of Henry the most cautious and Complaisant of reformers. 
 Aware that any rashness or precipitation on the part of the fa- 
 vourers of new opinions might expose them to all the fury of per- 
 secution from a prince so dogmatical and violent, he constantly 
 refrained from every alarming appeal to the sense of the people 
 on theological questions, and was content to proceed in his great 
 work step by step, with a slow, uncertain, and interrupted pro- 
 gress, at the will of that capricious master whose vacillations of 
 humour or opinion he watched with the patience, and improved 
 with the skill, of a finished courtier. 
 
 Administered in so qualified and mitigated a form, the spirit 
 of reformation exhibited in this country little of its stronger and 
 more turbulent workings. No sect at that time arose purely 
 and peculiarly English : our native divines did not embrace ex- 
 clusively,, or with vehemence, the tenets sf any one of the great 
 leaders of reform on the continent, and a kind of eclectic system 
 became that of the Anglican church from its earliest institution. 
 
 The respective contributions to this system of the most cele- 
 brated theologians of the age may be thus stated. It was chiefly 
 from Zwingle, — the first, in point of time, of all the reformers of 
 ihe sixteenth century, and the one whose doctrine on the eucha- 
 j.ist and on several other points diverged most widely from the 
 
160 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 tenets of the church of Rome, — that our principal opponents of 
 popery in the reign of Henry VIII. derived their notions. La- 
 timer, Ridley, Cranmer himself, were essentially his disciples. 
 
 By others, the system of Luther was in the whole or in part 
 adopted. But this reformer was personally so obnoxious to 
 Henry, on account of the disrespectful and acrimonious style 
 of his answer to the book in which that royal polemic had for- 
 merly attacked his doctrine, that no English subject thought 
 proper openly to profess himself his follower, or to open any di - 
 rect communication with him. Thus the confession of Augsburg, 
 though more consonant to the notions of the English monarch 
 than any other scheme of protestant doctrine, failed to obtain 
 the sanction of that authority which might have rendered it pre- 
 dominant in this country. 
 
 A long and vehement controversy on the subject of the eucha- 
 rist had been maintained between the German and Swiss di- 
 vines during the latter years of Henry ; but at the period of 
 Edward's accession, when Cranmer first undertook the form- 
 ation of a national church according to his own ideas of gospel 
 truth and political expediency, this dispute was in great measure 
 appeased, and sanguine hopes were entertained that a disagree- 
 ment regarded as dangerous in a high degree to the common 
 cause of religious reform might soon be entirely reconciled. 
 
 Luther, the last survivor of the original disputants, was lately 
 dead : and to the post which he had held in the university of Wit- 
 temberg, as well as to the station of head of the protestant 
 church, Melancthon had succeeded. This truly excellent per- 
 son, who carried into all theological debates a spirit of concilia- 
 tion equally rare and admirable, was earnestly labouring at a 
 scheme of comprehension His laudable endeavours were met 
 by the zealous co-operation of Calvin, who had by this time ex- 
 tended his influence from Geneva over most of the Helvetic 
 congregations, and was diligent in persuading them to recede 
 from the unambiguous plainness of Zwingle's doctrine, — which 
 reduced the Lord's supper to a simple commemoration, — and to 
 admit so much of a mystical though spiritual presence of Christ 
 in that rite, as might bring them to some seeming agreement with 
 the less rigid of the followers of the Lutheran opinion. At the 
 same time Bucer, who presided over the flourishing church of 
 Strasburg, was engaged in framing yet another explication of 
 this important rite, by which he vainly hoped to accommodate 
 the consciences of all these zealous and acute polemics. 
 
 Bucer was remarkable among the thologians of his time by a 
 subtilty in distinction resembling that of the schoolmen, and by 
 a peculiar art of expressing himself on doctrinal points in terms 
 so nicely balanced, and in a style of such laboured intricacy, 
 that it was scarcely possible to discover his true meaning, or 
 pronounce to which extreme of opinion he most inclined. These 
 dubious qualifications, by which he disgusted alternately both 
 Calvin and the more zealous Lutherans, were however accom- 
 panied and redeemed by great learning and diligence ; by a re- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 1G1 
 
 markable talent for public business, which rendered him emi- 
 nently useful in all the various negotiations with temporal au- 
 thorities, of with each other, in which the leaders of the reforma- 
 tion found it necessary to engage ; by a mild and candid spirit, 
 and by as much of sincerity and probity as could co-exist with 
 the open defence of pious frauds. 
 
 The whole character of the man appeared to Cranmer admi- 
 rably fitted for co-operation in the work which he had in hand. 
 On the difficult question of the eucharist, Bucer would preserve 
 the wariness and moderation which appeared essential in the di- 
 vided state ofprotestant opinion : on justification and good works, 
 he held a middle doctrine, which might conciliate the catholics, 
 and was capable of being so interpreted as not greatly to offend 
 the moderate Lutherans : on the subject of church government, 
 he had not yet committed himself, and there was little doubt 
 \ hat he would cheerfully submit to the natural predilection of the 
 archbishop for prelacy. His erudition and his morals could not 
 fail to prove serviceable and creditable to the great cause of na- 
 tional instruction and reformed religion. Accordingly an invi- 
 tation was sent to him, in the name jof the young king, to come 
 and occupy the theological chair in the university of Cambridge; 
 and in the year 1549 he reached England, and began to dis- 
 charge with much assiduity the duties of his office. 
 
 The name and influence of Bucer became very considerable in 
 this country, though his career was terminated by death within 
 two years after his arrival. A public funeral, attended by all 
 the members of the university and many other persons of emi- 
 nence, attested the consideration in which he was held by Ed- 
 ward's ministers ; the subsequent disinterment of his remains by 
 order of cardinal Pole, for the purpose of committing his bones 
 to the flames, gave further evidence of his mirits in the protest- 
 ant cause ; and in the composition of our national Articles, it 
 has been said that no hand has left more distinguishable traces of 
 itself than that of Bucer. 
 
 From Strasburg also the university of Oxford was destined to 
 receive a professor of divinity in the person of the celebrated 
 Peter Martyr. This good and learned man, a Florentine by 
 birth, and during some years principal of a college of Augustines 
 at Naples, having gradually become a convert to the doctrines of 
 the reformers, and afterwards proceeding openly to preach them, 
 was compelled to quit his country in order to avoid persecution. 
 Passing into Switzerland, he was received with affectionate hos- 
 pitality by the disciples of Zwingle at Zurich : and after making 
 some abode there he repaired to Basil, whence Bucer caused 
 him to be invited to fill the station of theological professor at 
 Strasburg. He was also appointed the colleague of this divine 
 in the ministry, and their connection had subsisted about five 
 years in perfect harmony when the offers of Cranmer induced the 
 two friends to remove into Fngiand. 
 
 It is to be presumed that no considerable differences of opinion, 
 
 X 
 
162 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 on points deemed by themselves essential, could exist between 
 associates so united ; but a greater simplicity of character and of 
 views, and superior boldness in the enunciation of new doctrines, 
 strikingly distinguished the proceedings of Peter Martyr from 
 those of his friend. With respect to church government, he, 
 like Bucer, was willing to conform to the regulations of Cran- 
 mer and the English council ; but he preached at Oxford on the 
 eucharist with so Zwinglian a cast of sentiment, that the popish 
 party raised a popular commotion against him, by which his life 
 was endangered, and he was compelled for a time to withdraw 
 from the city. Tranquillity was soon however restored by the 
 interference of the public authority, and the council proceeded 
 vigorously in obliterating the last vestiges of Romish supersti- 
 tion. Ridley throughout his own diocese now caused the altars 
 to be removed from the churches, and communion-tables to be 
 placed in their room ; and, as if by way of comment on this al- 
 teration, Martyr and others procured a public recognition of the 
 Genevan as a sister church, and the admission into the English 
 service-book of the articles of faith drawn up by Calvin. 
 
 During the remainder of Edward's reign, the tide of public 
 opinion continued running with still augmenting velocity to- 
 wards Geneva. Calvin took upon him openly to expostulate 
 with Bucer on the preference of state, expediency to Scripture 
 truth, betrayed, as he asserted, by the obstinate adherence of this 
 divine to certain doctrines and observances which savoured too 
 much of popery ; and it is probable that a still nearer approach 
 might have been made to his simpler ritual, but for the untimely 
 death of the zealous young king, and the total ruin of the new 
 establishment which ensued. 
 
 Just before the persecutions of Mary drove into exile so ma- 
 ny of the most zealous and conscientious of her protestant sub- 
 jects, the discord between the Lutherans and those whom they 
 styled Sacramentarians had burst out afresh in Germany with 
 more fury than ever. The incendiary on this occasion was 
 Westphal, superintendant of the Lutheran church of Hamburgh, 
 who published a violent book on the subject of the eucharist ; 
 and through the influence of this man, and of the outrageous spi- 
 rit of intolerance which his work had raised, Latimer and Rid- 
 ley were stigmatised by fellow protestants as " the devil's mar- 
 tyrs," and the Lutheran cities drove from their gates as danger- 
 ous and detestable heretics, the English refugees who fled to 
 them for shelter. By those cities or congregations, on the con- 
 trary, — whether in Germany, France, or Switzerland, — in which 
 the tenets either of Zwingle or Calvin were professed, these pi- 
 ous exiles were received with open arms, venerated as confessors, 
 cherished as brethren in distress, and admitted with perfect con- 
 fidence into the communion of the respective churches. 
 
 Treatment so opposite from the two contending parties, be- 
 tween which they had supposed themselves to occupy neutral 
 ground, failed not to produce corresponding effects on the minds 
 of the exiles. At Frankfort, where the largest body of them 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 was assembled, and where they had formed an English congre- 
 gation using king Edward's liturgy, this form of worship became 
 the occasion. of a division amongst themselves, and a strong 
 parly soon declared itself in favour of discarding all of popish 
 forms or doctrine which the English establishment, in common 
 with the Lutjieran, had retained, and of adopting in their place 
 the simpler creed and ritual of the Genevan church. 
 
 It was found impracticable to compromise this difference; a 
 considerable number finally seceded from the congregation, and 
 it was from this division at Frankfort that English non-confor- 
 mity took its birth. No equally strong manifestation of opinion 
 occurred amongst the exiles in other cities ; but on the whole it. 
 may be affirmed, that the majority of these persons returned from 
 their wanderings with their previous predilection for the Cal- 
 vinistic model, confirmed and augmented by the united influence 
 of the reasonings and persuasions of its ablest apostles, and of 
 those sentiments of love and hatred from which the speculative 
 opinions of most men receive an irresistible though secret bias. 
 
 Their more unfortunate brethren, in the mean time, who, un- 
 willing to resign their country, or unable to escape from it, had 
 been compelled to look persecution in the face and deliberately 
 acquaint themselves with all its horrors, were undergoing other 
 and in some respects opposite influences. 
 
 An overpowering dread and abhorrence of the doctrines of 
 the church of Rome must so have absorbed all other thoughts 
 and feelings in the minds of this dispersed and affrighted rem- 
 nant of the English church, as to leave them little attention to 
 bestow upon the comparatively trifling objects of dispute between 
 protestant and protestant. They might even be disposed to re- 
 gard such squabbles with emotions of indignation and disgust, 
 and to ask how brethren in affliction could have the heart to 
 nourish animosities against each other. The memory of Edward 
 VI. was deservedly dear to them, and they would contemplate 
 the restoration of his ritual by the successor of Mary as an 
 event in which they ought to regard all their prayers as fulfilled : 
 — yet the practice, forced upon them by the vigilance of perse- 
 cution, of holding their assemblies for divine worship in places 
 unconsecrated, with the omission of every customa y ceremo- 
 nial and under the guidance frequently of men whom zeal and 
 piety alone had ordained to the office of teachers and ministers of 
 religion, must amongst them also have been producing a secret 
 alienation from established forms and rituals, and a propen- 
 sity to those extemporaneous effusions of devotion, or urgencies 
 of supplication, which seem best, adapted to satisfy the wants 
 of the pious soul under the fiery trial of persecution and distress. 
 The Calvinistic model therefore, as the freest of all, and that 
 which most industriously avoided any resemblance of popish 
 forms, might be the one most likely to obtain their suffrage also. 
 
 Such being the state of religious opinion in England at the ac- 
 cession of Elizabeth, it will not appear wonderful that the Ge- 
 nevan reformer should have begun to indulge the flattering ex 
 
164 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 pectation of seeing his own scheme established in England as in 
 Scotland, and himself revered throughout the island as a . spiri- 
 tual director from whose decisions there could be no appeal. Em- 
 boldened at once by zeal and ambition, he hastened to open a 
 communication with the new government, in the shape of an ex- 
 hortation to the queen to call a protestant council for establish- 
 ing uniformity of doctrine and of church government ; but his 
 dream of supremacy was quickly dissipated on receiving for an- 
 swer, that England was determined to preserve her episcopacy. 
 
 This decisive rejection of the presbyterian form was followed 
 up by other acts on the part of the queen, which gave offence to 
 all the real friends of reformed religion, and went far to prove 
 that Elizabeth was at fceart little more of a protestant than her 
 father. The general prohibition of preaching, which wa9 strictly 
 enforced during the first months of her reign, was understood as 
 a measure of repression levelled full as much against the indis- 
 creet zeal of the returned exiles, as against the disaffection of 
 the catholics. An order that, until the next meeting of parlia- 
 ment, no change should be made in the order of worship estab 
 lished by the late queen, except the reading of the creed and 
 commandments in English, implied, at least, a determination in 
 the civil power to take the management of religion entirely out 
 of the hands of a clergy whose influence over the minds of the 
 people it viewed with a jealous eye. It was soon also discovered, 
 to the increasing horror of all true protestants, that the queen 
 was strctoigly disposed to insist on the celibacy of the clergy ; 
 and even when the strenuous efforts of Cecil and others had 
 brought hereto yield with reluctance this capital point, she still 
 pertinaciously refused to authorise their marrying by an express 
 law. She would not even declare valid the marriages contract- 
 ed by them during the reign of her brother ; so that it became 
 necessary to procure private bills of legitimation in behalf of the 
 offspring of these unions, though formed under the express sanc- 
 tion of then existing laws. The son of Cranmer himself, and the 
 son of archbishop Parker, were of the number of those who found 
 it necessary to resort to this disagreeable and degrading expe- 
 dient. 
 
 Other things which offended the reformists were, the queen's 
 predilection, already mentioned, for crucifixes, which she did not 
 cause to be removed from the churches till after considerable 
 delay and difficulty, and retained in her private chapel for many 
 years longer, — and her wish to continue the use of altars. This 
 being regarded as a dangerous compliance with the Romish doc- 
 trine, since an altar could only suit with the notion of a sacrifice 
 of Christ in the mass, earnest expostulations on the subject were 
 addressed to her by several of the leading divines ; and, in the 
 end, the queen found it expedient, with whatever reluctance; to 
 ordain the substitution of communion tables. 
 
 She was also bent upon retaining in the church of which she 
 was the head the use of vestments similar to those worn by the 
 different orders of popish priests in the celebration of the various 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 1G5 
 
 • flices of their religion. A very natural association of ideas 
 caused the protestant clergy to regard with suspicion and abhor- 
 rence such an approximation in externals to that worship which 
 was in their eyes the abomination of idolatry ; and several of the 
 returned exiles, to whom bishoprics were now offered, scrupled 
 to accept of them* under the obligation of wearing the appointed 
 habits. Repeated and earnest representations were made to the 
 queen against them, but she remained inflexible. In this dilem- 
 ma, the divines requested the advice of Peter Martyr, who had 
 quitted England on the accession of Mary, and was now professor 
 of theology at Zurich. He persuaded compliance, representing 
 to them, that it was better that high offices in the church 
 should be occupied by persons like themselves, though with the 
 condition of submitting to some things which they did not ap- 
 prove, than that such posts should be given to Lutherans or con- 
 cealed catholics, who, instead of promoting any further reforma- 
 tion, would labour continually to bring back more and more of 
 the ancient ceremonies and superstitions. This argument was 
 deemed conclusive, and the bishoprics were accepted. But such 
 a plea, though it might suffice certain men for a time, could not 
 long satisfy universally ; and we shall soon have occasion to take 
 notice of scruples on this point, as the source of the first intes- 
 tine divisions by which the Anglican church was disturbed, and 
 of the first persecutions of her own children by which she dis- 
 graced herself. 
 
 On the whole, it must be admitted that the personal conduct 
 of Elizabeth in this momentous business exhibited neither en- 
 largement of mind nor elevation of soul. Considerably attached 
 to ceremonial observances, and superior to none of the supersti- 
 tions which she might have imbibed in her childhood, she was, 
 however, more attached to her own power and authority than to 
 these. Little under the influence of any individual amongst her 
 clergy, and somewhat inclined to treat that order in general with 
 harshness, if not cruelty, — as in the article of their marriages, in 
 the unmitigated rigour with which she exacted from them her first 
 fruits, and in the rapacity which she permitted her courtiers to 
 exercise upon the temporalities of the bishoprics, — the only view 
 which she took of the subject was that of the sovereign and the 
 politician. Aware, on one hand, of the manner in which her 
 title to the crown was connected with the renunciation of papal 
 authority, of the irreconcileable enmity borne her by the catholic 
 powers, and of the general attachment of her subjects to the cause 
 of the reformation, she felt herself called upon to assume the pro- 
 tection of the protestant interest of Europe, and to re-establish 
 that worship in her own dominions. On the other hand, she re- 
 marked with secret dread and aversion the popular spirit and re- 
 publican tendency of the institutions of Calvin, and she resolved 
 at all hazards to check the growth of his opinions in England. 
 Accordingly, it was the scope of every alteration made by her in 
 the service-book of Edward, to give it more of a Lutheran aspect, 
 
166 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 and it was for sometime apprehended that she would cause the 
 entire Confession of Augsburg to be received into it. 
 
 Of toleration, of the rights of conscience, she had as little feel- 
 ing or understanding as any prince or polemic of her age. Her 
 establishment was formed throughout in the spirit of compromise 
 and political expediency ; she took no pains to ascertain, either 
 by the assembling of a national synod or by the submission of 
 the articles to free discussion in parliament, whether or not they 
 were likely to prove agreeable to the opinions of the majority ; 
 it sufficed that she had decreed their reception, and she prepared, 
 by means of penal statutes strictly executed, to prevent the pro- 
 pagation of any doctrines, or the observance of any rites, capable 
 of interfering with the exact uniformity in religion then regarded 
 as essential to the peace and stability of every well constituted 
 state. 
 
 To Cecil, her chief secretary of state, and to Nicholas Bacon, 
 her keeper of the seals, assisted by a select number of divines, 
 the management of this great affair was chiefly intrusted by the 
 queen : and much might be said of the sagacity displayed by her 
 in this appointment, and of the wisdom and moderation exercised 
 by them in the discharge of their office ; much also might be, 
 much has been said, of the excellencies of the form of worship 
 by them established ; — but little, alas ! of moral or of religious 
 merit can be awarded by the verdict of impartial history to the 
 motives or conduct of the heroine of protestantism in'a transac- 
 tion so momentous and so memorable. 
 
 Three acts of the parliament of 1559 gave the sanction of law 
 to the new ecclesiastical establishment; they were those of Supre- 
 macy, of Uniformity, and a third empowering the queen to ap- 
 point bishops. By the first, the authority of the pope was so- 
 lemnly renounced, and the whole government of the church vest- 
 ed in the queen, her heirs and successors ; and an important 
 clause further enabled her and them to delegate their authority 
 to commissioners of their own appointment, who, amongst other 
 extraordinary powers were to be invested with the cognisance 
 of all errors and heresies whatsoever. On this foundation was 
 erected the famous High Commission Court, which grew into 
 one of the principal grievances of this and the two following 
 reigns, and of which, from the moment of its formation, the pro- 
 ceedings assumed a character of arbitrary violence utterly incom- 
 patible with the security and happiness of the subject, and hos- 
 tile to the whole tenor of the ancient charters.* 
 
 The act of Uniformity ordained an exact compliance in all 
 points with the established form of worship, and a punctual at- 
 tendance on its offices; it also rendered highly penal the exer- 
 cise, public or private, of any other ; and of this law it was not 
 long before several unfortunate catholics were doomed to expe- 
 rience the utmost rigour. 
 
 Many parish priests, who had been open and violent papists in 
 the last reign, permitted themselves to take the oath of supre- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 167 
 
 maeyand retain their cures under the new order of things, a kind 
 of compliance with the times which the court of Rome is said 
 sometimes to have permitted, sometimes even to have privately 
 enjoined, — on the principle of Peter Martyr, that it was better 
 that lis secret adherents should continue to occupy the churches, 
 on whatever conditions, than that they should be surrendered en- 
 tirely into the hands of an opposite party. The bishops, on the 
 contrary, considered themselves as called upon by the dignity of 
 their character and office to bear a public testimony against the 
 defection of England from the holy see ; and those of them who 
 had not previously been deprived on other grounds, now in a body 
 refused the oaths and submitted themselves to the consequences. 
 All were deprived, a few imprisoned, several committed to hon- 
 ourable custody. . The policy of Elizabeth, unlike the genuine 
 bigotry of her sister, contented itself with a kind of negative in- 
 tolerance ; and as long as the degraded bishops abstained from 
 all manifestations, by words or deeds, of hostility against her go- 
 vernment and ecclesiastical establishment, and all celebration of 
 the peculiar rites of their religion, they were secure from moles- 
 tation ; and never to them, as to .their unfortunate protestant 
 predecessors, were articles of religion offered for signature under 
 the fearful alternative of compliance or martyrdom. 
 
 To supply the vacancies of the episcopal bench became one of 
 the earliest cares of the queen and her ministers ; and their 
 choice, which fell on the most eminent of the confessors and ex- 
 iles, was generally approved by the nation. 
 
 Dr. Parker, formerly her mother's chaplain, and the religious 
 instructor of her own childhood, was designated by Elizabeth for 
 the primacy. This eminent divine had likewise been one of the 
 chaplains of Edward VI., and enjoyed under his reign consider- 
 able church preferments. He had been the friend of Cranmer, 
 Bucer, Latimer, and Ridley ; of Cook, Cheke, and Cecil ; and 
 was the ardent coadjutor of these meritorious public characters 
 in the promotion of reformed religion, and the advancement of 
 general learning, — two grand objects, which were regarded by 
 them as inseparable and almost identical. 
 
 On the accession of Mary, being stripped of all his benefices 
 as a married priest, Parker with his family was reduced to po- 
 verty and distress ; and it was only by a careful concealment of 
 his person, by frequent changes of place, and in some instances 
 by the timely advertisements of watchful friends, that he was 
 enabled to avoid a still severer trial of his constancy. During 
 this period of distress he found support and solace from the pious 
 task of translating into English metre the whole of the Psalms. 
 The version still exists in manuscript, and is executed with some 
 spirit, and not inelegantly, in the old measure of fourteen syl- 
 lables. 
 
 Parker's "Nolo episcoparP* is supposed to have been more than, 
 ordinarily sincere : in fact, the station of metropolitan must at 
 this juncture have been felt as one of considerable difficulty, per- 
 haps even of danger ; and the stormy temper of the queen after- 
 
168 , 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 wards prepared for the prelate so much of contradiction and hu- 
 miliation as caused him more than once to bewail his final ac- 
 ceptance of the highest dignity of the English church. 
 
 With all her personal regard for the primate, Elizabeth could 
 not always refrain in his presence from reflections against mar- 
 ried priests, which gave him great pain. 
 
 During a progress which she made in 1561, into Essex and 
 Suffolk, she expresssed high displeasure at finding so many of the 
 clergy married, and the cathedrals and colleges so filled with 
 women and children ; and in consequence she addressed to the 
 archbishop a royal injunction, " that no head or member of any 
 college or cathedral should bring a wife or any other woman into 
 the precincts of it, to abide in the same, on pain of forfeiture of 
 all ecclesiastical promotion." Parker regarded it as his duty to 
 iemonstrate with her in person against so popish a prohibition ; 
 on which, after declaring to him that she repented of having made 
 any married bishops, she went on to treat the institution of ma- 
 trimony itself with a satire and contempt, which filled him with 
 horror. 
 
 It was to his wife that her majesty,, in returning acknowledg- 
 ments for the magnificient hospitality with which she had been 
 received at the archiepiscopal palace, made use of the well known 
 ungracious address ; " Madam 1 may not call you, mistress I am 
 ashamed to call you, and so I know not what to call you ; but 
 howsoever I thank you." 
 
 But these fits of ill humour were transient ; for Parker learned 
 the art of dispelling them by submissions, or soothing them by 
 the frequent and respectful tender of splendid entertainments, 
 and costly gifts. He did not long remain insensible to the charm* 
 of rank and fortune ; and it must not be concealed that an inor- 
 dinate love of power, and a haughty intolerance of all opposition, 
 gradually surperseded that candour and Christian meekness of 
 which he had formerly been cited as an edifying example. Against, 
 that sect amongst the clergy who refused to adopt the appointed 
 habits and scrupled some of the. ceremonies, soon after distin- 
 guished by the appellation of Puritants, he exercised his autho- 
 rity with unsparing rigour ; and even stretched it by degress so 
 far beyond all legal bounds, that the queen herself, little as she 
 was inclined to tolerate this sect or to resent any arbitrary con- 
 duct in her commissioners, was moved at length to interpose and 
 reverse some of his proceedings. The archbishop now become 
 
 complained and remonstrated instead of submitting : reproaches 
 ensued on the part of Elizabeth ; and in May 1575, the learned 
 prelate ended in a kind of disgrace, the career which he had long 
 pursued amid the warmest testimonies of royal approbation. 
 
 The fairest, at least the most undisputed, claim of this eminent 
 prelate to the gratitude of his contemporaries and the respect of 
 posterity, is founded on the character which his high station en- 
 abled him to assume and maintain, of the most munificent patron 
 of letters of his age and country. The study which he particu- 
 
 incapable of yielding his own 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH, 
 
 lady encouraged, and to which his own leisure was almost exclu- 
 sively devoted, was that of English antiquities ; and he formed 
 and presented to Corpus Christi college a large and valuable col- 
 lection of the manuscripts relative to these objects which had 
 been scattered abroad at the dissolution of the monasteries, and 
 must have been Irretrievably lost but for his diligence in inqui- 
 ring after them and the liberality with which he rewarded their 
 discovery. He edited four of our monkish historians ; was the 
 first publisher of that interesting specimen of early English satire 
 and versification, Pierce Plowman's Visions; composed a history 
 in Latin of his predecessors in the see of Canterbury, and encour- 
 aged the labours ofynany private, scholars by acts of generosity 
 and kindness. 
 
 Grindal, a divine of eminence, who during his voluntary exile 
 at Frankfort had taken a strong part in favour of king Edward's 
 Service book, was named as the successor of Bonner in the bi- 
 shopric of London ; but a considerable time was spent in over- 
 coming his objections to the habits and ceremonies, before he 
 could be prevailed upon to assume a charge of which he deeply 
 felt the importance and responsibility. 
 
 To the reputation of learning and piety which this prelate en- 
 joyed in common with so many of his clerical contemporaries, 
 he added an extraordinary earnestness in the promotion of Chris- 
 tian knowledge, and a courageous inflexibility on points of pro- 
 fessional duty, imitated by few and excelled by none His manly 
 spirit disdained that slavish obsequiousness by which too many 
 of his episcopal brethren paid homage to the narrow prejudices 
 and state jealousies of an imperious mistress, and it soon became 
 evident that strife and opposition awaited him. 
 
 His first difference was with archbishop Parker, whom he highly 
 offended by his backwardness in proceeding to extremities against 
 the puritans, a sect many of whose scruples Grindal himself had 
 formerly entertained, and was still inclined to view with respect 
 or pity rather than with indignation. Cecil, who was his chief 
 friend and patron, apprehensive of his involving himself in trou- 
 ble, gladly seized an occasion of withdrawing him from the con- 
 test, by procuring his appointment in 1570 to the vacant arch- 
 bishopric of York ; a hitherto neglected province, in which his 
 efforts for the instruction of the people and the reformation of the 
 state of the church were peculiarly required and eminently suc- 
 cessful. 
 
 For his own repose, Grindal ought never to have quitted this 
 sphere of unmolested usefulness ; but when, on the death of Par- 
 ker, in 1575, the primacy was offered to him, ambition, or per- 
 haps the hope of rendering his plans more extensively beneficial, 
 unfortunately prompted its acceptance. Thus was he brought 
 once more within the uncongenial atmosphere of a court, and 
 subjected to the immediate controul of his sovereign in matters 
 on which he regarded it as a duty, on the double ground of con- 
 science and the rights of his office, to resist the fiat of a tempo- 
 ral head of the church. 
 
 V 
 
170 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 The queen, whose dread and hatred of the puritans augmented 
 with the severities which, he exercised against them, had con- 
 ceived a violent aversion to certain meetings called prophesy- 
 ings, at this time held by the clergy for the purpose of exercis- 
 ing their younger members in expounding the Scriptures, and 
 at which the laity had begun to attend as auditors in great 
 numbers and with much interest. Such assemblies, her majesty 
 declared, were nothing else than so many schools of puritanism, 
 where the peoble learned to be so inquisitive that their spiritual 
 superiors would soon lose all influence over them, and she issued 
 possitive commands to Grindal for their suppression. At the 
 same time she expressed to him her extreme displeasure at the 
 number of preachers licensed in his province, and required that 
 it should be very considerably lessened, " urging that it was 
 good for the world to have few preachers, that three or four 
 might suffice for a county : and that the reading of the homilies 
 to the people was enough." But the venerable primate, so far 
 from consenting to abridge the means of that religious instruc- 
 tion which he regarded it as the most sacred duty of a protestant 
 church to afford, took the freedom of addressing to her majesty 
 a very plain and earnest letter of expostulation. In this piece, 
 after showing the great necessity which existed for multiplying, 
 rather than diminishing, opportunities of edification both to the 
 clergy and the people, and protesting that he could not in con- 
 science be instrumental to the suppression either of preaching 
 or prophesyings, he proceeded to remonstrate with her majesty 
 on the arbitrary, imperious, and as it were papal manner, in which 
 she took upon herself to decide points better left to the manage- 
 ment of her bishops. He ended by exhorting her to remember 
 that she also was a mortal creature, and accountable to God for 
 the exercise of her power, and that she ought above all things to 
 be desirous of employing it piously for the promotion of true 
 religion. 
 
 The event showed this remonstrance to be rather well intend- 
 ed than well judged. Indignation was the only sentiment which 
 it awakened in the haughty mind of Elizabeth, and she answered 
 it by an order of the star-chamber, in virtue of which the arch- 
 bishop was suspended from his functions for six months, and con- 
 fined during the same period to his house. At the end of this time, 
 he was urged by Burleigh to acknowledge himself in fault and 
 beg the queen's forgiveness, but he steadily refused to compro- 
 mise thus a good cause, and his sequestration was continued. It 
 even appears that nothing but the honest indignation of some of 
 her ministers and courtiers restrained the queen from proceeding 
 to deprive him. 
 
 At the end of four or five years, her anger being somewhat 
 abated, it pleased her to take off the sequestration, but without 
 restoring the primate to her favour ; and as he was now old and 
 blind, he willingly consented to resign the primacy and retire on 
 a pension : but in 1583, before the matter could be finally ar- 
 ranged, he died. 
 
QUKKN ELIZABETH 
 
 171 
 
 Archbishop Grindal was a great contributor to Fox's " Acts 
 anil Monuments," for which he collected many materials; but 
 he was the author of no considerable work, and on the whole he 
 seems to have been less admirable by the display of any extra- f 
 ordinary talents than revered and exemplary for the primitive 
 virtues of probity, sincerity, and godly zeal. These were the 
 qualities which obtained for him the celebration of Spenser in 
 his " Shepherd's Calendar," where he is designated by the name 
 of Algrind, and described as a true teacher of the Gospel and a 
 severe reprover of the pride and world liness of the popish cler- 
 gy. The lines were written during the period of the prelate's 
 disgrace, which is allegorically related and bewailed by the poet. 
 
 Another distinguished ornament of the episcopal bench was 
 Jewel, consecrated to the see of Salisbury in 1 560. It is remark- 
 able that this learned apologist of the church of England had 
 expressed at first a stonger repugnance to the habits than most 
 of his colleagues ; but having once brought himself to compli- 
 ance, he thenceforth became noted for the rigour with which he 
 exacted it of others. 
 
 In the time of Henry VIII., Jewel had become suspected of 
 opinions which he openly embraced on the accession of Edward, 
 and he was sufficiently distinguished amongst the reformers of this 
 rei°jn to be marked out as one of the first objects of persecution 
 under Mary. As a preliminary step, on which proceedings 
 might be founded, the Romish articles were offered for his sig- 
 nature, when he disappointed alike his enemies and his friends 
 by subscribing them without apparent reluctance. But his in- 
 sincerity in this act was notorious, and it was in contemplation 
 to subject him to the fierce interrogatories of Bonner, when time- 
 ly warning enabled him, through many perils, to escape out of 
 the country. Safe arrived at Frankfort, he made a public con- 
 fession, before the English congregation, of his guilt in signing 
 articles which his conscience abhorred, and humbly entreated 
 forgiveness of God and the church. After this, he repaired to 
 Strasburgli and passed away the time with his friend Peter 
 Martyr. 
 
 The erudition of Jewel was profound and extensive, his pri- 
 vate life amiable, his performance of his episcopal duties sedu- 
 lous ; and such was the esteem in which his celebrated " Apolo- 
 gy" was held, that Elizabeth, and afterwards James I., ordained 
 that a copy of it should be kept in every parish-church in England. 
 
 Of Dr. Cox, elevated to the see of Ely, mention has already 
 been made ; and it would be superfluous here to enter more 
 largely into the ecclesiastical history of the reign. 
 
 A careful consideration of the behaviour of Elizabeth towards 
 the two successive primates Parker and Grindal, will furnish a 
 sufficiently accurate notion of the spirit of her religious policy, 
 besides affording a valuable addition to the characteristic traits 
 illustrative of her temper and opinions 
 
172 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 CHAPTER XI1L 
 
 1561. 
 
 Tragedy of Ferrex and Porrex. — Translations of ancient trage- 
 dies. — Death of Francis II. — Mary refuses to ratify the treaty 
 of Edinburgh — returns to Scotland. — Enmity between Mary 
 and Elizabeth. — Philip II. secretly encourages the English pa- 
 pists. — Measures of rigour adopted against them by Elizabeth. 
 — Jlnecdote of the queen and Dr. Sampson. — St. PauVs struck 
 by lightning. — Bishop Pilkintorv's sermon on the occasion. — 
 Paul's Walk — Precautions against the queen's being poisoned. 
 — The king of Sweden proposes to visit her. — Steps taken in this 
 matter. 
 
 The eighteenth of January 1561, ought to be celebrated as 
 the birthday of the English drama; for it was on this day that 
 Thomas Sackville caused to be represented at Whitehall, for the 
 entertainment of Elizabeth and her court, the tragedy of Ferrex 
 and Porrex, otherwise called Gorboduc, the joint production of 
 himself and Thomas Norton. From the unrivalled force of 
 imagination, the vigour and purity of diction, and the intimate 
 knowledge and tasteful adaptation of the beauties of the Latin 
 poets displayed in the contributions of Sackville to the Mirror 
 of Magistrates, a lettered audience would conceive high expec- 
 tations from his attempt in a new walk of poetry : but in the 
 then barbarous state of our Theatre, such a performance as Gor- 
 boduc must have been hailed as not only a novelty but a wonder. 
 It was the first piece composed in English on the ancient tragic 
 model, with a regular division into five acts, closed by lyric cho- 
 ruses. 
 
 It offered the first example of a story from British history, or 
 what passed for history, completely dramatised and represented 
 with an attempt at theatrical illusion ; for the earlier pieces pub- 
 lished under the title of tragedies were either ballads or mono- 
 logues, which might indeed be sung or recited, but were incapable 
 of being acted. The plot of the play was fraught with those cir- 
 cumstances of the deepest horror by which the dormant sensibili- 
 ties of an inexperienced audience require and delight to be awa- 
 kened. An unwonted force of thought and dignity of language 
 claimed the patience, if not the admiration, of the hearers, for 
 the long political disquisitions by which the business of the 
 piece was somewhat painfully retarded. 
 
 The curiosity of the public respecting a drama which had been 
 performed with general applause both at court and before the 
 society of the Middle Temple, encouraged its surreptitious ap- 
 pearance in print in 1565, and a second stolen edition was fol- 
 lowed, some years after, by a corrected one published under the 
 
giiKKN ELIZABETH. 
 
 173 
 
 inspection of the authors themselves. The taste for the legiti- 
 mate drama thus awakened, may be supposed to have led to the 
 naturalisation amongst us of several of its best ancient models. 
 The Phcenissee of Euripides appeared under the title of Jocasta, 
 having received an English dress from Gascoigne and Kinwel- 
 mershe, two students of Gray's Inn. The ten tragedies of Se- 
 neca, englished by different hands, succeeded. It is worthy of 
 note, however, that none of these translators had the good taste 
 to imitate the authors of Ferrex and Porrex in the adoption of 
 blank verse, and that one only amongst them made use of the 
 heroic rhymed couplet; the others employing the old alexan- 
 drine measure, excepting in the choruses, which were given in 
 various kinds of stanza. Her majesty alone seems to have per- 
 ceived the superior advantages, or to have been tempted by the 
 greater facility of Sackville's verse ; and amongst the MSS. of 
 the Bodleian library there is found a translation by her own hand 
 of part of Seneca's Hercules Oetseus, which is in this measure. 
 Warton however adds, that this specimen * has no other re- 
 commendation than its royalty." 
 
 The propensity of Elizabeth, amid all the serious cares of 
 government and all the pettinesses of that political intrigue to 
 which she was addicted, to occupy herself with attempts in po- 
 lite literature, for which she possessed no manner of talent, is not 
 the least remarkable among the features of her extraordinary and 
 complicated character. 
 
 At the period of her reign however which we are now consi- 
 dering, public affairs must have required from her an almost un- 
 divided attention. By the death of Francis II. about the end of 
 the year 1560, the queen of Scots had become a widow, and the 
 relations of England with France and Scotland had immediately 
 assumed an entirely novel aspect. 
 
 The change was in one respect highly to the advantage of Eli- 
 zabeth. By the loss of her royal husband, Mary was deprived 
 of that command over the resources of the French monarchy by 
 which she had hoped to render effective her claim to the English 
 crown, and she found it expedient to discontinue for the present 
 the use of the royal arms of England. The enmity of the queen- 
 mother had even chased her from that Court where she had 
 reigned so lately, and obliged her to retire to her uncle, the car- 
 dinal of Lorrain at Rheims. But from the age and temper of 
 the beautiful and aspiring Mary, it was to be expected that she 
 would ere long be induced to re-enter the matrimonial state with 
 some one of the princes of Europe ; and neither as a sovereign 
 nor a woman could Elizabeth regard without jealousy the plans 
 for her re-establishment already agitated by her ambitious un- 
 cles of the house of Guise. Under these circumstances, it was 
 the first object of Elizabeth to obtain from her rival the formal 
 ratification, which had hitherto been withheld, of the treaty of 
 Edinburgh, by one article of which Mary was pledged never to 
 resume the English arms ; and Throgmorton, then ambassador to 
 France, was instructed to urge strongly her immediate compli- 
 
1T4 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 ance with this certainly not inequitable demand. The queen of 
 Scots, however, persisted in evading its fulfilment, and on pleas 
 so forced and futile as justly to confirm all previous suspicions 
 of her sincerity.' 
 
 Matters were in this state between the two sovereigns, when 
 Mary came to the resolution of acceding to the unanimous en- 
 treaties of her subjects of both religions, by returning to govern 
 in person the kingdom of her ancestors; and she sent to request 
 of Elizabeth a safe-conduct. The English princess promptly re- 
 plied, that the queen had only to ratify the treaty of Edinburgh, 
 and she should obtain not merely a safe-conduct but free per- 
 mission to shorten the fatigues of her voyage by passing through 
 England, where she should be received with all the marks of af- 
 fection due to a beloved sister. By this answer, Mary chose to 
 regard herself as insulted ; and declaring to the English ambas- 
 sador in great heat, that nothing vexed her so much as to have 
 exposed herself without necessity to such a refusal, and that she 
 doubted not that she should be able to return to her country 
 without the permission of Elizabeth, as she had quitted it in spite 
 of all the vigilance of her brother, she abruptly broke off the 
 conference. 
 
 Henceforth the breach between these illustrious kinswomen 
 became irreparable. In vain did Mary, after her arrival in Scot- 
 land, endeavour to remedy the imprudence which she was con- 
 scious of having committed, by professions of respect and friend- 
 ship ; for with these hollow compliments she had the further in- 
 discretion to mingle the demand that Elizabeth should publicly 
 declare her next heir to the English throne ; a proposal which 
 this high-spirited princess could never hear without rage. Nei- 
 ther of the queens was a novice in the arts of dissimulation, and 
 as often as it suited the interest or caprice of the moment, each 
 would lavish upon the other, without scruple, every demonstra- 
 tion of amity, every pledge of affection ; but jealousy, suspicion, 
 and hatred, dwelt irremovably in the inmost recesses of their 
 hearts. The Protestant party in Scotland was powerfully pro- 
 tected by Elizabeth, the Catholic party in England was secretly 
 incited by Mary; and it became scarcely less the care and occu- 
 pation of each to disturb the administration of her rival than to 
 fix her own on a solid basis. 
 
 Mary had been attended on her return to Scotland by her 
 three uncles, the duke of Aumale, the grand prior and the mar- 
 quis of Elbeuf, with a numerous retinue of French nobility; and 
 when, after a short visit, the duke and the grand prior took their 
 leave of her, they, with their company consisting of more than a 
 hundred, returned through England, visiting in their way the 
 court of Elizabeth. Brantome, who was of the party, has given 
 incidentally the following particulars of their entertainment in 
 the short memoir which he has devoted to the celebration of 
 Henry II. of France. 
 
 " Bref, c'estoit un roy tres accomply & fort aymabie. J'ay 
 *»uv conter a la reigne d'Angleterre qui est aujouixPhuy, que 
 
QUKKN ELIZABETH. 
 
 175 
 
 x'estoit le roy & le prince tlu monde qu'elle avoit plus desire de 
 voir, pour le beau rapport qu'on luy en avoit fait, & pour sa 
 grande renommde qui en voloit par tout. Monsieur le connesta- 
 ble qui vit aujourd'huy s'en pourra bien ressouvenir, ce fut lors- 
 que retournant d'Escosse M. le grand prieur de France, de la 
 maison de Lorraine, & luy, la reigne leur donna un soir a soup 
 per, ou apres se fit un ballet de ses filles, qu'elle avoit ordonne 
 & dressy representant les vierges de l'evangile, desquelles les 
 unes avoient leurs lampes allum^es & les autres n'avoient ny 
 huile ny feu & en demandoient. Ces lampes estoient d'argcnt 
 fort gentiment faites & elabourees, & les dames etoient tres- 
 belles & honnestes & bien apprises, qui prirent nous autres 
 Francois pour danser, mesme la reigne dansa, & de fort bonne 
 grace & belle majesty royale, car elle l'avoit & estoit lors en sa 
 grande beaute & belle grace. Mien ne 1'a gastee que 1'execu- 
 tion de la pauvre reigne d'Escosse, sans cela c'estoit une tres- 
 rare princesse. 
 
 " . ... Estant ainsi a table devisant familierement avec ces 
 seigneurs, elle dit ces mots, (apres avoir fort loue le roy:) C'es- 
 toit le prince du monde que j'avois plus desire de voir, & luy 
 avois deja mande qui bientost je le verrois, & pour ce j'avois 
 command:- de me faire bien appareiller mes galeres (usant de ces 
 mots) pour passer en France expres pour le voir. Monsieur le 
 connestable d'aujourd'huy, qui estoit lors Monsieur d'Amville, 
 respondit, Madame, je m'asseure que vous eussiez est- tres- 
 content de le voir, car son humeur & sa facon vous eussent 
 pleu ; aussi lui eust il este tres-content de vous voir, car il eust 
 fort ami votre belle humeur & vos agreables facons, & vous eust 
 fait un honorable accueil & tres-bonne chere, & vous eust bien 
 fait passer le temps. Je le croy & m'en asseure, dit elle," &c. 
 
 By the death of the king of France, and the increasing dis- 
 tractions of that unhappy country under the feeble minority of 
 Charles IX., the politics of the king of Spain also were affected. 
 He had not now to fear the union of the crowns of England, 
 France, and Scotland, under the joint rule of Francis and Mary, 
 which he had once regarded as a not improbable event ; conse- 
 quently his strongest inducement for keeping measures with 
 Elizabeth ceased to operate, and he began daily to disclose more 
 and more of that animosity with which he could not fail to re- 
 gard a princess who was at once the heroine and patroness of 
 protestantism. From this time he began to furnish secret aids 
 which added hope and courage to the English partisans of pope- 
 ry and of Mary; and Elizabeth judged it a necessary policy to 
 place her catholic subjects under a more rigid system of re- 
 straint. It was contrary to her private inclinations to treat this 
 sect with severity, and she was the more reluctant to do so as 
 she thus gratified in an especial manner the wishes of the puri- 
 tanical or Calvinistic party in the church, their inveterate ene- 
 mies ; and by identifying in some measure her cause with theirs, 
 saw herself obliged to conform in several points to their views 
 rather than her own wishes. 
 
176 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 The law which rendered it penal to hear mass, was first put in 
 force against several persons of rank, that the example might 
 strike the more terror. Sir Edward Waldegrave, in Mary's 
 reign a privy-councillor, was, on this account, committed to the 
 Tower, with his lady and some others ; and lord Loughborough, 
 also a privy-councillor much favoured and trusted by the late 
 queen, was brought into trouble on the same ground. Against 
 Waldegrave, it is to be feared that much cruelty was exercised 
 during his imprisonment ; for it is said to have occasioned his 
 death, which occurred in the Tower a few months afterwards. 
 The High Commission court now began to take cognisance of 
 what was called recusancy, or the refusal to take the oaths of 
 allegiance and supremacy ; it also encouraged informations 
 against such as refrained from joining in the established wor- 
 ship ; and numerous professors of the old religion, both ecclesi- 
 astics and laity, were summoned on one account or other before 
 this tribunal. Of these, some were committed to prison, others 
 restricted from entering certain places, as the two universities, 
 or circumscribed within the limits of some town or county, and 
 most were bound in great penalties to be forthcoming whenever it 
 should be required. 
 
 As a further demonstration of zeal against popery, the queen 
 caused all the altars in Westminster abbey to be pulled down ; 
 and about the same time a remarkable scene occurred between 
 her majesty and Dr. Thomas Sampson, dean of Christ church. 
 
 It happened that the queen had appointed to go to St. Paul's 
 on New Year's day to hear the dean preach ; and he, thinking 
 to gratify her on that day with an elegant and appropriate pre- 
 sent, had procured some prints illustrative of the histories of the 
 saints and martyrs, which he caused to be inserted in a richly 
 bound prayer-book and laid on the queen's cushion for her use. 
 Her majesty opened the volume; but no sooner did the prints meet 
 her eye, than she frowned, blushed, and called to the verger to bring 
 her the book she was accustomed to use. As soon as the service 
 was ended, she went into the vestry and inquired of the dean 
 who had brought that book ? and when he explained that he had 
 meant it as a present to her majesty, she chid him severely, in- 
 quired if he was ignorant of her proclamation against images, 
 pictures, and Romish reliques in the churches, and of her aver- 
 sion to all idolatry, and strictly ordered that no similar mistake 
 should be made in future. What renders this circumstance the 
 more curious is, that Elizabeth at this very time kept a crucifix 
 in her private chapel, and that Sampson was so far from being po- 
 pishly inclined, that he had refused the bishopric of Norwich the 
 year before, on account of the habits and ceremonies, and was 
 afterwards deprived of his deanery by archbishop Parker for non- 
 conformity. 
 
 Never did parties in religion run higher than about this period 
 of the reign of Elizabeth ; and we may remark as symptomatic 
 of the temper of the times, the manner in which a trivial accident 
 was commented upon by adverse disputants. The beautiful stee- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 17? 
 
 of St. Paul's cathedral, the loftiest in the kingdom, had been 
 stricken by lightning and utterly destroyed, together with the 
 bells and root. A papist immediately dispersed a paper repre- 
 senting this accident as a judgment or Heaven for the discontin- 
 uance of the matins and oilier services, which had used to be 
 performed in the church at different hours of the day and night. 
 Pilkiugton bishop of Durham, who preached at Paul's cross alter 
 the accident, was equally disposed to regard it as a judgment, 
 but on the sins of London in general, and particularly on certain 
 abuses by which the church had formerly been polluted. In a 
 tract published in answer to that of the papist he afterwards gave 
 an animated description of the practices of which this cathedral 
 had been the theatre ; curious at the present day as a record of 
 forgotten customs. He said that ",no place had been more abused 
 than Paul's had been, nor more against the receiving of Christ's 
 Gospel ; wherefore it was more wonder that God had spared it 
 so long, than that he overthrew it now. . . . From the top of the 
 spire, at coronations' or other solemn triumphs, some for vain 
 glory had used to throw themselves down by a rope, and so kill- 
 ed themselves, vainly to please other men's eyes. At the 
 battlements of the steeple, sundry times were used their popish 
 anthems, to call upon their Gods, with torch and taper, in 
 the evenings. In the top of one of the pinnacles was Lol- 
 lards' Tower, where many an innocent soul had been by them 
 cruelly tormented and murdered. In the middest alley was their 
 long censer, reaching from the roof to the ground ; as though the 
 Holy Ghost came down in their censing, in likeness of a dove. 
 In the arches, men commonly complained of wrong and delayed 
 judgments in ecclesiastical causes : and divers had been con- 
 demned there by Annas and Caiaphas for Christ's cause. Their 
 images hung on every wall, pillar and door, with their pilgrim- 
 ages and worshipings of them : passing over their massing and 
 many altars, and the rest of their popish service. The south al- 
 ley was for usury and popery, the north for simony ; and the 
 horse fair in the midst for all kind of bargains, meetings, braw- 
 lings, murders, conspiracies. The font for ordinary payments of 
 money, as well known to all men as the beggar knows his dish. 
 So that without and within, above the ground and under, over 
 the roof and beneath, from the top of the steeple and spire down 
 to the low floor, not one spot was free from wickedness. 
 
 The practice here alluded to, of making the nave of St. Paul's 
 a kind of exchange for the transaction of all kinds of business, 
 and a place of meeting for idlers of every sort, is frequently re- 
 ferred to by the writers of this and the two succeeding reigns ; 
 and when or by what means the custom was put an end to, does 
 not appear. It was here that sir Nicholas Throgmorton held a 
 conference with an emissary of Wyat's ; it was here that one of 
 the bravoes engaged in the noted murder of Arden of Feversham 
 was hired. It was in Paul's that Falstafif is made to say he 
 " bought" Bardolph. 
 
 In bishop Earl's admirable little book called Microcosmogra- 
 
 Z 
 
178 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 phy, the scene is described with all the wit of the author, ami 
 somewhat of the quaintness ot his age, which was that of James I. 
 
 " PauVs walk is the land's epitome, or you may call it the 
 lesser isle of Great Britain. It is, more than this, the whole world's 
 map, which you may here discern in its perfectest motion, just- 
 ling, and turning. It is the great exchange of all discourse, and 
 no business whatsoever, but is here stirring and afoot. It is the 
 synod of all pates politic, joined and laid together in most seri- 
 ous posture, and they are not half so busy at the parliament. . . 
 It is the market of young lecturers, whom you may cheapen here 
 at all rates and sizes. It is the general mint of all famous lies, 
 which are here, like the legends of popery, first coined and stamp- 
 ed in the church. All inventions are emptied here, and not a 
 few pockets. The best sign of a temple in it is, that it is the 
 thieves sanctuary. . . . The visitants are all men without excep- 
 tion, but the principal inhabitants and possessors are stale 
 knights, and captains out of service, men of long rapiers and 
 breeches which, after all, turn merchants here and traffic for news. 
 Some make it a preface to their dinner, but thriftier men make it 
 their ordinary, and board here very cheap." 
 
 The vigilant ministers of Elizabeth had now begun to alarm 
 themselves and her with apprehensions of plots against her life, 
 from the malice of the papists ; and it would be rash to pronounce 
 that such tears were entirely void of foundation ; but we may be 
 permitted to smile at the ignorant credulity on the subject of 
 poisons, — universal indeed in that age, — which dictated the fol- 
 lowing minute of council, extant in the hand writing of Cecil. 
 " We think it very convenient that your majesty's apparel, and 
 specially all manner of things that shall touch any part of your 
 majesty's body bare, be circumspectly looked unto ; and that no 
 person be permitted to come near it, but such as have the trust 
 and charge thereof. 
 
 " Item. That no manner of perfume either in apparel or sleeves, 
 gloves, or such like, or otherwise that shall be appointed for your 
 majesty's savour, be presented by any stranger or other person, 
 but that the same be corrected by some other fume. 
 
 "Item. That no foreign meat or dishes being dressed out of 
 your majesty's court, be brought to your food, without assured 
 knowledge from whom the same cometh ; and that no use be had 
 hereof. 
 
 « Item. That it may please your majesty to take the advise of 
 your physician for the receiving weekly twice some preservative 
 c contra pestem et venena,' as there be many good things * et 
 salutaria.' 
 
 <{ Item. It may please your majesty to give order who shall 
 take the charge of the back doors to your chamberers chambers, 
 were landresses, tailors, wardrobers, and the like, use to come ; 
 and that the same doors be duly attended upon, as becometh, and 
 not to stand open but upon necessity. 
 
 " Item. That the privy chamber may be better ordered, with 
 an attendance of an usher, and the gentleman and grooms."* 
 
 * Bui-ieigli's Papers," by Hayries, p. 38§„ 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 179 
 
 It was fortunate that the same exaggerated notions of the 
 power of poisons prevailed amongst papists as protestants. 
 Against the ill effects of a drug applied by direction of a Spanish 
 friar to the arms of a chair and the pommel of a saddle, the anti- 
 doles received twice a week might be depended upon as an ef- 
 fectual preservative. 
 
 From these perils, real and imaginary, — none of which how- 
 ever appear to have taken strong hold of the cheerful and cou- 
 rageous temper of the queen, — her attention and that of her 
 council was for some time diverted by the expectation of a royal 
 suitor. 
 
 Eric king of Sweden, — whose hopes of final success in his 
 addresses were kept up in spite of the repeated denials of the 
 queen, by the artifice of some Englishmen at his court who de- 
 luded him by pretended secret intelligence, — had sent to her 
 majesty a royal present, and declared his intention of following 
 in person. The present consisted of eighteen large piebald horses, 
 and two ship-loads of precious articles which are not particu- 
 larised. It does not appear that this offering was ill-received ; 
 but as Elizabeth was determined not to relent in favour of the 
 sender, she caused him to be apprised of the impositions passed 
 upon him by the English to whom he had given ear, at the same 
 time expressing her anxious hope that he would spare himself 
 the fatigues of a fruitless voyage. Fearing however that he might 
 be already on his way, she occupied herself in preparations for 
 receiving him with all the hospitality and splendour due to his 
 errand, his rank and her own honour. It was at the same time 
 a business of some perplexity so to regulate all these matters of 
 ceremony that neither Eric himself nor others might conclude 
 that he was a favoured suitor. Among the state papers of the 
 time we find, first a letter of council to the lord mayor, setting 
 forth, that " AVhereas certain bookbinders and stationers did 
 utter certain papers wherein were printed the face of her majesty 
 and the king of Sweden ; although her majesty was not miscon- 
 tented that either her own face or that of this king should be 
 pourtrayed ; yet to be joined in the same paper with him or any 
 other prince who was known to have made request for marriage 
 to her, was what she could not allow. Accordingly it was her 
 pleasure that the lord mayor should seize all such papers, and 
 pack them up so that none of them should get abroad. Other- 
 wise she might seem to authorise this joining of herself in mar- 
 riage to him, which might seem to touch her in honour." Next 
 we have a letter to the duke of Norfolk directing the manner in 
 which he should go to meet the king, if he landed at any part 
 of Norfolk or auttblk : and lastly, we have the solemn judgment 
 of the iord-treasurer, the lord-steward, and the lord -chamberlain, 
 on the ceremonial to be observed towards him on his arrival, by 
 the queen herself. 
 
 One paragraph is conceived with all the prudery and the deep 
 policy about trifles, which marked the character of Elizabeth 
 herself. " Bycause the queen's majesty is a maid, in this case 
 
180 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 would many things be omitted of honour and courtsey, which 
 otherwise were mete to be showed to him, as in like cases hath 
 been of kings of this land to others, and therefore it shall be neces- 
 sary that the gravest of her council do, as of their own judgment, 
 excuse the lack thereof to the king ; and yet on their own parts 
 offer the supplement thereof with reverence." 
 After all, the king of Sweden never came. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 1561 to 1565. 
 
 Difficulties respecting the succession. — Lady C. Grey marries Hie 
 earl of Hertford. — Cruel treatment of them by Elizabeth. — 
 Conspiracy of the Poles. — Law against prophecies.— -Sir H. 
 Sidney ambassador to France. — Some account of him. — De- 
 fence of Havre under the earl of Warwick. — Its surrender. — 
 Proposed interview between Elizabeth and Mary. — Plague in 
 London. — Studies of the queen. — Proclamation respecting por- 
 traits of her. — Negotiations concerning the marriage of Mary. 
 — Elizabeth proposes to her lord R. Dudley. — Hales punished 
 for defending the title of the Suffolk line. — Sir N. Bacon and 
 lord J. Grey in some disgrace on the same account. — Queen 7 s 
 visit to Cambridge. — Dudley created earl of Leicester.— Notice 
 of sir James Melvil and extracts from his memoirs. — -Marriage 
 of Mary with Darnley. — Conduct of Elizabeth respecting it. — 
 She encourages, then disavows the Scotch malcontent lords.— 
 Behaviour of sir N. Throgmorton. — The puritans treated with 
 greater lenity. 
 
 The situation of Elizabeth, amid its many difficulties, pre- 
 sented none, so perplexing, none which the opinions of her most 
 prudent counsellors were so much divided on the best mode of 
 obviating, as those arising out of the doubt and confusion in 
 which the right of succession was still involved. Her avowed 
 repugnance to marriage, which was now feared to be insurmoun- 
 table, kept the minds of men continually busy on this dangerous 
 topic, and she was already incurring the blame of many by the 
 backwardness which she discovered in designating a successor 
 and causing her choice to be confirmed, as it would readily have 
 been, by the parliament. 
 
 But this censure must be regarded as unjust. Even though 
 the jealousy of power had found no entrance into the bosom of 
 Elizabeth, sound policy required her long to deliberate before 
 she formed a decision, and perhaps, whatever that decision mighty 
 
QUERN ELIZABETH. 
 
 181 
 
 be, forbade her, under present circumstances, to announce it to 
 the world. 
 
 The title of the queen of Scots, otherwise unquestionable, was 
 barred by the will of Henry VIII., ratified by an unrepealed act ot 
 parliament, and nothing less solemn than a fresh act of the whole 
 legislature would have been sufficient to render it perfectly free 
 from objection : and could Elizabeth be in reason expected to 
 take such a step in behalf of a foreign and rival sovereign, pro- 
 fessing a religion hostile to her own and that of her people ; of 
 one, above all, who had openly pretended a right to the crown 
 preferable to her own, and who was even now exhausting the 
 whole art of intrigue to undermine and supplant her? 
 
 On the other hand, to confirm the exclusion of the Scottish 
 line, and adopt as her successor the representative of that ot 
 Suffolk, appeared neither safe nor equitable. 
 
 The testamentary disposition of Henry had evidently been dic- 
 tated by caprice and resentment, and the title of Mary was never- 
 theless held sacred and indisputable not only by all the catholics, 
 but by the partisans of strict hereditary right in general, and by all 
 who duly appreciated the benefits which must flow from an union 
 of the English and Scottish sceptres. To inflict a mortal injury 
 on Mary might be as dangerous as to give her importance by an 
 express law establishing her claims, and against any perils in 
 which Elizabeth might thus involve herself, the house of Suffolk 
 could afford her no accession of strength, since their allegiance, 
 — all they had to offer, — was hers already. 
 
 The lady Catherine Grey, the heiress of this house, might in- 
 deed have been united in marriage to some protestant prince, 
 whose power would have acted as a counterpoise to that of Scot- 
 land. But a secret and reluctant persuasion that the real right 
 was with the Scottish line, constantly operated on the mind of 
 Elizabeth so far as to prevent her from taking any step toward* 
 the advancement of the rival family; and the unfortunate lady 
 Catherine was doomed to undergo all the restraints, the perse- 
 cutions, and the sufferings, which in that age formed the melan- 
 choly appanage of the younger branches of the royal race, with 
 little participation of the homage or the hopes which some minds 
 would have accepted as an adequate compensation. 
 
 It will be remembered, that the hand of this high-born lady 
 was given to lord Herbert, son of the earl of Pembroke, on the 
 same day that Guildford Dudley fatally received that of her 
 elder sister the lady Jane ; and that on the accession of Mary, 
 this short-lived and perhaps uncompleted union had been 
 dissolved at the instance of the politic father of lord Herbert. 
 From, this time lady Catherine had remained in neglect and ob- 
 scurity till the year 1560, when information of her having formed 
 a private connexion with the earl of Hertford, son of the Pro- 
 tector Somerset, reached the ears of Elizabeth. The lady, on 
 being questioned, confessed her pregnancy, declaring herself at 
 the same time to be the lawful wife of the earl : her degree of 
 relationship to the queen was not so near as to render her mar 
 
18r2 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 riage without the royal consent illegal, yet by a stretch of autho- 
 rity familiar to the Tudors she was immediately sent prisoner to 
 the Tower. Hertford, in the mean time, was summoned to pro- 
 duce evidence of the marriage, by a certain day, before special 
 commissioners named by her majesty, from whose decision no 
 appeal was to lie. He was at this time in France, and so early 
 a day was designedly fixed for his answer, that he found it im- 
 practicable to collect his proofs in time, and to the Tower he 
 also was committed, as the seducer of a maiden of royal blood. 
 
 By this iniquitous sentence, a colour was given for treating 
 the unfortunate lady and those who had been in her confidence 
 with every species of harshness and indignity, and the following 
 extract from a warrant addressed in the name of her majesty to 
 Mr. Warner, lieutenant of the tower, sufficiently indicates the 
 cruel advantage taken of her situation. 
 
 .... " Our pleasure is, that ye shall, as by our command- 
 ment, examine the lady Catherine very straightly, how many 
 hath been privy to the love between her and the earl of Hert- 
 ford from the beginning ; and let her certainly understand that 
 she shall have no manner of favour except she will show the 
 truth, not only what ladies or gentlewomen of this court were 
 thereto privy, but also what lords and gentlemen : For it doth 
 now appear that sundry personages have dealt herein, and when 
 it shall appear more manifestly, it shall increase our indignation 
 against her if she will forbear to utter it. 
 
 " We earnestly require you to use your diligence in this. Ye 
 shall also send to alderman Ljodge secretly for St. Low, and 
 shall put her in awe of divers matters confessed by the lady Ca- 
 therine ; and so also deal with her that she may confess to you 
 all her knowledge in the same matters. It is certain that there 
 hath been great practices and purposes ; and since the death of 
 *he lady Jane she hath been most privy. And as ye shall see 
 occasion, so ye may keep St. Low two or three nights more or 
 less, and let her be returned to Lodge's or kept still with you 
 as ye shall think meet."* &c. 
 
 The child of which the Countess of Hertford was delivered- 
 soon after her committal, was regarded as illegitimate, and she 
 was doomed to expiate her pretended misconduct by a further 
 imprisonment at the arbitrary pleasure of the queen. The birth 
 of a second child, the fruit of stolen meetings between the cap- 
 tive pair, aggravated in the jealous eyes of Elizabeth their common 
 guilt. Warner lost his place for permitting or conniving at 
 their interviews, and Hertford was sentenced in the Star-chamber 
 to a fine of fifteen thousand pounds for the double offence of 
 vitiating a female of the royal blood, and of breaking his prison 
 to renew his offence. 
 
 It might somewhat console this persecuted pair under all their 
 sufferings, to learn how unanimously the public voice was in their 
 favour. No one doubted that they were lawfully married, — a 
 
 * '« Burleigh Papers," by Haynes. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 185 
 
 r.-u i which was afterwards fully established, — and it was asked, 
 by what right, or on what principle, her majesty presumed to 
 keep asunder those whom God had joined? Words ran so high 
 on (his subject after the sentence of the Star-chamber, that some 
 alarmists in (he privy-council urged the necessity of inflicting 
 still severer punishment on the earl, and of intimidating the talk- 
 ers by strong measures. The further consequences of this affair 
 to persons high in her majesty's confidence will be related here- 
 after: meantime it must be recorded, to the eternal disgrace of 
 Elizabeth's character and government, that she barbarously and 
 illegally detained her ill-fated kinswoman, first in the Tower, 
 and afterwards in private custody, till the day of her death in 
 January 1567; and that the earl her husband, having added to 
 the original offence of marrying a princess, the further presump- 
 tion of placing upon legal record the proofs of his children's le- 
 gitimacy, was punished, besides his fine, with an imprisonment 
 of nine whole years. So much of the jealous spirit of her grand- 
 father still survived in the bosom of this last of the Tudors ! 
 
 On another occasion, however, she exercised towards a family 
 whose pretensions had been viewed by her father with peculiar 
 dread and hostility, a degree of forbearance which had in it some- 
 what of magnanimity. 
 
 Arthur and Edmund Pole, two nephews of the cardinal, with 
 sir Anthony Fortescue their sister's husband, and other accom- 
 plices, had been led, either by private ambition, by a vehement 
 zeal for the Romish faith, or both together, to meditate the sub- 
 version of the existing state of things, and to plan the following 
 wild and desperate scheme. 
 
 Having first repaired to France where they expected to re- 
 ceive aid and counsels from the Guises, the conspirators were to 
 return at the head of an army and make a landing in Wales. 
 Here Arthur Pole, assuming at the same time the title of duke 
 of Clarence, was to proclaim the queen of Scots, and the new so- 
 vereign was soon after to give her hand to his brother Edmund. 
 This absurd plot was detected before any steps were taken to- 
 wards its execution : the Poles were apprehended, and made a 
 full disclosure on their trial of all its circumstances ; pleading 
 however in excuse, that they had no thought of putting their de- 
 sign in practice till the death of the queen, an event which cer- 
 tain diviners in whom they placed reliance had confidently pre- 
 dicted within the year. 
 
 In consideration of this confession, and probably of the insig- 
 nificance of the offenders, the royal pardon was extended to their 
 lives, and the illustrious name of Pole was thus preserved from 
 extinction. It is probable, however, that they were kept for some 
 time prisoners in the Tower ; and thither was also sent the coun- 
 tess of Lenox, on discovery of the secret correspondence which 
 she carried on with the queen of Scots. 
 
 The confession of the Poles seems to have given occasion to 
 the renewal, by the parliament of 1562, of a law against "fond 
 and fantastical prophecies," promulgated with design to disturb 
 
184 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 the queen's government ; by which act also it was especially for- 
 bidden to make prognostications on or by occasion of any coats 
 of arms, crests, or badges ; a clause added, it is believed, for the 
 particular protection of the favourite, Dudley, whose bear and 
 ragged staff, was the continual subject of open derision or emble- 
 matical satire. 
 
 A legend in the " Mirror for Magistrates," relating the unhap- 
 py catastrophe of George duke of Clarence, occasioned by a pro- 
 phecy against one whose name began with a G, appears to have 
 been composed in aid of the operation of this law. The author 
 takes great pains to impress his readers with the futility as 
 well as wickedness of such predictions, and concludes with the 
 remark, that no one ought to imagine the foolish and malicious 
 inventors of modern prophecies inspired, though 
 
 . . . . " learned Merlin whom God gave the sprite 
 
 To know and utter princes' acts to come, 
 
 Like to the Jewish prophets did recite 
 
 In shade of beasts their doings all and some ; 
 
 Expressing plain by manners of the doom 
 
 That kings and lords such properties should have 
 
 As have the beasts whose name he to them gave !" 
 
 In France every thing now wore the aspect of an approaching 
 civil war between the partisans of the two religions, under the 
 conduct on one side of the Guises, on the other of the princes of 
 the house of Conde. Elizabeth judged it her duty, or her poli- 
 cy, to make a last effort for the reconciliation of these angry fac- 
 tions, and she dispatched an ambassador to Charles IX., charged 
 with her earnest representations on the subject. They were how- 
 ever ineffectual, and produced apparently no other valuable re- 
 sult than that of rendering her majesty better acquainted with 
 the talents and merit of the eminent person whom she had honour- 
 ed with this delicate commission. 
 
 This person was sir Henry Sidney, one of the most upright as 
 well as able of the ministers of Elizabeth : — that he was the fa- 
 ther of sir Philip Sidney was the least of his praises ; and it may 
 be cited as one of the caprices of fame, that he should be remem- 
 bered by his son, rather than his son by him. Those qualities 
 which in sir Philip could afford little but the promise of active 
 virtue, were brought in sir Henry to the test of actual perform- 
 ance ; and lasting monuments of his wisdom and his goodness re- 
 main in the institutions by which he softened the barbarism of 
 Wales, and appeased the more dangerous turbulence 0/ Ireland 
 by promoting its civilisation. 
 
 Sir Henry was the son of sir William Sidney, a gentleman of 
 good parentage in Kent, whose mother was of the family of Bran- 
 don and nearly related to the duke of Suffolk of that name, the 
 favourite and brother-in-law of Henry VIII. Sir William in 
 his youth had made one of a band of gentlemen of figure, who, 
 with their sovereign's approbation, travelled into Spain and other 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 185 
 
 countries of Europe to study the manners and customs of their 
 respective courts. He likewise distinguished himself in the field 
 of Flodden. The king stood godfather to his son Henry, born 
 in 1529, and caused him to be educated with the prince of 
 Wftles, to whom sir William was appointed tutor, chamberlain, 
 ;ui(l steward. 
 
 The excellent qualities and agreeable talents of young Sidney 
 soon endeared him to Edward, who made him his inseparable 
 companion, and often his beij-fellow ; kept him in close attend- 
 ance on his person during his long decline, and sealed his friend- 
 ship by breathing his last in his arms. 
 
 During the short reign of this lamented prince, Sidney had re- 
 ceived the honour of knighthood, and had been intrusted, at the 
 early age of one or two-and -twenty, with an embassy to the 
 French king, in which he acquitted himself so ably that he was 
 soon afterwards sent in a diplomatic character to Scotland. He 
 had likewise formed connections which exerted important influ- 
 ence on his after fortunes. Sir John Cheke held him in particular 
 esteem, and through his means he had contracted a cordial 
 friendship with Cecil, of which, in various ways, he found the 
 benefit to the end of his life. A daughter of the all-powerful 
 duke of Northumberland had also honoured him with her hand, 
 — a dangerous gift, which was likely to have involved him in the 
 ruin which the guilty projects of that audacious man drew down 
 upon the heads of himself and his family. But the prudence or 
 loyalty of Sidney preserved him from the snare. No sooner had 
 his royal master breathed his last, than, relinquishing all concern 
 in public affairs, he withdrew to the safe retirement of his own 
 seat at Penshurst, where he afterwards afforded a generous asy- 
 lum to such of the Dudley's as had escaped death or imprison- 
 ment. 
 
 Queen Mary seems to have held out an earnest of future favour- 
 to Sidney, by naming him amongst the noblemen and knights ap- 
 pointed to attend Philip of Spain to England for the completion 
 of his nuptials ; and this prince further honoured him by becom- 
 ing sponsor to his afterwards celebrated son, and giving him his 
 own name. But Sidney soon quitted a court in which a man of 
 protestant principles could no longer reside with satisfaction, if 
 with safety, and accompanied to Ireland his brother-in-law vis- 
 count Fitz waiter, then lord -deputy. In that kingdom, he at first 
 bore the office of vice-treasurer, and afterwards, during the fre- 
 qu'ent absences of the lord-deputy, the high one of sole lord- 
 justice. 
 
 The accession of Elizabeth enabled lord Robert Dudley to 
 make a large return for the former kindness of his brother-in- 
 law ; and supported by the influence of this distinguished fav- 
 ourite, in addition to his personal claims, sir Henry Sidney rose 
 in a few years to the dignities of privy-councillor and knight of 
 the garter. After his embassy to France, he was appointed to 
 the post of lord-president of Wales, to which, in 1565, the still 
 more important one of lord-deputy of Ireland was added ; — an 
 
 \ a 
 
.186 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 union of t\yo not very compatible offices, unexampled in our annals 
 before or since. Some particulars of sir Henry Sidney's government 
 of Ireland may come under review hereafter: it is sufficient here 
 to observe, that ample testimony to his merit was furnished by 
 Elizabeth herself, in the steadiness with which she persisted in 
 appointing and re-appointing him to this most perplexing de- 
 partment of public service, in spite of all the cabals, of English 
 or Irish growth, by which, though his favour with her was some- 
 times shaken, her rooted opinion of his probity and sufficiency 
 could never be overthrown. 
 
 The failure of Elizabeth's negotiations with the French court, 
 was followed by her taking up arms in support of the oppressed 
 Hugonots ; and Ambrose Dudley, earl of Warwick, the elder 
 brother of lord Robert, was sent to Normandy at the head of 
 three thousand men. Of the two Dudley's it was said by their 
 contemporaries, that the elder inherited the money, and the 
 younger the wit, of his father. If this remark were well found- 
 ed, which seems doubtful, the appointment of Warwick to an 
 important command must probably be set down to the account 
 of favouritism. It was not, however, the wish of the queen that 
 her troops should often be led into battle. It was her main ob- 
 ject to obtain lasting possession of the town of Havre, as an in- 
 demnification for the loss of Calais, so much deplored by the 
 nation ; and into this place Warwick threw himself with his 
 chief force. In the next campaign, when it was assailed by the 
 whole power of France, he prepared, according to the orders of 
 Elizabeth, for a desperate defence, and no blame was ever im- 
 puted to him for a surrender, which became unavoidable through 
 the ravages of the plague, and the delay of reinforcements by 
 contrary winds.* Warwick appears to have preserved through, 
 life the character of a man of honour and a brave soldier. 
 
 A project which had been for some time under discussion, of 
 a personal interview at York between the English and Scottish 
 queens, was now finally given up. Elizabeth, it is surmised, was 
 unwilling to afford her beautiful and captivating enemy such an 
 opportunity of winning upon the affections of the English peo- 
 ple, and Mary was fearful of offending her uncles the princes of 
 Guise by so public an advance towards a good understanding 
 with a princess now engaged in open hostilities against their 
 country and faction. The failure ot this design deserves not to 
 
 * It was by no remissness on the part of the queen that this town was lost; the 
 preservation of which was an object very near her heart, as appears from a letter of 
 encouragement addressed hy the privy-council to Warwick, which has the follow- 
 ing postscript in her own hand-writing. 
 
 " My dear Warwick : If your honour and my desire could accord with the loss of 
 the needfullest fingtr I keep, God so help me in my utmost need as I would gladly 
 lose that one joint for your safe abode with me; but since 1 cannot that I would, I 
 w ill do that I may, and will rather drink in an ashen cup than you or yours should 
 not be succour' d both by sea and laud, yea, and that with ail speed possible, and let 
 this my scribbling hand witness it to them all. 
 
 " Yours as my own, 
 
 " E. R." 
 
 See t( Archseologia," vol. xiii. p. 201. 
 
QUEEN ELtZA BETH. 
 
 187 
 
 be regretted. The meetings of princes have never, under any 
 circumstances, been known to produce a valuable political re 
 suit; and an interview between these jealous and exasperated 
 rivals could only have exhibited disgusting scenes of forced civi- 
 lity and exaggerated profession, thinly veiling the inveterate ani 
 mosity which neither party could hope effectually to hide from 
 the intuitive perception of the other. 
 
 A terrible plague, introduced by the return of the sickly gar- 
 rison of Havre, raged in London during the year 1563, and, for 
 some time carried off about a thousand persons weekly. The 
 sittings of parliament were held on this account at Hertford Cas- 
 tle ; and the queen, retiring to Windsor, kept herself in unusual 
 privacy, and took advantage of the opportunity to pursue her 
 literary occupations with more than common assiduity. Without 
 entirely deserting her favourite Greek classics, she at this time 
 applied herself principally to the study of the Christian fathers, 
 with the laudable purpose, doubtless, of making herself mistress 
 of those questions respecting the doctrine and discipline of the 
 primitive church now so fiercely agitated between the divines 
 of different communions, and on which, as head of the English 
 church, she was often called upon to decide in the last resort. 
 
 Cecil had mentioned these pursuits of her majesty in a letter 
 to Cox bishop of Ely, and certainly as matter of high commenda- 
 tion ; but the bishop answered, perhaps with better judgment, 
 that after all, Scripture was " that which pierced that of the 
 fathers, one was inclined to Pelagianism, another to Monachism, 
 and he hoped that her majesty only occupied herself with them 
 at idle hours. 
 
 Even studies so solemn could not however preserve the royal 
 theologian, now in her thirtieth year, from serious disturbance 
 on account of certain ill-favoured likenesses of her gracious 
 countenance which had obtained a general circulation among 
 her loving subjects. So provoking an abuse was thought to 
 justify and require the special exertion of the royal prerogative 
 for its correction, and Cecil was directed to draw up an energetic 
 proclamation on the subject. 
 
 This curious document sets forth, that " forasmuch as through 
 the natural desire that all sorts of subjects had to procure the 
 portrait and likeness of the queen's majesty, great numbers of 
 painters, and some printers and gravers, had and did daily 
 attempt in divers manners to make portraitures of her, wherein 
 none hitherto had sufficiently expressed the natural representa- 
 tion of her majesty's person, favour, or grace ; but had for the 
 most part erred therein, whereof daily complaints were made 
 amongst her loving subjects, — that for the redress hereof her 
 majesty had been so importunately sued unto by the lords of her 
 council and other of her nobility, not only to be content that 
 some special cunning painter might be permitted by access to 
 her majesty to take the natural representation of her, whereof 
 she had been always of her own right disposition very unwilling, 
 but also to prohibit all manner of other persons to draw, paint, 
 
188 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 grave, or portrait her personage or visage for a time, until there 
 were some perfect pattern or example to be followed. 
 
 " Therefore her majesty, being herein as it were overcome 
 with the continual requests of so many of her nobility and lords, 
 whom she could not well deny, was pleased that some cunning 
 person should shortly make a portrait of her person or visage to 
 be participated to others for the comfort of her loving subjects; 
 and furthermore commanded, that till this should be finished, 
 all other persons should abstain from making any representations 
 of her; that afterwards her majesty would be content that all 
 other painters, printers, or gravers, that should be known men 
 of understanding, and so therein licensed by the head officers of 
 the places where they should dwell (as reason it was that every 
 person should not without consideration attempt the same,) 
 might at their pleasure follow the said pattern or first portraiture. 
 And for that her majesty perceived a great number of her loving 
 subjects to be much grieved with the errors and deformities 
 herein committed, she straightly charged her officers and minis- 
 ters to see to the observation of this proclamation, and in the 
 meantime to forbid the showing or publication of such as were 
 apparently deformed, until they should be reformed which were 
 reformable."* 
 
 On the subject of marriage, so perpetually moved to her both 
 by her parliament and by foreign princes, Elizabeth still pre- 
 served a cautious ambiguity of language, well exemplified in the 
 following passage : " The duke of Wirtemberg, a German protes- 
 tant prince, had lately friendly offered his service to the queen, 
 in case she were minded to marry. To which, January 27th she 
 gave him this courteous and princely answer: " That although 
 she never yet were weary of single and maiden life, yet indeed 
 she was the last issue of her father left, and the only of her house ; 
 the care of her kingdom and the love of posterity did counsel 
 her to alter this course of life. But in consideration of the leave 
 that her subjects had given her in ampler manner to make her 
 choice than they did to any prince afore, she was even in cour- 
 tesy bound to make that choice so as should be for the best of 
 her state and subjects. And for that he offered therein his as- 
 sistance, she graciously acknowledged the same, promising to 
 deserve it hereafterV't 
 
 It might be curious to inquire of what nature the assistance 
 politely proffered by the duke in this matter, and thus favourably 
 received by her majesty, could be; it does not appear that he 
 tendered his own hand to her acceptance. 
 
 The French court became solicitous about this time to draw 
 closer its bond of amity with the queen of Scots, who, partly on 
 account of some wrong which had been done her respecting the 
 payment of her dower, partly in consequence of various affronts 
 put upon her subjects, had begun to estrange herself from her 
 old connexions, and to seek in preference the alliance of Eliza- 
 
 '.* Archseologia," vol. ii. p. 169. 
 
 f Strype's " Annals," vol. i. p. 398. 
 
QI.JKEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 189 
 
 beta. French agents were now sent over to Scotland to urge 
 upon her the claims of former friendship, and to tempt her by 
 brilliant promises to listen to proposals of marriage from the 
 duke of Anjou, preferably to those made her by the archduke 
 Charles or by don Carlos. 
 
 Intelligence of these negotiations awakened all the jealousies, 
 political and personal, of Elizabeth. She ordered her agent 
 Randolph, a practised intriguer, to devise means for crossing 
 the matrimonial project. Meantime, by way of intimidation, she 
 appointed the earl of Bedford to the lieutenancy of the four 
 northern counties, and the powerful earl of Shrewsbury to that 
 of several adjoining ones, and ordered a considerable levy of 
 troops in these pants for the reinforcemeut of the garrison of 
 Berwick and the protection of the English border, on which she 
 affected to dread an attack by an united French and Scottish 
 force. 
 
 Randolph soon after received instructions to express openly 
 to Mary his sovereign's dislike of her matching either with the 
 archduke or with any other foreign prince, and her wish that 
 she would choose a husband within the island ; and he was next 
 empowered to add, that if the Scottish queen would gratify his 
 mistress in this point, she need not doubt of obtaining a public 
 recognition of her right of succession to the English crown. Eli- 
 zabeth afterwards came nearer to the point ; she designated lord 
 Robert Dudley as the individual on whom she desired that the 
 choice of her royal kinswoman should fall. By a queen-dow- 
 ager of France, and a queen-regnant of Scotland, the proposal of 
 so inferior an alliance might almost be regarded as an insult, 
 and Mary was naturally haughty; but her hopes and fears com- 
 pelled her to dissemble her indignation, and even to affect to 
 take the matter into consideration. She trusted that pretexts 
 might be found hereafter for evading the completion of the mar- 
 riage, even if the queen of England were sincere in desiring such 
 an advancement for her favourite, which was much doubted, and 
 she determined for the present to show herself docile to all the 
 suggestions of her royal sister, and to preserve the good under- 
 standing on her part unbroken. 
 
 It was during the continuance of this state of apparent amity 
 between the rival queens, that Elizabeth thought proper to visit 
 with tokens of her displeasure the leaders in an attempt to esta- 
 blish the title of the Suffolk line, which still found adherents of 
 some importance. 
 
 John Hales, clerk of the hanaper, a learned and able man, and, 
 like all who espoused this party, a zealous protestant, had writ- 
 ten, and secretly circulated, a book in defence of the claims of 
 the lady Catherine, and he had also procured opinions of foreign 
 lawyers in favour of the validity of her marriage. For one or 
 both of these offences he was committed to the Fleet prison, and 
 the secretary was soon after commanded to examine thoroughly 
 into the business, and learn to whom Hales had communicated 
 his work. A more disagreeable task could scarcely have been 
 
190 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 imposed upon Cecil ; for, besides that he must probably have been 
 aware that his friend and brother-in-law sir Nicholas Bacon was 
 implicated, it seems that he himself was not entirely free from 
 suspicion of some participation in the affair. But he readily ac- 
 knowledged his duty to the queen to be a paramount obligation 
 to all others, and he wrote to a friend that he was determined to 
 proceed with perfect impartiality. 
 
 In conclusion, Hales was liberated after half a year's impri- 
 sonment. Bacon, the lord keeper, who appeared to have seen 
 the book, and either to have approved it, or at least to have 
 taken no measures for its suppression or the punishment of its 
 author, was not removed from his office ; but he was ordered to 
 confine himself strictly to its duties, and to abstain henceforth 
 from taking any part in political business. But by this prohibi- 
 tion Cecil affirmed that public business suffered essentially, for 
 Bacon had previously discharged with distinguished ability the 
 functions of a minister of state ; and he never desisted from 
 intercession with her majesty till he saw his friend fully rein- 
 stated in her favour. Lord John Grey of Pyrgo, uncle to lady 
 Catherine, had been a principal agent in this business, and after 
 several examinations by members of the privy-council, he was 
 committed to a kind of honourable custody, in which he appears 
 to have remained till his death, which took place a few months 
 afterwards. These punishments were slight compared with the 
 customary severity of the age ; and it has plausibly been con- 
 jectured that the anger of Elizabeth on this occasion was rather 
 feigned than real, and that although she thought proper openly 
 to resent any attempt injurious to the title of the queen of Scots, 
 she was secretly not displeased to let this princess perceive that 
 she must still depend on her friendship for its authentic and una- 
 nimous recognition. 
 
 Her anger against the earl of Hertford for the steps taken by 
 him in confirmation of his marriage was certainly sincere, how- 
 ever unjust. She was provoked, perhaps alarmed, to find that 
 he had been advised to appeal against the decision of her com- 
 missioners : on better consideration, however, he refrained from 
 making this experiment ; but by a process in the ecclesiastical 
 courts, with which the queen could not or would not interfere, 
 he finally succeeded in establishing the legitimacy of his sons. 
 
 Of the progresses of her majesty, during several years, nothing 
 remarkable appears on record ; they seem to have had no other 
 object than the gratification of her love of popular applause, and 
 her taste for magnificent entertainments which cost her nothing: 
 and the trivial details of her reception at the different towns or 
 mansions which she honoured with her presence, are equally 
 barren of amusement and instruction. But her visit to the uni- 
 versity of Cambridge in the summer of 1564, presents too many 
 characteristic traits to be passed over in silence. 
 
 Her gracious intention of honouring this seat of learning with 
 her royal presence was no sooner disclosed to the secretary, who 
 was chancellor of the university, than it was notified by him to 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 191 
 
 the vice-chancellor, with a request that proper persons might be 
 sent to receive his instructions on the subject. It appears to 
 have been part of these instructions, that the university should 
 prepare an extremely respectful letter to lord Robert Dudley, 
 who was its high-steward entreating him in such manner to com- 
 mend to her majesty their good intentions, and to excuse any 
 their (ailure in the performance, that she might be inclined to 
 receive in good part all their efforts for her entertainment. So 
 notorious was at this time the pre-eminent favour of this cour- 
 tier with his sovereign, and so humble was the style of address 
 to him required from a body so venerable and so illustrious ! 
 
 Cecil arrived at Cambridge the day before the queen to set all 
 things in order, and received from the university a customary of- 
 fering of two pairs of gloves, two sugarloaves, and a marchpane. 
 Lord Robert and the duke of Norfolk were complimented with 
 the same gift, and finer gloves and more elaborate confectionary 
 were presented to the queen herself. 
 
 When she reached the door of King's college chapel, the 
 chancellor kneeled down and bade her welcome ; and the orator, 
 kneeling on the church steps, made her an harangue of nearly half 
 an hour. " First he praised and commended many and singu- 
 lar virtues planted and set in her majesty, which her highness 
 not acknowledging of shaked her head, bit her lips and her fin- 
 gers, and sometimes broke forth into passion and these words ; 
 * Non est Veritas, el utinam? — On his praising virginity, she said 
 to the orator, * God's blessing of thy heart, there continue.' Af- 
 ter that he showed what joy the university had of her presence," 
 &c. " When he had done, she commended him, and much mar- 
 velled that his memory did so well serve him, repeating such di- 
 verse and sundry matters ; saying that she would answer him 
 again in Latin, but for fear she should speak false Latin, and 
 then they would laugh at her." 
 
 This concluded, she entered the chapel in great state ; lady 
 Strange, a princess of the Suffolk line, bearing her train, and 
 her ladies following in their degrees. Te Deum was sung and 
 the evening service performed, with all the pomp that protestant 
 worship admits, in that magnificent temple, of which she highly 
 extolled the beauty. The next morning, which was Sunday, she 
 went thither again to hear a Latin sermon adclerum, and in the 
 evening, the body of this solemn edifice being converted into a 
 temporary theatre, she was there gratified with a representation 
 of the Aulularia of Plautus. Offensive as such an application of a 
 sacred building would be to modern feelings, it probably shocked 
 no one in an age when the practice of performing dramatic en- 
 tertainments in churches, introduced with the mysteries and 
 moralities of the middle ages, was scarcely obsolete, and cer- 
 tainly not forgotten. Neither was the representation of plays 
 on Sundays at this time regarded as an indecorum. 
 
 A public disputation in the morning, and a Latin play on the 
 story of Dido in the evening, formed the entertainment of her 
 majesty on the third day. On the fourth, an English play called 
 
192 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 Ezechias was performed before her. The next morning she vi- 
 sited the different colleges, — at each of which a Latin oration 
 awaited her and a parting present of gloves and confectionary, 
 besides a volume richly bound, containing the verses in English, 
 Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and Chaldee, composed by the members 
 of each learned society in honour of her visit. 
 
 Afterwards she repaired to St. Mary's church, where a very 
 long and very learned disputation by doctors in divinity, was 
 prepared for her amusement and edification. When it was end- 
 ed, " the lords, and especially the duke of Norfolk and lord Ro- 
 bert Dudley, kneeling down, humbly desired her majesty to 
 speak something to the university, and in Latin. Her highness, at 
 the first, refused, saying, that if she might speak her mind in 
 English, she would not stick at the matter. But understanding 
 by Mr. Secretary that nothing might be said openly to the uni- 
 versity in English, she required him the rather to speak, because 
 he was chancellor, and the chancellor is the queen's mouth. 
 Whereunto he answered, that he was chancellor of the univer- 
 sity, and not hers. Then the bishop of Ely kneeling said, that 
 three words of her mouth were enough." By entreaties so ur 
 gent, she appeared to suffer herself to be prevailed upon to deli- 
 ver a speech which had doubtless been prepared for the occasion, 
 and very probably by Cecil himself. This harangue is not worth 
 transcribing at length : it contained some disqualifying phrases 
 respecting her own proficiency in learning, and a pretty profes- 
 sion of feminine bashfulness in delivering an unstudied speech 
 before so erudite an auditory ; — her attachment to the cause of 
 learning was then set forth, and a paragraph followed which 
 may thus be translated : " I saw this morning your sumptuous 
 edifices founded by illustrious princes my predecessors for the 
 benefit of learning ; but while I viewed them my mind was af- 
 fected with sorrow, and I sighed like Alexander the Great, when 
 having perused the records of the deeds of other princes, turning 
 to his friends or counsellors, he lamented that any one should 
 have preceded him either in time or in actions. When I beheld 
 your edifices, I grieved that I had done nothing in this kind. 
 Yet did the vulgar proverb somewhat lessen, though it could not 
 entirely remove my concern ; — that ' Rome was not built in a 
 day.' For my age is not yet so far advanced, neither is it yet so 
 long since I began to reign, but that before I pay my debt to na- 
 ture, — unless Atropos should prematurely cut my thread, — I 
 may still be able to execute some distinguished undertaking : and 
 never will I be diverted from the intention while life shall ani- 
 mate this frame. Should it, however, happen, as it may, I know 
 not how soon, that I should be overtaken by death before I 
 have been able to perform this my promise, I will not fail to 
 leave some great work to be executed after my decease, by 
 which my memory may be rendered famous, others, excited by 
 my example, and all of you animated to greater ardour in your 
 studies." 
 
 After such a speech, it might naturally be inquired, which col- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 193 
 
 i^ge did she endow ? But, alas ! the prevailing disposition of Eli- 
 zabeth was the reverse of liberal ; and her revenues, it may be 
 added, were narrow. During the whole course of her long reign, 
 not a single conspicuous act of public munificence sheds its 
 splendour on her name, and the pledge thus solemnly and pub- 
 licly given, was never redeemed by her, living or dying. An 
 annuity of twenty pounds bestowed, with the title of her scholar, 
 on a pretty young man of the name of Preston, whose graceful 
 performance in a public deputation and in the Latin play of 
 i)ido had particularly caught her fancy, appears to have been the 
 only solid benefit bestowed by her majesty in return for all the 
 eost and all the learned incense lavished on her reception by this 
 loyal and splendid university.* 
 
 Soon after her return from her progress, the queen determined 
 to gratify her feelings by conferring on her beloved Dudley some 
 signal testimonies of her royal regard ; and she invested him 
 with the dignities of baron of Denbigh and earl of Leicester, 
 accompanying these honours with the splendid gift of Kenel- 
 worth Castle, park and manor : — for in behalf of Dudley, and 
 afterwards of Essex, she could even forget for a time her darling 
 virtue, — frugality. The chronicles of the time describe with 
 extraordinary care and minuteness the whole pompous ceremo- 
 nial of this creation ; but a much more lively and interesting 
 description of this scene, as well as of several others of which 
 he was an eye-witness in the court of Elizabeth, has been hand- 
 ed down to us in the entertaining memoirs of sir James Melvil ; 
 a Scotch gentleman noted among the political agents, or diplo- 
 matists of second rank, whom that age of intrigue brought forth 
 so abundantly. 
 
 A few particulars of the history of this person, curious in 
 themselves, will also form a proper introduction to his narrative. 
 
 Meivil was born in Fifeshire in the year 1530, of a family 
 patronised by the queen regent, Mary of Guise, who having taken 
 into her own service his brothers Robert and Andrew, both af- 
 terwards noted in public life, determined to send James to 
 France to be brought up as page to the queen her daughter, then 
 dauphiness. He was accordingly placed under the care of the 
 crafty Monluc bishop of Valence, then on his return from his 
 Scotch embassy : and previously to his embarkation for the con- 
 tinent he had the advantage of accompanying this master of in- 
 trigue on a secret mission to O'Neil, then the head of the Irish 
 rebels. The youth was apparently not much delighted with his 
 visit to this barbarous chieftain, whose dwelling was "a great 
 
 * A seeming contradiction to 'he assertions in the text may be discovered in the 
 circumstance that Elizabeth is the nominal foundress of Jesus College, Oxford. But 
 it was at the expense, as well as at the suggestion, of Dr. Price, a patriotic Welsh- 
 man, that tliis sominary of learning, designed for the leception of his fellow-coun- 
 trynicn, was instituted. Her name, a charter of incorporation, dated June 27th, 
 1571, ami some Umber from her forests of Stoiv and Shotover, were the only con- 
 tributions ot her majesty toward^ an object so laudable, and of which the inadequate 
 funds of the real founder long -delayed the accomplishment. 
 
 B b 
 
194 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 dark tower, where," says he, "we had cold cheer, such as her- 
 rings and biscuit, for it was Lent " Arriving at Paris, the bishop 
 caused him to be carefully instructed in all the requisite accom- 
 plishments of a page, — the French tongue, dancing, fencing, and 
 playing on the lute: and after nine years spent under his pro- 
 tection, Melvil passed into the service of the constable Mont- 
 morenci, by whose interest he obtained a pension from the king 
 of France. Whilst in this situation, he was dispatched on a se- 
 cret mission to Scotland, to learn the real designs of the prior 
 of St. Andrews, and to inform himself 6f the state of parties in 
 that country. 
 
 In the year 1560 he obtained permission from his own sove- 
 reign to travel, and gained admission into the service of the 
 elector palatine. This prince employed him in an embassy of 
 condolence on the death of Francis II. Some time after his re- 
 turn he received a commission from the queen of Scots to make 
 himself personally acquainted with the archduke Charles, who 
 was proposed to her for a husband. 
 
 This done, he made a tour in Italy, and then returned to the 
 elector palatine at Heidelberg. He was next employed by 
 Maximilian king of the Romans, to carry to France the portrait 
 of one of his daughters, to whom proposals of marriage had been 
 made on the part of Charles IX. At this court Catherine dei 
 Medici would gladly have detained him ; but a summons from 
 his own queen determined him to repair again to Scotland. 
 
 Duke Casimir, son of the elector palatine, having some time 
 before made an offer of his hand to queen Elizabeth, to which a 
 dubious answer had been returned, requested Melvil, in passing 
 through England, to convey his picture to that princess. The 
 envoy, secretly despairing of the suit, desired that he might also 
 be furnished with portraits of the other members of the electoral 
 family, and with some nominal commission by means of which 
 he might gain more easy access to the queen, and produce the 
 picture as if without design. He was accordingly instructed to 
 press for a more explicit answer than had yet been given to the 
 proposal of an alliance offensive and defensive between England 
 and the protestant princes of Germany ; and thus prepared he 
 reached London early in the year 1564. 
 
 After some discourse with the queen on the ostensible object 
 of his mission, Melvil found occasion to break forth into earnest 
 commendations of the elector, whose service nothing, he said, 
 but this duty to his own sovereign could have induced him to 
 quit ; and he added, that for the remembrance of so good a mas- 
 ter, he had desired to carry home with him his portrait, as well 
 as those of all his sons and daughters. " So soon as she heard 
 me mention the pictures," continues he, " she enquired if I had 
 the picture of duke Casimir, desiring to see it. And when I 
 alleged that I had left the pictures in London, she being then 
 at Hampton Court, and that I was ready to go forward on mj 
 journey, she said 1 should not part till she had seen the pictures. 
 So the next day I delivered them all to her majesty, and she 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 195 
 
 desired to keep them all night; and she called upon my lord 
 RobeH Dudley to be judge of dukti Casimir's picture, and ap 
 pointed me to meet her the nexl morning in her garden, where 
 she caused to deliver them a'l unto me, giving me thanks for the 
 Sight of them. I then ottered unto her majesty all the picture , 
 so she would permit me to retain the elector's and his lady's, 
 but she would have none of them. 1 had also sure information 
 that first and last she despised the said duke Casimir." 
 
 It was a little before this time that Elizabeth had been con 
 suited by Mary on the proposal of the archduke, and had de- 
 clared by Randolph her strong disapprobation of it. 
 
 She now told Melvil, with whom she conversed on this and 
 other subjects very familiarly and with apparent openness, that 
 she intended soon to mention as lit matches for his queen two 
 noblemen, one or other of whom she hoped to see her accept. 
 These two, according to Melvil, were Dudley and lord Darnley, 
 eldest son of the earl of Lenox by the lady Margaret Douglas. 
 It must however be remarked, that Melvil appears to be the. only 
 writer who asserts that the first suggestion of an union between 
 Mary and Darnley came from the English queen, who afterwards 
 so vehemently opposed this step. But be this as it may, it is 
 probable that Elizabeth was more sincere in her desire to im- 
 pede the Austrian match than to promote any other for the 
 queen of Scots : and with the former view Melvil accuses her 
 of throwing out hints by which the archduke was encouraged to 
 renew his suit to herself. Provoked, as he asserts, by this du- 
 plicity, of which she soon received certain information, Mary 
 returned a sharp answer to a letter from her kinswoman of seem- 
 ingly friendly advice, and hence had ensued a coldness and a 
 cessation of intercourse between them. But Mary, " fearing 
 that if their discord continued it would cut off all correspondence 
 between her and her friends in England," thought good, a few 
 weeks after Melvil had returned to Scotland, to dispatch him 
 again towards London, " to deal with the queen of England, with 
 the Spanish ambassador, and with my lady Margaret Douglas, 
 and with sundry friends she had in England of different opi- 
 nions." 
 
 It was the interest of neither sovereign at this time to be on 
 bad terms with the other; and their respective ministers and 
 secretaries being also agreed among themselves to maintain har- 
 mony between the countries, the excuses and explanations of 
 Melvil were allowed to pass current, and the demonstrations of 
 amity were resumed between the hostile queens. 
 
 Some particulars of the reception of this envoy at the English 
 court are curious, and may probably be relied on. " Being ar- 
 rived at London 1 lodged near the court, which was at Westmin- 
 ster. My host immediately gave advertisement of my coming, 
 and that same night her majesty sent Mr. Hatton, afterwards 
 governor of the isle of Wight, to welcome me, and to show me 
 that the next morning she would give me audience in her garden 
 at eight of the clock." "The next morning Mr. Hatton and 
 
196 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 Mr. Randolph late agent for the queen of England in Scotland, 
 came to my lodging to convey me to her majesty, who was, as 
 they said, already in the garden. With them came a servant of 
 my lord Robert's with a horse and foot-mantle of velvet, laced 
 with gold, for me to ride upon. Which servant, with the said 
 horse, waited upon me all the time that I remained there." 
 
 At a subsequent interview, " the old friendship being renewed, 
 Elizabeth inquired if the queen had sent any answer to the pro- 
 position of marriage made to her by Mr. Randolph. I answered, 
 as I had been instructed, that my mistress thought little or no- 
 thing thereof, but attended the meeting of some commissioners 
 upon the borders .... to confer and treat upon all such matters 
 of greatest importance, as should be judged to concern the quiet 
 of both countries, and the satisfaction of both their majesties' 
 minds." Adding, " the queen my mistress is minded, as I have 
 said, to send for her part my lord of Murray, and the secretary 
 Lidingtoun, and expects your majesty will send my lord of Bed- 
 ford and my lord Robert Dudley." She answered, " it appeared 
 I made but small account of my lord Robert, seeing I named the 
 earl of Bedford before him, but that ere long she would make 
 him a far greater earl, and that I should see it done before my 
 returning home. For she esteemed him as her brother and best 
 friend, whom she would have herself married had she ever minded 
 to have taken a husband. But being determined to end her life 
 in virginity, she wished the queen her sister might marry him, 
 as meetest of all other with whom she could find in her heart 
 to declare her second person. F'or being matched with him, it 
 would remove out of her mind all fears and suspicions, to be of- 
 fended by any usurpation before her death. Being assured that 
 he was so loving and trusty that he would never suffer any such 
 thing to be attempted during her time. And that the queen 
 my mistress might have the higher esteem of him, I was required 
 to stay till I should see him made earl of Leicester and baron of 
 Denbigh ; which was done at Westminster with great solemnity, 
 the queen herself helping to put on his ceremonial (mantle), he 
 sitting upon his knees before her with a great gravity. But 
 she could not refrain from putting her hand in his neck, smilingly 
 tickling him, the French ambassador and I standing by. Then 
 she turned, asking at me how I liked him? I answered, that as 
 he was a worthy servant, so he was happy, who had a princess 
 who could discern and reward good service. Yet, says she, you 
 like better of yonder long lad, pointing towards my lord Darn- 
 ley, who, as nearest prince of the blood, did bear the sword of 
 honour that day before her." 
 
 " She appeared to be so affectionate to the queen her good 
 sister, that she expressed a great desire to see her. And be- 
 cause their so much by her desired meeting could not so hastily 
 be brought to pass, she appeared with great delight to look upon 
 her majesty's picture. She took me to her bed-chamber and 
 opened a little cabinet, wherein were divers little pictures 
 wrapped within paper, and their names written with her own 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 19: 
 
 band upon the papers. Upon the first that she took up was 
 written * My lord's picture.' I held the candle, and pressed to 
 see that picture so named ; she appeared loath to let me see it, 
 yet my importunity prevailed for a sight thereof, and 1 found it 
 to be the earl of Leicester's picture. I desired that I might 
 have it to carry home to my queen, which she refused, alleging 
 that she had but that one picture of his. I said, Your majesty 
 hath here the original, for I perceived him at the furthest part 
 of the chamber, speaking with secretary Cecil. Then she took 
 out the queen's picture and kissed it, and I adventured to kiss 
 her hand for the great love evidenced therein to my mistress. 
 She showed me also a fair ruby as great as a tennis-ball ^de- 
 sired that she would send either it, or my lord of Leicester's pic- 
 ture, as a token to my queen. She said, that if the queen would 
 follow her counsel, she would in process of time get all that she 
 had : that in the mean time she was resolved in a token to send 
 her with me a fair diamond. It was at this time late after sup- 
 per ; she appointed me to be with her the next morning by eight 
 of the clock, at which time she used to walk in her garden. 
 
 " She enquired of me many things relating to this kingdom, 
 (Scotland,) and other countries wherein I had travelled. She 
 caused me to dine with her dame of honour, my lady Strafford, 
 (an honourable and godly lady, who had been at Geneva, banish- 
 ed during the reign of queen Mary,) that I might be always near 
 her, that she might confer with me." 
 
 . ..." At divers meetings we had divers purposes. The queen 
 my mistress had instructed me to leave matters of gravity some- 
 times, and cast in merry purposes, lest otherwise she should be 
 wearied ; she being well informed of that queen's natural tem- 
 per. Therefore in declaring my observations of the customs of 
 Dutchland, Poland, and Italy ; the buskins of the women was not 
 forgot, and what country weed I thought best becoming gentle- 
 women. The queen said she had clothes of every sort, which 
 every day thereafter, so long as I was there, she changed. One 
 day she had the English weed, another the French, and another 
 the Italian, and so forth. She. asked me, which of them became 
 her best? I answered, in my judgment the Italian dress ; which 
 answer I found pleased her well, for she delighted to shew her 
 golden coloured hair, wearing a caul and bonnet as they do in 
 Italy. Her hair was rather reddish than yellow, curled in appear- 
 ance naturally. 
 
 " She desired to know of me what colour of hair was reputed 
 best, and whether my queen's hair or hers was best, and which of 
 them two was fairest ? I answered, the fairness of them both 
 was not their worst faults. But she was earnest with me to de- 
 clare which of them I judged fairest? I said, she was the fairest 
 queen in England, and mine in Scotland. Yet she appeared 
 earnest. I answered, they were both the fairest ladies in their 
 countries ; that her majesty was whiter, but my queen was very 
 lovely. She enquired, which of them was of highest statute ? J 
 said, my queen. Then, saith she, she is too high, for I myself am 
 
198 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 neither too high nor too low. Then she asked, what exercises 
 she used ? I answered, that when I received my dispatch, the 
 queen was lately come from the Highland hunting. That when 
 her more serious affairs permitted, she was taken up with read- 
 ing of histories: that sometimes she recreated herself in plaving 
 upon the lute and virginals. She asked if she played well ? I 
 said reasonably, for a queen." 
 
 " That same day after dinner, my lord of Hunsdon drew me 
 up to a quiet gallery that I might hear some music, but he said 
 lie durst not avow it, where I might hear the queen play upon 
 the virginals. After I had hearkened awhile, I took by the tapes- 
 try that hung before the door of the chamber, and seeing her 
 back was toward the door, I ventured within the chamber, and 
 stood a pretty space hearing her play excellently well ; but she 
 left off immediately, so soon as she turned about and saw me. She 
 appeared to be surprised to see me, and came forward, seeming 
 to strike me with her hand, alleging that she used not to play be- 
 fore men, but when she was solitary, to shun melancholy. She 
 asked how I came there? I answered, as I was walking with my 
 lord of Hunsdon, as we passed by the chamber door, I heard such 
 melody as ravished me, whereby I was drawn in ere I knew how, 
 excusing my fault of homeliness as being brought up in the court 
 of France, where such freedom was allowed ; declaring myself 
 willing to endure what kind of punishment her majesty should be 
 pleased to inflict upon me, for so great an offence. Then she 
 sat down low r upon a cushion, and 1 upon my knees by her, but 
 with her own hand she gave me a cushion to lay under my knee, 
 which at first I refused, but she compelled me to take it. She 
 then called for my lady Strafford out of the next chamber, for the 
 queen was alone. She enquired whether my queen or she play- 
 ed best ? In that I found myself obliged to give her the praise. 
 She said my French was very good, and asked if I could 
 speak Italian, which she spoke reasonably well. I told her ma- 
 jesty I had no time to learn the language, not having been above 
 two months in Italy. Then she spake to me in Dutch, which was 
 not good ; and would know what kind of books I most delighted 
 in, whether theology, history, or love matters ? I said I liked 
 well of all the sorts. Here I took occasion to press earnestly 
 my dispatch : she said I was sooner weary of her company than 
 she was of mine. I told her majesty, that though I had no rea- 
 son of being weary, I knew my mistress her affairs called me 
 home ; yet I w as stayed two days longer, that I might see her 
 dance, as I was afterward informed. Which being over, she 
 enquired of me whether she or my queen danced best ? I answer- 
 ed, the queen danced not so high or disposedly as she did. Then 
 again she wished that she might see the queen at some conveni- 
 ent place of meeting. I offered to convey her secretly to Scotland 
 by post, cloathed like a page, that under this disguise she might 
 see the queen, as James V. had gone in disguise with his own am- 
 bassador to see the duke of Vendome's sister, who should have 
 been his wife. Telling her that her chamber might be kept in 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH 
 
 199 
 
 her absence, as though she were sick; that none need be privy 
 thereto except lady Strafford, and one of the grooms of her cham- 
 ber. She appeared to like that kind of language, only answered 
 it with a sigh, saying, Alas, if I might do it thus !" 
 
 Respecting Leicester, Melvil says, that he was conveyed by 
 him in his barge from Hampton Court to London, and that, by 
 the way, lie inquired of him what the queen of Scots thought of 
 him and of the marriage proposed by Randolph. " W hereunto," 
 says he, " 1 answered very coldly, as 1 had been by my queen 
 commanded." Then he began to purge himself of so proud a 
 pretence as to marry so great a queen, declaring that he did not 
 esteem himself worthy to wipe her shoes, and that the invention 
 of that proposition of marriage proceeded from Mr. Cecil, his 
 secret enemy ; " For if I," said he, " should have appeared de- 
 sirous of that marriage, I should have offended both the queens, 
 and lost their favour *." 
 
 If we are to receive as sincere this declaration of his senti- 
 ments by Leicester, — confessedly one of the deepest dissem- 
 blers of the age, — what a curious view does it afford of the wind- 
 ings and intricacies of the character of Elizabeth, of the tissue 
 of ingenious snares which she delighted to weave around the 
 foot-steps even of the man whom she most favoured, loved, and 
 trusted ! Perhaps she encouraged, if she did not originally de- 
 vise, this matrimonial project purely as a romantic trial of his 
 attachment to herself, and pleased her fancy with the idea of his 
 rejecting for her a younger and a fairer queen ; — perhaps she 
 entertained a transient thought of making him her own husband, 
 and wished previously to give him consequence by this proposal ; 
 — perhaps she meant nothing more than to perplex Mary by a 
 variety of suitors, and thus delay her marriage ; an event which 
 she could not anticipate without vexation. 
 
 That she was not sincere in her recommendation of Leices- 
 ter is certain from the circumstance, that when the queen of 
 Scots, appearing to incline to a speedy conclusion of the busi- 
 ness, pressed to know on what conditions Elizabeth would give 
 her approbation to the union, the earnestness in the cause which 
 she had before displayed immediately abated. 
 
 Her conduct with respect to Darnley is equally involved in 
 perplexity and double-dealing. Melvil, as we have seen, asserts 
 that it was Elizabeth herself who first mentioned him as a suit- 
 able match for the queen of Scots : and if his relation be correct, 
 which his partiality towards his own sovereign makes indeed 
 somewhat doubtful, the English princess must have been well 
 aware, when she conversed with him, of the favour with which 
 the addresses of this young nobleman were likely to be received, 
 though the envoy says that he forbore openly to express the sen- 
 timents of his court on this topic. It was after Melvil's depar- 
 ture that Elizabeth, not indeed without reluctance and hesita- 
 tion, permitted Darnley to accompany the earl his father into 
 
 * Mdvil's «' Memoirs," passim 
 
<200 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 Scotland, ostensibly for the purpose of witnessing the reversal of 
 the attainder formerly passed against him, and his solemn restor- 
 ation in blood ; but really, as she must well have known, with 
 the object of pushing his suit with the queen. 
 
 Mary no sooner beheld the handsome youth than she was 
 seized with a passion for him, which she determined to gratify : 
 but apprehensive, with reason, of the interference of Elizabeth, 
 she disguised for the present her inclinations, and engaged with 
 a feigned earnestness in negotiations preparatory to an union 
 with Leicester. Meanwhile she was secretly soliciting at Rome 
 the necessary dispensation for marrying within the prohibited 
 degrees of the church ; and it was not till the arrival of this in- 
 strument was speedily expected, and atf her other preparations 
 were complete, that, taking off the mask, she requested her good 
 sister's approbation of her approaching nuptials with Lord Darn 
 ley. 
 
 It is scarcely credible that a person of Elizabeth's sagacity., 
 with her means of gaining intelligence and after all that had 
 passed, could have been surprised by this notification of the in- 
 tentions of the queen of Scots, and it is even problematical how 
 far she was really displeased at the occurrence. Except by imi 
 tating her perpetual celibacy, — a compliment to her envy and 
 her example which could not in reason be expected, — it might 
 seem impossible for the queen of Scots better to consult the 
 views and wishes' of her kinswoman than by uniting herself to 
 Darnley ; — a subject, and an English subject, a near relation 
 both of her own and Elizabeth's, and a man on whom nature had 
 bestowed not a single quality calculated to render him either 
 formidable or respectable. The queen of England, however, fro- 
 wardly bent on opposing the match to the utmost, directed sir 
 Nicholas Throgmorton, her ambassador, to set before the eyes 
 of Mary a long array of objections and impediments ; and he was 
 further authorised secretly to promise support to such of the 
 Scottish nobles as would undertake to oppose it. She ordered, 
 in the most imperious terms, the earl of Lenox and his son to 
 return immediately into England ; threw the countess of Lenox 
 into the Tower by way of intimidation ; and caused her privy- 
 council to exercise their ingenuity in discovering the manifold 
 inconveniences and dangers likely to arise to herself and to her 
 country from the alliance of the queen of Scots with a house so 
 nearly connected with the English crown. 
 
 Mary, however, persisted in accomplishing the union on which 
 her mind was set : Darnley and his father neglected Elizabeth's 
 order of recall ; and her privy-council vexed her by drawing 
 from the melancholy forebodings which she had urged them to 
 promulgate two unwelcome inferences : — that the queen ought 
 to lose no time in forming a connexion which might cut off the 
 hopes of others by giving to the nation posterity of her own ; — 
 and that as the Lenox family were known papists, it would now 
 be expedient to exercise against all of that persuasion the ut- 
 most severity of the penal laws. The earl of Murray and some 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 tttber malcontent lords in Scotland were the only persons who 
 entered with warmth and sincerity into the measures of Eliza- 
 beth against the marriage; for they alone had any personal in- 
 terest in impeding the advancement of the Lenox family. Rashly 
 relying on the assurances which they had received of aid from 
 England, they took up arms against their sovereign ; but find- 
 ing no support from any quarter, they were soon compelled to 
 make their escape across the border and seek refuge with the 
 earl of Bedford, lord warden of the marches. On their arrival 
 in London, the royal dissembler insisted on their declaring, in 
 presence of the French and Spanish ambassadors, that their re- 
 bellious attempts had received no encouragement from her ; but 
 after this open disavowal, she permitted them to remain unmo- 
 lested in her dominions, secretly supplying them with money and 
 interceding with their offended sovereign in their behalf. 
 
 Melvil acquaints us that when sir Nicholas Throgmorton, on 
 returning from his embassy, found that the promises which he had 
 made to these malcontents had been disclaimed both by her ma- 
 jesty and by Randolph, he "stood in awe neither of queen nor 
 council to declare the verity, that he had made such promises 
 in her name, whereof the councillors and craftiest courtiers 
 thought strange, and were resolving to punish him for avowing 
 the same promise to be made in his mistress' name, had not he 
 wisely and circumspectly obtained an act of council for his war- 
 rant, which he offered to produce. And the said sir Nicholas 
 was so angry that he had been made an instrument to deceive 
 the said banished lords, that he advised them to sue humbly for 
 pardon at their own queen's hand, and to engage never again to 
 offend her for satisfaction of any prince alive. And because, as 
 they were then stated, they had no interest, he penned for them 
 a persuasive letter and sent to her majesty." On this occasion 
 Throgmorton showed himself a warm friend to Mary's succes- 
 sion in England, and advised clemency to the banished lords as 
 one mean to secure it. Mary, highly esteeming him and con- 
 vinced by his reasons, resolved to follow his counsels. 
 
 Elizabeth never willingly remitted any, thing of that rigour 
 against the puritans which she loved to believe it politic to ex- 
 ercise ; but they were fortunate enough to find an almost avowed 
 patron in Leicester, and secret favourers in several of her minis- 
 ters and counsellors ; and during the persecutions of the catho- 
 lics which followed the marriage of Mary, she was compelled 
 to press upon them with a less heavy hand. 
 
 Archbishop Parker, who was proceeding with much self-satis- 
 faction and success in the task of silencing by the pains of sus- 
 pension and deprivation all scruples of conscience among the 
 clergy respecting habits and ceremonies, was now mortified to 
 find his zeal restrained by the interference of the queen herself, 
 while the exulting puritans studied to improve to the utmost 
 the temporary connivance of the ruling powers. 
 
 Cc 
 
202 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 1565 and 1566. 
 
 Renewal of the archduke's proposals. — Disappointment of Lei- 
 cester. — Anecdote concerning him. — Disgrace of the earl of 
 Arundel. — Situation of the duke of Norfolk. — Leicester his se- 
 cret enemy. — Notice of the earl of Sussex. — Proclamation re- 
 specting fencing schools. — Marriage of lady Mary Grey. — Sir 
 H. Sidney deputy of Ireland. — Queen's letter to him. — Prince 
 of Scotland born. — Melvil sent with the news to Elizabeth. — 
 His account of his reception. — Motion in the house of commons 
 for naming a successor. — Discord between the house and the 
 queen on this ground. — She refuses a subsidy — dissolves par- 
 liament — visits Oxford. — Particulars oj her reception. 
 
 Whether or not it was with a view of impeding the mar- 
 riage of the queen of Scots that Elizabeth had originally encour- 
 aged the renewal of the proposals of the archduke to herself, 
 certain it is that the treaty was still carried on, and even with 
 increased earnestness, long after this motive had ceased to 
 operate. 
 
 It was subsequently to Mary's announcement of her approach- 
 ing nuptials, that to the instances of the imperial ambassador 
 Elizabeth had replied, that she desired to keep herself free till 
 she had finally decided on the answer to be given to the king of 
 France, who had also offered her his hand.* After breaking off 
 this negotiation with Charles IX., she declared to the same am- 
 bassador, that she would never engage to marry a person whom 
 she had not seen ; — an answer which seemed to hint to the arch- 
 duke that a visit would be well received. It was accordingly 
 reported with confidence that this prince would soon commence 
 his journey to England ; and Cecil himself ventured to write to 
 a friend, that if he would accede to the national religion, and if 
 his person proved acceptable to her majesty, " except God should 
 please to continue his displeasure against us, we should see 
 some success." But he thought that the archduke would never 
 explain himself on religion to any one except the queen, and 
 not to her until he should see hopes of speeding. 
 
 The splendid dream of Leicester's ambition was dissipated for 
 ever by these negotiations ; and a diminution of the queen's par- 
 tiality towards him, distinctly visible to the observant eyes of 
 her courtiers, either preceded or accompanied her entertaining 
 
 * It is on the fiuthority of Strype's " Annals" that this offer of Charles IX. to 
 "Elizabeth is recorib rl. Hume. Camden, Rapin, are all silent respecting it ; hut as 
 it seems that Catherine Hei Medici was :tt the time desirous of the appearance of 
 a closer connexion with Elizabeth, it is not improbable that she might throw out 
 some hint of this nature without any real wish of bringing about an union in all re- 
 spects so unsuitable. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 203 
 
 so tone, and with such an air of serious deliberation, the propo- 
 sals of a foreign prince. The enemies of Leicester, — a Large 
 and formidable party, comprehending almost all the highest 
 names among the nobility and the greater part of the ministers, 
 — openly and zealously espoused the interest of the archduke. 
 Leicester at first with equal warmth and equal openness opposed 
 his pretension* ; but he was soon admonished by the frowns of 
 his royal mistress, that if he would preserve or recover his in- 
 fluence, he must now be content to take a humbler tone, and 
 disguise a disappointment which there was arrogance in avowing. 
 
 The disposition of Elizabeth partook so much more of the 
 haughty than the tender, that the slightest appearances of pre- 
 sumption would always provoke her to take a pleasure in morti- 
 fying the most distinguished of her favourites ; and it might be 
 no improbable guess, that almost the whole of the encouragement 
 given by her to the addresses of the archduke was prompted by 
 the desire of humbling the pride of Leicester, and showing him 
 that his ascendency over her was not so complete or so secure 
 as he imagined. 
 
 A circumstance is related which we may conjecture to have 
 occurred about this time, and which sets in a strong light this 
 part of the character of Elizabeth. " Bowyer, a gentleman of 
 the Black Rod, being charged by her express command to look 
 precisely into all admissions into the privy-chamber, one day 
 stayed a very gay captain, and a follower of my lord of Leices- 
 ter's, from entrance ; for that he was neither well known, nor a 
 sworn servant to the queen : at which repulse, the gentleman, 
 bearing high on my lord's favour, told him, he might perchance 
 procure him a discharge. Leicester coming into the contestation, 
 said, publicly, (which was none of his wont,) that he was a knave, 
 and should not continue long in his office ; and so turning about 
 to go in to the queen, Bowyer, who was a bold gentleman, and 
 well beloved, stepped before him and fell at her majesty's feet, 
 related the story, and humbly craves her grace's pleasure ; and 
 whether my lord of Leicester was king, or her majesty queen ? 
 Whereunto she replied with her wonted oath, ' God's death, my 
 lord, I have wished you well ; but my favour is not so locked up 
 for you, that others shall not partake thereof; for I have many 
 servants, to whom I have, and will at my pleasure, bequeath my 
 favour, and likewise resume the same : and if you think to rule 
 here, I will take a course to see you forthcoming. I will have 
 here but one mistress, and no master ; and look that no ill hap- 
 pen to him, lest it be required at your hands'. Which words so 
 quelled my lord of Leicester, that his feigned humility was long 
 after one of his best virtues."* 
 
 It might be some consolation to Leicester, under his own mor- 
 tifications, to behold his ancient rival, the earl of Arundel, sub- 
 jected to far severer ones. This nobleman had resigned in dis- 
 gust his office of lord -chamberlain ; subsequently, the queen, on 
 
 * Naunton's " Fragraenta Regalia." 
 
204 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 some ground of displeasure now unknown, had commanded him 
 to confine himself to his own house ; and at the end of several 
 months passed under this kind of restraint, she still denied him 
 for a further term the consolation and privilege of approaching 
 her royal presence. Disgraces so public and so lasting, deter- 
 mined him to throw up the desperate game on which he had haz- 
 arded so deep a stake : he obtained leave to travel, and hastened 
 to conceal or forget in foreign lands the bitterness of his disap- 
 pointment and the embarrassment of his circumstances. 
 
 It is probable, that from this time Elizabeth found no more se- 
 rious suitors amongst her courtiers, though they flattered her by 
 continuing, almost to the end of her life, to address her in the 
 language oi love, or rather of gallantry. With all her coquetry, 
 her head was clear, her passions were cool ; and men began to 
 perceive that there was little chance of prevailing with her to 
 gratify her heart or her fancy at the expense of that indepen- 
 dence on which her lofty temper led her to set so high a value. 
 Some were still uncharitable, unjust enough to believe that Lei- 
 cester was, or had been, a fortunate lover ; but few now expect- 
 ed to see him her husband, and none found encouragement suf- 
 ficient to renew the experiment in which he had failed. Not- 
 withstanding her short and capricious fits of pride and anger, it 
 was manifest that Leicester still exercised over her mind an in- 
 fluence superior on the whole to that of any other person ; and 
 the high distinction with which she continued to treat him, both 
 in public and private, alarmed the jealousy and provoked the 
 hostility of all who thought themselves entitled by rank, by re- 
 lationship, or by merit, to a larger share of her esteem and fav- 
 our, or a more intimate participation in her councils. 
 
 One nobleman there was, who had peculiar pretensions to su- 
 persede Leicester in his popular appellation of " Heart of the 
 Court," and on whom he had already fixed in secret the watch- 
 ful eye of a rival. This was Thomas, duke of Norfolk. Inhe- 
 riting through several channels the blood of the Plantagenets, — 
 nearly related to the queen by her maternal ancestry, and con- 
 nected by descent or alliance with the whole body of the ancient 
 nobility ; endeared also to the people by many shining qualities, 
 and still more by his unfeigned zeal for reformed religion, — his 
 grace stood first amongst the peers of England, not in degree 
 alone, or in wealth, but in power, in influence, and in public 
 estimation. 
 
 He was in the prime of manhood and lately a widower ; and 
 when, in the parliament of 1566, certain members did not scru- 
 ple to maintain that the queen ought to be compelled to marry 
 for the good of her country, the duke was named by some, as the 
 earl of Pembroke was by others, and the earl of Leicester by a 
 third party, as the person whom she ought to accept as a hus- 
 band. It does not, however, appear that the duke himself had 
 aspired, openly at least, to these august but unattainable nuptials. 
 
 Elizabeth seems to have entertained for him at this period a 
 real regard : he could be to her no object of distrust or danger. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH, 
 
 205 
 
 and th* k example which she was ever careful to set of a scrupu- 
 lous observance of (he gradations of rank, led her on all occa- 
 sions (o prefer him to the post of honour. Thus, after the peace 
 with France in 1364, when Charles IX., in return for the Gar- 
 ter, which the queen of England had sent him, offered to confer 
 the order of St. Michael on two English nobles of her appoint- 
 ment, she named without hesitation the duke of Norfolk and the 
 earl of Leicester. 
 
 The arrogance of Dudley seldom escaped from the controul of 
 policy ; and as he had the sagacity to perceive that the duke was 
 a competitor over whom treachery alone could render him finally 
 triumphant, he cautiously avoided with him any open collision of 
 interests, any offensive rivalry in matters of place and dignity. 
 He even went further ; he compelled himself, by a feigned defe- 
 rence, to administer food to that exaggerated self-consequence, 
 — the cherished foible of the house of Howard in general and of 
 this duke in particular, out of which he perhaps already hoped 
 that matter would arise to work his ruin. The chronicles of the 
 year 1365, give a striking instance of this part of his behaviour, 
 in the information, that the duke of Norfolk, going to keep his 
 Christmas in his own county, was attended out of London by 
 the earls of Leicester and Warwick, the lord-chamberlain and 
 other lords and gentlemen, who brought him on his journey, 
 " doing him all the honour in their power." 
 
 The duke was not gifted with any great degree of penetration, 
 and the generosity of his disposition combined with his vanity, to 
 render him generally the dupe of outward homage and fair pro- 
 fessions. He repaid the insidious complaisance of Leicester with 
 good will and even with confidence ; and it was not till all was 
 lost that he appears to have recognised this fatal and irreparable 
 error. 
 
 Thomas earl of Sussex was an antagonist of a different nature, 
 — an enemy rather than a rival,— and one who sought the over- 
 throw of Leicester with as much zeal and industry as Leicester 
 himself sought his, or that of the duke ; but by means as open and 
 courageous as those of his opponent were ever secret, base, and 
 cowardly. This nobleman, the third earl of the surname of Rad- 
 cliffe, and son of him who had interfered with effect to procure 
 more humane and respectful treatment of Elizabeth, during the 
 period of her adversity, had been first known by the title of lord 
 Fitzwalter, which he derived from a powerful line of barons well 
 known in English history from the days of Henry I. By his mo- 
 ther, a daughter of Thomas second duke of Norfolk, he was first 
 cousin to queen Anne Boleyn ; and friendship, still more than 
 the ties of blood, closely connected him with the head of the 
 Howards. Several circumstances render it probable that he was 
 not a zealous protestant, though it is no where hinted that he was 
 even secretly attached to the catholic party. During the reign 
 of Mary, his high character and approved loyalty had caused him 
 to be employed, first in an embassy to the emperor Charles V., 
 to settle the queen's marriage-articles ; and afterwards in the 
 
206 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 arduous post of lord -deputy of Ireland. Elizabeth continued him 
 for some time in this situation ; but wishing to avail herself of 
 his counsels and service at home, she recalled him in 1565, con- 
 ferred upon him the high dignity of lord-chamberlain, vacant by 
 the resignation of the earl of Arundel, and appointed as his suc- 
 cessor in Ireland his excellent second in office, sir Henry Sid- 
 ney, who stood in the same relation, that of brother-in-law, to 
 Sussex and to Leicester, and whose singular merit and good for- 
 tune it was to preserve to the end the esteem and friendship 
 of both. 
 
 The ostensible cause of quarrel between these two earls seems 
 to have been, their difference of opinion respecting the Austrian 
 match ; but this was rather the pretext than the motive of an ani- 
 mosity deeply rooted in the natures and situation of each, and 
 probably called into action by particular provocations now un- 
 known. The disposition of Sussex was courageous and sincere ; 
 his spirit high, his judgement clear and strong, his whole charac- 
 ter honourable and upright. In the arts of a courtier, which he 
 despised, he was confessedly inferior to his wily adversary ; in 
 all the qualifications of a statesman and a soldier he vastly ex- 
 celled him. 
 
 Sussex was endowed with penetration sufficient to detect, be- 
 neath the thick folds of hypocrisy and artifice in which he had 
 involved them, the monstrous vices of Leicester's disposition ; 
 and he could not without indignation and disgust, behold a prin- 
 cess whose blood he shared, whose character he honoured, and 
 whose service he had himself embraced with pure devotion, the 
 dupe of an impostor so despicable and so pernicious. That influ- 
 ence which he saw Leicester abuse to the dishonour of the queen 
 and the detriment of the country, he undertook to overthrow by 
 fair and public means, and, so far as appears, without motives of 
 personal interest or ambition : — thus far all was well, and for the 
 effort, whether successful or not, he merited the public thanks* 
 But there mingled in the bosom of the high born Sussex an illi- 
 beral disdain of the origin of Dudley, with a just abhorrence of 
 his character and conduct. 
 
 He was wont to say of him, that two ancestors were all that 
 he could number, his father and grandfather ; both traitors and 
 enemies to their country. His sarcasms roused in Leicester an 
 animosity which he did not attempt to disguise : with the excep- 
 tion of Cecil and his friends, who stood neuter, the whole Court 
 divided into factions upon the quarrel of these two powerful 
 peers ; and to such extremity were matters carried, that for some 
 time neither of them would stir abroad without a numerous train, 
 armed according to the fashion of the day, with daggers and spiked 
 bucklers. 
 
 Scarcely could the queen herself restrain these " angry oppo- 
 sites" from breaking out into acts of violence : at length how- 
 ever, summoning them both into her presence, she forced them to . 
 a reconciliation neither more nor less sincere than such pacifi- 
 cations by authority have usually proved. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 207 
 
 The open and unmeasured enmity of Sussex seems to have 
 been productive in the end of more injury to his own friends than 
 to Leicester. The storm under which the favourite had bowed 
 for an instant, was quickly overpast, and he once more reared 
 his head erect and lofty as before To revenge himself by the 
 ru'ni or disgrace of Sussex was however beyond his power : the 
 well founded confidence of Elizabeth in his abilities and his at- 
 tachment to her person, he found to be immovable; but against 
 his friends and adherents, against the duke of Norfolk himself, 
 his malignant arts succeeded but too well ; and it seems not im- 
 probable that Leicester, for the purpose of carrying on without 
 molestation his practices against them, concurred in procuring 
 for his adversary an honourable exile in the shape of an embassy 
 to the imperial court, on which he departed in the year 1567. 
 
 After his return from this mission the queen named the earl of 
 Sussex lord -president of the North, an appointment which 
 equally removed him from the immediate theatre of court in- 
 trigue. Not long after, the hand of death put a final close to 
 his honourable career, and to an enmity destined to know no 
 other termination. As he lay upon his death-bed, this eminent 
 person is recorded to have thus addressed his surrounding 
 friends : " I am now passing into another world, and must leave 
 you to your fortunes and to the queen's grace and goodness ; but 
 beware of the Gipsy (meaning Leicester), for he will be too hard 
 for you all ; you know not the beast so well as I do."* 
 
 This earl left no children, and his widow became the munifi- 
 cent foundress of Sidney Sussex college, Cambridge. Of his 
 negotiations with the court of Vienna respecting the royal mar- 
 riage which he had so much at heart, particulars will be given in 
 due time ; but the miscellaneous transactions of two or three 
 preceding years claim a priority of narration. 
 
 By a proclamation of February 1566, the queen revived some 
 former sumptuary laws respecting apparel ; chiefly, it should 
 appear, from an apprehension that a dangerous confusion of 
 ranks would be the consequence of indulging to her subjects the 
 liberty of private judgment in a matter so important. The fol- 
 lowing clause concerning fencing schools is appended to this 
 instrument 
 
 " Because it is daily seen what disorders do grow and are 
 likely to increase in the realm, by the increase of numbers of 
 persons taking upon them to teach the multitude of common 
 people to play at all kind of weapons ; and for that purpose set 
 up schools called schools of fence, in places inconvenient; tend- 
 ing to the great disorder of such people as properly ought to 
 apply to their labours and handy works: Therefore her majesty 
 ordereth and commandeth, that no teacher of fence shall keep 
 any school or common place of resort in any place of the realm, 
 but within the liberties of some city of the realm. Where also 
 they shall be obedient to such orders as the governors of the cities 
 
 * Nauuton's " Fragments Ke^alia.'' 
 
208 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 shall appoint to them, for the better ke eping of the peace, and 
 for prohibition of resort of such people to the same schools as 
 are not mete for that purpose." &c. 
 
 On these restrictions, which would seem to imply an unworthy 
 jealousy of putting arms and the skill to use them, into the hands 
 of the common people, it is equitable to remark, that the custom 
 of constantly wearing weapons, at this time almost universal, 
 though prohibited by the laws of some of our early kings, had 
 been found productive of those frequent acts of violence and 
 outrage which have uniformly resulted from this truly barbar- 
 ous practice in all the countries where it has been suffered to 
 prevail. 
 
 From the description of England prefixed to Holinshed's 
 Chronicles, we learn several particulars on this subject. Few 
 men, even of the gravest and most pacific characters, such as 
 ancient burgesses and city magistrates, went without a dagger 
 at their side or back. The nobility commonly wore swords or 
 rapiers as well as daggers, as did every common serving-man 
 following his master. Some " desperate cutters" carried two 
 daggers, or two rapiers in a sheath, always about them, with 
 which in every drunken fray they worked much mischief ; their 
 swords and daggers also were of an extraordinary length (an 
 abuse which was provided against by a clause of the proclama- 
 tion above quoted;) some " suspicious fellows" also would carry 
 on the highways staves of twelve or thirteen feet long, with pikes 
 of twelve inches at the end, wherefore the honest traveller was 
 compelled to ride with a case of dags (pistols) at his saddle bow, 
 and none travelled without sword, or dagger, or hanger. 
 
 About this time occurred what a contemporary reporter called 
 " an unhappy chance and monstrous ;" the marriage of lady Mary 
 Grey to the serjeant-porter : a circumstance thus recorded by 
 Fuller, with his accustomed quaintness. " Mary Grey — frighted 
 with the infelicity of her two elder sisters, Jane and this Ca- 
 therine, forgot her honour to remember her safety, and married 
 one whom she could love and none need fear, Martin Kays, of 
 Kent, esquire, who was a judge at court, (but only of doubtful 
 casts at dice, being serjeant-porter,) and died without issue the 
 20th of April 1578."* 
 
 The queen, according to her usual practice in similar cases, sent 
 both husband and wife to prison. What became further of the hus- 
 band I do not find ; but respecting the wife, sir Thomas Gresham 
 the eminent merchant, in a letter to lord Burleigh dated in April 
 1572, mentions, that the lady Mary Grey had been kept in his 
 house nearly three years, and begs of his lordship that he will 
 make interest for her removal. Thus it should appear that this 
 unfortunate lady did not sufficiently " remember her safety" in 
 forming this connexion, obscure and humble as it was ; for all 
 matrimony had now become offensive to the austerity or the se- 
 cret envy of the maiden queen. 
 
 * tc Worthies in Leicestershire." 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 209 
 
 Sir Henry Sidney, on arriving to take the government of Ire- 
 land, found that unftappy country in a state of more than ordi- 
 nary turbulence, distraction, ajid misery. Petty insurrections of 
 perpetual recurrence harassed the English pale ; and the native 
 chieftains, disdaining to accept the laws of a foreign sovereign 
 as the umpire of their disputes, were waging innumerable private 
 wars, which at once impoverished, afflicted, and barbariscd their 
 country. The most important of these feuds was one between 
 the earls of Ormond and Desmond, which so disquieted the queen 
 that, in addition to all official instructions, she deemed it ne- 
 cessary to address her deputy on the subject in a private letter 
 written with her own hand. This document, printed in the 
 Sidney papers, is too valuable, as a specimen of her extraordinary 
 style and her manner of thinking, to be omitted. It is without 
 date, but must have been written in 1565. 
 
 t; Letter of Queen Elizabeth to Sir Henry Sidney, on the Quar- 
 rel between Thomas, earl of Ormond, and the earl of Desmond, 
 anno 1565. 
 " Harry, 
 
 " If our partial slender managing of the contentious quarrel 
 between the two Irish earls did not make the way to cause these 
 lines to pass my hand, this gibberish should hardly have cum- 
 bered your eyes ; but warned by my former fault, and dreading 
 worser hap to come, I rede you take good heed that the good 
 subjects lost state be so revenged that I hear not the rest won 
 to a right bye way to breed more traitor's stocks, and so the goal 
 is gone. Make some difference between tried, just, and false 
 friend. Let the good service of well-deservers be never reward- 
 ed with loss. Let their thanli be such as may encourage mo 
 strivers for the like. Sutler not that Desmond's denying deeds, 
 far wide from promised works, make you to trust to other pledge 
 than either himself or John for gage : he hath so well performed 
 his English vows, that I warn you trust him no longer than you 
 see one of them. Prometheus let me be, JSpimetheus* hath been 
 mine too long. I pray God your old strange sheep late, (as you 
 say,) returned into the fold, wore not her wooly garment upon 
 her wolvy v back. You know a kingdom knows no kindred, si vio- 
 landumjus regnandi causa. A strength to harm is perilous in the 
 hand of an ambitious head. Where might is mixed with wit, 
 there is too good an accord in a government. Essays be oft dan- 
 gerous, specially when the cup-bearer hath received such a pre- 
 serative as, what might so ever betide the drinker's draught, the 
 carrier takes no bane thereby. 
 
 " Believe not, though they swear, that they can be full sound, 
 whose parents sought the rule that they full fain would have. I 
 warrant you they will never be accused of bastardy ; you were 
 to blame to lay it to their charge, they will trace the steps that 
 others have passed before. If I had not espied, though very late, 
 
 * In the original, " and Piometheus," but evidently bv a mere slip of the pen, 
 
 D d 
 
210 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 legerdemain, used in these cases, I had never played niy part. 
 No, if I did not see the balances held awry, I had never myself 
 come into the weigh house. I hope I shall have so good a custo- 
 mer of you, that all other officers shall do their duty among you. 
 If aught have been amiss at home, I will patch though I cannot 
 whole it. Let us not, nor no more do you, consult so long as till 
 advice come too late to the givers : where then shall we wish the 
 deeds while all was spent in words ; a fool too late bewares when 
 all the peril is past. If we still advise, we shall never do, thus are 
 we still knitting a knot never tied ; yea, and if our web* be 
 framed with rotten hurdles, when our loom is welny done, our 
 work is new to begin. God send the weaver true prentices 
 again, and let them be denizens I pray you if they be not citi- 
 zens ; and such too as your ancientest aldermen, that have or 
 now dwell in your official place, have had best cause to com- 
 mend their good behaviour. 
 
 " Let this memorial be only committed to Vulcan's base keep- 
 ing, without any longer abode than the reading thereof, yea, and 
 with no mention made thereof, to any other wight. I charge 
 you as I may command you. Seem not to have had but secre- 
 tary's letter from me. 
 
 " Your loving mistress, 
 
 "Elizabeth R.* 
 
 In the month of June 1566, the qaeen of Scots was delivered 
 of a son. James Melvil was immediately dispatched with the 
 happy intelligence to her good sister of England : and he has 
 fortunately left us a narrative of this mission, which equals in 
 vivacity the relation of his former visit. "By twelve of the clock 
 I took horse, and was that night at Berwick. The fourth day 
 after, I was at London, and did first meet with my brother sir 
 Robert, (then ambassador to England,) who that same night sent 
 and advertised secretary Cecil of my arrival, and of the birth of 
 the prince, desiring him to keep it quiet till my coming to court 
 to shew it myself unto her majesty, who was for the time at 
 Greenwich, where her majesty was in great mirth, dancing after 
 supper. But so soon as the secretary Cecil whispered in her 
 ear the news of the prince's birth, all her mirth was laid aside 
 for that night. All present marvelling whence proceeded such 
 a change ; for the queen did sit down, putting her hand under 
 her cheek, bursting out to some of her ladies, that the queen of 
 Scots was mother of a fair son, while she was but a barren stock. 
 
 " The next morning was appointed for me to get audience, at 
 what time my brother and I went by water to Greenwich, and 
 were met by some friends who told us how sorrowful her majes- 
 ty was at my news, but that she had been advised to show a glad 
 and cheerful countenance; which she did in her best apparel, 
 saying, that the joyful news of the queen her sister's delivery of 
 a fair son, which I had sent her by secretary Cecil, had recovered 
 
 * The words web and loom in this sentence ought certainly to be transposed. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 211 
 
 her out of a heavy sickness which she had lain under for fifteen 
 days. Therefore She welcomed me with a merry volt, and 
 thanked me for the diligence 1 had used in hasting to give her 
 that welcome intelligence," &c. " The next day her majesty 
 sent unto me her letter, with a present of a fair chain." 
 
 Resolved to perform with a good grace the part which she had 
 assumed^ Elizabeth accepted with alacrity the oflice of sponsor 
 to the prince of Scotland, sending thither as her proxies the earl 
 of Bedford, Mr. Carey, son of lord Hunsdon, and other knights 
 and gentlemen ; who met with so cordial a reception from Mary, 
 — now at open variance with her husband, and therefore desirous 
 of support from England, — as to provoke the jealousy of the 
 French ambassadors. The present of the royal godmother was 
 a font of pure gold, worth above one thousand pounds ; in return 
 for which, rings, rich chains of diamond and pearl, and other 
 jewels, were liberally bestowed upon her substitutes. 
 
 The birth of her son lent a vast accession of strength to the 
 party of the queen of Scots in England ; and Melvil was commis- 
 sioned to convey back to her from several of the principal person- 
 ages of the court, warm professions of an attachment to her per- 
 son and interests, which the jealousy of their mistress compelled 
 them to dissemble. Elizabeth on her part, was more than ever 
 disturbed by suspicions on this head, which were kept in con- 
 stant activity by the secret informations of the armies of spies 
 whom it was her self-tormenting policy to set over the words 
 and actions of the Scottish queen and her English partisans. 
 The more she learned of the influence privately acquired by 
 Mary amongst her subjects, the more, of course, she feared and 
 hated her, and the stronger became her determination never to 
 give her additional consequence by an open recognition of her 
 right of succession. At the same time she was fully sensible 
 that no other person could be thought of as the inheritrix of her 
 crown ; and she resolved, perhaps wisely, to maintain on this 
 subject an inflexible silence : this policy, however, connected 
 with her perseverance in a state of celibacy, began to awaken in 
 her people an anxiety respecting their future destinies, which, 
 being artfully fomented by Scottish emissaries, produced, in 
 1566, the first symptoms of discord between the queen and her 
 faithful commons. 
 
 A motion was made in the lower house for reviving the suit to 
 her majesty touching the naming of a successor in case of her 
 death without posterity : and in spite of the strenuous opposition 
 of the court party, and the efforts of the ministers to procure a 
 delay by declaring " that the queen was moved to marriage and 
 inclined to prosecute the same," it was carried, and a committee 
 appointed to confer with the lords. The business was not very 
 agreeable to the upper house : a committee however was named, 
 and the queen soon after required some members of both houses 
 to wait upon her respecting this matter ; when the lord -keeper 
 explained their sentiments in a long speech, to which her majes- 
 ty was pleased to reply after her darkest and most ambiguous 
 
212 THE COURT OF 
 
 manner. " As to her marriage," she said, " a silent thought might 
 serve. She thought it had been so desired that none other trees 
 blossom should have been minded or ever any hope of fruit had 
 been denied them. But that if any doubted that she was by vow 
 or determination never bent to trade in that kind of life, she 
 bade them put out that kind of heresy, for their belief was there- 
 in awry. And though she could think it best for a private wo- 
 man, yet she strove with herself to think it not meet for a prince. 
 As to the succession, she bade them not think that they had 
 needed this desire, if she had seen a time so fit ; and it so ripe 
 to be denounced. That the greatness of the cause, and the need 
 of their return, made her say that a short time for so long a con- 
 tinuance ought not to pass by rote. That as cause by conference 
 with the learned should show her matter worth vtterance for their 
 behoof, so she would more gladly pursue their good after her 
 days, than with all her prayers while she lived be a means to 
 linger out her living thread. That for their comfort, she had 
 good record in that place that other means than they mentioned 
 had been thought of perchance for their good, as much as for 
 her own surety ; which, if they could have been presently or con- 
 veniently executed, it had not been now deferred or over-slipped. 
 That she hoped to die in quiet with Nunc dimittis, which could 
 not be without she saw some glimpse of their following surety 
 after her graved bones." 
 
 These vague sentences tended little to the satisfaction of the 
 house ; and a motion was made, and strongly supported by the 
 speeches of several members, for reiteration of the suit. At this 
 her majesty was so incensed, that she communicated by sir Fran- 
 cis Knowles her positive command to the house to proceed no 
 further in this business, satisfying themselves with the promise 
 of marriage which she had made on the word of a prince. But 
 that truly independent member Paul Wentworth, could not be 
 brought to acquiesce with tameness in this prohibition, and he 
 moved the house on the question, whether the late command of 
 her majesty was not a breach of its privileges ? The queen here- 
 upon issued an injunction that there should be no debates on this 
 point ; but the spirit of resistance rose so high in the house of 
 commons against this her arbitrary interference, that she found 
 it expedient, a few days after, to rescind both orders, making a 
 great favour however of her compliance, and insisting on the con- 
 dition, that the subject should not at this time be further pursued. 
 
 In her speech on adjourning parliament, she did not omit to ac- 
 quaint both houses with her extreme displeasure at their inter- 
 ference touching the naming of a successor ; a matter which she 
 always chose to regard as belonging exclusively to her preroga- 
 tive ; — and she ended by telling them, " that though perhaps 
 they might have after her one better learned or wiser, yet she 
 assured them none more careful over them. And therefore 
 henceforth she bade them beware how they proved their prince's 
 patience as they had now done hers. And notwithstanding, not 
 meaning, she said, to make a Lent of Christmas, the most part 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 213 
 
 of them might assure themselves that they departed in their 
 prince's grace."* 
 
 She utterly refused an extraordinary subsidy which the com- 
 mons had ottered on condition of her naming her successor, and 
 even of the ordinary supplies which she accepted, she remitted a 
 fourth, popularly observing, that it was as well for her to have 
 money in the coffers of her subjects as in her own. By such an 
 alternation of menaces and flatteries did Elizabeth contrive to 
 preserve her ascendency over the hearts and minds of her people ! 
 
 The earl of Leicester had lately been elected chancellor of the 
 university of Oxford, and in the autumn of 1566, the queen con- 
 sented to honour with her presence this seat of learning, long 
 ambitious of such a distinction. She was received with the same 
 ceremonies as at Cambridge : learned exhibitions of the same 
 nature awaited her; and she made a similar parade of her bash- 
 fulness, and a still greater of her erudition ; addressing this 
 university not in Latin, but in Greek. 
 
 Of the dramatic exhibitions prepared for her recreation, an ele 
 gant writer has recorded the following particulars.! " In the 
 magnificent hall of Christ-church, she was entertained with a 
 Latin comedy called Marcus Geminus, the Latin tragedy of 
 Progne, and an English comedy on the story of Palamon and 
 Arcite, (by Richard Edwards, gentleman of the queen's chapel, 
 and master of the choristers,) all acted by the students of the 
 university. When the last play was over, the queen summoned 
 the poet into her presence, whom she loaded with thanks and 
 compliments : and, at the same time, turning to her levee, re- 
 marked, that Palamon was so justly drawn as a lover, that he must 
 have been in love indeed ; that Arcite was a right martial knight, 
 having a swart and manly countenance, yet with the aspect of a 
 Venus clad in armour : that the lovely Emilia was a virgin of 
 uncorrupted purity and unblemished simplicity ; and that though 
 she sung so sweetly, and gathered flowers alone in the gar- 
 den, she preserved her chastity undeflowered. The part of 
 Emilia, the only female part in the play, was acted by a boy of 
 fourteen, whose performance so captivated her majesty, that she 
 made him a present of eight guineas.^ During the exhibition, a 
 cry of hounds belonging to Theseus was counterfeited without in 
 the great square of the college ; the young students thought it a 
 real chase, and were seized with a sudden transport to join the 
 hunters : at which the queen cried out from her box, " O excel- 
 lent ! these boys, in very troth, are ready to leap out of the win- 
 dows to follow the hounds !" 
 
 Dr. Lawrence Humphreys, who had lately been distinguished 
 by his strenuous opposition to the injunctions of the queen and 
 archbishop Parker, respecting the habits and ceremonies, was, at 
 this time, vice-chancellor of Oxford ; and when he came forth in 
 
 * Strype's " Annals." -\ Warton's ** History of English Poetry." 
 
 i Mr. Warton apparently forgets thai gvitiean were first coined by Charles I], 
 
214 THE COURT OF 
 
 procession to meet the queen, she could not forbear saying with 
 a smile, as she gave him her hand to kiss — " That loose gown, 
 Mr. Doctor, becomes you mighty well ; I wonder your notions 
 should be so narrow." 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 1567 and 1568. 
 
 Terms on which Elizabeth offers to acknowledge Mary as her 
 successor, — rejected by the Scots. — Death of Darnley. — Con- 
 duct of Elizabeth towards his mother. — Letter of Cecil. — Letter 
 of Elizabeth to Mary. — Mary marries Bothwell — is defeated at 
 Langside — committed to Loch Leven castle. — Interference of 
 Elizabeth in her behalf — Earl of Sussex ambassador to Vienna. 
 —Letters from him to Elizabeth respecting the archduke. — 
 Causes of the failure of the marriage treaty with this prince. — 
 Notice of lord BuckhursL — Visit of the queen to Fotheringay 
 castle. — Mary escapes from prison — raises an army — is defeat- 
 ed—flies into England. — Conduct of Elizabeth. — Mary submits 
 her cause to her — is detained prisoner. — Russian embassy. — 
 Chancellor's voyage to Archangel. — Trade opened with Bussia. 
 — Treaty with the Czar. — Negotiations between Elizabeth and 
 the French court. — Marriage proposed with the duke of Jlnjou. 
 — Privy -council hostile to France. — Queen on bad terms with 
 Spain. 
 
 Notwithstanding the uniform success and general applause 
 which had hitherto crowned her administration, at no point per- 
 haps of her whole reign, was the path of Elizabeth more beset with 
 perplexities and difficulties, than at the commencement of the 
 year 1567. 
 
 The prevalence of the Scottish faction had compelled her to 
 give a pledge to her parliament respecting matrimony, which 
 must either be redeemed by the sacrifice of her darling indepen- 
 dence, or forfeited with the loss of her credit and popularity. 
 Her favourite state -mystery, — the choice of a successor, — had 
 also been invaded by rude and daring hands ; and to such ex- 
 tremity was she reduced on this point, that she had found it ne- 
 cessary to empower the commissioners whom she sent into Scot- 
 land for the baptism of the prince, distinctly to propound the 
 following offer. That on a simple ratification by Mary of only 
 so much of the treaty of Edinburgh as engaged her to advance 
 no claim upon the English crown during the life-time of Elizabeth 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 215 
 
 any posterity of hers, a solemn recognition of her right of 
 succession should be made by the queen and parliament -of Eng- 
 land. 
 
 The Scottish ministry, instead of closing instantly with so ad- 
 vantageous a proposal, were imprudent enough to insist upon a 
 previous examination of the will of Henry VIII., which they 
 fondly believed that they could show to be a forgery : and the 
 delay which the refusal of Elizabeth occasioned, gave time for the 
 interposition of circumstances which ruined forever the character 
 and authority of Mary, and rescued her sister-queen from this 
 dilemma 
 
 On February the 9th, 1567, lord Darnley, then called king of 
 Scots, perished by a violent and mysterious death. Bothwell, the 
 queen's new favourite, was universally accused of the murder ; 
 and the open discord which had subsisted, even before the as- 
 sassination of Rizzio, between the royal pair, gave strong ground 
 of suspicion that Mary herself was a participator in the crime, 
 
 Elizabeth behaved on this tragical occurrence with the utmost 
 decorum and moderation ; she expressed no opinion hostile to 
 the fame of the queen of Scots, and took no immediate measures 
 of a public nature respecting it. It can scarcely be doubted, 
 however, that, in common with all Europe, she secretly believed 
 in the guilt of Mary ; and even though at the bottom of her 
 heart she may have desired rather to see her condemned than 
 acquitted in the general verdict, such a feeling ought not, under 
 all the circumstances, to be imputed to her as indicative of any 
 extraordinary malignity of disposition. To announce to the 
 countess of Lenox, still her prisoner, the frightful catastrophe 
 which had closed the history of her rash misguided son, was the 
 first step taken by Elizabeth : it was a proper, and even an in- 
 dispensable one; but the respectful and considerate manner 
 of the communication, contrasted with former harsh treatment, 
 might be designed to intimate to the house of Lenox that it 
 should now find in her a protectress, and perhaps an avenger. 
 
 We possess a letter addressed by Cecil to sir Henry Norris, 
 ambassador in France, in which are found some particulars on 
 this subject, oddly prefaced by a commission on which it is amus- 
 ing to a modern reader to contemplate a prime minister at such 
 a time, and with so much gravity, engaged. But the division of 
 labour in public offices seems to have been in this age very im- 
 perfect : Elizabeth employed her secretary of state to procure 
 her a mantua-maker ; James I. occupied his in transcribing son- 
 nets of his own composition. 
 
 " Sir William Cecil to sir Henry Norris. February 20th, 1566-7. 
 
 " . . . . The queen's majesty would fain have a taylor that had 
 skill to make her apparel both after the French and Italian man- 
 ner ; and she thinketh that you might use some means to obtain 
 some one such there as serveth that queen, without mentioning 
 any manner of request in the queen's majesty's name. First, to 
 cause my lady your wife to use some such means to get one as 
 
THE COURT 0* 
 
 thereof knowledge might not come to the queen mother's ears, 
 of whom the queen's majesty thinketh thus ; That if she did un 
 derstand it were a matter wherein her majesty might be plea- 
 sured, she would offer to send one to the queen's majesty. Ne- 
 vertheless, if it cannot be so obtained by this indirect means, 
 then her majesty would have you devise some other good means 
 to obtain one that were skilful. 
 
 " I have stayed your son from going hence now these two 
 days, upon the queen's commandment, for that she would have 
 him to have as much of the truth of the circumstances of the 
 murder of the king of Scots as might be ; and hitherto the same 
 is hard to come by, other than in a generality. . . . The queen's 
 majesty sent yesterday my lady Howard and my wife to the lady 
 Lenox to the Tower, to open this matter unto her, who could 
 not by any means be kept from such passions of mind as the hor^ 
 ribleness of the fact did require And this last night were with 
 her the said lady, the dean of Westminster, and Dr. Huick, and 
 I hope her majesty will show some favourable compassion of the 
 said lady, whom any humane nature must needs pity."* 
 
 The liberation of the countess followed ; and the earl her hus- 
 band soon after gratified Elizabeth's desire to interfere, by in- 
 voking her assistance to procure, by representations to Mary, 
 some extension of the unusually short time within which he was 
 required to bring forward his proofs against Bothwell, whom he 
 had accused of the assassination of his son. 
 
 This petition produced a very earnest letter from one queen to 
 the other ; in which Elizabeth plainly represented to her royal 
 sister, that the refusal of such a request to the father of her hus- 
 band would bring her into greater suspicion than, as she hoped, 
 she was aware, or would be willing to hear ; adding, " For the 
 love of God, madam, use such sincerity and prudence in this 
 case, which touches you so nearly, that all the world may have 
 reason to judge you innocent of so enormous a crime ; a thing 
 which unless you do, you will be worthily blotted out from the 
 rank of princesses, and rendered, not undeservedly, the oppro- 
 brium of the vulgar ; rather than which fate should befal you, I 
 should wish you an honourable sepulture instead of a stained 
 life."t 
 
 But to these and all other representations which could be made 
 to her, this criminal and infatuated woman replied by marrying 
 Bothwell three months after the death of her husband. She now at- 
 tempted by the most artful sophistries to justify her conduct to 
 the courts of France and England : but vain was the endeavour 
 to excuse or explain away facts which the common sense and com- 
 mon feelings of mankind told them could admit of neither expla- 
 nation nor apology. The nobles conspired, the people rose in 
 arms against her ; and within a single month after her ill-omened 
 
 * « Scrinia Ceciliana." 
 
 f See the French original in Robertson's " History of Scotland, '* vol. iii. Ap- 
 pend, xix. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 1 21? 
 
 nuptials, she saw her guilty partner compelled to tear himself 
 from her arms and seek his safety in flight, and herself reduced 
 to surrender her person into the power ot her rebellious subjects. 
 
 The battle of Langside put all the power of the country into 
 the hands of the insurgent nobles; but they were much divided 
 in opinion as to the use to be made of their victory. Some wish- 
 ed to restore Mary to regal authority under certain limitations ; 
 — others wanted to depose her and proclaim her infant son in her 
 place ; — some proposed to detain her in perpetual imprisonment; 
 others threatened to bring her to trial and capital punishment as 
 an accessary to the death of the king. Meantime she was de- 
 tained a prisoner in Loch Leven castle, subjected to various in- 
 dignities, and a prey to the most frightful apprehensions. But 
 there was' an eye which watched over her tor her safety ; and it 
 was that of Elizabeth. 
 
 Fears and rivalries, ancient offences and recent provocations, 
 — all the imprudence which she had censured, and all the guilt 
 which she had imputed, vanished from the thought of this prin- 
 cess the moment that she beheld a woman, a kinswoman, and 
 what was much more, a sister-queen, reduced to this extremity 
 of distress, and exposed to the menaces and insults of her own 
 subjects. For a short t\me the cause of Mary seemed to her as 
 her own ; she interposed in her behalf in a tone of such impera- 
 tive earnestness, that the Scotch nobles, who feared her power 
 and sought her friendship, did not dare to withstand her ; and in 
 all probability Mary at this juncture owed no less than her life 
 to the good offices of her who was destined finally to bring her, 
 with more injustice and after many years of sorrow, to an igno- 
 minious death. 
 
 It was not however within the power, if indeed it were the 
 wish, of Elizabeth to restore the queen of Scots to the enjoyment 
 either of authority or of freedom. All Scotland seemed at this pe- 
 riod united against her ; she was compelled to sign a deed of 
 abdication in favour of her son, who was crowned king in July 
 1567. The earl of Murray was declared regent: and a parlia- 
 ment assembled about the close of the year confirmed all these 
 acts of the confederate lords, and sanctioned the detention of 
 the deposed queen in a captivity of which none could then fore- 
 see the termination. Elizabeth ordered her ambassador to ab- 
 stain from countenancing by his presence the coronation of the 
 king of Scots, and she continued to negotiate for the restoration 
 of Mary : but her ministers strongly represented to her the dan- 
 ger of driving the lords, by further display of her indignation at 
 their proceedings, into a confederacy with France ; and Throg- 
 morton, her ambassador in Scotland, urged her to treat with 
 them to deliver their young king into her hands, in order to his 
 being educated in England. 
 
 Some proposal of this nature she accordingly made : but the 
 lords, whom former experience had rendered suspicious of her 
 dealings, absolutely refused to give up their prince without the 
 pledge of a recognition of his right of succession to the English 
 
 E e 
 
218 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 throne ; and Elizabeth, reluctant as ever to come to a declara- 
 tion on this point, reluctant also to desert entirely the interests 
 of Mary, with whose remaining adherents she still maintained a 
 secret intercourse, seems to have abstained for some time from 
 any very active interference in the perplexed affairs of the neigh- 
 bour kingdom. 
 
 The recent occurrences in Scotland had procured Elizabeth 
 some respite from the importunities of her subjects relative to 
 the succession ; but it was not the less necessary for her to take 
 some steps in discharge of her promise respecting marriage. Ac- 
 cordingly the earl of Sussex, in this cause a negotiator no less 
 zealous than able, was dispatched in solemn embassy to Vien- 
 na, to congratulate the emperor Maximilian on his coronation, 
 and at the same time to treat with his brother the' archduke 
 Charles respecting his long agitated marriage with the queen. 
 Two obstacles were to be surmounted, — the attachment of the 
 archduke to the catholic faith, and the repugnance of Elizabeth to 
 enter into engagements with a prince whose person was unknown 
 to her. Both are attempted to be obviated in two extant letters 
 from the ambassador to the queen, which at the same time so 
 well display the manly spirit of the writer, and present details 
 so interesting, that it would be an injury to give their more im- 
 portant passages in other language than his own. 
 
 In the first (dated Vienna, October 1567,) the earl of Sussex 
 acquaints her majesty with the arrival of the archduke in that 
 city, and his admission to a first audience, which was one of 
 ceremony only ; after which he thus proceeds : — 
 
 " On Michaelmas day in the afternoon, the emperor rode m 
 his coach to see the archduke run at the ring; who commanded 
 me to run at his side, and my lord North, Mr. Cobham, and Mr. 
 Powel on the other side: and after the running was done, he 
 rode on a courser of Naples ; and surely his highness, in the 
 order of his running, the managing of his horse and the manner 
 of his seat, governed himself exceedingly well, and so as, in my 
 judgment it was not to be amended. Since which time I have 
 had diverse conferences with the emperor, and with his highness 
 apart, as well in times of appointed audience as in several hunt- 
 ings ; wherein I have viewed, observed, and considered of his 
 person and qualities as much as by any means I might ; and 
 have also by good diligence enquired of his state; and so have 
 thought fit to advertise your majesty what I conceive of myself, 
 or understand by others, which 1 trust your majesty shall find to 
 be true in all respects. 
 
 " His highness is of a person higher surely a good deal than 
 my lord marquis ; his hair and beard of a light auburn ; his face 
 well proportioned, amiable, and of a good complexion, without 
 show of redness, or over paleness ; his countenance and speech 
 cheerful, very courteous, and not without some state; his body 
 well shaped, without deformity or blemish ; his hands very good, 
 and fair ; his legs clean, well proportioned, and of sufficient big- 
 ness for his stature ; his foot as good as may be. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 219 
 
 • So as, upon my duty to your majesty, I find not one defor- 
 mity, mis shape, or any thing to be noted worthy disliking in his 
 whole poi son ; but contrariwise, I find his whole shape to be 
 good, worthy commendation and liking in all respects, and such 
 as is rarely to be found in such a prince. 
 
 li Ilis highness, besides his natural language of Dutch, speaketh 
 very well Spanish and Italian, and, as I hear, Latin. His deal- 
 ings with me be very wise; his conversation such as much con- 
 tenteth me ; and, as I hear, none returneth discontented from 
 his company. He is greatly beloved here of all men: the chiefest 
 gallants of these parts be his men, and follow his court ; the 
 most of them have travelled other countries, speak many lan- 
 guages, and behave themselves thereafter ; and truly we cannot 
 be so glad there to have him come to us, as they will be sad here 
 to have him go from them. -He is reported to be wise, liberal, 
 valiant, and of great courage, which in the last wars he well 
 showed, in defending all his countries free from the Turk with 
 his own force only, and giving them divers overthrows when 
 they attempted any thing against his rules ; and he is universally 
 (which I most weigh) noted to be of such virtue as he was never 
 spotted or touched with any notable vice or crime, which is much 
 in a prince of his years, endued with such qualities. He de- 
 lighteth much in hunting, riding, hawking, exercise of feats of 
 arms, and hearing of music, whereof he hath very good. He 
 hath, as I hear, some understanding in astronomy and cosmo- 
 graphy, and taketh pleasure in clocks that set forth the course 
 of the planets. 
 
 " He hath for his portion the countries of Styria, Carinthia, 
 Friola, Treiste, and Histria, and hath the government of that 
 is left in Croatia, wherein, as I hear, he may ride without enter- 
 ing into any other, man's territories, near three hundred miles 
 .... surely he is a great prince in subjects, territories, and re- 
 venues ; and liveth in great honour and state, with such a court 
 as he that seeth it will say is fit for a great prince 99 &c. On 
 October 26th, he writes thus: — " Since the writing of my other 
 letters, upon the resolution of the emperor and the archduke, I 
 took occasion to go to the archduke, meaning to sound hiin to the 
 bottom in all causes, and to feel whether such matter as he had 
 uttered to me before (contained in my other letters) proceeded 
 
 from him bona fide, or were but words of form After some 
 
 ordinary speech, used to minister occasion, I began after this 
 sort : ' Sir, I see it is a great matter to deal in the marriage of 
 princes ; and therefore it is convenient for me, that by the queen 
 my mistress' order intermeddle in this negotiation, to foresee 
 that I neither deceive you, be deceived myself, nor, by my igno- 
 rance, be the cause that she be deceived ; in respect whereof, 
 I beseech your highness to give me leave to treat as frankly with 
 you in all things, now I am here, as it pleased her majesty to 
 give me leave to deal with her before my coming from thence ; 
 whereby I may be as well assured of your disposition, upon your 
 assured word, as I was of hers upon her word, and so proceed 
 
220 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 in all things thereafter:' Whereunto his highness answered me 
 that he thanked me for that kind of dealing, and he would truly 
 utter to me what he thought and meant in all things that I should 
 demand ; which upon his word he willed me to credit, and I 
 should not be abused myself, nor abuse your majesty. I then 
 said that (your license granted) I was bold humbly to beseech 
 your majesty to let me understand your inward disposition in 
 this cause ; and whether you meant a lingering entertaining of 
 the matter, or a direct proceeding to bring it to a good end, 
 with a determination to consummate the marriage if conveniently 
 you might; whereupon your majesty not only used such speeches 
 to me as did satisfy me of your plain and good meaning to pro- 
 ceed in this matter without delay, if by convenient means you 
 might, but also give me in commission to affirm, upon your word, 
 to the emperor, that ye had resolved to marry. Ye were free 
 to marry where God should put it in your heart to like ; and you 
 had given no grateful ear to any motion of marriage but to this, 
 although you had received sundry great offers from others ; and 
 therefore your majesty by your letters, and I by your command- 
 ment, had desired of his majesty some determinate resolution 
 whereby the matter might one ways or another grow to an end 
 with both your honours ; the like whereof I had also said to his 
 highness before, and did now repeat it. And for that his high- 
 ness had given me the like licence, I would be as bold with him 
 as I had been with your majesty; and therefore beseech ed him 
 to let me, upon his honour, understand whether he earnestly 
 desired, for love of your person, the good success and end of 
 this cause, and had determined in his heart upon this marriage ; 
 or else, to satisfy others that procured him thereto, was con- 
 tent to entertain the matter, and cared not what became thereof ; 
 that I also might deal thereafter ; for in the one I would serve 
 your majesty and him truly, and in the other, I was no person 
 of quality to be a convenient minister. 
 
 " His highness answered, * Count, I have heard by the emperor 
 of the order of your dealing with him, and I have had dealings 
 with you myself, wherewith he and I rest very well contented ; 
 but truly I never rested more contented of any thing than I do 
 of this dealing, wherein, besides your duty to her that hath trust- 
 ed you, you show what you be yourself, for the which I honour 
 you as you be worthy (pardon me, I beseech your majesty, in 
 writing the words he spake of myself, for they serve to utter his 
 natural disposition and inclination,) * and although I have always 
 had a good hope of the queen's honourable dealing in this mat- 
 ter, yet I have heard so much of her not meaning to marry, as 
 might give me cause to suspect the worst; but understanding 
 by the emperor of your manner of dealing with him, perceiving 
 that I do presently by your words, I think myself bound' (where- 
 with he put off his cap) * to honour, love, and serve her majesty 
 while I live, and will firmly credit that you on her majesty's be-- 
 half have said : and therefore, so I might hope her majesty would 
 bear with me for my conscience, I know not that thing in the 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 221 
 
 world that I would refuse to do at her commandment: And 
 ftlirely I have from the beginning of this matter settled my heart 
 upon her, and never thought of other wife, if she would think 
 me worthy to be her husband ; and therefore be bold to inform 
 her majesty truly herein, for I will not fail of my part in any thing, 
 as I trust sufficiently appeareth to you by that I have heretofore 
 said.' 
 
 " I thanked his highness of his frank dealing, wherein I would 
 believe him and deal thereafter. 'And now I am satisfied in 
 this, I beseech your highness satisfy me also in another matter, 
 and bear with me though I be somewhat busy, for I mean it for 
 the best. I have many times heard of men of good judgment 
 and friends to this cause, that as the emperor's majesty, being in 
 disposition of the Augustan confession, hath been forced in these 
 great wars of the Turk to temporise in respect of Christendom ; 
 so your highness, being of his mind inwardly, hath also upon 
 good policy forborne to discover yourself until you might see 
 some end of your own causes ; and expecting, by marriage or 
 other means, a settling of yourself in further advancement of 
 state than your own patrimony,-you temporise until you see on 
 which side your lot will fall ; and if you find you shall settle in 
 this marriage, ye will, when ye are sure thereof, discover what 
 ye be. If this be true, trust me, sir, I beseech you, and I will 
 not betray you, and let me know the secret of your heart, where- 
 by you may grow to a shorter end of your desire ; and as I will 
 upon my oath assure you, I will never utter your counsel to any 
 person living but to the queen my mistress, so do I deliver unto 
 you her promise upon her honour not to utter it to any person 
 without your consent ; and if you will not trust me herein, com- 
 mit it to her majesty's trust by your own letters or messenger of 
 trust, and she will not deceive you.' 
 
 " * Surely,' said his highness, ' whoever hath said this of me to 
 the queen's majesty, or to you, or to any other, hath said more 
 than he knoweth, God grant he meant well therein. My ances- 
 tors have always holden this religion that I hold, and I never 
 knew other, and therefore I never could have mind hitherto to 
 change ; and I trust, when her majesty shall consider my case 
 well, my determination herein shall not hurt me towards her in 
 this cause. For, count,' said he, ' how could you with reason 
 give me counsel to be the first of my race that so suddenly should 
 change the religion that all my. ancestors have so long holden 
 when I know no other ; or how can the queen like of me in any 
 other thing, that should be so light in changing of my conscience ? 
 Where on the other side, in knowing my duty constantly to God 
 for conscience, I have great hope that her majesty, with good 
 reason, will conceive that I will be the more faithful and con- 
 stant to her in all that honour and conscience bindeth. And 
 therefore I will myself crave of her majesty, by my letters, her 
 granting of this my only request ; and I pray you with all my 
 heart to further it in all you may; and shrink not to assure her 
 
222 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 majesty, that if she satisfy me in this, I will never slack to serve 
 and satisfy her, while I live, in all the rest.' 
 
 "In such like talk, to this effect, his highness spent almost 
 two hours with me, whicli I thought my duty to advertise your 
 majesty ; and hereupon I gather that reputation ruleth him much 
 for the present in this case of religion, and that if God couple you 
 together in liking, you shall have of him a true husband, a loving 
 companion, a wise counsellor and a faithful servant ; and we shall 
 have as virtuous a prince as ever ruled : God grant ^though you 
 be worthy a great deal better than he, if he were to be found) 
 that our wickedness be not such as we be unworthy of him, or 
 of such as he is."* &c. 
 
 It may be matter as much of surprise as regret to the reader 
 of these letters, that a negotiation should have failed of success, 
 which the manly plainness of the envoy on one hand, and the 
 honourable unreserve of the prince on the other had so quickly 
 freed from the customary intricacies of diplomatic transactions. 
 Religion furnished, to appearance, the only objection which could 
 be urged against the union ; and on this head the archduke would 
 have been satisfied with terms Hhe least favourable to himself 
 that could be devised. He only stipulated for the performance 
 of Catholic worship in a private room of the palace, at which 
 none but himself and such servants of his own persuasion as he 
 should bring with him should have permission to attend. He 
 consented regularly to accompany the queen to the services of 
 the church of England, and for a time to intermit the exercise of 
 his own religion should any disputes arise ; and he engaged that 
 neither he nor his attendants should in any manner contravene, 
 or give countenance to such as contravened, the established re- 
 ligion of the country. In short, he asked no greater indulgence 
 on this head than what was granted without scruple to the am- 
 bassadors of Catholic powers. But even this, it Was affirmed, was 
 more than the queen could with safety concede ; and on this 
 ground the treaty was finally closed. 
 
 There is great room, however, to suspect that the real and the 
 ostensible reasons of the failure of this marriage were by no 
 means the same. It could scarcely have been expected or hoped 
 that a prince of the house of Austria would consent to desert the 
 religion of his ancestors, which he must have regarded himself as 
 pledged by the honour of his birth to maintain ; and without de- 
 serting it he could not go beyond the terms which Charles actu- 
 ally offered. This religion, as a system of faith and worship, 
 was by no means regarded by Elizabeth with such abhorrence as 
 would render it irksome to her to grant it toleration in a husband, 
 though on political grounds she forbade under heavy penalties its 
 exercise to her subjects. It is true that to the puritans the smal- 
 lest degree of indulgence to its idolatrous rites appeared a hei- 
 nous sin, and from them the Austrian match would have had to 
 encounter all the opposition that could prudently be made by 
 
 * Lodge's " Illustrations," vol. i. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 223 
 
 a sect itself obnoxious to the rod of persecution. The duke of 
 Norfolk is said to have given great offence to this party, with 
 whu h he was usually disposed to act, by the cordial approbation 
 which lie was induced, probably by his friendship for the earl of 
 Sussex, to bestow on this measure. Leicester is believed to have 
 thwarted the negotiations by means of one of his creatures, for 
 whom he had procured the second rank in the embassy of the 
 earl of Sussex ; he also laboured in person to fill the mind of the 
 queen with fears and scruples respecting it. But it is probable 
 that, after all, the chief difficulty lay in Elizabeth's settled aver- 
 sion to the married state ; and notwithstanding all her profes- 
 sions to her ambassador, the known dissimulation of her charac- 
 ter permits us to believe, not only that small obstacles were 
 found sufficient to divert her from accomplishing the union which 
 she pretended to have at heart; but that from the very beginning 
 she was insincere, and that not even the total sacrifice ot his re- 
 ligion would have exempted her suitor from final disappoint- 
 ment. 
 
 The decease of sir Richard Sackville in 1566, called his son, 
 the accomplished poet, to the inheritance ot a noble fortune, and 
 opened to him the career of public life. At the time of his father's 
 death he was pursuing his travels through France and Italy, and 
 had been subjected to a short imprisonment in Rome, " which 
 trouble," says his eulogist, " was brought upon him by some who 
 hated him for his love to religion and his duty to his sovereign." 
 
 Immediately on his return to his native country, the duke of 
 Norfolk, by the queen's command, conferred upon him the hon- 
 our of knighthood, and on the same day he was advanced by her 
 to the degree of a baron by the style of lord Buckhurst. The 
 new peer immediately shone forth one of the brightest ornaments 
 of the court: but carried away by the ardour of his imagination, 
 he plunged so deeply into the expensive pleasures of the age as 
 seriously to injure his fortune, and in part his credit : timely re- 
 flection however, added, it is said, to the counsels of his royal 
 kinswoman, cured him of the foible of profusion, and he lived not 
 only to retrieve, but to augment his patrimony to a vast amount. 
 
 Amid the factions of the court, lord Buckhurst, almost alone, 
 preserved a dignified neutrality, resting his claims to considera- 
 tion and influence not on the arts of intrigue, but on his talents, 
 his merit, his extensive possessions, and his interest in his royal 
 kinswoman. Leicester was jealous of his approach, as of that of 
 every man of honour who affected an independence on his sup- 
 port; but it was not till many years afterwards, and on an occa- 
 sion in which his own reputation and safety were at stake, that 
 the wily favourite ventured a direct attack upon the credit of 
 lord Buckhurst. At present they preserved towards each other 
 those exteriors of consideration and respect which in the world, 
 and especially at courts, are found so perfectly compatible with 
 fear, hatred, Or contempt. 
 
 It was about this time, that in one of her majesty's summer 
 
224 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 progresses an incident occurred which the painter or the poet 
 might seize and embellish. 
 
 Passing through Northamptonshire, she stopped to visit her 
 royal castle of Fortheringaj, then, or soon after, committed by 
 her to the keeping of sir William Fitzwilliam several times lord- 
 deputy of Ireland. The castle was at this time entire and mag- 
 nificent, and must have been viewed by Elizabeth with senti- 
 ments of family pride. It was erected by her remote progenitor- 
 Edmund of Langley, son of king Edward III., and founder of 
 the house of York. By his directions the keep was built in the 
 likeness of a fetter-lock, the well known cognisance of that line, 
 and in the windows the same symbol with its attendant falcon 
 was repeatedly and conspicuously emblazoned. From Edmund 
 of Langley, it descended to his son Edward duke of York, slain 
 in the field of Agincourt, and next to the son of his unfortunate 
 brother the decapitated earl of Cambridge ; to that Richard who 
 fell at Wakefield in the attempt to assert his title to the crown, 
 which the victorious arms of his son Edward IV. afterwards vin- 
 dicated to himself and his posterity. 
 
 In a collegiate church adjoining were deposited the remains of 
 Edward and Richard dukes of York, and of Cecily wife to the 
 latter, who survived to behold so many bloody deeds of which 
 her children were the perpetrators or the victims. Elizabeth, 
 attended by all the pomp of royalty, proceeded to visit the spot 
 of her ancestors' interment: but what was her indignation and 
 surprise on discovering, that the splendid tombs which had once, 
 risen to their memory, had been involved in the same destruction 
 with the college itself, of which the rapacious Northumberland 
 had obtained a grant from Edward VI., and that scarcely a stone 
 remained to protect the dust of these descendants and progeni- 
 tors of kings ! She instantly gave orders for the erection of sui- 
 table monuments to their honour : but her commands were ill 
 obeyed, and a few miserable plaster figures were all that the 
 illustrious dead obtained at last from her pride or her piety. 
 These monuments however, such as they are, remain to poste- 
 rity, whilst of the magnificent castle, the only adequate comme- 
 moration of the power and greatness of its possessors, one stone 
 is not left upon another : — it was levelled with the ground by- 
 order of James I., that not a vestige might remain of the last pri- 
 son of his unhappy mother, the fatal scene of her trial, condem- 
 nation, and ignominious death. 
 
 The close of the year 1567, had left the queen of Scots a pri- 
 soner in Loch Leven castle, her infant son declared king, and the 
 regent Murray, — a man of vigour, prudence, and in the main of 
 virtue, — holding the reins with a firm hand. For the peace and 
 welfare of Scotland, for the security of reformed religion, and for 
 the ends of that moral retribution from which the crimes and 
 vices of the rulers of mankind ought least of all to be exempt, 
 nothing could be more desirable than that such a state of things 
 should become permanent, by the acquiescence of the poten- 
 tates of Europe, and of that powerful aristocracy which in Scot- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 225 
 
 land was unhappily superior to the whole force of the laws and 
 the constitution, lint Cor its destruction many interests, nun) 
 passions and prejudices conspired, it was rather against Both- 
 well than against the queen that many of the nobles had taken 
 arms ; and more favourable terms would at first have been grant- 
 ed her, could she have been brought to consent as a preliminary 
 to divorce and banish him for ever from her presence. The flight 
 of Bothwell and the prolongation of her own captivity had sub- 
 dued her obstinacy on this point: it was understood that she 
 was now willing that her marriage should be dissolved, and this 
 concession alone sufficed to bring her many partisans. Senti- 
 ments of pity began to arise in favour of an unfortunate queen 
 and beauty, and to cause her crimes to be extenuated or forgot- 
 ten. All the catholics in Scotland were her earnest friends, and 
 the foreign princes of the same persuasion were unceasingly sti- 
 mulating them to act openly in her behalf. With these Eliza- 
 beth, either by her zeal for the common cause of sovereigns, or 
 by some treacherous designs of her own, was brought into most 
 preposterous conjunction, and she had actually proposed to the 
 court of France that they should by joint consent cut off all com- 
 munication with Scotland till the queen should be reinstated. 
 
 The haughty and unconciliating temper of Murray had em- 
 bittered the animosity entertained against him by several nobles 
 of the blood-royal, each of whom regarded himself as the person 
 
 ; best entitled to the office of regent ; and an insurrection against 
 his authority was already in contemplation, when Mary, having 
 
 | by her promises and blandishments bribed an unthinking youth 
 to effect her liberation, suddenly re -appeared in readiness to put 
 herself at the head of such of her countrymen as still owned her 
 allegiance. 
 
 Several leading nobles flocked hastily to her standard ; a bond 
 was entered into for her defence, and in a few days she saw her- 
 iself at the head of sis thousand men. Elizabeth made her an 
 immediate offer of troops and succour, stipulating however, from 
 a prudent jealousy of the French, that no foreign forces should 
 be admitted into Scotland ; and further, that all disputes be- 
 tween Mary and her subjects should be submitted to her arbi- 
 tration. 
 
 Fortunately for Scotland, though disasterously for the future 
 days of Mary and the fame of Elizabeth, this formidable rising 
 in favour of the deposed sovereign was crushed at a single blow. 
 Murray, with inferior forces, marched courageously against the 
 queen, gained a complete and easy victory, and compelled her 
 to a hasty flight. 
 
 Accompanied only by a few attendants, the defeated princess 
 reached the English border. What should she do ? Behind her 
 was the hostile army, acting in the name of her son to whom she 
 Iliad signed an abdication of the throne, in virtue of which her 
 late attempt to reinstate herself might lawfully be visited with 
 the rigours of perpetual imprisonment, or even with death itself. 
 
 Before her lay the dominions of a princess whose titles she 
 F f 
 
226 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 had once usurped, and whose government she had never ceased 
 to molest by her intrigues, — of one who had hated her as a com- 
 petitor in power and in beauty, — as an enemy in religion, and 
 most of all as the heiress of her crown. But this very princess 
 had interfered, generously interfered, to save her life ; she had 
 shown herself touched by her situation ; she had offered her, un- 
 der certain conditions, succours and protection. Perhaps she 
 would no longer remember in the suppliant who embraced her 
 knees, the haughty rival who had laid claim to her crown ; — per- 
 haps she would show herself a real friend. The English people 
 too, — could they behold unmoved " a queen, a beauty," hurled 
 from her throne, chased from her country by the rude nands of 
 her rebellious subjects, and driven to implore their aid ? No 
 surely, — ten thousand swords would spring from their scabbards 
 to avenge her injuries ; — so she hoped, so the reasoned ; for me- 
 rited misfortune had not yet impaired her courage or abated her 
 confidence, nor had the sense of guilt impressed upon her mind 
 one lesson of humility Her situation, also, admitted of no other 
 alternative than to confide herself to Elizabeth or surrender to 
 Murray, — a step not to be thought of. Time pressed ; fear urg- 
 ed ; and resolved to throw herself at the feet of her kinswoman, 
 she crossed, never to return, the Rubicon of her destiny. A 
 common fishing-boat, the only vessel that could be procured, 
 landed her on May 16th, 1568, with about twenty attendants, at 
 Workington in Cumberland, whence she was conducted with 
 every mark of respect to Carlisle-castle ; and from this asylum 
 she instantly addressed to Elizabeth a long letter, lelating her 
 fresh reverse of fortune, complaining of the injuries which she had 
 received at the hands of her subjects, and earnestly imploring 
 her favour and protection. 
 
 With what feelings this important letter was received it would 
 be deeply interesting to enquire, were there any possibility of 
 arriving at the knowledge of a thing so secret. If indeed the 
 professions of friendship and offers of effectual aid lavished by 
 Elizabeth upon Mary during the period of her captivity, were 
 nothing else than a series of stratagems by which she sought to 
 draw an unwary victim within her toils, and to wreak on her the 
 vengeance of an envious temper and unpitying heart, we might 
 now imagine her exulting in the success of her wiles, and smiling 
 over the atrocious perfidy which she was about to commit. If, 
 on the other hand, we judge these demonstrations to have been 
 at the time sincere, and believe that Elizabeth, though profoundly 
 sensible of Mary's misconduct, was yet anxious to save her from 
 the severe retribution which her exasperated subjects had taken 
 upon them to exact, we must imagine her whole soul agitated at 
 this crisis by a crowd of conflicting thoughts and adverse passions. 
 
 In the first moments, sympathy for an unhappy queen, and 
 the intuitive sense of generosity and honour, would urge her to 
 fulfil every promise, to satisfy or surpass every hope which her 
 conduct had excited. But soon the mingled suggestions of female 
 honour,, of policy, of caution, uniting with the sentiment of habi 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH 
 
 227 
 
 tual enmity, would arise, first to moderate, then to extinguish, 
 her ardour in the cause of her supplicant. Further reflection, 
 enforced perhaps by the reasonings of her most trusted counsel- 
 lors, would serve to display in tempting colours the advantages 
 to be taken of the now defenceless condition of a competitor once 
 formidable and always odious; and gradually, but not easily, 
 not without reluctance and shame and secret pangs of compunc- 
 tion, she would suffer the temptation, — one, it must be confessed, 
 of no common force and aided by pleas of public utility not a lit- 
 tle plausible, — to become victorious over her first thoughts, her 
 better feelings, her more virtuous resolves. For the honour of 
 human nature, it may be believed that the latter state of feeling- 
 must have been that experienced by a princess whose life had 
 been as yet unsullied by any considerable violations of faith, jus- 
 tice, or humanity : but it must not escape remark, that the first 
 steps taken by her in this business were strong, decided in their 
 character, and almost irretrievable. 
 
 Lady Scrope, sister of the duke of Norfolk, was indeed sent 
 to attend the illustrious stranger at Carlisle, and lord Scrope 
 warden of the west marches and sir Francis Knolles the vice- 
 chamberlain were soon after dispatched thither with letters for 
 her of kind condolence : but when Mary applied to these per- 
 sons for permission to visit their queen, they replied, that, until 
 she should have cleared herself of the shocking imputation of 
 her husband's murder, public decorum and her own reputation 
 must preclude a princess so nearly related to the late king of 
 Scots from receiving her into her presence. That it was however 
 with regret that their mistress admitted this dela^y ; and as soon 
 as the queen of Scots should have vindicated herself on this 
 point, they were empowered to promise her a reception suited 
 at once to a sovereign and a kinswoman in distress. 
 
 Had not Elizabeth previously committed herself in some de- 
 gree by interference in behalf of Mary, and by promises to her 
 of support, no one could reasonably have blamed the caution or 
 the coldness of this reply to a request, which, under all the cir- 
 cumstances, might justly be taxed with effrontery. But in the 
 judgment of Mary and her friends, and perhaps even of more 
 impartial judges, the part already taken by Elizabeth had de- 
 prived her of the right of recurring to former events as a plea 
 for the exclusion of the queen of Scots from her presence and 
 favour. 
 
 Tears of grief and anger burst from the eyes of Mary on this 
 unexpected check, which struck her heart with the most melan- 
 choly forebodings ; but aware of the necessity of disguising fears 
 which would pass for an evidence of guilt, she hastily replied, 
 that she was willing to submit her whole conduct to the judg- 
 ment of the queen her sister, and did not doubt of being able to 
 produce such proofs of her innocence as would satisfy her and 
 confound her enemies. 
 
 This was enough for Elizabeth : she was now constituted um- 
 pire between the queen of Scots and her subjects, and the future 
 
228 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 fate of both might be said to lie in her hands ; in the mean time 
 she had gained a pretext for treating as a culprit the party who 
 had appealed to her tribunal. We learn that lord Scrope and 
 sir Francis Knolles had from the first received secret instruc- 
 tions not only to watch the motions of Mary, but to prevent her 
 departure ; her person had also been surrounded with sentinels 
 under the semblance of a guard of honour. But hitherto these 
 measures of precaution had probably remained concealed from 
 their object; they were now gradually replaced by others of a 
 more open and decided character, and it was not much longer 
 permitted to the hapless fugitive to doubt the dismal truth, that 
 she was once more a prisoner. 
 
 Alarmed at her situation, and secretly conscious how ill her 
 conduct would stand the test of judicial inquiry, Mary no sooner 
 learned that Elizabeth had actually named commissioners to 
 hear the pleadings on both sides, and written to summon the re- 
 gent to produce before them whatever he could bring in justifi- 
 cation of his conduct towards his sovereign, than she hastened to 
 retract her former unwary concession. 
 
 In a letter full of impotent indignation, assumed majesty and 
 real dismay, she now sought to explain away or evade her late 
 appeal. She repeated her demand of admission to the presence 
 of Elizabeth, refused to compromise her royal dignity by sub- 
 mitting to a trial in which her own subjects were to appear as 
 parties against her, and ended by requiring that the queen would 
 either furnish her with that assistance which it behoved her more 
 than any one to grant, or would suffer her to seek the aid of 
 other princes whose delicacy on this head would be less, or their 
 resentment of her wrongs greater. This last proposal might have 
 suggested to Elizabeth the safest, easiest, and most honourable 
 mode of extricating herself from the dilemma in which, by fur- 
 ther intermeddling in the concerns of Scotland, she was likely 
 to become involved. Happy would it have been for her credit 
 and her peace of mind, had she suffered her perplexing guest to 
 depart and seek for partisans and avengers elsewhere ! But her 
 pride of superiority and love of sway were flattered by the idea 
 of arbitrating in so great a cause ; her secret malignity enjoyed 
 the humiliation of her enemy ; and her characteristic caution 
 represented to her in formidable colours the danger of restoring 
 to liberty one whom she had already offended beyond forgive- 
 ness. She laid Mary's letter before her privy-council; and 
 these confidential advisers, after wisely and uprightly deciding 
 that it would be inconsistent with the honour and safety of the 
 queen and her government to undertake the restoration of the 
 queen of Scots, were induced to add, that it would also be un- 
 safe to permit her departure out of the kingdom, and that the 
 inquiry into her conduct ought to be pursued. 
 
 In spite of her remonstrances, Mary was immediately remov- 
 ed to Bolton-castle in Yorkshire, a seat of lord Scrope's; her 
 communications with her own country were cutoff*; her confine- 
 ment was rendered more strict ; and by secret promises from 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 9.9,9 
 
 Elizabeth of finally causing her to be restored to her throne un- 
 der certain limitations, she was led to renew her consent to the 
 trial of her cause in England, and to engage herself to name 
 commissioners to confer with those of the regent and of Eliza- 
 beth at York. 
 
 It would be foreign from the purpose of the present work to 
 engage in a regular narrative or the celebrated proceedings be- 
 gun soon after at the city last mentioned; and ended at West- 
 minster : some remarkable circumstances, illustrative of the cha- 
 racter of the English princess, or connected with the tate of her 
 principal noble, will however be related hereafter, as well as their 
 final result ; — at present other subjects claim attention. 
 
 An embassy arrived in London in 1567, from Ivan Basilowitz, 
 czar of Muscovy, the second which had been addressed to an 
 English sovereign from that country, plunged as yet in barbar- 
 ous ignorance, and far from anticipating the day when it should 
 assume a distinguished station in the system of civilised Europe. 
 
 It was by a bold and extraordinary enterprise that the barrier 
 of the Frozen Sea had been burst, and a channel of communica- 
 tion open between this country and Russia, by means of which 
 an intercourse highly beneficial to both nations was now begun ; 
 the leading circumstances were the following : 
 
 During the reign of Henry VI [., just after the unparalleled 
 achievement of Columbus had rendered voyages of discovery the 
 ruling passion of Europe, a Venetian pilot, named Cabot, who 
 had resided long in Bristol, obtained from this monarch, for him- 
 self and his sons a patent for making discoveries and conquests 
 in unknown regions. By this navigator and his son Sebastian, 
 Newfoundland was soon after discovered ; and by Sebastian, after 
 his father's death a long series of maritime enterprises were sub- 
 sequently undertaken with various success. For many years he 
 was in the service of Spain : but returning to England at the 
 close of Henry VIIPs reign, he was received with merited fav- 
 our at court. Young king Edward listened with eagerness to the 
 relations of the aged navigator; and touched by the unquench- 
 able ardour of discovery which still burned in the bosom of this 
 contemporary and rival of Columbus, granted with alacrity his 
 royal license for the fitting out of three ships to explore a north 
 passage to the East Indies. The instructions for this voyage 
 were drawn up in a masterly manner by Cabot himself, and the 
 command of the expedition was given to sir Hugh Willoughbv, 
 and under him to Richard Chancellor, a gentleman who had Ion <• 
 been attached to the service of the excellent sir Henry Sidney, 
 by whom he was recommended to this appointment in the warm- 
 est terms of affection and esteem. 
 
 The ships were separated by a tempest off the Norwegian 
 coast ; and Willoughby, having encountered much foul weather, 
 and judging the season too far advanced to proceed on so haz- 
 ardous a voyage, laid up his vessel in a bay on the shore of Lap- 
 land, with the purpose of awaiting the return of spring. But 
 .such was the rigour of the season on this bleat: and inhospitable 
 
^230 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 coast, that the admiral and his whole crew were frozen to deaii; 
 in their cabin. Chancellor, in the mean time, by dint of supe- 
 rior sailing, was enabled to surmount the perils of the way. He 
 doubled the North Cape, a limit never passed by English keel 
 before, and still proceeding eastward, found entrance into an un- 
 known gulf, which proved to be the White Sea, and dropped an- 
 chor at length in the port of Archangel. 
 
 The rude natives were surprised and terrified by the appear- 
 ance of a strange vessel much superior in size to any whicn they 
 had before beheld ; but after a time, venturing on an intercourse 
 with the navigators, they acquainted them, that they were sub- 
 jects of the czar of Muscovy, and that they had sent to apprise 
 him of so extraordinary an arrival. On the return of the mes- 
 senger, Chancellor received an invitation to visit the court of 
 Moscow. The czar, barbarian as he was in manners and habits, 
 possessed however strong sense and an inquiring mind ; he had 
 fornied great projects for the improvement of his empire, and he 
 was immediately and fully aware of the advantages to be derived 
 from a direct communication by sea with a people capable of 
 supplying his country with most of the commodities which it 
 now received from the southern nations of Europe by a tedious 
 and expensive land-carriage. He accordingly welcomed the Eng- 
 lishmen with distinguished honours; returned a favourable an- 
 swer to the letter from king Edward of which they were the 
 bearers, and expressed his willingness to enter into commercial 
 relations with their country, and to receive an ambassador from 
 their sovereign. Edward did not live to learn the prosperous 
 success of this part of the expedition, but fortunately his suc- 
 cessor extended equal encouragement to the enterprise. A Rus- 
 sia company was formed, of which the veteran Sebastian Cabot 
 was made governor, and Chancellor was dispatched on a second 
 voyage, charged with further instructions for the settlement of a 
 commercial treaty. Mis voyage was again safe and prosperous, 
 and he was accompanied on his return by a Russian ambassador; 
 but off the coast of Scotland the ship was unhappily wrecked, 
 and Chancellor with several other persons was drowned ; the 
 ambassador himself reaching the land with much difficulty. 
 The vessel was plundered of her whole cargo by the neighbour- 
 ing peasantry ; but the ambassador and his train were hospitably 
 entertained by the queen-regent of Scotland, and for warded on 
 their way to London, where their grotesque figures and the 
 barbaric pomp of their dress and equipage astonished the court 
 and city. 
 
 The present embassy, which reached its destination without 
 accident, was one of greater importance, and appeared with su- 
 perior dignity. It conveyed to the queen, besides all verbal as- 
 surances of the friendship of the czar, a magnificent present of 
 the richest furs, and other articles of great rarity ; and the am- 
 bassadors had it in charge to conclude a treaty of amity and com-, 
 merce, of which the terms proved highly advantageous for Eng- 
 land. They were accompanied by an Englishman named Jen- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 231 
 
 kinson, who had been sent out several years before, by the Rus- 
 sia company, to explore the southern and easterm limits of that 
 vast empire, and to endeavour to open an overland trade with 
 Persia. By the assistance of the czar he had succeeded in (his 
 object, and was the first Englishman who ever sailed upon the 
 Caspian, or travelled over the wild region which lies beyond, lu 
 return for all favours, he had now undertaken on behalf of the 
 czar to propose to his own sovereign certain secret articles in 
 which this prince was more deeply interested than in any com- 
 mercial matters, and which he deemed it unsafe to commit to 
 the fidelity or discretion of his own ambassadors. 
 
 Ivan, partly by a marked preference shown to foreigners, 
 which his own barbarians could not forgive, partly by his many 
 acts of violence and cruelty, had highly incensed his subjects 
 against him. In the preceding year, a violent insurrection had 
 nearly hurled him from the throne ; and still apprehensive of 
 some impending disaster, he now proposed to the queen of Eng- 
 land a league offensive and defensive, of which he was anxious to 
 make it an article, that she should bind herself by oath to grant 
 a kind and honourable receptiou in her dominions to himself, his 
 wife and children, should any untoward event compel them to 
 quit their country. But that never-failing caution, which in all 
 the complication and diversity of her connections with foreign 
 powers, withheld Elizabeth from ever, in a single instance, com- 
 mitting herself beyond the pow er of retreat, caused her to waive 
 compliance with the extraordinary proposal of Ivan. She enter- 
 tained his ambassadors however with the utmost cordiality, gra- 
 tified his wishes in every point where prudence would permit, 
 and finally succeeded, by the adroitness of her management, in 
 securing for her country, without sacrifice or hazard on her own 
 part, every real benefit which an intercourse with such a people 
 and such a sovereign appeared capable of affording. To have 
 come off with advantage in a trial of diplomatic skill with a bar- 
 barous czar of Muscovy, was however an exploit of which a civi- 
 lised politician would be ashamed to boast, — on him no glory 
 could be won, — and we may imagine Elizabeth turning from him 
 with a kind of disdain to an antagonist more worthy of her 
 talents. 
 
 The king and court of France were at this time subjected to 
 the guidance of the execrable Catherine dei Medici. To this wo- 
 man the religious differences which then agitated Europe were in 
 themselves perfectly indifferent, and on more than one occasion 
 she had allowed it to be perceived that they were so : but a close 
 and dispassionate study of the state of parties in her son's king- 
 dom, had at length convinced her that it was necessary to the 
 establishment of his authority and her own consequence, that 
 the Hugonot faction should be crushed, and she stood secretly 
 prepared and resolved to procure the accomplishment of this ob- 
 ject by measures of perfidy and atrocity from which bigotry it- 
 self, in a mind not totally depraved, must have revolted. „ 
 
 By the -secret league of Bayonne, the courts of France and 
 
THE COURT OF 
 
 Spain had pledged themselves to pursue in concert the great 
 work of the extirpation of heresy ; and while Catherine was lay- 
 ing hidden trains for the destruction of the Hugonots, Philip II., 
 by measures of open force and relentless cruelty, was striving to 
 annihilate the protestants of the Low Countries, and to impose 
 upon those devoted provinces the detested yoke of the inqui- 
 sition, 
 
 Elizabeth was aware of all that was going on ; and she well 
 knew that when once these worthy associates had succeeded in 
 crushing the reformation in their own dominions, Scotland and 
 England would become the immediate theatre of their operations. 
 Already were the catholics of the two countries privately encou- 
 raged ro rely on them for support, and incited to aid the com- 
 mon cause by giving all the disturbance in their power to their 
 respective governments. 
 
 Considerations of policy therefore, no less than of religion, 
 moved her to afford such succours, first to the French protes- 
 tants and afterwards to the Flemings, as might enable them to 
 prolong at least the contest ; but her caution and her frugality 
 conspired to restrain her from involving herself in actual war- 
 fare for the defence of either. At the very time therefore that 
 she was secretly supplying the Hugonots with money and giving 
 them assurances of her support, she was more than ever atten- 
 tive to preserve all the exteriors of friendship with the court of 
 France. 
 
 It suited the views of the queen-mother to receive with com- 
 placency and encouragement the dissembling professions of Eli- 
 zabeth ; by which she was not herself deceived, but which served 
 to deceive and to alarm her enemies the protestants, and in some 
 measure to mask her designs against them. We have seen what 
 high civilities had passed between the courts on occassion of the 
 admission of the French king into the order of the garter, — but 
 this is little to what followed. 
 
 In 1 568, after the remonstrances and intercession of Elizabeth, 
 the succours lent by the German protestants, and the strenuous 
 resistance made by the Hugonots themselves, had procured for 
 this persecuted sect a short and treacherous peace, Catherine, in 
 proof and confirmation of her entire friendship with the queen of 
 England, began to drop hints to her ambassador of a marriage 
 between his mistress and her third son the duke of Anjou, then 
 only seventeen years of age. Elizabeth was assuredly not so 
 much of a dupe as to believe the queen-mother sincere in this 
 strange proposal ; yet it was entertained by her with the utmost 
 apparent seriousness. She even thought proper to give it a cer- 
 tain decree of cautious encouragement, which Catherine was 
 doubtless well able rightly to interpret ; and with this extraor- 
 dinary kind of mutual understanding, these two ingenious females 
 continued for months, nay years, to amuse themselves and one 
 another with the representation of carrying on of negotiations for 
 a treaty of marriage. Elizabeth, with the most candid and natu- 
 ral air in the world, remarked that difference of religion would 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 ■present the most serious obstacle to so desirable an union : Ca- 
 therine, with equal plausibility, hoped that, on this point terms of 
 igreement might be found satisfactory to both parties; anil warm 
 ing as they proceeded, one began to imagine the conditions to 
 which a catholic prince could with honour accede, and the other 
 to invent the objections which ought to be made to them by a pro- 
 testant princess. 
 
 The philosophical inquirer, who has learned from the study of 
 history how much more the high destinies of nations are governed 
 by the permanent circumstances of geographical position and re- 
 lative force, and the great moral causes which act upon whole 
 ages and peoples, than by negotiations, intrigues, schemes of 
 politicians, and tricks of state, will be apt to regard as equally 
 futile and base the petty manoeuvres of dissimulation and artifice 
 employed by each queen to incline in her own favour the political 
 balance. But in justice to the memories of Catherine and Eliza- 
 beth, — women whom neither their own nor any after-times have 
 taxed with folly, — it ought at least to be observed, that in mis- 
 taking the excess of falsehood for the perfection of address, the 
 triumphs of cunning for the master-pieces of public wisdom, they 
 tlid but partake the error of the ablest male politicians of that age 
 of statesmen. The same narrow views of the interest of princes 
 and of states governed them all : they seem to ha ve believed that 
 the right and the expedient were constantly opposed to each 
 other; in the intercourses of public men they thought that no- 
 thing was more carefully to be shunned than plain speaking and 
 direct dealings, and in these functionaries they regarded the use 
 of every kind of " indirection" as allowable, because absolutely 
 essential to the great end of serving their country. 
 
 Amongst the wiser and better part of Elizabeth's council how- 
 ever, such a profound abhorrence of the measures of the French 
 court at this time prevailed, and such an honest eagerness to 
 join heart and hand with the oppressed Hugonots for the redress 
 of their intolerable grievances, that it required all her vigilance 
 and address to keep them within the limits of that temporising 
 moderation which she herself was bent on preserving. 
 
 In the correspondence of Cecil with sir Henry Norris, then 
 ambassador in France, the bitterness of his feelings is perpetu- 
 ally breaking out, and he cannot refrain from relating with ex- 
 treme complacency such words of displeasure as her majesty 
 was at any time moved to let fall against her high allies. In 
 November 1567, when civil war had again broken out in Fiance, 
 he acquaints the ambassador that the queen dislikes to give as- 
 sistance to Conde and his party against their sovereign, but re- 
 commends it to him to do it occasionally notwithstanding, as the 
 council are their friends. 
 
 In September 1568 he writes thus : " The French ambassador 
 lias sent his nephew to require audience, and that it might be 
 ordered to have her majesty's council present at the bishop's 
 missado. Her majesty's answer was, that they forgot themselves, 
 in coming from a king that was but young, to think her not able 
 
234 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 to conceive an answer without her council: and although she 
 could use the advice of her council, as was meet, yet she saw no 
 cause why they should thus deal with her, being of full years, 
 and governing her realm in better sort than France was. So 
 the audience, being demanded on Saturday, was put off' till 
 Tuesday, wheYewith I think they are not contented." Again : 
 " Monsieur de Montausier .... was brought to the queen's pre- 
 sence to report the victory which God had given the French 
 king by a battle, as he termed it, wherein was slain the prince 
 of Conde ; whereunto, as I could conceive, her majesty answered, 
 that of any good fortune happening to the king she was glad ; 
 but that she thought it also to be condoled with the king, that it 
 should be counted a victory to have a prince of his blood slain ; 
 and so with like speech, not fully to their contentation."* 
 
 With the Spanish court the queen was on the worst possible 
 terms short of open hostilities. Her ambassador at Madrid had 
 been banished from the city to a little village in the neighbour- 
 hood ; the Spanish ambassador at London had been placed under 
 guard for dispersing libels against her person and government ; 
 and in consequence of her adroit seizure of a sum of money be- 
 longing to some Genoese merchants designed as N a loan to the 
 duke of Alva, to enable him to carry on the war against the pro- 
 tectants in Flanders, the king of Spain had ordered all commerce 
 to be broken off between those provinces and England. 
 
 In the midst of these menaces of foreign war, cabals were 
 forming against Elizabeth in her own kingdom and court which 
 threatened her with nearer dangers. Of all these plots, the 
 Scottish queen was, directly or indirectly, the cause or the pre- 
 text ; and in order to place them in a clear light, it will now be 
 necessary to return to the conferences at York. 
 
 * Scrinia Cecil iana, 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 1568 to 1570. 
 
 Proceedings of the commissioners at York in the cause of Mary. 
 — Intrigues of the duke of Norfolk with the regent Murray. — 
 The conferences transferred to Westminster. — Mary^s guilt dis- 
 closed. — French intrigues of Norfolk. — Conspiracy for procur- 
 ing his marriage with Mary. — Conduct of Throgmorton. — 
 Attempt to ruin Cecil baffled by the queen. — Endeavour of Sus- 
 sex to reconcile Norfolk and Cecil. — Norfolk betrayed by Leices- 
 ter — his plot revealed — committed to the Tower. — Mary given 
 in charge to the earl of Huntingdon. — Remarks on this subject 
 — Notice of Leonard Dacre — of the earls of Westmorland and 
 Northumberland. — Their rebellion. — Particulars of the Norton 
 family. — severities exercised against the rebels. — Conduct of the 
 earl of Sussex. — Rising under Leonard Dacre. — His after-for- 
 tunes and those of his family. — Expedition of the earl of Sussex 
 into Scotland. — Murder of regent Murray. — Influence of this 
 event on the affairs of Elizabeth. — Campaign in Scotland. — 
 Papal bull against the queen. — Trifling effect produced by it. — 
 Attachment of the people to her government. 
 
 The three commissioners named by Elizabeth to sit as 
 judges in the great cause between Mary and her subjects, of 
 which she had been named the umpire, were the duke of Nor- 
 folk, the earl of Sussex, and sir Ralph Sadler, a very able nego- 
 tiator and a man of business. On the part of the Scottish nation, 
 the regent Murray, fearing to trust the cause in other hands, ap- 
 peared in person, attended by several men of talent and conse- 
 quence. The situation of Mary herself was not more critical or 
 more unprecedented, and scarcely more humiliating than that 
 in which Murray was placed by her appeal to Elizabeth. Act- 
 ing on behalf of the infant king his nephew, he saw himself call- 
 ed upon to submit to the tribunal of a foreign sovereign such 
 proofs of the atrocious guilt of the queen his sister, as should jus- 
 tify in the eyes of this sovereign, and in those of Europe, the de- 
 gradation of Mary from the exalted station which she was born 
 to fill, her imprisonment, her violent expulsion from the king - 
 dom, and her future banishment or captivity for life :- — an at- 
 tempt in which, though successful, there was both disgrace to 
 himself and detriment to the honour and independence of his 
 country ; and from which, if unsuccessful, he could contemplate 
 nothing but certain ruin. Struck with all the evils of this dilemma; 
 with the danger of provoking beyond forgiveness his own queen, 
 whose restoration he still regarded as no improbable event, and 
 with the imprudence of relying implicitly on the dubious protec 
 
236 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 tion of Elizabeth, Murray long hesitated to bring forward the 
 only charge dreaded by the illustrious prisoner, — that of having 
 conspired with Both well the murder of her husband. 
 
 In the mean time Maitland, a Scottish commissioner secretly 
 attached to Mary, found means to open a private communication 
 with the duke of Norfolk, and to suggest to this nobleman, now 
 a widower for the third time, the project of obtaining for himself 
 the hand of Mary, and of replacing her by force on the throne of 
 her ancestors. The vanity of Norfolk, artfully worked upon by 
 the bishop of Ross, Mary's prime agent, caused him to listen 
 with complacency to this rash proposal ; and having once con- 
 sented to entertain it, he naturally became earnest to prevent 
 Murray from preferring that heinous accusation which he had at 
 length apprised the English commissioners that he was provided 
 with ample means of substantiating. After some deliberation 
 on the means of effecting this object, he accordingly resolved up- 
 on the step of discovering his views to the regent himself, and 
 endeavouring to obtain his concurrence. Murray, who seems to 
 have felt little confidence in the stability of the government of 
 which lie was the present head, and who judged perhaps that 
 the return of the queen as the wife of an English protestant no- 
 bleman would afford the best prospect of safety to himself and 
 his party, readily acceded to the proposal, and consented still to 
 withhold the " damning proofs" of Mary's guilt which he held 
 in his hand. 
 
 But neither the Scottish associates of Murray nor the English 
 cabinet were disposed to rest satisfied with this feeble and tem- 
 porising conduct, Mary's commissioners too, emboldened by 
 his apparent timidity, of which the motives were probably not 
 known to them all, began to push their advantage in a man- 
 ner which threatened final defeat to his party: the queen of 
 England artfully incited him to proceed ; and in spite of his se - 
 cret engagements with the duke and his own reluctance, he at 
 length saw himself compelled to let fail the long suspended 
 stroke on the head of Mary. He applied to the English court 
 for encouragement and protection in his perilous enterprise ; 
 and Elizabeth, being at length suspicious of the intrigue which 
 had hitherto baffled all her expectations from the conferences at 
 York, suddenly gave orders for the removal of the queen of Scots 
 from Bolton-castle and the superintendence of lord Scope, the 
 duke's brother-in-law, to the more secure situation of Tutbury- 
 castle in Staffordshire and the vigilant custody of the earl of 
 Shrewsbury. At the same time she found pretexts for the trans- 
 ferring the conferences from York to Westminster, and added 
 to the number of her commissioners sir Nicholas Bacon, lord- 
 keeper, the earls of Arundel and Leicester, lord Clinton, and 
 Cecil. 
 
 Anxious to preserve an air of impartiality, Elizabeth declined 
 giving to the regent all the assurances for his future security 
 which he required ; but on his arrival in London she extended 
 to him a reception equally kind and respectful, and by alternate 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 caresses and hints of intimidation she gradually led him on to 
 the production of the fatal casket containing the letters of Mary 
 to Bothwcll, by which her participation in the murder of her hua 
 band Avas clearly proved. 
 
 After steps on the part of his sovereign from which the duke 
 might have inferred her know ledge of his secret machinations ; 
 after dist overies respecting the conduct of Mary which impeach- 
 ed her. of guilt so heinous, and covered her with infamy so in- 
 delible ; prudence and honour alike required that he should 
 abandon for ever the thought of linking his destiny with hers. 
 But in the light and unbalanced mind of Norfolk, the ambition 
 of matching with royalty unfortunately preponderated over all 
 other considerations : he speedily began to weave anew the tissue 
 of intrigue which the removal of the conferences had broken off; 
 ,and turning once more with fond credulity to Murray, by whom 
 his cause had been before deserted, he again put confidence in 
 his assurances that the marriage-project had his hearty aporo- 
 bation, and should receive his effectual support. Melvil informs 
 us that this fresh compact was brought about by sir Nicholas 
 Throgmorton, "being a man of a deep reach and great prudence 
 and discretion, who had ever travelled for the union of this isle." 
 But notwithstanding his " deep reach," he was certainly im- 
 posed upon in this affair ; for the regent, insincere perhaps from 
 the beginning, had now no other object than to secure his pre- 
 sent personal safety by lavishing promises which he had no in- 
 tention to fulfil. Melvil, who attended him on his return to 
 Scotland, thus explains the secret of his conduct: " At that time 
 the duke commanded over all the north parts of England, where 
 our mistress was kept, and so might have taken her out when 
 he pleased. And when he was angry at the regent, he had ap- 
 pointed the earl of Westmorland to lie in his way, and cut off 
 himself and so many of his company as were most bent upon the 
 queen's accusation. But after the last agreement, the duke sent 
 and discharged the said earl from doing us any harm ; yet upon 
 our return the earl came in our way with a great company of 
 horse, to signify to us that we were at his mercy." 
 
 It is difficult to believe, notwithstanding this positive testi- 
 mony, that the duke of Norfolk, a man of mild dispositions and 
 guided in the main by religion and conscience, would have ha- 
 zarded, or would not have scrupled, so atrocious, so inexpiable 
 an act of violence, as that of cutting off the regent of Scotland 
 returning-to his own country under sanction of the public faith 
 and the express protection of the queen: but lie may have in- 
 dulged himself in vague menaces, which Westmorland, a bigoted 
 papist, ripe for rebellion against the government of Elizabeth, 
 would have felt little reluctance to carry into effect, and thus 
 the regent's duplicity might in fact be prompted and excused to 
 himself by a principle of self-defence. 
 
 Whatever degree of confidence Norfolk and his advisers might 
 place in Murray's sincerity, they were well aware that other 
 steps must be taken, and other confederates engaged, before the 
 
238 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 grand affair of the marriage could be put in a train to ensure its 
 final success. There was no immediate prospect of Mary's re- 
 gaining her liberty by means of the queen of England, or with 
 her concurrence ; for since the production of the great charge 
 against her, to which she had instructed her commissioners to 
 decline making any answer, Elizabeth had regarded her as one 
 who had suffered judgment to go against her by default, and be- 
 gan to treat her accordingly. Her confinement was rendered 
 more rigorous, and henceforth the still pending negotiations re- 
 specting her return to her own country were carried on with a 
 slackness which evidently proceeded from the dread of Mary, 
 and the reluctance of Elizabeth, to bring to a decided determi- 
 nation a business which could not now be ended either with cre- 
 dit or advantage to the deposed queen. 
 
 Elizabeth had dismissed the regent to his government without 
 open approbation of his conduct as without censure ; but he had 
 received from her in private an important supply of money, and 
 such other effectual aids as not only served to establish the pre- 
 sent preponderance of his authority, but would enable him, it 
 was thought, successfully to withstand all future attempts for 
 the restoration of Mary. Evidently then it was only by the 
 raising of a formidable party in the English court that any thing 
 could be effected in behalf of the royal captive ; but her agents 
 and those of the duke assured themselves that ample means were 
 in their hands for setting this machine in action. 
 
 Elizabeth, it was now thought, would not marry : the queen of 
 Scots was generally admitted to be her legal heir ; and it ap- 
 peared highly important to the welfare of England that she should 
 not transfer her claims, with her hand, to any of the more pow- 
 erful princes of Europe ; consequently the duke entertained 
 little doubt of uniting in favour of his suit the suffrages of all 
 those leading characters in the English court who had formerly 
 conveyed to Mary assurances of their attachment to her title and 
 interests. His own influence amongst the nobility was very 
 considerable, and he readily obtained the concurrence of the 
 earl of Pembroke, the earl of Arundel (his first wife's father,) 
 and lord Lumley (a catholic peer closely connected with the 
 house of Howard.) The design was now r imparted to Leicester, 
 who entered into it with an ostentation of affectionate zeal 
 which ought perliaps to have alarmed the too credulous duke. 
 As if impatient to give an undeniable pledge of his sincerity, he 
 undertook to draw up with his own hand a letter to '.the queen 
 af Scots, warmly recommending the duke to her matrimonial 
 choice, which immediately received the signatures of the three 
 nobles above mentioned and the rest of the confederates. By 
 these subscribers it was distinctly stipulated, that the union 
 should not take place without the knowledge and approbation of 
 the queen of England, and that the reformed religion should be 
 maintained in both the British kingdoms ; — conditions by which 
 they at first perhaps believed that they had provided sufficiently 
 for the interests of Elizabeth and of protestantism : it was how 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 ever immediately obvious that the duke and his agents had the 
 design of concealing carefully all their measures from their 
 sovereign, till the party should have gained such strength thai 
 it would no longer be safe for her to refuse a consent which [i 
 was well known that she would always be unwilling to grant. 
 
 But when, on encouragement being given by Mary to the hopes 
 of her suitor, the kings of France and Spain, and even the Pope 
 himself, were made privy to the scheme and pledged to give it 
 their assistance, all its English, and especially all its protestant 
 supporters, ought to have been aware that their undertaking was 
 assuming the form of a conspiracy with the enemies of their 
 queen and country against her government and personal safety ; 
 against the public peace, and the religion by law established ; 
 and nothing can excuse the blindness, or palliate the guilt, of 
 their perseverance in a course so perilous and so crooked. 
 
 Private interests were doubtless at the bottom with most or 
 all of the participators in this aifair who were not papists ; and 
 those, — they were not a few, — who envied or who feared the in- 
 fluence and authority of Cecil, eagerly seized the occasion to 
 array against him a body of hostility by which they trusted to 
 work his final and irretrievable ruin. 
 
 It seems to have been by an ambitious rivalry with the secre- 
 tary, that sir Nicholas Throgmorton, whose early life had ex- 
 hibited so bold a spirit of resistance to tyranny and popery when 
 triumphant and enthroned, had been carried into a faction which 
 all his principles ought to have rendered odious to him. In his 
 intercourses with the queen of Scots as ambassador from Eliza- 
 beth, he had already shown himself her zealous partisan. In 
 advising her to sign for her safety the deed of abdication ten- 
 dered to her at Loch Leven, he had basely suggested that the 
 compulsion under which she acted would excuse her from re- 
 garding it as binding: to the English crown he also regarded 
 her future title as incontrovertible. He now represented to his 
 party, that Cecil was secretly inclined to the house of Suffolk : 
 and that no measure favourable to the reputation or authority 
 of the queen of Scots could be carried whilst he enjoyed the 
 confidence of his mistress. By these suggestions, the duke, un- 
 fortunately for himself, was led to sanction an attempt against 
 the power and reputation of this great minister. 
 ; Leicester, who had long hated his virtues ; the old corrupt 
 statesman Winchester, Pembroke, and Arundel ; and the discon- 
 tented catholic peers Northumberland and Westmorland, eagerly 
 joined in the plot. It was agreed to attack the secretary in the 
 privy-council on the ground of his having advised the detention 
 of the money going into the Low Countries for the service of the 
 king of Spain, and thus exposing the nation to the danger of a 
 war with this potentate; and Throgmorton is said to have ad 
 vised that, whatever he answered, they should find some pretext 
 for sending him to the Tower ; after which, he said, it would be 
 easy to compass his overthrow. 
 But the penetration of Elizabeth enabled her to appreciate 
 
THE COURT OF 
 
 justly, with a single exception, the principles, characters, and 
 motives of all her servants ; and she knew that, while his ene- 
 mies were exclusively attached to their own interests, Cecil was 
 attached also to the interests of his prince, his country, and his 
 religion ; that while others, — with that, far-sighted selfishness 
 which involves men in so many intrigues, usually rendered fruit- 
 less or needless by the after-course of events, — were bent on se- 
 curing to themselves the good graces of her successor, he was 
 content to depend on her alone; that while others were the cour- 
 tiers, the flatterers, or the ministers, of the queen, he, and per- 
 haps he only, was the friend of Elizabeth. All the rest she knew 
 that she could replace at a moment; — him never. Secret .infor- 
 mation was carried to her of all that her council were contriving, 
 and had almost executed, against the secretary: full of indigna- 
 tion she hurried to their meeting, where she was not expected, and 
 by her peremptory mandate put an instant stop to their proceed- 
 ings ; making Leicester himself sensible, by a warmth which did 
 her honour, that the man who held the first place in her esteem 
 was by no one to be injured with impunity. 
 
 The earl of Sussex, the true friend of Norfolk, and never his 
 abettor in designs of which his sober judgment could discern all 
 the criminality and all the rashness, was grieved to the soul that 
 the artifices of his followers should have set him at variance with 
 Cecil. He was doubtless aware of the advantage which their 
 disagreement M ould minister against them both to the malignant 
 Leicester, his and their common enemy ; and trembling for the 
 safety of the duke and the welfare of both, he addressed to the 
 secretary, from the north, where he was then occupied in the 
 queen's service, a letter on the subject, eloquent by its uncom- 
 mon earnestness. 
 
 He tells him that he knows not the occasion of the coldness 
 between him and the duke, of which he had acknowledged the 
 existence; but that he cannot believe other, esteeming both par- 
 ties as he does, than that it must have had its origin in misre- 
 presentation and the ill offices of their enemies ; and he implores 
 him, as the general remedy of all such differences, to resort to a 
 full and fair explanation with the duke himself, in whom he will 
 lind " honour, truth, wisdom and plainness." 
 
 These excellent exhortations were not without effect : it is 
 probable that the incautious duke had either been led inadvert- 
 ently or dragged unwillingly, by his faction, into the plot against 
 the secretary, whose ruin he was not likely to have sought from 
 any personal motive of enmity ; and accordingly a few weeks 
 after (June 1569) we find Sussex congratulating Cecil, in a se- 
 cond letter, on a reconciliation between them which he trusts 
 will prove entire and permanent.* 
 
 Hitherto the queen had preserved so profound a silence re- 
 specting the intrigues of the duke, that he flattered himself she 
 was without a suspicion of their existence; but this illusion was 
 
 * "Illustrations," &c.by Lodge, vol. ii. 
 
Q1TEKN ELIZABETH. 
 
 241 
 
 soon to vanish. In August 15G9, the queen being at Farnham 
 ill her progress, and the duke in attendance on her, she took him 
 to dine with her, and in the course of conversation found occasion, 
 '* without any show of displeasure," but with sufficient significance 
 of manner, to give him tlie advice, " to be very careful on what 
 pillow he rested his head." Afterwards she cautioned him in 
 plain terms against entering into any marriage treaty with the 
 queen of Scots. The duke, in his hi st surprise, made no scruple 
 to promise on his allegiance that he would entertain no thoughts 
 of her; he even affected to speak of such a connexion with dis- 
 dain, declaring that he esteemed his lands in England worth 
 neaiTy as much as the whole kingdom of Scotland, wasted as it 
 was by wars and tumults, and that in his tennis-court at Nor- 
 wich he reckoned himself equal to many a prince. — These de- 
 monstrations were all insincere ; the duke remained steady to 
 his purpose, and his correspondence with the queen of Scots was 
 not for a single day intermitted in submission to his sovereign. 
 But he felt that it was now time to take off the mask ; and fully 
 confiding in the strength of his party, he requested the earl of 
 Leicester immediately to open the marriage proposal to her ma- 
 jesty, and solicit her consent. This the favourite promised, but 
 for his own ends continued to defer the business from day to day. 
 
 Cecil, who had recently been taken into the consultations of 
 the duke, urged upon him with great force the expediency of be- 
 ing himself the first to name his wishes to the queen ; but Nor- 
 folk, either from timidity, or, more probably, from an ill-founded 
 reliance on Leicester's sincerity, and a distrust, equally mis- 
 placed, of that of Cecil, whom he was conscious of having ill 
 treated, neglected to avail himself of this wise and friendly coun- 
 sel, by which he might yet have been preserved. Leicester, 
 who watched all his motions, was at length satisfied that his 
 purpose was effected, — the victim was inveigled beyond the pow- 
 er of retreat or escape, and it was time for the decoy-bird to slip 
 out of the snare. 
 
 He summoned to his aid a fit of sickness, the never failing 
 resource of the courtiers of Elizabeth in case of need. His pi- 
 tying mistress, as he had doubtless anticipated, hastened to pay 
 him a charitable visit at his own house, and he then suffered her 
 to discover that his malady was occasioned by some momentous 
 secret which weighed upon his spirits ; and after due osten- 
 tation of penitence and concern, at length revealed to her the 
 whole of the negotiations for the marriage of the duke with the 
 queen of Scots, including the part which he had himself taken 
 in that business. 
 
 Elizabeth, who seems by no means to have suspected that 
 matters had gone so far, or that so many of her nobles were im- 
 plicated in this transaction, was moved with indignation, and 
 commanded the immediate attendance of the duke, who consci- 
 ous of his delinquency, and disquieted by the change which he 
 thought he had observed in the countenance of her majesty and 
 the carriage towards him of his brother peers, had some time 
 
 H h 
 
THE COURT OF 
 
 before quitted the court, and retired first to his house in London, 
 and afterwards to his seat of Kenninghall in Norfolk. The duke 
 delayed to appear, not daring to trust himself in the hands of his 
 offended sovereign ; and after a short delay, procured for him by 
 the compassion of Cecil, who persisted in assuring the queen 
 that he would doubtless come shortly of his own accord, a mes- 
 senger was sent to bring him up to London. This messenger, 
 on his arrival, found the duke apparently, and perhaps really, 
 labouring under a violent ague ; and he suffered himself to be 
 prevailed upon to accept his solemn promise of appearing at court 
 as soon as he should be able to travel, and to return withouthim. 
 
 Meanwhile the queen, now bent upon sifting this matter to 
 the bottom, had written to require the Scottish regent to inform 
 her of the share which he had taken in the intrigue, and what 
 ever else he knew respecting it. Murray had become fully 
 aware how much more important it was to his interests to pre- 
 serve the favour and friendship of Elizabeth than to aim at keep- 
 ing any measures with Mary, by whom he was now hated with 
 extreme bitterness ; and learning that the confidence of the duke 
 had already been betrayed by the earl of Leicester, he made no 
 scruple of acquainting her witli all the particulars in which he 
 Was immediately concerned. 
 
 It thus became known to Elizabeth, that as early as the con- 
 ferences at York, the regent had been compelled, by threats of 
 personal violence on his return to Scotland, to close with the 
 proposals of the duke relative to his marriage ; — that it was with 
 a view to this union that Mary had solicited from the states of 
 Scotland a sentence of divorce from Bothwell, which Murray, by 
 the exertion of his influence had induced them to refuse, and 
 thus delayed the completion of the contract : but it appeared 
 from other evidence, that written promises of marriage had actu- 
 ally been exchanged between the duke and Mary, and commit- 
 ted to the safe keeping of the French ambassador. It was also 
 found to be a part of the scheme, to betrothe the infant king of 
 Scots to a daughter of the duke of Norfolk. 
 
 The anger of Elizabeth disdained to be longer trifled with ; 
 and she dispatched a messenger with peremptory orders to bring 
 up the duke, " his ague notwithstanding," who found him already 
 preparing to set out on his journey. Cecil, in one of his letters 
 to sir Henry Norris, dated October 1569, relates these circum- 
 stances at length, and expresses his satisfaction in the last, both 
 for the sake of the state and of the duke himself, whom, of all 
 subjects, he declares he most loved and honoured. He then pro- 
 ceeds thus : " The queen's majesty hath willed the earl of Arun- 
 del and my lord of Pembroke to keep their lodgings here, for that 
 they were privy of this marriage intended, and did not reveal it 
 to her majesty; but I think none of them did so with any evil 
 meaning, and of my lord of Pembroke's intent herein I can wit- 
 ness, that he meant nothing but well to the queen's majesty ; 
 my lord LumJey is also restrained : the queen's majesty hath 
 also been grievously offended with my lord of Leicester: but 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 243 
 
 considering that he hath revealed all that he saith lie knoweth 
 of himself, her majesty spareth her displeasure the more towards 
 him. Some disquiets must arise, but I trust not hurtful ; For her 
 majesty saith she will know the truth, so as every one shall see 
 
 his own fault, and so stay My lord of Huntingdon is joined 
 
 with the earl of Shrewsbury for the Scots queen's safety. Whilst 
 this matter was in passing, you must not think but the queen of 
 Scots was nearer looked to than before." 
 
 The duke on his arrival was committed to the Tower ; but 
 neither against him nor any of his adherents did the queen think 
 proper to proceed by course of law, and they were all liberated 
 after a restraint of longer or shorter duration. 
 
 It is proper to mention, that the adherents of Mary in her own 
 time, and various writers since, have conspired to cast severe 
 reflections upon Elizabeth for committing her to the joint custo- 
 dy of the earl of Huntingdon, because this nobleman, being de- 
 scended by his mother, a daughter of Henry Pole lord Monta- 
 cute, from the house of Clarence, was supposed to put his right 
 of succession to the crown in competition with hers, and there- 
 fore to entertain against her peculiar animosity. But on the part 
 of Elizabeth it may be observed — First, that there is not the 
 slightest ground to suspect that this nobleman, who was child- 
 less, entertained the most distant idea of reviving the obsolete 
 claims of his family ; and certainly if Elizabeth had suspected 
 him of it, he would never have held so high a place in her confi- 
 dence. Secondly, nothing less than the death of Mary would 
 have served any designs that he might have formed ; and by join- 
 ing him in commission with others for her safe keeping, Elizabeth 
 will scarcely be said to have put it in his power to make way 
 with her. Thirdly, the very writers who complain of the vigi- 
 lance and strictness with which the queen of Scots was now 
 guarded, all acknowledge that nothing less could have baffled 
 the plans of escape which the zeal of her partisans was continu- 
 ally setting on foot. Amongst the warmest of these partisans 
 was Leonard Dacre, a gentleman whose personal qualities, 
 whose errors, injuries, and misfortunes, all conspire to render him 
 an object of attention, illustrative as they also are of the prac- 
 tices and sentiments of his age. 
 
 Leonard was the second son of William lord Dacre of Gib- 
 land, descended from the ancient barons Vaux, who had held 
 lordships in Cumberland from the days of the Conqueror. 
 
 In 1568, on the death without issue of his nephew, a minor in 
 wardship to the duke of Norfolk, Leonard, as heir male, laid 
 claim to the title and family estates, but the three sisters of the 
 last lord disputed with him this valuable succession ; and being 
 supported by the interest of the duke of Norfolk their stepfather, 
 to whose three sons they were married, they found means to de- 
 feat the claims of their uncle, though indisputably good in law ; 
 — one instance in a thousand of the scandalous partiality to- 
 wards the rich and powerful exhibited in the legal decisions of 
 that age. 
 
244 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 Stung with resentment against the government and the queen 
 herself, by whom justice had been denied him, Leonard Dacre 
 threw himself, with all the impetuosity of his character, into the 
 measures of the malcontents and the interests of the queen of 
 Scots, and he laid a daring plan for her deliverance from Tut- 
 bury castle. This plan the duke, on its being communicated to 
 him, had vehemently opposed, partly from his 4 repugnance to mea- 
 sures of violence, partly from the apprehension that Mary, when 
 at liberty, might fall into the hands of a foreign and catholic 
 party, and desert her engagements with him for a marriage with 
 the king of Spain. Dacre, however, was not to be diverted from 
 his design, especially by the man with whom he was at open en- 
 mity, and he assembled a troop of horse for its execution ; but 
 suspicions had probably been excited, and the sudden removal of 
 the prisoner to Wingfield frustrated all his measures. 
 
 This was not the only attempt of that turbulent and danger- 
 ous faction of which the inconsiderate ambition of the duke had 
 rendered him nominally the head, but really the tool and victim, 
 which he had now the grief to find himself utterly unable to guide 
 or restrain. 
 
 The earls of Northumberland and Westmorland, heads of 
 the ancient and warlike families of Percy and Nevil, were the 
 first to break that internal tranquillity which the kingdom had 
 hitherto enjoyed, without the slightest interruption, under the 
 wise and vigorous rule of Elizabeth. The remoteness of these 
 noblemen from the court and capital, with the poverty and con- 
 sequent simplicity, almost barbarism, of the vassals over whom 
 they bore sway, and whose homage they received like native and 
 independent princes, appears to have nourished in their minds 
 ideas of their own importance better suited to the period of the 
 wars of the Roses than to the happier age of peace and order 
 which had succeeded. 
 
 The offended pride of the earl of Westmorland, a man desti- 
 tute in fact of every kind of talent, seems, on some occasion, to 
 have conducted him to the discovery, that at the court of Eliza- 
 beth the representative of the king-making Warwick was a per- 
 son of very slender consideration. The failure of the grand at- 
 tack upon the secretary, in which he had taken part, confirmed 
 this mortifying impression ; and the committal of his brother-in- 
 law, the great and powerful duke of Norfolk himself, must subse- 
 quently have carried home to the bottom of his heart unwilling 
 conviction that the preponderance of the ancient aristocracy of 
 the country was subverted, and its proudest chieftains fast sink- 
 ing to the common level of subjects. His attachment to the reli- 
 gion, with the other practices and prejudices of former ages, gave 
 additional exasperation to his discontent against the establish- 
 ed order of things : the incessant invectives of Romish priests 
 against a princess whom the pope was on the point of anathema- 
 tising, represented the cause of her enemies as that of Heaven 
 itself; and the spirit of the earl was roused at length to seek 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH, 
 
 245 
 
 full vengeance for all the injuries sustained by his pride, his in- 
 terests, or his principles. 
 
 Every motive of disaffection which wrought upon the mind of 
 Westmoreland, affected equally the earl of Northumberland ; 
 and to the cause of popery the latter was still further pledged by 
 the example and fate of his father, that sir Thomas Percy 
 who had perished on the* scaffold for his share in Aske's rebel- 
 lion. The attainder of sir Thomas had debarred his son from 
 succeeding to the titles and estates of the last unhappy earl, his 
 uncle, and he had suffered the mortification of seeing them go to 
 raise the fortunes of the house of Dudley ; but on the accession 
 of Mary, by whom his father was regarded as a martyr, he had 
 been restored to all the honours of his birth, and treated with a 
 degree, of favour which could not but strengthen his predilection 
 for the faith of which she was the patroness. It appears, how- 
 ever, that the attachment of the earl to the cause of popery had 
 not, on all occasions, been proof against immediate personal in- 
 terest. Soon after the marriage of the queen of Scots with D irn- 
 ley, that rash and ill-judging pair esteeming their authority in the 
 country sufficiently established to enable them to venture on an 
 attempt for the restoration of the old religion, the pope, in fur- 
 therance of their pious designs, had remitted the sum of eight 
 thousand crowns. " But the ship wherein the said gold was," 
 says James Melvil in his Memoirs, " did shipwrack upon the 
 coast of England, within the earl of Northumberland's bounds, 
 who alleged the whole to appertain to him by just law, which he 
 caused his advocate to read unto me, when I was directed to him 
 for the demanding restitution of the said sum, in the old Norman 
 language, which neither he nor I understood well, it was so cor- 
 rupt. But all my entreaties were ineffectual, he altogether re- 
 fusing to give any part thereof to the queen, albeit he was him- 
 self a catholic, and professed secretly to be her friend." And 
 through this disappointment Mary was compelled to give up her 
 design. 
 
 An additional trait of the earl's character is furnished by the 
 same author, in transcribing the instructions which he carried 
 home from his brother sir Robert Melvil, then ambassador to 
 England, on his return from that country, after announcing the 
 birth of the prince of Scotland. " Item, that her majesty cast not 
 off the earl of Northumberland, albeit as a fearful and facile man 
 he delivered her letter to the queen of England ; neither appear 
 to find fault with sir Henry Percy as yet for his dealing with Mr. 
 Ruxbie," (an English spy in Scotland,) " which he doth to gain 
 favour at court, being upon a contrary faction to his brother, the 
 earl." 
 
 The machinations of the two earls, however cautiously carried 
 on, did not entirely escape the penetration of the earl of Sussex, 
 lord president of the north, who sent for them both and subject- 
 ed them to some kind of examination ; but no sufficient cause for 
 their detention then appearing, he dismissed them, hoping proba- 
 bly that the warning would prove efficacious in securing their 
 
246 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 peaceable behaviour. In this idea, however, lie was deceived *, 
 on their return they instantly resumed their mischievous designs; 
 and they were actually preparing for an insurrection, which was 
 to be supported by troops from Flanders promised by the duke 
 of Alva, when a summons from the queen for their immediate at- 
 tendance at court disconcerted all their measures. 
 
 To comply with the command seemed madness in men who 
 were conscious that their proceedings had already amounted to 
 high treason ; — but to refuse obedience, and thus set at defiance 
 a power to which they were as yet unprepared to oppcfse any ef- 
 fectual resistance, seemed equally desperate. They hesitated ; 
 and it is said that the irresolution of Northumberland was only 
 ended by the stratagem of some of his dependents, who waked 
 him one night with a false alarm that his enemies were upon him, 
 and thus hurried him into the irretrievable step of quitting his 
 home and joining Westmorland, on which the country flocked 
 in for their defence, and they found themselves compelled to 
 raise their standard. 
 
 The enterprise immediately assumed the aspect of a Holy 
 War, or crusade against heresy : on the banners of the insur- 
 gents were displayed the cross, the five wounds of Christ, and 
 the cup of the euoharist : mass was regularly performed in their 
 camp ; and, on reaching Durham, they carried off from the ca- 
 thedral and committed to the flames the bible and the English 
 service books. 
 
 The want of money to purchase provisions compelled the earls 
 to relinquish their first idea of marching to London ; they took 
 however a neighbouring castle, and remained masters ot the 
 country as long as no army appeared to oppose them ; but on the 
 approach of the earl of Sussex and lord Hunsdon from York with 
 a large body of troops, they gradually retreated to the Scotch 
 borders, and there disbanded their men without a blow. The 
 earl of Westmoreland finally made his escape to Flanders, 
 where he dragged out a tedious existence in poverty and ob- 
 scurity, barely supplied with the necessaries of life by a slender 
 pension from the king of Spain. Northumberland, being betray- 
 ed for a reward by a Scottish borderer to whom, as to a friend, 
 he had fled for refuge, was at length delivered up by the regent 
 Morton to the English government, and was beheaded at York. 
 
 Posterity is not called upon to respect the memory of these 
 rebellious earls as martyrs even to a mistaken zeal for the good 
 of their country, or to any other generous principle of action. 
 The objects of their enterprise, as assigned by themselves, were 
 the restoration of the old religion, the removal of evil counsel- 
 lors, and the liberation of the duke of Norfolk and other impri- 
 soned nobles. But even their attachment to popery appears to 
 have been entirely subservient to their views of personal interest ; 
 and so little was the duke inclined to blend his cause with 
 theirs, that he exerted himself in every mode that his situation 
 would permit to strengthen the hands of government for their 
 overthrow; and it was in consideration of the loyal spirit ma- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 U7 
 
 liifested by him on occasion of this rebellion, and of a subsequent 
 rising in Norfolk, that he soon after obtained his liberty on a 
 solemn promise to renounce all connexion with the queen of 
 Scots. 
 
 In the northern counties, however, the cause and the persons 
 of the two earls, who had well maintained the hospitable fame 
 of their great ancestors, were alike the objects of popular attach- 
 ment: the miserable destiny of the outlawed and ruined West- 
 morland, and the untimely end of Northumberland through the 
 perfidy of the false friend in whom he had put his trust, were 
 long remembered with pity and indignation, and many a minstrel 
 " tuned his rude harp of border frame" to the fall of the Percy 
 or the wanderings of the Nevil. There was also an ancient gen- 
 tleman named Norton, of Norton in Yorkshire, who bore the 
 banner of the cross and the five wounds before the rebel army, 
 whose tragic fall, with that of his eight sons, has received such 
 commemoration and embellishment as the pathetic strains of a 
 nameless but probably contemporary bard could bestow. The 
 excellent ballad entitled " The Rising in the North"* impres- 
 sively describes the mission of Percy's " little foot page" to 
 Norton, to pray that he will "ride in his company;" the council 
 held by Richard Norton with his nine sons, when 
 
 " Eight of them did answer make, 
 
 Eight of them spake hastily, 
 
 O father ! till the day we die 
 
 We'll stand by that good earl and thee ;" 
 
 while Francis, the eldest, seeks to dissuade his father from re- 
 bellion, but finding him resolved, offers to accompany him " un- 
 armed and naked." Their standard is then mentioned ; and after 
 recording the flight of the two earls, the minstrel adds, 
 
 " Thee Norton with thine eight good sons 
 They doomed to die, alas for ruth ! 
 Thy reverend locks thee could not save, 
 Nor them their fair and blooming youth !" 
 
 But how slender is the authority of a poet in matters of history! 
 It is quite certain that Richard Norton did not perisli by the 
 hands of the executioner, and it is uncertain whether any one of 
 his sons did. It is true that the old man with three more of the 
 family was attainted, that his great estates were confiscated, 
 and that he ended his days a miserable exile in Flanders. We. 
 also know that two gentlemen of the name of Norton were hang 
 ed at London : but some authorities make them brothers of the, 
 head of the family ; and two of the sons of Richard Norton, Fran 
 cis, and Edmund ancestor of the present lord Grantley, certainly 
 lived and died in peace on their estates in Yorkshire. 
 
 * See Percy's" Reli^ues," vi-l it 
 
248 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 It is little to the honour of Elizabeth's clemency, that a rebel- 
 lion suppressed almost without bloodshed should have been 
 judged bj her to justify and require the unmitigated exercise of 
 martial law over the whole of the disaffected country. Sir John 
 Bowes, marshal of the army, made it his boast, that in a tract 
 sixty miles in length and forty in breadth, there was scarcely a • 
 town or village where he had not put some to death ; and at 
 Durham the earl of Sussex caused sixty-three constables to be 
 hanged at once ; a severity of which it should appear that he 
 was the unwilling instrument ; for in a letter written soon after 
 to Cecil he complains, that during part of the time of his com- 
 mand in the north he had nothing left to him "but to direct 
 hanging matters." But the situation of this nobleman at the 
 time was such as would by no means permit him at his own 
 peril to suspend or evade the execution of such orders as he re- 
 ceived from court. Egremont Ratcliffe his half-brother was one 
 of about forty noblemen and gentlemen attainted for their con- 
 cern in this rebellion ; he had in the earl of Leicester an enemy 
 equally vindictive and powerful ; and some secret informations 
 had infused into the mind of the queen a suspicion that there 
 had been some wilful slackness in his proceedings against the 
 insurgents. There was however at the bottom of Elizabeth's 
 heart a conviction of the truth and loyalty of her kinsman which 
 could not be eradicated, and he soon after took a spirited step 
 which disconcerted entirely the measures of his enemies, and 
 placed him higher than ever in her confidence and esteem. Cecil 
 thus relates the circumstance in one of his letters to Norris, 
 dated February 1570. 
 
 "The earl of Sussex upon desire to see her majesty, 
 
 came hither unlooked for ; and although, in the beginning of this 
 northern rebellion, her majesty sometimes uttered some mislik- 
 ing of the earl, yet this day she, meaning to deal very princely 
 with him, in presence of her council, charged him with such 
 things as she had heard to cause her misliking, without any note 
 of mistrust towards .him for his fidelity; whereupon he did with 
 such humbleness, wisdom, plainness and dexterity, answer her 
 majesty, as both she and all the rest were fully satisfied, and he 
 adjudged by good proofs to have served in all this time faithfully, 
 and so circumspectly, as it manifestly appeareth that if he had 
 not so used himself in the beginning, the whole north part had 
 entered into the rebellion." 
 
 A formidable mass of discontent did in fact subsist among the 
 catholics of the north, and it was not long before a new and more 
 daring leader found means to set it again in fierce and violent 
 action. 
 
 Leonard Dacre had found no opportunity to take part in the 
 enterprise of the two earls, though a deep participator in their 
 counsels ; for knowing that their design could not yet be ripe 
 for execution, and foreseeing as little as the rest of the faction 
 those measures of the queen by which their affairs were prema- 
 turely brought to a crisis, he had proceeded to court on his pri- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 249 
 
 vatc concerns, and was there amusing her majesty with protesta- 
 tions of his unalterable fidelity and attachment, while his asso- 
 ciates in the north were placing their lands and lives on the haz- 
 ard of rebellion. Learning on his journey homewards the total 
 discomfiture of the earls, he carefully preserved the semblance 
 of a zealous loyalty, till, having armed the retainers of his family 
 on pretence of preserving the country in the queen's obedience, 
 and having strongly garrisoned its hereditary castles of Naworth 
 and Greystock, which he wrested from the custody of the How- 
 ards, he declared himself, and broke out into violent rebellion. 
 
 The late severities had rather exasperated than subdued the 
 spirit of disaffection in this neighbourhood, and three thousand 
 men ranged themselves under the scallop-shells of Dacre : — a 
 well known ensign which from age to age had marshalled the 
 hardy borderers to deeds of warlike prowess. Lord Hunsdon, 
 the governor of Berwick, marched promptly forth with all the 
 force he could muster to disperse the rebels : but this time they 
 stood firmly on the banks of the little river Gelt, to give him bat- 
 tle. Such indeed was the height of fanaticism or despair to 
 which these unhappy people were wrought up, that the phrensy 
 gained the softer sex ; and there were seen in their ranks, says 
 the chronicler, " many desperate women that gave the adventure 
 of their lives, and fought right stoutly." After a sharp action, 
 in which about three hundred were left dead on the field, victory 
 at length declared for the queen's troops ; and Leonard Dacre, 
 who had bravely sustained, notwithstanding the deformity of his 
 person, the part of a soldier as well as general, seeing that all 
 was lost, turned his horse's head and rode oft* full speed for Scot- 
 land, whence he passed into Flanders, and took up at Lovain his 
 melancholy abode. 
 
 The treason of this unfortunate gentleman was, it must be con- 
 fessed, both notorious and heinous ; and had he been intercept- 
 ed in making his escape, no blame could have attached to Eliza- 
 beth in exacting the full penalty of his offence. But when, five- 
 and-twenty years after this time, we find his aged mother at 
 court " an earnest suitor" for the pardon of her two sons ;'* ob- 
 taining, probably by costly bribes, a promise of admission to the 
 queen's presence, and at length gaining nothing more, — it is im- 
 possible not to blame or lament that relentless severity of temper 
 which rendered Elizabeth so much a stranger to the fairest attri- 
 bute of sovereign power. The case of Francis Dacre, indeed, 
 was one which ought to have appealed to her sense of justice ra- 
 ther than to her feelings of mercy. This gentleman, after the 
 expatriation and attainder of his elder brother, had prosecuted at 
 law the claims to the honours and lands of the barony of Gilsland 
 which had thus devolved upon him ; but being baffled in all his 
 appeals to the equity of the courts, he had withdrawn in disgust 
 to Flanders, and, on this account, suft'ered a sentence of outlaw- 
 ry. He lived and died in exile, leaving a son named Ranulph, 
 
 * Letter of R. Whyte in « Sidney Papers." 
 \ i 
 
250 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 heir only to poverty and misfortunes, to noble blood, and to 
 rights which he was destitute of the power of rendering available. 
 Lord Dacre of the south, as he was usually called, settled on this 
 poor man, his very distant relation, a small annuity ; and on his 
 death the following lord Dacre, becoming the heir male of the 
 family, received by way of compromise from the Howards no less 
 than thirteen matters which they had enjoyed to the prejudice of 
 Leonard Dacre, of his brother and of his nephew. 
 
 On the suppression of this second rising in the north, the 
 queen, better advised or instructed by experience, granted a ge- 
 neral pardon to>all but its leader,; and such was the effect of this 
 lenity, or of the example of repeated failure on the part of the 
 insurgents, that the internal tranquillity of her kingdom was ne- 
 ver more disturbed from this quarter, the most dangerous of all 
 from the vicinity of Scotland. 
 
 The earl of Sussex had been kept for some time in a state of 
 dissatisfaction, as appears from one of his letters to Cecil, by 
 her majesty's dilatoriness in conferring upon him such a mark 
 of her special favour as she had graciously promised at the con- 
 clusion of his satisfactory defence of himself before the council ; 
 but she appeased at length his wounded feelings, by admitting 
 him to the council-board, and giving him the command of a strong 
 force appointed to act on the Scottish border. 
 
 The occasion for this military movement arose out of the tra- 
 gical incident of the assassination of the regent Murray, which 
 had proved the signal for a furious inroad upon the English lim- 
 its by some of the southern claus Jt who found themselves imme- 
 diately released from the restraints of an administration vigour- 
 ons enough to make the lawless tremble. Sussex was ordered 
 to chastise their insolence ; and he performed the task tho- 
 roughly and pitilessly, laying waste with fire and sword the whole 
 obnoxious district. 
 
 Besides recognising in Murray a valuable coadjutor, neighbour, 
 and ally, Elizabeih appears to have loved and esteemed him as 
 a man and a friend, jnd she bewailed his death with an excess 
 of dejection honourable surely to her feelings, though regarded 
 by some as derogatory from the dignity of her station It was, 
 indeed, an event which broke all her measures, and which, at a 
 period when difficulties and dangers were besetting her on all 
 hands, added fresh embarrassment to her perplexity, and present- 
 ed new chances of evil to her fears. What degree of compunc- 
 tion she felt for her unjustifiable detention of Mary may be 
 doubtful ; but it is certain that her mind was now shaken with 
 perpetual terrors and anxieties for the consequences of that irre- 
 vocable step, and that there was nothing which she more ear- 
 nestly desired than to transfer to other hands the custody of s® 
 dangerous a prisoner. 
 
 She had nearly concluded an agreement for this purpose with 
 Murray, to whom she was to have surrendered the person of the 
 captive queen, receiving six Scottish noblemen as hostages for 
 her safe keeping ; and though the interference of the French and 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 251 
 
 Spanish ambassadors had obliged her to suspend its execution, 
 there is no reason to suppose that the design was relinquished, 
 when this unexpected stroke rendered it for ever impracticable. 
 The regency of Scotland, too, was now to be contested by the 
 enraged factions of that distracted country, and it was of great 
 importance to Elizabeth that the victory should fall to the party 
 oi* the young king ; yet such were the perplexities of her politi- 
 cal situation, that it was some time before she could satisfy her- 
 self that there would not be too great a hazard in supporting by 
 arms the election of the earl of Lenox, to whom .she gave her in- 
 terest. 
 
 Her first recourse was to her favourite arts of intrigue; and 
 she sent Randolph, her chosen instrument for these occasions, to 
 tamper with various party-leaders, while Sussex, whose character 
 inclined hirmmore to measures of coercion, exhorted her to put 
 an end to her irresolution and throw the sword into the scale of 
 Lenox. She at length found reason to adopt this counsel ; and 
 the earl, re-entering Scotland with his army, laid waste the 
 lands, and took or destroyed the castles of Mary's adherents. 
 
 Sir William Drury, marshal of the army, was afterwards sent 
 further into the country to chastise the Hamiltons, of which clan 
 was the assassin of Murray. 
 
 The contemporary accounts of this expedition, amid many la- 
 mentable particulars of ravages committed, afford one amusing 
 trait of manners. Lord Fleming, who held out Dumbarton cas- 
 tle for the queen of Scots, had demanded a parley with sir Wil- 
 liam Drury, during which he treacherously caused him to be fir- 
 ed upon ; happily without effect. Sir George Gary, burning to 
 avenge the injury offered to his commander, sent immediately a 
 letter of defiance to lord Fleming, challenging; him to meet him 
 in single combat on this quarrel, when, where, and how he dares; 
 concluding thus : " Otherwise I will baffle your good name, sound 
 with the trumpet your dishonour, and paint your picture with 
 the heels upward and bear it in despite of yourself." That this 
 was not the only species of affront to which portraits were in 
 these days exposed, w e learn from an expression of Ben Jonson's: 
 — "Take as unpardonable offence as if he had torn your mis- 
 tress's colours, or breathed on her picture."* 
 
 The Scotch war was terminated a few months after, by an 
 agreement between Elizibeth and Mary, by virtue of which the 
 former consented to withdraw her troops from the country on 
 the engagement of the latter that no French forces should enter 
 it in support of her title. After this settlement, Elizabeth re- 
 turned to her usual ambiguous dealing in the affairs of Scotland; 
 and so far from insisting that Lenox should be named regent, she 
 sent a request to the heads of the king's party that they would 
 refrain for a time from the nomination of any person to that of- 
 fice. In consequence of this mandate, which they dared not dis- 
 obey, Lenox was only chosen lieutenant for a time; an appoint- 
 
 * See <; Every 3i|an out ot* his Humour." 
 
252 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 ment which served equally well the purposes of the English 
 queen. 
 
 Connected with all the other measures adopted by the zeal of 
 the great catholic combination for the destruction of Elizabeth, 
 and the ruin of the protestant cause, was one from which their 
 own narrow prejudices or sanguine wishes, rather than any just 
 views of the state of public opinion in England, led them to an- 
 ticipate important results. This was the publication of a papal 
 bull solemnly anathematising the queen, and dispensing her sub- 
 jects from their oath of allegiance. A fanatic named Fulton 
 was found willing to earn the crown of martyrdom by affixing 
 this instrument to the gate of the bishop of London's palace. He 
 was taken in the fact, and suffered the penalty of treason with- 
 out exciting a murmur among the people. A trifling insurrec- 
 tion in Norfolk ensued, of which, however, the papal bull was 
 not openly assigned as the motive, and which was speedily 
 suppressed with the punishment of a few of the offenders 
 according to law* Even the catholic subjects of Elizabeth for 
 the most part abhorred the idea of lifting their hands against 
 her government and the peace of their native land ; and several 
 of them were now found among the foremost and most sincere in 
 their offers of service against the disaffected. 
 
 On the whole, the result of the great trial of the hearts of her 
 people afforded to the queen by the alarms of this anxious pe- 
 riod, was satisfactory beyond all example. Henceforth she knew, 
 and the world knew, the firmness of that rock on which her 
 throne was planted ; — based on religion, supported by wisdom 
 and fortitude, and adorned by every attractive art, it stood dear 
 and venerable to her people, defying the assaults of her baffled 
 and malignant enemies. The anniversary of her accession began 
 this year to be celebrated by popular festivals all over the coun- 
 try ; — a practice which was retained, not only to the end of the 
 reign, but for many years afterwards, during which the 1 7th of 
 November continued to be solemnly observed under designation 
 of the Birthday of the Gospel. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 1571 to 1573. 
 
 Notice of sir T. Gresham. — Building of his exchange. — The 
 queen's visit to it. — Cecil created lord Burleigh and lord-trea- 
 surer. — Justs at Westminster. — Notices of the earl of Oxford, 
 Charles Howard, sir H. Lee, sir Chr. Hatton. — Fresh negocia- 
 tions for the marriage of Elizabeth with the duke oj Anjou. — 
 Renewal of the intrigues of Norfolk. — His re-committal, trial, 
 and conviction. — Death of Thro^morton. — Sonnet by Elizabeth. 
 — Norfolk beheaded. — His character and descendants. — Hostility 
 of Spain. — Wylson's translation of Demosthenes. — Walsingham 
 ambassador to France. — Treaty with that country. — Massacre 
 of Paris. — Temporising conduct of Elizabeth. — Burleigh's cal- 
 culation of the queen's nativity. — Notice of Philip Sidney. 
 
 From the intrigues and violences of crafty politicians and 
 discontented nobles, we shall now turn to trace the prosper- 
 ous and honourable career of a private English merchant, whose 
 abilities and integrity introduced him to the notice of his sove- 
 reign, and whose patriotic munificence still preserves to him the 
 respectful remembrance of posterity. This merchant was Tho- 
 mas Gresham. Born of a family at once enlightened, wealthy 
 and commercial, he had shared the advantage of an education at 
 the university of Cambridge previously to his entrance on the 
 walk of life to which he was destined, and which, fortunately for 
 himself, his superior acquirements did not tempt him to desert 
 or to despise. 
 
 His father, sir Richard Gresham, had been agent to Henry 
 VIII. for the negotiation of loans with the merchants of Antwerp, 
 and in 1552 he himself was nominated to act in a similar capa- 
 city to Edward VI., when he was eminently serviceable in re- 
 deeming the credit of the king, sunk to the lowest ebb by the 
 mismanagement of his father's immediate successor in the agen- 
 cy. Under Elizabeth he enjoyed the same appointment, to which 
 was added that of queen's merchant; and it appears by the offi- 
 cial letters of the time, that political as well as pecuniary affairs 
 were often entrusted to his discreet and able management. 
 was also a spirited promoter of the infant manufactures of his 
 country, several of which owed to him their first establishment. 
 By his diligence and commercial talents he at length rendered 
 himself the most opulent subject in the kingdom, and the queen 
 showed her sense of his merit and consequence by bestowing on 
 him the honour of knighthood. 
 
 Gresham had always made a liberal and patriotic use of his 
 wealth ; but after the death of his only son, in 1564, he formed 
 the resolution of making his country his principal heir. The 
 merchants of London had hitherto been unprovided with any 
 
254 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 building in the nature of a burse or exchange, such as Gresham 
 had seen in the great commercial cities of Flanders ; and he now 
 munificently offered, if the city would give him a piece of ground, 
 to build them one at his own expense. The edifice was begun 
 accordingly in 1566, and finished within three years. It was a 
 quadrangle of brick, with walks on the ground floor for the mer- 
 chants, (who now ceased to transact their business in the middle 
 aisle of St. Paul's cathedral,) with vaults for warehouses be- 
 neath and a range of shops above, from the rent of which the 
 proprietor sought some remuneration for his great charges. But 
 the shops did not immediately find occupants ; and it seems to 
 have been partly with the view of bringing them into vogue that 
 the queen promised her countenance to the undertaking, In 
 January 1571, attended by a splendid train, she entered the city ; 
 and after dining with sir Thomas at his spacious mansion in 
 Bishopsgate-street (still remaining), she repaired to the burse, 
 visited every part of it, and caused proclamation to be made by 
 sound of trumpet that henceforth it should bear the name of the 
 Royal Exchange. Gresham offered the shops rent-free for a year 
 to such as would furnish them with wares and wax lights against 
 the coming of the queen ; and a most sumptuous display was 
 made of the richest commodities and manufactures of every quar- 
 ter of the globe. 
 
 Afterwards the shops of the exchange became the favourite re- 
 sort of fashionable customers of both sexes : much money was 
 squandered here, and, if we are to trust the representations of 
 satirists and comic writers, many reputations lost. The building 
 was destroyed in the fire of London ; and the divines of that 
 day, according to their custom, pronounced this catastrophe a 
 judgment on the avarice and unfair dealing of the merchants and 
 shopkeepers, and the pride, prodigality and luxury of the pur- 
 chasers and idlers by whom it was frequented and maintained. 
 
 Elizabeth soon after paid homage to merit in another form, by 
 conferring on her invaluable servant Cecil, — whose wisdom, 
 firmness and vigilance had most contributed to preserve her 
 unhurt amid the machinations of her implacable enemies, — the 
 dignity of baron of Burleigh; an elevation which might provoke 
 the envy or resentment of some of the courtiers his opponents, 
 but which was hailed by the applauses of the people. 
 
 Before the close of the year, the death, at a great but not ve- 
 nerable age, of that corrupt and selfish statesman the marquis of 
 Winchester, afforded her an opportunity of apportioning to the 
 new dignity of her secretary, a suitable advance in office and 
 emolument, by conferring on him the post of lord -high-treasurer, 
 which be continued to enjoy to the end of his life. 
 
 On the first of May, and the two following days, solemn justs 
 were held before the queen at Westminster; in which the chal- 
 lengers were, the earl of Oxford, Charles Howard, sir Henry 
 Lee and sir Christopher Hatton, — all four deserving of biographi- 
 cal commemoration. 
 
 Edward, earl of Oxford was the seventeenth of the illustrious 
 family of Yere who had borne that title, and his character pre- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 255 
 
 sented an extraordinary union of the haughtiness, violence and 
 impetuosity of the feudal baron, with many of the elegant pro- 
 pensities and mental accomplishments which adorn the nobleman 
 of a happier age. It was probably to his travels in Italy that he 
 owed his more refined tastes, both in literature and in Luxury, 
 and it was thence that he brought those perfumed and embroi- 
 dered gloves which he was the first to introduce into England. 
 A superb pair which he presented to her majesty were so much 
 approved by her, that she sat for her portrait with them on her 
 hands. These gloves became of course highly fashionable, but 
 those prepared in Spain were soon found to excel in scent all 
 others; and the importance attached to this discovery, may be 
 estimated by the following commission given by sir Nicholas 
 Throgmorton, then in France, to sir Thomas Chaloner, ambas- 
 sador in Spain: — "I pray you, good my lord ambassador, send 
 me two pair of perfumed gloves, perfumed with orange-flowers 
 and jasmin, the one for my wife's hand, the other for mine own : 
 and wherein soever I can pleasure you with any thing in this 
 country, you shall have it in recompense thereof, or else so much 
 money as they shall cost you ; provided always that they be of 
 the best choice, wherein your judgment is inferior to none."* 
 
 The earl of Oxford enjoyed in his own times a high poetical 
 reputation ; but his once celebrated comedies have perished, and 
 two or three fugitive pieces inserted in collections are the only 
 legacy bequeathed to posterity by his muse^ Of these, "The 
 complaint of a lover wearing black and tawny" has ceased, in 
 the change of manners and fashions, to interest or affect the rea- 
 der. " Fancy and Desire" may still lay claim to the praise of 
 ingenuity, though the idea is perhaps not original even here, and 
 lias since been exhibited with very considerable improvements 
 both in French and English, especially in Ben .Tonson's celebra- 
 ted song, "Tell me where was Fancy bred?" Two or three 
 stanzas may bear quotation. 
 
 " Where wert thou born Desire ?" 
 
 " In pomp and pride of May." 
 
 " By whom, sweet boy, wert thou begot ?" 
 
 " By Fond Conceit, men say." 
 
 " Tell me who was thy nurse ?" 
 
 " Fresh Youth in sugred joy." 
 
 " What was thy meat and daily food ?" 
 
 " Sad sighs with great annoy." 
 
 " What had'st thou then to drink ?" 
 " Unsavoury lovers' tears." 
 " What cradle wert thou rocked in ?" 
 " In hope devoid of fears." &c. 
 
 In the chivalrous exercises of the tilt and tournament the earl 
 
 * "BurleigU Papers," by Haynes. 
 
256 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 of Oxford had few superiors : he was victor in the justs both of 
 this year and of the year 1580, and on the latter occasion he was 
 led by two ladies into the presence chamber, all armed as he was, 
 to receive a prize from her majesty's own hand. Afterwards, 
 by gross misconduct, he incurred from his sovereign a disgrace 
 equally marked and public, being committed to the Tower for an 
 attempt on one of her maids of honour. On other occasions, his 
 lawless propensities broke out with violence which Elizabeth 
 herself was scarcely able to restrain. 
 
 He had openly begun to muster his friends, retainers and ser- 
 vants, to take vengeance on sir Thomas Knevet, by whom he had 
 been wounded in a duel ; and the queen, who interfered to pre- 
 vent the execution of this savage design, was obliged for some 
 time to appoint Knevet a guard in order to secure his life. He 
 also publicly insulted sir Philip Sidney in the tennis-court of the 
 palace ; and her majesty could discover no other means of pre- 
 venting fatal consequences than compelling sir Philip Sidney, as 
 the inferior in rank, to compromise the quarrel on terms which 
 he regarded as so inequitable and degrading, that after transmit- 
 ting to her majesty a spirited remonstrance against encouraging 
 the insolence of the great nobles, he retired to Penshurst in dis- 
 gust. The duke of Norfolk was the nephew of this earl of Ox- 
 ford, who was very strongly attached to him, and used the utmost 
 urgency of entreaty with Burleigh, whose daughter he had mar- 
 ried, to prevail on him to procure his pardon : " but not succeed- 
 ing," says lord Orford," he was so incensed against that minis- 
 ter, that in most absurd and unjust revenge, (though the cause 
 was amiable,) he swore he would do all he could to ruin his 
 daughter ; and accordingly, not only forsook her bed, but sold 
 and consumed great part of the vast inheritance descended to 
 him from his ancestors."* 
 
 This remarkable person died very aged early in the reign of 
 James I. 
 
 Sir Charles Howard, eldest son of lord Howard of Effingham, 
 was, at this period of his life chiefly remarkable for the uncom- 
 mon beauty of his person, — a species of merit never overlooked 
 by her majesty, — for grace and agility in his exercises, and for 
 the manners of an accomplished courtier. At no time was he re- 
 garded as a person of profound judgment, and of vanity and self- 
 consequence he is said to have possessed an abundant share. He 
 was, however, brave, courteous, liberal, and diligent in aftairs ; 
 and the favour of the queen admitted him, in 1585, to succeed 
 his father in the office of lord-high-admiral. His intrepid bear- 
 ing, in the year 1588, encouraged his sailors to meet the terrible 
 Armada with stout hearts and cheerful countenances, and the 
 glory of its defeat was as much his own as the participation of 
 winds and waves would allow. In consideration of this distin- 
 guished piece of service he was created earl of Nottingham ; 
 and the queen's partiality towards her relations increasing with 
 her years, he became, towards the end of the reign, one of the 
 
 * " Royal and Noble Authors. " 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 257 
 
 most considerable persons at her court, where his hostility to 
 Essex grew equally notorious with the better grounded antipa- 
 thy entertained by Sussex, also a royal kinsman against Leices- 
 ter, the earlier favourite of her majest y. 
 
 The earl of Nottingham survived to the year 1624, the 88th 
 of his age. 
 
 Sir Henry Lee was one of the finest courtiers and certainly 
 the most complete knight-errant of his time. He was now in 
 the fortieth year of his age, had travelled, and seen some mili- 
 tary service; but the tilt-yard was ever the scene of his most 
 conspicuous exploits and those in which he placed his highest 
 glory. He had declared himself the queen's own knight and 
 champion, and having inscribed upon his shield the constellation 
 of Ariadne's Crown, culminant in her majesty's nativity, bound 
 himself by a solemn vow to appear armed in the tilt-yard on 
 every anniversary of her happy accession till disabled by age. 
 This vow gave origin to the annual exercises of the Knights-Til- 
 ters, a society consisting of twenty -five of the most gallant and 
 favoured of the courtiers of Elizabeth. The modern reader may 
 wonder to find included in this number so grave an officer as 
 Bromley, lord chancellor ; but under the maiden reign neither 
 the deepest statesman, the most studious lawyer, nor the rudest 
 soldier was exempted from the humiliating obligation of accept- 
 ing, and even soliciting, those household and menial offices 
 usually discharged by mere courtiers, nor from the irksome one 
 of assuming, for the sake of their sovereign lady, the romantic 
 disguise of armed champions and enamoured knights. Sir Henry 
 Lee, however, appears to have devoted his life to these chival- 
 rous pageantries rather from a quixotical imagination than with 
 any serious views of ambition or interest. He was a gentleman 
 of ancient family and plentiful fortune, little connected, as far as 
 appears, with any court faction or political party, and neither 
 capable nor ambitious of any public station of importance. It 
 is an amiable and generous trait of his character, that he attend- 
 ed the unfortunate duke of Norfolk even to the scaffold, receiv- 
 ed his last embrace, and repeated to the assembled multitude 
 his request that they would assist him with their prayers in his 
 final agony. His royal Dulcinea rewarded his fatigues and his 
 adoration by the lieutenancy of Woodstock manor, the office of 
 keeper of the armoury, and especially by the appropriate meed 
 of admission into the most noble order of the Garter. He re- 
 signed the championship at the approach of old age, with a sol- 
 emn ceremony hereafter to be described, died at his mansion of 
 Quarendon in Bucks, in 1611, in his 81st year, and was interred 
 in the parish church under a splendid tomb hung round with 
 military trophies, and inscribed with a very long, very quaint 
 and very tumid epitaph. 
 
 Christopher Hatton, the last of this undaunted band of chal- 
 lengers, was a new competitor for the smiles of royalty, and 
 bright was the dawn of fortune and of favour which already 
 broke upon him. He was of a decayed family of Northampton- 
 
 K k 
 
258 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 shire gentry, and had just commenced the study of the law at 
 one of the inns of court, when hope or curiosity stimulated him 
 to gain admittance at some court-festival, where he had an op- 
 portunity of dancing before the queen in a mask. His figure 
 and his performance so captivated her fancy, that she immediate- 
 ly bestowed upon him some flattering marks of attention, which 
 encouraged him to quit his profession and turn courtier. 
 
 This showy outside and these gay accomplishments were un- 
 expectedly found in union with a moderate and cautious temper, 
 enlightened views, and a solid understanding; and after due de- 
 liberation, Elizabeth, that penetrating judge of men, decided, in 
 spite of ridicule, that she could not do better than make this su- 
 perlatively-excellent dancer of galliards her lord chancellor. 
 
 The enemies of Hatton are said to have promoted this ap- 
 pointment in expectation of his disgracing himself by ignorance 
 and incapacity ; but their malice was disappointed : whatever he 
 did not know, he was able to learn and willing to be taught ; he 
 discharged the duties of his high office with prudence first and 
 afterwards with ability, and died in 1591, in possession of it and of 
 the public esteem. It is remarkable, considering the general 
 predilection of the queen in favour of celibacy, that Hatton was 
 the only one of her ministers who lived and died a bachelor 
 
 Early in this year the king of France married a daughter of 
 the emperour Maximilian ; and Elizabeth, desirous at this time 
 of being on the best terms both with the French and Imperial 
 courts, sent lord Buckhurst to Paris on a splendid embassy of 
 congratulation. 
 
 Catherine de' Medici took this opportunity of renewing pro- 
 posals of marriage to the queen of England on the part of her son 
 the duke of Anjou, and they were listened to with an apparent 
 complacency which perplexed the politicians. It is certainly to 
 this negotiation, and to the intrigues of the duke of Norfolk and 
 other nobles with the queen of Scots, that Sheakspeare alludes 
 in the following ingenious and exquisite passage. 
 
 • • • • "Once I set upon a promontory, 
 And heard a Mermaid on a Dolphin's back 
 Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, 
 That the rude sea grew civil at her song ; 
 And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, 
 To hear the sea maid's music. 
 
 **#***-**•*# * * 
 That very time I saw, but thou could'st not, 
 Flying between the cold moon and the earth., 
 Cupid all-armed : a certain aim he took 
 At a fair Vestal throned by the West, 
 And loos'd his love-shaft smartly from his bow. 
 As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts ; 
 Brit I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft 
 Quench'd in the chaste beams of the watry moon, 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 259 
 
 Ami the Imperial Votaress passed on, 
 In maiden meditation, fancy-free." 
 
 Midsummer Night's Dream, 
 
 Unfortunately for himself, the duke of Norfolk had not ac- 
 quired, even from the severe admonition of a long imprisonment, 
 resolution sufficient to turn a deaf ear to the enchantments of 
 this syren. His situation was indeed perplexing: He had en- 
 tered intd the most serious engagements with his sovereign to 
 abstain from all further intercourse with the queen of Scots : at 
 the same time the right of Elizabeth to interdict him an alliance 
 so flattering to his vanity might plausibly be questioned, and the 
 previous interchange between himself and Mary of solemn pro- 
 mises of marriage, seemed to have brought him under obligations 
 to her too sacred to be dissolved by any subsequent stipulation 
 of his, though one to which Mary herself had been compelled to 
 become a party. Neither had chivalrous ideas by any means 
 lost their force in this age ; and as a knight and a gentleman, the 
 duke must have esteemed himself bound in honour to procure 
 the release of the captive princess, and to claim through all perils 
 the fair hand which had been plighted to him. impressed by 
 such sentiments, he returned to a letter of eloquent complaint 
 which she found means to convey to him, an answer filled with 
 assurances of his inviolable constancy ; and the intrigues of the 
 party were soon renewed with as much activity as ever. 
 
 But the vigilance of the ministry of Elizabeth could not long 
 be eluded. An important packet of letters written by Ridolfi, 
 a Florentine who had been sent abroad by the party to confer 
 with the pope and with the duke of Alva, was intercepted ; and 
 in consequence of the plots thus unfolded, the bishop of Ross, 
 who bore the character of Mary's ambassador in England, was 
 given into private custody. Soon after a servant of the duke's, 
 intrusted by him with the conveyance ol a sum of money from 
 the French ambassador to Mary's adherents in Scotland, carried 
 the parcel containing it to the secretary of state. The duke's 
 secretary was then sent for and examined. This man, who was 
 probably in the pay of government, not only confessed with rea- 
 diness all that he knew, but produced some letters from the 
 queen of Scots, which his lord had commanded him to burn after 
 decyphering t^em. Other concurring indications of the duke's 
 guilt appearing, he was recommitted to the Tower in September 
 1571. 
 
 After various consultations of civilians on the extent of an 
 ambassador's privilege, and the title which the agent of a de- 
 posed sovereign must have to avail himself of that sacred cha- 
 racter, it was determined that the laws of nations did not protect 
 the bishop of Ross, and he was carried to the Tower, where, in 
 fear of death he made full confession of all his machinations 
 against the person and state of Elizabeth. In the most guilty 
 parts of these designs he affirmed that the duke had constantly 
 refused his concurrence ; — and in fact, weak and infatuated as 
 
260 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 he was, the agents of Mary seem to have found it impracticable, 
 by all their artifices, to bring this unfortunate nobleman entirely 
 to forget that "he was a protestant and an Englishman. He would 
 never consent directly to procure the death or dethronement 
 of Elizabeth ; though it must have been perfectly evident to any 
 man of clear and unbiassed judgment, that, under all the cir- 
 cumstances, the accomplishment of his wishes could by no other 
 means be attained. 
 
 This affair was regarded in so very serious a light, that the 
 queen thought it necessary, before the duke was put on his trial, 
 to lay all the circumstances of his case before the court of France ; 
 and the parliament, which was again assembled after an interval 
 of five years, passed some new laws for the protection of the 
 queen's person from the imminent perils by which they saw her 
 environed. 
 
 The illustrious prisoner was now brought before the tribunal 
 of his brother-peers ; and a perfectly fair and regular trial, ac- 
 cording to the practices of that age, was accorded him. What- 
 ever his intentions might have been, his actions appear to have 
 come clearly within the limits of treason ; and the earl of Shrews- 
 bury, as lord-high-steward for the day, pronounced upon him, 
 with tears, a verdict of Guilty. But the queen hesitated or de- 
 ferred, from clemency or caution, to sign his death warrant, and 
 he was remanded to the Tower under some uncertainty whether 
 or not the last rigour of the offended laws awaited him. 
 
 The name of sir Nicholas Throgmorton was so mixed up in 
 the confessions of the bishop of Ross, that it was perhaps an in- 
 dulgent fate which had removed him some months previously 
 from the sphere of human action. He died at the house of the 
 earl of Leicester, and certainly of a pleurisy; but the malevolent 
 credulity of that age seldom allowed a person of any eminence 
 to quit the world without imputing the occurrence in some man- 
 ner, direct or indirect, to the malice of his enemies. It was ru- 
 moured that Throgmorton had fallen a victim to the hostility of 
 Leicester, which he was thought to have provoked by quitting 
 the party of the earl to reconcile himself with Burleigh, his 
 secret enemy; and the suspicion of proficiency in the art of poi- 
 soning, which had so long rested upon the favourite, obtained 
 credit to this absurd report. Possibly there might be more truth 
 in the general opinion, that it was in some measure owing to the 
 enmity of Burleigh that a person of such acknowledged abilities 
 in public affairs, and one who had conducted himself so skilfully 
 in various important negotiations, should never have been ad- 
 vanced to any considerable office of . trust or profit. But the 
 lofty and somewhat turbulent spirit of Throgmorton himself, 
 ought probably to bear the chief blame both of this enmity, and 
 of his want of success at the court of a princess who exacted 
 from her servants the exercise of the most refined and cautious 
 policy, as well as an entire and implicit submission to all her ■ 
 views and wishes. It is highly probable that she never entirely 
 pardoned Throgmorton for giving the lie to her declarations res- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 261 
 
 pecting the promises made to the earl of Murray and his party, 
 by the open production of his own diplomatic instructions. 
 
 The hostility of Leicester extended, as we shall see hereafter, 
 to other branches yf the unfortunate family of Tnrogmorton, 
 whom an imprudent or criminal zeal in the cause of popery ex- 
 posed without defence to the whole weight of his vengeance. On 
 some slight pretext he procured the dismissal of sir John Throg 
 morion, the brother of sir Nicholas, from his office of c hief justice 
 of Chester, who did not long survive the disgrace, though appa- 
 rently unmerited. Puttenham, author of the " Arte of English 
 Poesie," ventured, though a professed courtier, to compose an 
 epitaph on this victim of oppression, of which he has preserved 
 to us the following lines in the work above mentioned : 
 
 " Whom Virtue reared Envy hath overthrown. 
 And lodged full low under this marble stone : 
 Ne never were his values so well known, 
 Whilst he lived here, as now that he is gone. 
 
 No sun by day that ever saw him rest 
 Free from the toils of his so busy charge, 
 No night that harboured rancour in his breast, 
 Nor merry mood made reason run at large. 
 
 His head a source of gravity and sense, 
 
 His memory a shop of civil art; 
 
 His tongue a stream of sugred eloquence, 
 
 Wisdom and meekness lay mingled in his heart." Sec. 
 
 The literary propensities of Elizabeth have already come un- 
 der our notice : they had frequently served to divert her mind 
 from the cares of government; but in the state of unremitted 
 anxiety occasioned by her dread of the machinations relative to 
 the queen of Scots, in which she had found the first peer of her 
 realm a principal actor, her thoughts, even in the few leisure 
 hours which she found means to bestow on these soothing re- 
 creations, still hovered about the objects from which she most 
 sought to withdraw them. 
 
 The following sonnet of her composition will illustrate this 
 remark : it was published during her lifetime in Puttenham's 
 Arte of English Poesie/' and its authenticity, its principal me- 
 rit, has never been called in question. 
 
 Sonnet by Queen Elizabeth. 
 
 The doubt of future foes exiles my present joy, 
 And wit me warns to shun such snares as threaten mine annoy, 
 
 For falsehood now doth Dow, and subjects' faith doth ebb ; 
 Which would not be if Reason ruled, or W isdom weaved the web : 
 
 But clouds of toys untried do cloak aspiring minds, 
 Which turn to rain of late repent by course of changed winds. 
 
262 THE COURT OF 
 
 The top of hope supposed the root of ruth will be ; 
 And fruitless all their grafted guiles, as shortly ye shall see. 
 
 Those dazzled eyes with pride, which great ambition blinds, 
 Shall be unseal'd by worthy wights whose foresight falsehood findb. 
 
 The daughter of Debate that eke discord doth sow, 
 Shall reap no gain where former rule hath taught still peace to grow. 
 
 No foreign banished wight shall anchor in this port ; 
 Our realm it brooks no stranger's force, let them elsewhere resort. 
 
 Our rusty sword with rest shall first his edge employ. 
 
 To poll their tops that seek such change, and gape for joy. 
 
 The house of commons, in which great dread and hatred of 
 the queen of Scots and her adherents now prevailed, showed itself 
 strongly disposed to pass an act by which Mary should be declared 
 forever unworthy and incapable of the English succession: but 
 Elizabeth, with her usual averseness to all unqualified declara- 
 tions and irrevocable decisions, interfered tc prevent the com- 
 pletion of a measure which most sovereigns, under all the cir- 
 cumstances, would have been eager to embrace. To the unani- 
 mous expression of the opinion of the house, that the execution of 
 the sentence against the duke of Norfolk ought not to be longer 
 delayed, she was however prevailed upon to lend a more favour- 
 able ear; and on June 2d, 1572, this nobleman received his 
 death on Tower-hill. 
 
 Norfolk was a man of many amiable and several estimable 
 qualities, and much too good for the faction with which he had 
 been enticed to act and the cause in which he suffered. On the 
 scaffold he acknowledged, with great apparent sincerity, the jus- 
 tice of his sentence, and his peculiar guiltiness in breaking the 
 solemn promise which he had pledged to his sovereign. He de- 
 clared himself to have been an earnest protestant ever since he 
 had had any taste for religion, and in this faith he died very de- 
 voutly. He bequeathed by his will his best George to his kins- 
 man and true friend the earl of Sussex, whose faithful counsels 
 he too late reproached himself with neglecting. By his attainder 
 the dukedom was lost to the family of Howard ; but Philip, his 
 eldest son, succeeded his maternal grandfather in the earldom 
 of Arundel ; lord Thomas, his second son, (whose mother was the 
 daughter and heiress of lord Audley,) was created lord Howard 
 of Walden by Elizabeth and earl of Suffolk by James ; and lord 
 William, the youngest, who possessed Naworth castle in right 
 of Elizabeth Dacre his wife, and was known upon the West 
 Border (of which he was warden) by the appellation of " Belted 
 Will," was ancestor to the earls of Carlisle.* 
 
 The king of Spain had long been regarded in England as the 
 most implacable and formidable of the enemies of Elizabeth ; and 
 
 * " His bilboa blade, by marchmen felt, 
 Hung in a broad and studded belt ; 
 Hence in rude phrase the Borderers still 
 Call noble Howard, Beked Will." 
 
 Lay of the Last Minstrel. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 263 
 
 on good grounds. It was believed to be through his procurement 
 that Sixtus V. had been led to fulminate his anathema against 
 her; — it was well known that the pope had made a donation to 
 him of the kingdom of Ireland, of which he was anxious to avail 
 himself; — there was strong ground to suspect that he had senl 
 one of his ablest generals in embassy to England with no other 
 view than to have taken the command of the northern rebels, had 
 their enterprise prospered ; — and the intimate participation of 
 his agents in all the intrigues of the queen of Scots was notori- 
 ous. Dr. Wylson, a learned civilian, an accomplished scholar, 
 and one of the first refiners of English prose, had published in 
 1571, with the express view of rousing the spirit of his readers 
 against this formidable tyrant, a version of the Orations of De- 
 mosthenes against the king Philip of his day, and had been at the 
 pains of pointing out in the notes, coincidences in the situation of 
 Athens and of England. The author, who was an earnest protes- 
 tant, had the further motive in this work of paying a tribute to 
 the memory of the learned and unfortunate Cheke, who during 
 his voluntary exile had read gratuitous lectures to his country- 
 men at Padua on the works of the great Grecian orator, of which 
 Wylson had been an auditor, and who had also made a Latin 
 version of them, of which the English translator freely availed 
 himself. . 
 
 It was principally her dread of the Spaniards which led Eliza- 
 beth into those perpetual reciprocations of deceitful profes- 
 sions and empty negotiations with the profligate and perfidious 
 court of France, which in the judgment of posterity have re- 
 dounded so little to her honour, but which appeared to her of so 
 much importance that she now thought herself peculiarly fortu- 
 nate in having discovered an agent capable of conducting with 
 all the wariness, penetration and profound address so peculiarly 
 requisite, where sincerity and good faith are wanting. This 
 agent was sir Francis Walsingham, whose rare acquisitions of 
 political knowledge, made principally during the period of his 
 voluntary exile for religion, and still rarer talents for public 
 business, had induced lord Burleigh to recommend him to the 
 service and confidence of his mistress. For several years from 
 this time he resided as the queen's ambassador at the court of 
 France, at first as coadjutor to sir Thomas Smith, — a learned and 
 able man, who afterwards became a principal secretary of state, 
 — the rest of the time alone. There was not in England a man 
 who was regarded as a more sincere and earnest protestant than 
 Walsingham ; yet such was at this time his sense of the impor- 
 tance to the country of the French alliance, that he expressed 
 himself strongly in favour of the match between Elizabeth and 
 the duke of Anjou, and, as a minister, spared no pains to pro 
 mote it. 
 
 Similar language was held on this subject both by Leicester 
 and Burleigh ; but the former was perhaps no more in earnest 
 on the subject than his mistress ; and finally all parties, except 
 the French protestants, who looked to the conclusion of thesr 
 
564 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 nuptials as their best security, seem to have been not ill pleased 
 when, the marriage treaty being at length laid aside, a strict 
 league of amity between the two countries was agreed upon in its 
 stead. 
 
 Splendid embassies were reciprocally sent to receive the ra- 
 tifications of this treaty ; and Burleigh writes to a friend, be- 
 tween jest and earnest, that an unexpected delay of the French 
 ambassador was cursed by all the husbands whose ladies had 
 been detained at great expense and inconvenience in London, 
 to contribute to the splendour of the court on his reception. On 
 the 9th of June 1572, the tluke de Montmorenci and his suit at 
 length arrived. His entertainment was magnificent; all seemed 
 peace and harmony between the rival nations ; and Elizabeth 
 even instructed her ambassadors to give favourable ear to a hint 
 which the queen mother had dropped of a matrimonial treaty 
 between the queen of England and her youngest son, the duke 
 d'Alencon, who had then scarcely attained the age of seventeen. 
 
 Lulled by these flattering appearances of tranquillity, her ma- 
 jesty set out on her summer progress, and she was enjoying the 
 festivities prepared by Leicester for her reception at his splen- 
 did castle of Kennel worth, when news arrived of the execrable 
 massacre of Paris ; — an atrocity not to be parallelled in history ! 
 Troops of affrighted Hugunots, who had escaped through a thou- 
 sand perils with life, and life alone, from the hands of their pi- 
 tiless assassins, arrived on the English coast, imploring the com- 
 miseration of their brother protestants, and relating in accents 
 of despair their tale of horrors. After such a stroke, no one 
 knew what to expect ; the German protestants flew to arms ; 
 and even the subjects of Elizabeth trembled for their country- 
 men travelling on the continent and for themselves in their isl- 
 and-home. The pope applauded openly the savage deed; the court 
 of Spain shewed itself united hand and heart with that of France, 
 — to the astonishment of Elizabeth, who had been taught to be- 
 lieve them at emnity : — and it seemed as if the signal had been 
 given of a general crusade against the reformed churches of 
 Europe. 
 
 For several days fears were entertained for the safety of Wal- 
 singham himself, who had not dared to transmit any account 
 of the event except one by a servant of his ow«, whose pas- 
 sage had been by some accident delayed. Even this minis- 
 ter, cautious and crafty and sagacious as he was, assisted by 
 all the spies whom he constantly kept in pay, had been un- 
 able to penetrate any part of the bloody secret ; — he was com- 
 pletely taken by surprise. But of his personal safety the per- 
 fidious young king and his detestable mother were, for their own 
 sakes, careful ; and not only were himself and his servants pro- 
 tected from injury, but every Englishman who had the presence 
 of mind to take shelter in his house found it an inviolable sanc- 
 tuary; Two persons only of this nation fell victims to the fury 
 of that direful night, but the property of many was plundered. 
 The afflicted remnant of the French protestants prepared to stand 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 265 
 
 upon their defence with all the intrepidity of despair. The) 
 closed the gates of Rochelle, their strong hold, againsl the km^ 
 troops, casting at the same time an imploring eye towards En- 
 gland, where thousands of brave and generous spirits were burn- 
 ing with impatience to hasten to their succonr. 
 
 No act would have been hailed with such loud and general ap- 
 plause of her people as an instant renunciation by Elizabeth of 
 all friendship and intercourse with the perjured and blood-stain 
 ed Charles, the midnight assassin of his own subjects ; and it is 
 impossible to contemplate without disdain the coldness and lit- 
 tleness of that character which, in such a case, could consent 
 to measure its demonstrations of indignation and abhorrence by 
 the narrow rules of a self interested caution. But that early ex- 
 perience of peril and adversity which had formed the mind of 
 this princess to penetration, wariness, and passive courage, and 
 given her a perfect command of the whole art of simulation and 
 dissimulation, had at the same time robbed her of some of the 
 noblest impulses of our nature ; of generosity, of ardour, of en- 
 terprise, of magnanimity. Where more exalted spirits would 
 only have left, she calculated : where bolder ones would have 
 flown to action, she contented herself with words. 
 
 Charles and his mother, while still in uncertainty how far their 
 master-stroke of policy, — so they regarded it, — would be suc- 
 cessful in crushing entirely the Hugonots, prudently resolved to 
 spare no efforts to preserve Elizabeth their friend, or to prevent 
 her at least from becoming an open enemy. Instructions had 
 therefore been in the first instance dispatched to La Mothe Fene- 
 lon, the French ambassador in England, to communicate such an 
 account of the massacre and its motives as suited these views, 
 and to solicit a confirmation of the late treaty of amity. His re- 
 ception at court on this occasion was extremely solemn; the cour- 
 tiers and ladies who lined the rooms leading to the presence- 
 chamber were all habited in deep mourning, and not one of them 
 would vouchsafe a word or a smile to the ambassador, though 
 himself a man of honour, and one whom they had formerly re- 
 ceived, on the footing of cordial intimacy. The queen herself, 
 in listening to his message, assumed an aspect more composed, 
 but extremely cold and serious. She expressed her horror at 
 the idea that a sovereign could imagine himself under a necessi- 
 ty of taking such vengeance on his own subjects : represented 
 the practicability of proceeding with them according to law, and 
 desired to be better informed of the reality of the treasonable 
 designs imputed to the Hugonots. She also declared that it 
 would be difficult for her to place reliance hereafter on the 
 friendship of a prince who had shown himself so deadly a foe to 
 those who professed her religion ; but, at the suit of the ambas- 
 sador, she consented to suspend in some degree her judgment of 
 the deed till further information. 
 
 Even these feeble demonstrations of sensibility to crime so 
 enormous were speedily laid aside. In spite of Walsingham's 
 declared opinion, that the demonstrations of the French court 
 
 LI 
 
266 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 towards her were so evidently treacherous that its open enmity 
 was less to be dreaded than its feigned friendship, Elizabeth suf- 
 fered her indignation to evaporate in a few severe speeches, 
 restrained her subjects from carrying such aid to the defenders of 
 Rochelle as could be made a ground of serious quarrel, and even 
 ermitted a renewal of the shocking and monstrous overtures for 
 er marriage with the youngest son of Catherine de' Medici her- 
 self. By this shameless woman various proposals were now made 
 for bringing about a personal interview between herself and Eli- 
 zabeth. She first named England as the place of meeting, then 
 the sea between Dover and Calais, and afterwards the isle of 
 Jersey ; but from the first plan she herself departed, and the 
 others were rejected in anger by the English council, who re- 
 marked, with a proper and laudable spirit, that they who had 
 ventured upon such propositions must imagine them strangely 
 careless of the personal safety of their sovereign. 
 
 Charles IX. was particularly anxious that Elizabeth, as a 
 pledge of friendship, shbuld consent to stand sponsor to his new 
 born daughter ; and with this request, after some difficulties and 
 a few declarations of horror at his conduct, she had the baseness 
 to comply. She refused however to indulge that king in his fur- 
 ther desire, that she would appoint either the earl of Leicester, 
 or lord Burleigh as her proxy ; — not choosing apparently to trust 
 these pillars of state and of the protestant cause within his reach ; 
 and she sent instead her cousin the earl of Worcester, "a good 
 simple gentleman," as Leicester called him, and a catholic. 
 
 All this time Elizabeth was in her heart as hostile to the court 
 of France as the most zealous of her protestant subjects ; for she 
 well knew that it was and ever must be essentially hostile to her 
 and her government ; and in the midst of her civilities she took 
 care to supply to the Hugonots such secret aids as should enable 
 them still to persevere in a formidable resistance. 
 
 It is worth recording, on the subject of these negotiations be- 
 tween Elizabeth and the royal family of France, that Burleigh 
 seems to have been encouraged to expect a successful issue by a 
 calculation of the queen's nativity, seen by Strype in his own 
 hand-writing, from which it was foretold that she should marry 
 in middle life a foreign prince, younger than herself ; and pro- 
 bably be the mother of a son, who should be prosperous in his 
 middle age. Catherine de' Medici also, to whom some female 
 fortune-teller had predicted that all her sons should be kings, 
 hoped, after the election of her second son to the throne ot Po- 
 land, to find the full accomplishment of the prophecy in the 
 advancement of the youngest to the matrimonial crown of Eng- 
 land. So serious was the belief of that age in the lying oracles 
 of judicial astrology ! 
 
 Among the English travellers doomed to be eye witnesses of 
 the horrors of the massacre of St. Bartholomew was the cele- 
 brated Philip Sidney, then a youth of eighteen. He was the eldest 
 son of sir Henry Sidney, lord -deputy of Ireland, and from this 
 excellent man and parent he had received, amongst his earliest 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 267 
 
 and strongest impressions, those elevated principles of honour, 
 veracity, and moral purity which regulated and adorned the 
 whole tenour of his after-life. An extraordinary solidity of cha- 
 racter with great vivacity of parts had distinguished him from a 
 child, and fortune conspired with genius to bring him early be- 
 fore the public eye. 
 
 He was nephew and presumptive heir to the earl of Leicester, 
 by whom he was in a manner adopted ; and thus patronised, his 
 rapid advancement was anticipated as a matter of course. 
 
 It was the practice of that day for parents in higher life to 
 dispose of their children in marriage at an age now justly ac- 
 counted immature ;* and no sooner nacl young Sidney completed 
 his fourteenth year than arragements were made for his union 
 with Anne Cecil, daughter of the secretary. Why the connex- 
 ion never took place we do not learn : sir Henry Sidney in a 
 letter to Cecil says, w ith reference to this affair ; " I am sorry 
 that you find coldness any w here in proceeding, where such good 
 liking appeared in the beginning ; but, for my part, I was never 
 more ready to perfect that affair than presently I am," &c. 
 Shortly after, the lady, unfortunately for herself, became the 
 wife of the earl of Oxford ; and Sidney, still unfettered by matri- 
 monial engagements, obtained license to travel, and reached Paris 
 in May 1572. Charles IX., in consideration no doubt of the in- 
 fluence of his uncle at the English court, gave him the appoint- 
 ment of a gentleman of his bed-chamber, a fortnight only before 
 the massacre. On that night of horrors Sidney took shelter in 
 the house of Walsingham, and thus escaped all personal danger; 
 but his after conduct fully proved how indelible was the impres- 
 sion left upon his mind of the monstrous wickedness of the 
 French royal family, and the disgrace and misery which an alli- 
 ance with it must entail on his queen and country. 
 
 He readily obeyed his uncle's directions to quit France with- 
 out delay ; and, proceeding to Frankfort, there formed a highly 
 honourable and beneficial friendship with the virtuous Hubert 
 Languet, who opened to him at once his heart and his purse. The 
 remonstrances of this patron, who dreaded to excess for his 
 youthful friend the artifices of the papal court, deterred him from 
 extending his travels to Rome, an omission which he afterwards 
 deeply regretted ; but a leisurely survey of the nothern cities of 
 Italy, during which he became advantageously known to many 
 eminent characters, occupied him profitably and delightfully till 
 his retnrn to his native country in 1575, after which he will 
 again occur to our notice as the pride and wonder of the English 
 court. 
 
 * Thus we find sir George Manners, ancestor of the dukes of Rutland, who dteti 
 in 1513, bequeathing to each of his unmarried daughters a portion of three hundred 
 marks to be paid at the time of their marriage, or within four years after if the hus- 
 band be not twenty-one years of age ; or at such time as the husband came of age* 
 
 Collin9's " Peerage," by sir E. Brydges 
 
26$ 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 1573 to 1577. 
 
 Letters of lord Talbot to his father. — Connexion of Leicester with 
 lady Sheffield. — Anecdote of the queen and Mr. Dyer. — Queen 
 suspicious of Burleigh. — Countesses of Lenox and Shrewsbury 
 imprisoned. — Queen refuses the sovereignty of Holland. — Her 
 remarkable speech to the deputies. — Alchemy. — Notice of Dr. 
 Dee — of Frobisher. — Family of L^ore. — Burning of two Ana 
 baptists. — Entertainment of the queen at Kennelworth. — Notice 
 of Walter earl of Essex. — General favour towards his son Ro- 
 bert. — Letter of the queen to the earl of Shrewsbury respecting 
 Leicester. 
 
 Great as had been the injustice committed by Elizabeth in 
 the detention of the queen of Scots, it must be confessed that the 
 offence brought with it its own sufficient punishment, in the fears, 
 jealousies and disquiets which it entailed upon her. 
 
 Where Mary was concerned, the most approved loyalty, the 
 longest course of faithful service, and the truest attachment to the 
 protestant cause, were insufficient pledges to her oppressor of the 
 fidelity of her nobles or ministers. The earl of Shrewsbury, whom 
 she had deliberately selected from all others. to be the keeper 
 of the captive queen, and whose vigilance had now for so long a 
 period baffled all attemps for her deliverance, was, to the last, un- 
 able so to establish himself in the confidence of his sovereign as 
 to be exempt from such starts of suspicion and fits of displeasure 
 as kept him in a state of continual apprehension. Feeling with 
 acuteness all the difficulties of his situation, this nobleman judged 
 it expedient to cause Gilbert lord Talbot, his eldest son, to re- 
 main in close attendance on the motions of the queen ; charging 
 him to study with unremitting attention all the intrigues of the 
 court, on which in that day so much depended, and to acquaint 
 him with them frequently and minutely. To this precaution of 
 the earl's we owe several extant letters of lord Talbot, which 
 throw considerable light on the minor incidents of the time. 
 
 In May 1573, this diligent news gatherer acquaints his father, 
 that the earl of Leicester was much with her majesty, that he 
 was more than formerly solicitous to please her, and that he was 
 as high in favour as ever : but that two sisters, lady Sheffield 
 and lady Frances Howard, were deeply in love with him and at 
 great variance with each other ; that the queen was on this ac- 
 count very angry with them, and not well pleased with him, and 
 that spies were set upon him. To such open demonstrations of 
 feminine jealousy did this great queen condescend to have re- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 269 
 
 course ! Yet she remained all her life in ignorance of the true 
 State of this affair, which, in fact, is not perfectly cleared up at 
 the present day. 
 
 It appears that a criminal intimacy was known to subsist be- 
 tween Leicester and lady Sheffield even before the death of her 
 lord, in consequence of which, this event, which was sudden, and 
 preceded it is said by violent symptoms, was popularly attribu- 
 ted to the Italian arts of Leicester. During this year, lady 
 Sheffield bore him a son, whose birth was carefully concealed 
 for fear of giving offence to the queen, though many believed 
 that a private marriage had taken place. Afterwards he forsook 
 the mother of his child to marry the countess of Essex, and the 
 deserted lady became the w ife of another. In the reign of James 
 I., many years after the death of Leicester, sir Robert Dudley 
 his son, to whom he had left a great part of his fortune, laid 
 claim to the family honours, bringing several witnesses to prove 
 his mother's marriage, and among others his mother herself. 
 This lady declared on oath that Leicester, in order to compel 
 her to form that subsequent marriage in his life-time which must 
 deprive her of the power of claiming him as her husband, had 
 employed the most violent menaces, and had even attempted her 
 life by a poisonous potion which had thrown her into an illness 
 by which she lost her hair and nails. After the production of all 
 this evidence, the heirs of Leicester exerted all their interest to 
 stop proceedings ; — no great argument of the goodness of their 
 cause ; — and sir Robert Dudley died without having been able 
 to bring the matter to a legal decision. In the next reign the 
 evidence formerly given was reviewed, and the title of duchess 
 Dudley conferred on the widow of sir Robert, the patent setting 
 forth that the marriage of the earl of Leicester with lady Shef- 
 field had been satisfactorily proved. 
 
 So close were the contrivances, so deep, as it appears, the vil- 
 lanies of this celebrated favourite ! But his consummate art 
 was successful in throwing over these and other transactions of 
 his life, a veil of doubt and mystery which time itself has proved 
 unable entirely to remove. 
 
 Hatton was at this time ill, and lord Tulbot mentions that the 
 queen went daily to visit him, but that a party with which Lei- 
 cester was thought to co-operate, was endeavouring to bring for- 
 wards Mr. Edward Dyer to supplant him in her majesty's favour. 
 This gentleman, it seems, had been for two years in disgrace ; 
 and as he had suffered during the same period from a bad state 
 of health, the queen was made to believe that the continuance of 
 her displeasure was the cause of his malady, and that his reco- 
 very was without her pardon hopeless. This was taking her by 
 her weak side ; she loved to imagine herself the dispenser of life 
 and death to her devoted servants, and she immediately dis- 
 patched to the sick gentleman a comfortable message, on receipt 
 of which he was made whole. The letter-writer observes, to the 
 honour of lord Burleigh, that he concerned himself as usual only 
 
270 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 in state affairs, and suffered all these love-matters and petty in- 
 trigues to pass without notice before his eyes. 
 
 All the caution, however, and all the devotedness of this great 
 minister were insufficient to preserve him, on the following oc- 
 casion, from the unworthy suspicions of his mistress. The 
 queen of Scots had this year with difficulty obtained permission 
 to resort to the baths of Buxton for the recovery of her health ; 
 and a similar motive led thither at the same time the lord-trea- 
 surer. Elizabeth marked the coincidence ; and when, a year or 
 two afterwards, it occurred for the second time, her displeasure 
 broke forth : she openly accused her minister of seeking occasions 
 of entering into intelligence with Mary by means of the earl of 
 Shrewsbury and his lady, and it was not without difficulty that 
 he was able to appease her. This striking fact is thus related by 
 Burleigh himself in a remarkable letter to the earl of Shrewsbury. 
 
 LORD BURLEIGH TO THE EARL OF SHREWSBURY. 
 
 " My very good lord, 
 
 " My most hearty and due commendations done, I cannot 
 sufficiently express in words the inward hearty affection that I 
 conceive by your lordship's friendly offer of the marriage of 
 your youngest son ; and that in such a friendly sort, by your own 
 letter, and, as your lordship writeth, the same proceeding of your- 
 self. Now, my lord, as I think myself much beholden to you for 
 this your lordship's kindness, and manifest argument of a faith- 
 ful good will, so must I pray your lordship to accept mine an- 
 swer, with assured opinion of my continuance in the same to- 
 wards your lordship. There are specially two causes why I 
 do not in plain terms consent by way of conclusion hereto ; the 
 one, for that my daughter is but young in years ; and upon some 
 reasonable respects I have determined, notwithstanding I have 
 been very honourably offered matches, not to treat of marrying 
 of her, if I may live so long, until she shall be above fifteen or 
 sixteen ; and it I were of more likelihood myself to live longer 
 than I look to do, she should not, with my liking, be married be- 
 fore she were near eighteen or twenty. 
 
 " The second cause why I defer to yield to conclusion witk 
 vour lordship, is grounded upon such a consideration as, if it 
 were not truly to satisfy your lordship, and to avoid a just offence 
 which your lordship might conceive of my forbearing, I would 
 not by writing or message utter, but only by speech to your lord- 
 ship's self. My lord, it is over true and over much against reason, 
 that upon my being at Buckstone's last, advantage was sought 
 by some that loved me not, to confirm in her majesty a former 
 conceit which had been laboured to be put into her head, that I 
 was of late time become friendly to the queen of Scots, and that 
 I had no disposition to encounter her practices ; and now, at my 
 being at Buckstones, her majesty did directly conceive that my 
 being there was, by means of your lordship and my lady, to enter 
 into intelligence with the queen of Scots ; and hereof at my re- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 271 
 
 turn to her majesty's presence I had very sharp reproofs for my 
 going to Buckstones, with plain charging of me for favouring the 
 que^n of Scots, and that in so earnest a sort as I never looked for, 
 knowing my integrity to her majesty; but, specially, knowing 
 how contrariously the queen of Scots conceived of me for many 
 things past to the olfence of the said queen of Scots. And yet, 
 true it is, I never indeed gave just cause by any private affection 
 of my own, or for myself, to offend the queen of Scots ; but what- 
 soever I did was for the service of mine own lady and queen, 
 which if it were yet again to be clone I would do. And though 
 I know myself subject to contrary workings of displeasure, yet I 
 will not, for remedy of any of them both, decline from the duty 
 I owe to God and my sovereign queen ; for I know, and do un- 
 derstand, that I am in this contrary sort maliciously depraved, 
 and yet in secret sort; on the one part, and that of long time, 
 that I am the most dangerous enemy and evil wilier to the queen 
 of Scots : on the other side, that I am also a secret well wilier to 
 her and her title ; and that I have made my party good with her. 
 Now, my lord no man can make both these true together ; but it 
 sufficeth for such as like not me in doing my duty to deprave 
 me, and yet in such sort is done in darkness as I cannot get 
 opportunity to convince them in the light. In all these cross- 
 ings, my good lord, I appeal to God, who knoweth, yea, I thank 
 him infinitely, who directeth my thoughts to intend principally 
 the service and honour of God, and, jointly with that, the surety 
 and greatness of my sovereign lady the queen's majesty ; and for 
 any other respect but that may tend to those two, I appeal to 
 God to punish me if I have any. As for the queen of Scots, truly 
 I have no spot of evil meaning to her ; neither do I mean to deal 
 with any titles to the crown. If she shall intend any evil to the 
 queen's majesty my sovereign, for her sake I must and will mean 
 to impeach her ; and therein I maybe her unfriend or worse. 
 
 " Well now, my good lord, your lordship seeth I have made a 
 long digression from my answer, but I trust your lordship can 
 consider what moveth me thus to digress : Surely it behoveth me 
 not only to live uprightly, but to avoid all probable arguments 
 that may be gathered to render me suspected to her majesty, 
 whom I serve with all dutifulness and sincerity; and therefore 
 I gather this, that if it were understood that there were a com- 
 munication, or a purpose of a marriage between your lordship's 
 son and my daughter, I am sure there would be an advantage 
 sought to increase these former suspicions purpose. Con- 
 
 sidering the young years of our two children as if the 
 
 matter were fully agreed betwixt us, the parents, the marriage 
 could not take effect, I think it bes't to refer the motion in silence, 
 and yet so to order it with ourselves, that, when time shall here- 
 after be more convenient, we may and then also with less cause 
 of vain suspicion renew it. And, in the mean time, I must, con- 
 fess myself much bounden to your lordship for your goodness ; 
 wishing your lordship's son all the good education that may be 
 pete to teach him to fear God, love your lordship his natural 
 
272 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 father, and to know his friends : without any curiosity of human 
 learning, which, without the fear of God, I see doth much hurt 
 to all youth in this time and age. My lord, I pray you bear 
 with my scribbling, which I think your lordship shall hardly 
 read, and yet I would not use my man's hand in such a matter 
 as this is. [From Hampton Court, 25th Dec. 1575.] 
 
 "Your lordship's most assured at command 
 
 " W. Burleigh."* 
 
 A similar caution to that of lord Burleigh was not observed 
 in the disposal of her daughters by the countess of Shrewsbury; 
 a woman remarkable above all her contemporaries for a violent, 
 restless, and intriguing spirit, and an inordinate thirst of money 
 and of sway. She brought to effect in 1574, a marriage between 
 Elizabeth Cavendish her daughter by a former husband, and 
 Charles Stuart, brother of Darnley and next to the king of Scots 
 in the order of succession to the crowns both of England and 
 Scotland. Notwithstanding the rooted enmity between Mary 
 and the house of Lenox, this union was supposed to be the result 
 of some private intrigue between lady Shrewsbury and the cap- 
 tive queen ; and in consequence of it, Elizabeth committed to 
 custody for some time both the mother of the bride and the un- 
 fortunate countess of Lenox, doomed to expiate by such a variety 
 of suffe rings, the unpardonable offence, in the eyes of Elizabeth, 
 of having given heirs to the British sceptres. 
 
 A signal occasion presented itself to the queen in 1575 of de- 
 monstrating to all neighbouring powers, that whatever suspi- 
 cions her close and somewhat crooked system of policy might 
 now and then have excited, self-defence was in reality its genu- 
 ine principle and single object; and that the clear and compre- 
 hensive view which she had taken of her own true interests, join- 
 ed to the habitual caution of her character, would ever restrain 
 her from availing herself of the most tempting opportunities of 
 aggrandisement at their expense. 
 
 The provinces of Holland and Zealand, goaded into revolt by 
 the bigotry and barbarity of Philip of Spain, had from the first 
 experienced in the English nation, and even in Elizabeth herself, 
 a disposition to encourage and shelter them ; and despairing of 
 being able longer to maintain alone the unequal contest which 
 they had provoked, yet resolute to return no more under the 
 tyranny of a detested master, they now embraced the resolution 
 of throwing themselves entirely upon her protection, It was 
 urged that Elizabeth, — as descended from Philippa wife of Ed- 
 ward III., a daughter of that count of Hainalt and Holland from 
 one of whose co-heiresses the king of Spain derived the Flemish 
 part of his dominions, — might claim somewhat of a hereditary 
 title to their allegiance, and a solemn deputation was appointed 
 to offer to her the sovereignty of the provinces on condition of 
 defending them from the Spaniards. 
 
 * <£ Illustrations," by Lorlge. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 273 
 
 There was much in the proposal to flatter the pride and tempt 
 the ambition of a prince ; much also to gratify that desire of re- 
 taliation which the encouragement given by Philip to the North- 
 mi rebellion and to certain movements in Ireland, as well as to 
 all the machinations of the queen of Scots, may reasonably be 
 supposed to have excited in the bosom of Elizabeth, Zeal for 
 the protestant cause, had she ever entertained it separately from 
 considerations of personal interest and safety, might have proved 
 a further inducement with her to accept the patronage of these 
 afflicted provinces : — tout not all the motives which could be urged 
 were of force to divert her from her settled plan of policy : and 
 after a short interval of anxious hesitation, she resolved to dismiss 
 the envoys with an absolute refusal. The speech which she ad- 
 dressed to them on this occasion was highly characteristic, and in 
 one point extremely remarkable. 
 
 She reprobated, doubtless with great sincerity, the principle, 
 that there were cases in which subjects might be justified in 
 throwing off allegiance to their lawful prince; and protested 
 that, for herself, nothing could ever tempt her to usurp upon the 
 dominions either of her good brother of Spain or any other prince. 
 Finally, she took upon her to advert to the religious scruples 
 which had produced the revolt of the Hollanders, in a tone of 
 levity which it is difficult to understand her motive for assum- 
 ing : since it could not fail, from her lips especially, to give ex- 
 treme scandal to the deputies and to all other serious men. She 
 said, that it was unreasonable in the Dutch to have stirred up so 
 great a commotion merely on account of the celebration of mass ; 
 and that so contumacious a resistance to their king could never 
 r,edound to their honour, since they were not compelled to be- 
 lieve in the divinity of the mass, but only to be spectators of its 
 performance, — as at a public spectacle. " What 1" said she, " if 
 I were to begin to act some scene in a dress like this," (for she 
 was clad in white like a priest,) " should you regard it as a crime 
 to behold it ?''* Was the queen here making the apology of her 
 own compliances under the reign of her sister, or was she gene- 
 rously furnishing a salvo for others ? In any case, the sentiment, 
 as coming from the heroine of protestantism, is extraordinary. 
 
 An ineffectual remonstrance, addressed by Elizabeth to the 
 king of Spain, was the only immediate result of this attempt of 
 the Provinces to engage her in their concerns. She kept a 
 watchful eye, however, upon their great and glorious struggle ; 
 and the time at length came, when she found it expedient t& 
 unite more closely her interest with theirs. 
 
 England now enjoyed profound tranquillity, internal and ex- 
 ternal, and our annalists find leisure to advert to various cir- 
 cumstances of domestic history. They mention a corporation 
 formed for the transmutation of iron into copper by the method 
 of one Medley, an alchemist, of which the learned but credulous 
 Vir Thomas Smith, secretary of state, was a principal promote r, 
 
 * Reidani " Annal." Vide Bayle's Dictionary," art. Elizabeth 
 
 M m 
 
2? 4 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 and in which both Leicester and Burleigh embarked some capi 
 tal. The master of the Mint ventured to express a doubt of the 
 success of the experiment, because the adept had engaged that 
 the weight of copper procured should exceed that of all the sub- 
 stances employed in its production ; but nobody seems to have 
 felt the force of this simple objection, and great was the disap 
 pointment of all concerned when at length the bubble burst. 
 
 About the same time the famous Dr. Dee, mathematician, as 
 t rologer, and professor of the occult sciences, being pressed by 
 poverty, supplicated Burleigh to procure her majesty's patronage 
 for his infallible method of discovering hidden treasures. This per- 
 son, who stood at the head of his class, had been early protected 
 by Leicester, who employed him to fix a lucky day for the queen's 
 coronation. He had since been patronised by her majesty, who 
 once visited him at his house at Mortlake, took lessons of him 
 in astronomy, and occasionally supplied him with money to de- 
 fray the expenses of his experiments. She likewise presented 
 him to some ecclesiastical benefices ; but he often complained of 
 the delay or non-performance of her promises of pensions and 
 preferment. On one occasion he was sent to the continent, os- 
 tensibly for the purpose of consulting physicians and philoso 
 phers on the state of her majesty's health ; but probably not 
 without some secret political commission. After a variety of 
 wild adventures in different countries of Europe, in which he 
 and his associate Kelly discovered still more knavery than ere 
 dulity in the exercise of their various false sciences and falla- 
 cious arts, Dee was invited home by her majesty in 1589, and 
 was afterwards presented by her with the wardenship of Man 
 chester college. But he was hated, and sometimes insulted by 
 the people as a conjurer; quarrelled with the fellows of his col- 
 lege, quitted Manchester in disgust, and failing to obtain the 
 countenance of king James, died at length in poverty and ne 
 gleet; — the ordinary fate of his class of projectors. Elizabeth 
 performed a more laudable part in lending her support to the 
 enterprise of that able and spirited navigator Martin Frobisher, 
 who had long been soliciting in vain among the merchants the 
 means of attempting a northwest passage to the Indies, and 
 was finally supplied by the queen with two small vessels. With 
 these he set sail in June 1576, and though unsuccessful in the 
 prime object of his voyage, extended considerably the previous 
 acquaintance of navigators with the coasts of Greenland, and be 
 came the discoverer of the straits which still bear his name. 
 
 A sect called " The family of Love," had lately sprung up in 
 England. Its doctrines, notwithstanding the frightful reports 
 raised of them, were probably dangerous neither to the establish 
 ed church, with the rites of which the brethren willingly com 
 plied, nor yet to the state ; and it may be doubted whether they 
 were in any respect incompatible with private morals ; but no 
 innovations in religion were regarded as tolerable or venial na- 
 iler the rigid administration of Elizabeth ; and the leaders of the 
 new heresy were taken into custody, and compelled to recant. 
 Some anabaptists were apprehended about the same time, who 
 
QUERN ELIZABETH. 
 
 lekuowledged their error at Paul's Cross, bearing feggots, — t lie 
 tremendous symbol of the fate from which their recantation had 
 rescued (hem. Two of these unhappy men, however, repented 
 of the disingenuous act into which human frailty hail betrayed 
 them ; anil returning to the open profession of their opinions, 
 were burned in Smithfield, to the eternal opprobrium of protest 
 ant principles anil the deep disgrace of the governess and insti- 
 uitrcss of the Anglican Church. 
 
 The observation of lord Talbot, that the earl of Leicester 
 showed himself more than ever solicitous to improve the favour 
 of his sovereign, received confirmation from the unparalleled 
 magnificence of the reception which he provided for her when, 
 during her progress in the summer of 1575, she honoured him 
 with a visit in Warwickshire. 
 
 The " princely pleasures of Kennel worth," were famed in their 
 day as the quintessence of all courtly delight, and very long and 
 very pompous descriptions of these festive devices have come 
 down to our times. They were conducted on a scale of gran- 
 deur and expense which may still surprise ; but taste as yet was 
 in its infancy, and the whole was characterised by the unmerci- 
 ful tediousness, the ludicrous incongruities, and the operose pe- 
 dantry of a semi -barbarous age. 
 
 A temporary bridge, 70 feet in length, was thrown across a 
 valley to the great gate of the castle, and its posts were hung 
 with the offerings of seven of the Grecian deities to her majesty, 
 displaying in grotesque assemblage, cages of various large birds, 
 fruits, corn, fishes, grapes, and wine in silver vessels, musical in- 
 struments of many kinds, and weapons and armour hung trophy - 
 wise on two ragged staves. A poet standing at the end of the 
 bridge explained in Latin verse the meaning of all. The Lady 
 of the Lake, invisible since the disappearance of the renowned 
 prince Arthur, approached on a floating island along the moat to 
 recite adulatory verses. Arion, being summoned for the like 
 purpose, appeared on a dolphin four-and-twenty feet long, which 
 carried in its belly a whole orchestre. A Sibyl, a " Salvage 
 man" and an Echo posted in the park, all harangued in the same 
 strain. Music and dancing enlivened the Sunday evening. 
 Splendid fireworks were displayed both on land and water : — a 
 play was performed ; an Italian tumbler exhibited his feats ; — 
 thirteen bears were baited ; — there were three stag hunts, and a 
 representation of a country bridal, followed by running at the 
 quintin : finally, the men of Coventry exhibited, by express per- 
 mission, their annual mock fight in commemoration of a signal 
 defeat of the Danes. 
 
 Nineteen days did the earl of Leicester . sustain the over- 
 whelming honour of this royal visit; — a demonstration of her 
 majesty's satisfaction in her entertainment quite unexampled, 
 but which probably awakened less envy than any other token of 
 her peculiar grace by which she might have been pleased to dis- 
 tinguish her favourite. 
 
 No domestic incident had for a long time excited so strong a 
 sensation as the death of Walter Devereux, earl of Essex, which 
 
£76 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 took place at Dublin in the autumn of the year 1576. This noble 
 man is celebrated for his talents, his virtues, his unfortunate and 
 untimely death, and also as the father of a son still more distin- 
 guished, and destined to a fate yet more disastrous. He was of illus- 
 trious descent, deriving apart of his hereditary honours from the 
 lords Ferrers of Chartley, and the rest from the noble family of 
 Bourchier, through a daughter of Thomas of Woodstock, young- 
 est son of Edward III. In his nineteenth year he succeeded his 
 grandfather as viscount Hereford, and coming to court attracted 
 the merited commendations of her majesty by his learning, his 
 abilities, and his ingenuous modesty. 
 
 During a short period, the viscount was joined in commission 
 with the earls of Huntingdon and Shrewsbury for the safe keep- 
 ing of the queen of Scots. On the breaking out of the northern 
 rebellion, he joined the royal army with all the forces he could 
 raise ; and in reward of this forwardness in her service her ma- 
 jesty conferred on him the garter, and subsequently invested 
 him, after the most solemn and honourable form of creation, with 
 the dignity of earl of Essex, long hereditary in the house of 
 Bourchier. 
 
 By these marks of favour the jealousy of Leicester and of other 
 courtiers, was strongly excited ; but with little cause. The spirit 
 of the earl had too much of boldness, of enterprise, of a high- 
 souled generosity, to permit him to take root and flourish in that 
 scene of treachery and intrigue — a court ; it quickly prompted 
 him to seek occupation at a distance, in the attempt to subdue 
 and civilize a turbulent Irish province. 
 
 He solicited and obtained from the queen, by a kind of agree- 
 ment then not unusual, a grant to himself, and the adventurers 
 under him, of half of the district of Clandeboy in Ulster, on con- 
 dition of his rescuing and defending the whole of it from the re- 
 bels, and defraying half the expenses of the service. Great 
 things were expected from his expedition, on which he embarked 
 in August 1573 : but sir William Fitzwilliams, deputy of Ire- 
 land, viewed the arrival of the earl with sentiments which led 
 him to oppose every possible obstacle to his success. Probably, 
 too, Essex himself found, on trial, the task of subduing the Irishry, 
 (as the natives of the island were then called,,) a more difficult 
 one than he had anticipated. Some brilliant service, however, 
 amid many delays and disappointments, he performed in various 
 parts of the country ; and having returned to England in 1575 
 to lay all his grievances before the queen, and face the court fac- 
 tion which injured him in his absence, he was sent back with the 
 title of Marshal of Ireland, an appointment which Leicester, for 
 his own purposes, is said to have been active in procuring him 
 
 Sir Henry Sidney had now succeeded Fitzwilliams as lord- 
 deputy ; and from him it does not appear that Essex had the 
 same systematic opposition to encounter: on the contrary, hav- 
 ing been applied to by . the queen for his opinion of the expediency 
 of granting several requests of the earl relative to this service,' 
 sir Henry advised her majesty to comply with most of them, pre- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH 
 
 277 
 
 facing his counsel with the following sentence : " Of the earl I 
 must say, that he is so noble and worthy a personage, and so for- 
 ward iti all his actions, and so complete a gentleman wherein he 
 may either advance your honour or service, as you may take 
 comfort to have in store so rare a subject, who hath nothing in 
 greater regard than to show himself such an one indeed as the 
 common fame reporteth him ; which hath been no more, in troth, 
 than his due deserts and painful travels in the worst parts of this 
 miserable country have deserved."* 
 
 Such, in fact, was the apparent cordiality between the deputy 
 and the marshal, that a proposal passed for the marriage of Phi- 
 lip Sidney to the lady Penelope Devereaux, daughter of the earl: 
 but if this friendship were ever sincere on the part of sir Henry, 
 it was at least short-lived ; for, writing a few months after Es- 
 sex's death to Leicester respecting the earl of Ormond, whom 
 the favourite regarded as his enemy, he says .... "In fine, my 
 lord, I am ready to accord with him ; but, my most dear lord and 
 brother, be you upon your keeping for him ; for, if Essex had 
 lived, you should have found him as violent an enemy as his heart, 
 power, and cunning would have served him to have been ; and 
 for that their malice, I take God to record, I could brook neither 
 of them both."t 
 
 Ireland was, during the whole of Elizabeth's reign, that part 
 of her dominions which it cost her most trouble to govern, and 
 with which her system of policy prospered the least. Without 
 a considerable military force it was impossible to bring into sub- 
 jection those parts of the country which still remained in a state 
 of barbarism under the sway of native chieftains, or even to pre- 
 serve in safety and civility such districts as were already re- 
 claimed and brought within the English pale. But the queen's 
 parsimony, or, more truly, the narrowness of her income, caused 
 her perpetually to repine at the great expenses to which she was 
 put for this service, and frequently to run the risk ot losing all 
 that had been slowly gained, by a sudden withdrawment, or long 
 delay, of the necessary supplies. Her suspicious temper caused 
 her likewise to lend ready ear to the complaints, whether founded 
 or not, brought by the disaffected Irish against her officers. Sir 
 Henry Sidney himself, the deputy whom she most favoured and 
 trusted, and continued longer in office than any other, supported 
 as he was at court by the potent influence of Leicester, and the 
 steady friendship of Burleigh, had many causes offered him of 
 vexation and discontent ; and those who held inferior commands, 
 and were less ably protected from the attacks of their enemies, 
 experienced almost insupportable anxieties from counteractions, 
 difficulties and hardships of every kind. Of these, the unfortu- 
 nate earl of Essex had his full share. 
 
 The hopes of improving his fortune, with which he had entered 
 upon the service, were so far from being realised, that he found 
 himself sinking continually deeper in debt. His efforts against 
 
 * Sidney Papers, vol. i. 
 
 | Ibid. 
 
'278 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 the rebels were by no means uniformly successful. His court 
 enemies contrived to divert most of the succours designed him 
 by his sovereign, and the perplexities of his situation went on 
 accumulating instead of diminishing The bodily fatigue which 
 he endured in the prosecution of his designs, joined to the anguish 
 of a wounded spirit, undermined, at length, the powers of his con- 
 stitution, and, after repeated attacks, he was carried off by a dys- 
 entery in September, 1576. 
 
 Essex was liberal, affable, brave and eloquent, and generally 
 beloved both in England and Ireland. The symptoms of his dis- 
 ease, though such as exposure alone to the pestilential damps of 
 the climate might well have produced, were also susceptible of 
 being ascribed to poison ; and one of his attendants, a divine who 
 likewise professed medicine, seeing him in great pain, suddenly 
 exclaimed, " By the mass, my lord, you are poisoned !" The re- 
 port spread like wild-fire. To common minds it is a relief under 
 irremediable misfortune to find an object for blame ; and accord- 
 ingly, though no direct evidence of the fact was produced, it was 
 universally believed that some villain had administered to him 
 " an ill drink." 
 
 As Leicester was known to be his enemy, strongly suspected 
 of an intrigue with his wife, and believed capable of any enor- 
 mity, the friends and partisans of Essex seem immediately to 
 have pointed at him as the contriver of his death ; yet I find no 
 contemporary evidence of the imputation, except in the conduct 
 of sir Henry. Sidney on this occasion, which indicates great anx- 
 iety for the reputation of his patron and brother-in-law. 
 
 The lord-deputy was unfortunately absent from Dublin at the 
 time of the earl of Essex's death, and before he could institute 
 a regular examination into the manner of it, a thousand false tales 
 had been circulated which were greedily received by the public. 
 On his return, however, he entered into the investigation with 
 great zeal and diligence : — the decisive test of an examination of 
 the body was not indeed applied, for it was one with which that 
 age seems to have been unacquainted ; but many witnesses were 
 called, reports were traced to their source and in some instances 
 disproved, and the result of the whole was transmitted by the 
 deputy to the privy-council in a letter which appears satisfacto- 
 rily to prove that there was no solid ground to ascribe the event 
 to any but natural causes. That the deputy himself was con- 
 vinced of the correctness of this representation is seen from one 
 of his private letters to Leicester, published long after in the 
 *' Sidney Papers." 
 
 In all probability, posterity would scarcely have heard of this 
 imputation on the character of Leicester, had not his marriage 
 with the widow of Essex served as corroboration of the charge, 
 and given occasion to the malicious comments of the author of 
 " Leicester's Commonwealth." This union, however, was not 
 publickly celebrated till two years afterwards ; and we have no 
 certain authority for the fact" of the criminal connexion of the 
 parties during the life of the earl of Essex, nor for the private 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 279 
 
 marriage said to have been huddled up with indecent precipita- 
 tion on liis decease. 
 
 Walter earl of Essex left Robert his son and successor, then 
 in the tenth year of his age, to the care and protection of the 
 earl of Sussex and lord Burleigh; but Mr. Edward Waterhouse, 
 a person of great merit and abilities, then employed in Ireland 
 and distinguished by the favour both of lord Burleigh and sir 
 Henry Sidney, had the immediate management of the fortune 
 and affairs of the minor. Of this friend Essex is related to have 
 taken leave in his last moments with many kisses, exclaiming, 
 " O my Ned, my Ned, farewel ! thou art the faithfulest and 
 friendliest gentleman that ever I knew." He proved the fidelity 
 of his attachment by attending the body of the earl to Wales, 
 whither it was conveyed for interment, and it was thence that he 
 immediately afterwards addressed to sir Henry Sidney a letter, 
 of which the following is an extract. 
 
 " The state of the earl of Essex, being best known to myself, 
 doth require my travel for a time in his causes ; but my burden 
 cannot be great when every man putteth to his helping hand. 
 Her majesty hath bestowed upon the young earl his marriage, 
 and all his father's rules in Wales, and promiseth the remission 
 of his debt. The lords do generally favour and further him ; 
 some for the trust reposed, some for love to the father, other for 
 affinity with the child, and some for other causes. All these 
 lords that wish well to the children, and, I suppose, all the best 
 sort of the English lords besides, do expect what will become of 
 the treaty between Mr. Philip and my lady Penelope. 
 
 " Truly, my lord, I must say to your lordship, as I have said 
 to my lord of Leicester and Mr. Philip, the breaking off' of this 
 match, if the default be on your parts, will turn to more dishon- 
 our than can be repaired with any other marriage in England. 
 And I protest unto your lordship, I do not think that there is at 
 this day so strong a man in England of friends as the little earl 
 of Essex ; nor any man more lamented than his father since the 
 death of king Edward."* 
 
 Under such high auspices, and with such a general consent of 
 men's minds in his favour, did the celebrated, the rash, the la- 
 mented Essex commence his brief and ill-starred course ! The 
 match between Philip Sidney and lady Penelope Devereux was 
 finally broken off*, as Waterhouse seems to have apprehended. 
 She married lord Rich, and afterwards Charles Blount earl of 
 Devonshire, on whose account she had been divorced from her 
 first husband. 
 
 How little all the dark suspicions and sinister reports to which 
 the death of the earl of Essex had given occasion, were able to 
 influence the mind of Elizabeth against the man of her heart, 
 may appear by the tenor of an extraordinary letter written by her 
 in June 1577 to the earl and countess of Shrewsbury. 
 
 » {< Sidney Papers 
 
280 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 " Our very good cousins ; 
 
 " Being given to understand from our cousin of Leicester how 
 honourably he was not only lately received by you our cousin the 
 countess at Chatsworth, and his diet by you both discharged at 
 Buxtons, but also presented with a very rare present, we should 
 do him great wrong, (holding him in that place of favour we do,) 
 in case we should not let you understand in how thankful sort 
 we accept the same at both your hands, not as done unto him but 
 to our own self; reputing him as another self; and therefore ye 
 may assure yourselves that we, taking upon us the debt, not as 
 his but our own, will take care accordingly to discharge the same 
 in such honourable sort as so well deserving creditors as ye shall 
 never cause to think ye have met with an ungrateful debtor," &c. 
 
 Lord Talbot, on another occasion, urged upon his father the 
 policy of ingratiating himself with Leicester by a pressing invi- 
 tation to Chatsworth, adding moreover, that he did not believe it 
 would greatly either further or hinder his going into that part of 
 the country. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 1577 to 1582. 
 
 Relations of the queen with France and Spain.*— She sends suc- 
 cours to the Dutch — is entertained by Leicester, and celebrated in 
 verse by P. Sidney. — Her visit to Norwich.- — Letter of Topcliffe. 
 — Notice of sir T. Smith. — Magical practices against the queen. 
 — Duke Casimir's visit to England. — Duke of Anjou urges 
 his suit with the queen. — Simier's mission. — Leicester's mar- 
 riage. — Behaviour of the queen. — A shot fired at her barge. — 
 Her memorable speech. — First visit of Anjou in England. — Opi- 
 nions oj privy councillors on the match. — Letter of Philip Sid- 
 ney. — Stubbs's book. — Punishment inflicted on him. — Notice of 
 sir N. Bacon. — Drake's return from his circumnavigation. — 
 Jesuit seminaries. — Arrival of a French embassy. — A triumph. 
 — Notice of Fidk Greville. — Marriage-treaty with Anjou. — His 
 second visit.— His return and death. 
 
 About the middle of the year 1576, Walsingham, in a letter 
 to sir Henry Sidney thus writes : " Here at home we live in se- 
 curity as we were wont, grounding our quietness upon other 
 harms." The harms here alluded to, — the religious wars of 
 France, and the revolt of the Dutch provinces from Spain, — had 
 proved indeed, in more ways than one, the safeguard of the peace 
 
QUERN ELIZABETH. 
 
 281 
 
 of England. They furnished so much domestic occupation to the 
 two catholic sovereigns of Europe, most formidable by their 
 power, their bigotry, and their unprincipled ambition, as effectu- 
 ally to preclude them from uniting their forces to put in execu- 
 tion against Elizabeth the papal sentence of deprivation ; and by 
 the opportunity which they afforded her of causing incalculable 
 mischiefs to these princes through the succours which she might 
 afford to their rebellious subjects, they long enabled her to re- 
 strain both Philip and Charles within the bounds of respect and 
 amity But circumstances were now tending with increased ve- 
 locity towards a rupture with Spain, clearly become inevitable ; 
 and in 1577, the queen of England saw herself compelled to take 
 steps in the affairs of the Low Countries equally offensive to that 
 power and to France. 
 
 The states of Holland, after the rejection of their sovereignty 
 by Elizabeth, cast their eyes around in search of another protec- 
 tor ; and Charles IX., suffering his ambition and his rivalry with 
 Philin II. to overpower all the vehemence of his zeal for the ca- 
 tholic religion, showed himself eager to become their patron. 
 His brother, the duke d'Aleneon, doubtless with his concurrence, 
 offered on certain terms to bring a French army for the expul- 
 sion of don John of Austria, governor of the Low Countries ; and 
 this proposal he urged with so much importunity, that the Hoi- 
 landers, notwithstanding their utter antipathy to the royal fami- 
 ly of France, seemed likely to accede to it, as the lightest of that 
 variety of evils of which their present situation offered them the 
 choice. But Elizabeth could not view with indifference the pro- 
 gress of a negociation which might eventually procure to France 
 the annexation of these important provinces ; and she encour- 
 aged the states to refuse the offers of Alencon by immediately 
 transmitting for their service liberal supplies of arms and money 
 to duke Casimir, son of the Elector Palatine, then at the head 
 of a large body of German protestants in the Low Countries. 
 
 At the same time she endeavoured to repress the catholics in 
 her own dominions by a stricter enforcement of the penal laws, 
 and two or three persons in this year suffered capitally for their 
 denial of the queen's supremacy.* 
 
 These steps on the part of Elizabeth threatened to disconcert 
 entirely the plans of the French court ; but it still seemed prac- 
 ticable, to the king and to his brother, to produce a change in her 
 measures ; and two or three successive embassies arrived in Lon- 
 
 * Dr. Whilgift, then bishop of Worcester, and vice president of the marches of 
 Wales under sir Henry Sidney, peculiarly distinguished himself by bis activity in 
 detecting secret meetings of catholics for the purpose of hearing mMssand practising 
 other rites of their reiigion. The privy-council, in reward of his zeal, promised to 
 direct to him and to some of the Welsh bishops a special commission tor (be trial of 
 these delinquents. They further instructed him, in the case of one Moriee who bad 
 declined answering directly to certain interrogatoi i^s tending to criminate himself in 
 ihese matters, that if he remained obstinate, and »he commissioners saw cause, they 
 might, at. their discretion, cause some kind of tortnre to be used upon bun. The 
 same means he was also desired to take with others; in order to come to a full 
 knowledge of all reconcilements to the church of Rome, and other practices of the 
 papists in these parts. See Strype's " Whitgift," p. 83. 
 
 Nb 
 
THE COURT OF 
 
 don during the spring and summer of 1578, to renew with fresfr 
 earnestness the proposals of marriage on the part of the duke 
 d'Aleneon. The earl of Sussex and his party favoured this 
 match, Leicester and all the zealous protestants in the court and 
 the nation opposed it. The queen " sat arbitress," and perhaps 
 prolonged her deliberations on the question, for the pleasure of 
 receiving homage more than Usually assiduous from both factions. 
 
 The favourite, anxious to secure his ascendency by fresh ef- 
 forts of gallantry and instances ot devotedness, entreated to be 
 indulged in the privilege of entertaining her majesty for several 
 days at his seat of Wan stead -house ; a recent and expensive 
 purchase, which he had been occupied in adorning with a magnifi- 
 cence suited to the ostentatious prodigality of his disposition. 
 
 It was for the entertainment of her majesty on this occasion 
 that Philip Sidney condescended to task a genius worthy of bet- 
 ter things with the composition of a mask in celebration of her 
 surpassing beauties and royal virtues, entitled "The Lady of 
 May.'' In defence of this public act of adulation, the young poet 
 had probably the particular request of his uncle and patron to 
 plead, as well as the common practice of the age; but it must 
 still be mortifying under any circumstances, to record the abase- 
 ment of such a spirit to a level with the vulgar herd of Elizabeth'* 
 flatterers. 
 
 Unsatiated with festivities and homage, the queen continued 
 her progress from Wanstead through the counties of Essex, Suf- 
 folk, and Norfolk, receiving the attendance of numerous troops 
 of gentry, and making visits in her way to all who felt them- 
 selves entitled, or called, to solicit with due humility the costly 
 honour of entertaining her. Her train was numerous and bril- 
 liant, and the French ambassadors constantly attended her mo- 
 tions. About the middle of August she arrived at Norwich. 
 
 This ancient city, then one of the most considerable in the 
 kingdom, yielded to none in a zealous attachment to protestant 
 principles and to the queen's person ; and as its remote situation 
 had rendered the arrival of a royal visitant within its walls an 
 extremely rare occurrence, the magistrates resolved to spare no- 
 thing which could contribute to the splendour of her reception 
 
 At the furthest limits of the city she was met by the mayor, 
 who addressed her in a long and very abject Latin oration, in 
 which he was not ashamed to pronounce that the city enjoyed its 
 charters and privileges " by her only clemency." At the con- 
 clusion he produced a large silver cup filled with gold pieces, 
 sa} r ing, " Sunt hie centum librae puri auri:" Welcome sounds, 
 which failed not to reach the ear of her gracious majesty, who, 
 lifting up the cover with alacrity, said audibly to the footman to 
 whose care it was delivered, " Look to it, there is a hundred 
 pound." Pageants were set up in the principal streets, of which 
 one had at least the ;.;erit of appropriateness, since it accurately 
 represented the various processes employed in those woollen 
 manufactures for which Norwich was already famous. 
 
 Two days after her majesty's arrival, Mercury, in a blue satin 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 283 
 
 doublet lined with cloth of gold, with a hat of the same garnished 
 with wings, and wings at his feet, appeared under her chamber 
 window in an extraordinarily fine painted coach, and invited her 
 to go abroad and see more shows ; and a kind of mask, in which 
 Venus and Cupid with Wantonness and Riot were discomfited 
 by the Goddess of Chastity and her attendants, was performed 
 in the open air. A troop of nymphs and fairies lay in ambush for 
 her return from dining with the earl of Surry ; and in the midst 
 of these Heathenish exhibitions, the minister of the Dutch church 
 watched his opportonity to otter to her the grateful homage of 
 his Mock. To these deserving strangers, protestant refugees 
 from Spanish oppression, the policy of Elizabeth, in this instance 
 equally generous and discerning, had granted every privilege 
 capable of inducing them to make her kingdom their permanent 
 abode. At Norwich, where the greater number had settled a 
 church was given them for the performance of public worship in 
 their own tongue, and according to the form which they prefer- 
 red ; and encouragement was held out to them to establish here 
 several branches of manufacture which they had previously car- 
 ried on to great advantage at home. This accession of skill and 
 industry soon raised the woollen fabrics of England to a pitch 
 of excellence unknown in former ages, and repaid w r ith usury to 
 the country this exercise of public hospitality. 
 
 It appears that the inventing of masks, pageants, and devices 
 for the recreation of the queen on her progresses, had become a 
 distinct profession. George Ferrers, formerly commemorated as 
 master of the pastimes to Edward VI., one Goldingham, and 
 Churchyard, author of " the Worthiness of Wales," of some 
 legends in the " Mirror for Magistrates," and of a prodigious 
 quantity of verse on various subjects, were the most celebrated 
 proficients in this branch ; all three are handed down to posterity 
 as contributors to " the princely pleasures of Kennelworth," and 
 the two latter as managers of the Norwich entertainments. They 
 vied with each other in the gorgeousness, the pedantry and the 
 surprisingness of their devices; but the palm was surely due to 
 him of the number, who had the glory of contriving a battle be- 
 tween certain allegorical personages, in the midst of which, 
 " legs and arms of men, well and lively wrought, were to be let 
 fall in numbers on the ground as bloody as might be." The com- 
 bat was to be exhibited in the open air: but the skies were unpro- 
 pitious, and a violent shower of rain unfortunately deprived her 
 majesty of the satisfaction of witnessing the effect of so extraor- 
 dinary and elegant a device. 
 
 Richard Topcliffe, a Lincolnshire gentleman employed by 
 government to collect informations against the papists, and so 
 much distinguished in the employment, that Topciiffizare became 
 the cant term of the day fot hunting a recusant, was at this time 
 a follower of the court ; and a letter addressed by him to the 
 earl of Shrewsbury contains some particulars of this progress 
 worth preserving "I did never see her majesty better 
 
284 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 received by two coumtes in one journey than Suffolk and Nor- 
 folk now ; Suffolk of gentlemen and Norfolk of the meaner sort, 
 with exceeding joy to themselves and well liking to her majesty. 
 Great entertainment at the master of the Rolls' ; greater at Ken- 
 ninghall, and exceeding of all sorts at Norwich. 
 
 " The next good news, (but in account the highest) her majesty 
 hath served God with great zeal and comfortable examples : for 
 by her council two notorious papists, young Rookwood (the mas- 
 ter of Euston hall, where her majesty did lie upon Sunday, now 
 a fortnight) and one Downes, a gentleman, were both committed, 
 the one to the town prison at Norwich, the other to the county 
 prison there, for obstinate papistry ; and seven more gentlemen 
 of worship were committed to several houses in Norwich as pri- 
 soners .... for badness of belief. This Rookwood is a pa- 
 pist of kind, newly crept out of his late wardship. Her majesty, 
 by some means I know not, was lodged at his house, Euston, far 
 unmeet for her highness, but fitter for the black guard ; never- 
 theless, (the gentleman brought into her majesty's presence by 
 like device) her excellent majesty gave to Rookwood ordinary 
 thanks for his bad house, and her fair hand to kiss ; after which 
 it was braved at. But my lord chamberlain, nobly and gravely, 
 understanding that Rookwood was excommunicated for papistry, 
 called him before him ; demanded of him how he durst to attempt 
 her royal presence, he, unfit to accompany any Christian per- 
 son ? Forthwith said he was fitter for a pair of stocks ; command- 
 ed him out of the court, and yet to attend her council's pleasure, 
 and at Norwich he was committed. And, to decypher the gen- 
 tlemen to the full ; a piece of plate being missed in the court and 
 searched for in his hay-house, in the hayrick such an image of 
 our lady was there found, as for greatness, for gayness, and 
 workmanship, I did never see a match ; and after a sort of coun- 
 try dances ended, in her majesty's sight the idol was set behind 
 the people, who avoided. She rather seemed a beast raised upon 
 a sudden from hell by conjuring, than the picture for whom it 
 had been so often and so long abused. Her majesty command- 
 ed it to the fire, which in her sight by the country folks was 
 quickly done, to her content, and unspeakable joy of every one, 
 but some one or two who had sucked of the idol's poisoned milk. 
 
 " Shortly after, a great sort of good preachers, who had been 
 commanded to silence for a little niceness, were licensed, and 
 again commanded to preach ; a greater and more universal joy 
 to the counties, and the most of the court, than +* e disgrace of 
 the papists ; and the gentlemen of those parts, being great and 
 hot protestants (almost before by policy discredited and dis- 
 graced,) were greatly countenanced." The letter writer after- 
 wards mentions in a splenetic style the envoy from Monsieur, 
 one Baqueville a Norman, "with four or five of Monsieur's 
 youths," who attended the queen and were " well entertained 
 and regarded." After them, he says, came M. Rambouillet from ' 
 the French king, brother of the cardinal, who had not long be- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 285 
 
 fore written vilely against the queen, and whose entertainment, 
 it seemed to him, was not so good as that of the others.' 
 
 The queen was about this time deprived by death of an old 
 and faithful counsellor, in the person of sir Thomas Smith, one 
 of the principal secretaries of state. This eminent person, the 
 author of a work "on the Commonwealth of England," still occa- 
 sionally consulted, and in various ways a great benefactor to 
 letters in his day, was one of the few who had passed at once 
 with safety and credit through all the perils and revolutions of 
 the three preceding reigns. His early proficiency at college ob- 
 tained for Smith the patronage of Henry VIII., at whose expense 
 he was sent to complete his studies in Italy ; and he took at 
 Padua the degree of Doctor of Laws. Resuming on his return 
 his residence at Cambridge, he united his efforts with those of 
 Cheke for reforming the pronunciation of the Greek language. 
 Afterwards he furnished an example of attachment to his mother 
 tongue, which among classical scholars has found too few imita- 
 tors, by giving to the public a work on English orthography and 
 pronunciation ; objects as yet almost totally neglected by his 
 countrymen, and respecting which, down to a much later period, 
 no approach to system or uniformity prevailed, but on the con- 
 trary a vagueness, a rudeness and an ignorance disgraceful to a 
 lettered people. 
 
 Though educated in the civil law, Smith now took deacon's 
 orders and accepted a rectory, and the deanery of Carlise. His 
 principles secretly began to incline towards the reformers, and 
 he lent such protection as he was able to those who in the latter 
 years of Henry VIII. underwent persecution for the avowal of 
 similar sentiments. 
 
 Protector Somerset patronised him : under his administration 
 he was knighted notwithstanding his deacon's orders, and be- 
 came the colleague of Cecil as secretary of state. On the acces- 
 sion of Mary he was stripped of the lucrative offices which he 
 held, but a small pension was assigned him on condition of his 
 remaining in the kingdom ; and he contrived to pass away those 
 days of horror in an unmolested obscurity. 
 
 He was among the first whom Mary's illustrious successor re- 
 called to public usefulness ; being summoned to take his place at 
 her earliest privy-council. In the important measures of the 
 beginning of the reign for the settlement- of religion, he took a 
 distinguished part : afterwards he was employed with advantage 
 to his country in several difficult embassies ; he was then appoint- 
 ed assistant and finally successor to Burleigh, in the same high 
 post which they had occupied together so many years before, 
 under the reign of Edward, and in this station he died at the age 
 of sixty-three. 
 
 No statesman of the age bore a higher character than sir Tho- 
 mas Smith for rectitude and benevolence, and nothing of the 
 wiliness and craft conspicuous in most of his coadjutors is dis~ 
 
 * # Illustrations," by Lodge vol. ii. ]>. 187. 
 
286 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 cernible in him. There was one foible of his day, however, from 
 which he was by no means exempt : on certain points he was 
 superstitious beyond the ordinary measure of learned credulity 
 in the sixteenth century. Of his faith in alchemical experiments 
 a striking instance has already occurred ; he was likewise a great 
 astrologer, and gave himself much concern in conjecturing what 
 direful events might be portended by the appearance of a comet 
 which became visible in the last year of his life. During a tem- 
 porary retirement from court, he had also distinguished himself as a 
 magistrate by his extraordinary diligence in the prosecution of sus- 
 pected witches. But the date of these and similar delusions had not 
 yet expired. Great alarms were excited in the country during the 
 year 1577 by the prevalence of certain magical practices, which 
 were supposed to strike at the life of her majesty. There were found 
 at Islington, concealed in the house of a catholic priest, who was 
 a reputed sorcerer, three waxen images, formed to represent the 
 queen and two of her chief counsellors ; other dealings also of 
 professors of the occult sciences were from time to time disco- 
 vered. " Whether it were the effect of this magic," says Strype, 
 who wrote in the beginning of the eighteenth century, " or pro- 
 ceeded from some natural cause, but the queen was in some part of 
 this year under excessive anguish by pains of her teeth: Insomuch 
 that she took no rest for divers nights, and endured very great tor- 
 ment night and day." In this extremity, a certain " outlandish" 
 physician was consulted, who composed on the case, with much 
 solemnity of style, a long Latin letter, in which, after observing 
 with due humility that it was a perilous attempt in a person of 
 his slender abilities to prescribe for a disease which had caused 
 perplexity and diversity of opinion among the skilful and eminent 
 physicians ordinarily employed by her majesty, he ventured how- 
 ever to suggest various applications as worthy of trial ; finally 
 hinting at the expediency of having recourse to extraction, on 
 the possible failure of all other means to afford relief. How this 
 weighty matter terminated we are not here informed j but it is 
 upon record that Aylmer bishop of London once submitted to 
 have a tooth drawn, in order to encourage her majesty to under- 
 go that operation ; and as the promotion of the learned prelate 
 was at this time recent, and his gratitude, it may be presumed, 
 still lively, we may perhaps be permitted to conjecture that it was 
 the bishop who on this occasion performed the part of exorcist. 
 
 The efforts of duke Casimir for the defence of the United Pro- 
 vinces had hitherto proved eminently unfortunate : and in the au- 
 tumn of 1578, he judged it necessary to come over to England to 
 apologise in person to Elizabeth for the ill success of his arms, 
 and to make arrangements for the future. 
 
 He was very honourably received by her majesty, who recol- 
 lected perhaps with some little complacency that he had for- 
 merly been her suitor. Justings, tilts, and runnings at the ring 
 were exhibited for his entertainment, and he was engaged in 
 hunting parties, in which he greatly delighted. Leicester load- 
 ed him with presents ; the earl of Pembroke also complimented 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 287 
 
 him with a valuable jewel. The earl of Huntingdon, a nobleman 
 whose religious zeal, which had rendered him the peculiar patron 
 of the puritan divines, interested him also in the cause of Hol- 
 land, escorted him on his return as far as Gravesend ; and sir 
 Henry Sidney attended him to Dover. The queen willingly be- 
 stowed on her princely guest the cheap distinction of the garter; 
 but her parting present of two golden cups, worth three hundred 
 pounds a piece, was extorted from her, after much murmuring 
 and long reluctance, by the urgency of Walsingham, who was 
 anxious, with the rest of his party, that towards this champion of 
 the protestant cause, though unfortunate, no mark of respect 
 should be omitted. 
 
 The Spanish and French ambassadors repined at the favours 
 heaped on Casimir ; but in the mean time the French faction was 
 not inactive. The earl of Sussex, whose generally sound judg- 
 ment seems to have been warped in this instance by his habitual 
 contrariety to Leicester, wrote in August 1578, a long letter to 
 the queen, in which, after stating the arguments for and against 
 the French match, he summed up pretty decidedly in its fa- 
 vour. What was of more avail, Monsieur sent over to plead his 
 cause an agent named Simier, a person of great dexterity, who 
 well knew how to ingratiate himself by a thousand amusing arts; 
 by a sprightly style of conversation peculiarly suited to the taste 
 of the queen ; and by that ingenious flattery, the talent of his na- 
 tion, which is seldom entirely thrown away even upon the sternest 
 and most impenetrable natures. Elizabeth could not summon re- 
 solution to dismiss abruptly a suit which was so agreeably urged, 
 and in February 1579, lord Talbot sends the following informa- 
 tion to his father : " Her majesty continueth her very good usage 
 of M. Simier and all his company, and he hath conference with 
 her three or four time a week, and she is the best disposed and 
 pleasantest when shetalketh with him (as by her gestures appea- 
 reth) that is possible." He adds, " The opinion of Monsieur's 
 coming still holdeth, and yet it is secretly bruited that he cannot 
 take up so much money as he would on such a sudden, and there- 
 fore will not come so soon."* 
 
 The influence of Simier over the queen became on a sudden 
 so potent, that Leicester and his party reported, and perhaps be- 
 lieved, that he had employed philters and other unlawful means 
 to inspire her with love for his master. Simier on his side am- 
 ply retaliated these hostilities by carrying to her majesty the 
 first tidings of the secret marriage of her favourite with the 
 countess of Essex; — a fact which none of her courtiers had found 
 courage to communicate to her, though it must have been by this 
 time widely known, as sir Francis Knowles, the countess's fa- 
 ther, had insisted, for the sake of his daughter's reputation, that 
 the celebration of the nuptials should take place in presence of a 
 considerable number of witnesses. 
 
 The rage of the queen on this disclosure transported her be- 
 
 * u Illustrations," &c. vol, ii. 
 
288 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 yond all the bounds of justice, reason, and decorum. It has been 
 already remarked that she was habitually, or systematically, an 
 open enemy to matrimony in general ; and the higher any per- 
 sons stood in her good graces, and the more intimate their access 
 to her, the greater was her resentment at detecting in them any 
 aspirations after this state; because a kind of jealousy was in 
 these cases superadded to her malignity, and it offended her 
 pride that those who were honoured with her favour should find 
 themselves at leisure to covet another kind of happiness of which 
 she was not the dispenser. But that Leicester, the dearest of 
 her friends, the first of her favourites, after all the devotedness 
 to her charms which he had so long professed, and which she had 
 requited by a preference so marked and benefits so signal, — that 
 he, — her opinion unconsulted, her sanction unimplored, should 
 have formed, — and with her own near relation, — this indissolu- 
 ble tie, and, having formed it, should have attempted to conceal 
 the fact from her when known to so many others, — appeared to 
 her the acme of ingratitude, perfidy, and insult. She felt the in- 
 jury like a weak disappointed woman, she resented it like a 
 queen and a Tudor. 
 
 She instantly ordered Leicester into confinement in a small 
 fort then standing in Greenwich park, and she threw out the me- 
 nace, nay, actually entertained the design, of sending him to the 
 Tower. But the lofty and honourable mind of the earl of Sus- 
 sex revolted against proceedings so violent, so lawless, and so 
 disgraceful in every point of view to his royal kinswoman. He 
 plainly represented to her, that it was contrary to all right and 
 all decorum that any man should be punished for lawful matri- 
 mony, which was held in honour by all ; and his known hostility 
 to the favourite giving weight to his remonstrance, the queen 
 curbed her anger; gave up all thoughts of the Tower, and soon 
 restored the earl to liberty. In no long time afterwards, he was 
 re-admitted to her presence ; and so necessary had he made him- 
 self to her majesty, or so powerful in the state, that she found it 
 expedient insensibly to restore him to the same place of trust 
 and intimacy as before ; though it is probable that he never en- 
 tirely regained her affections ; and his countess, for whom, in- 
 deed, she had never entertained any affection, remained the avow- 
 ed object of her utter antipathy, even after the death of Leices- 
 ter, and in spite of all the intercessions in her behalf with which 
 her son Essex, in the meridian of his favour, never ceased to im- 
 portune his sovereign. 
 
 The quarrel of Leicester against Simier proceeded to such ex- 
 tremity after this affair, that the latter believed his life in danger 
 from his attempts. It was even said that the earl had actually 
 hired one of the queen's guard to assassinate the envoy, and that 
 the design had only miscarried by chance. However this might 
 be, her majesty, on account of the spirit of enmity displayed to- 
 wards him by the people, to whom the idea of the French match 
 was ever odious, found it necessary, by a proclamation, to take 
 Simier under her special protection. It was about this time that 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 the queen was taking the air on the Thames, attended by this 
 Frenchman, and by several of her courtiers, a shot was fired into 
 iu i barge, by which one ol the rowers was severely wounded. 
 Some supposed that it was aimed at Simier, others at the queen 
 hers elf 5 but the last opinion was immediately silenced by the, 
 wise and gracious declaration of her majesty, "that she would 
 believe nothing of her subjects that parents would not believe of 
 their children." 
 
 Alter due inquiry, the shot was found to have been accidental, 
 and the person who had been the cause of the mischief, though 
 condemned to death, was pardoned. Such, at least, is the ac- 
 count of the affair transmitted to us by contemporary writers % 
 but it still remains a mystery how the man came to be capitally 
 condemned, if innocent, or to be pardoned, if guilty, 
 
 Leicester, from all these circumstances, hacTincurred so much 
 obloquy at court, and found himself so coldly treated by the queen 
 herself, that, in a letter to Bur leigh, he offered, or threatened, to 
 banish himself; well knowing, perhaps, that the proposal would 
 not be accepted ; while the French prince, now created duke of 
 Anjou, adroitly seized the moment of the earl's disgrace to try 
 the effect of personal solicitations on the heart of Elizabeth. He 
 arrived quite unexpectedly, and almost without attendants, at 
 the gate of her palace at Greenwich ; experienced a very gra- 
 cious reception ; and after several long conferences with the 
 queen alone, of which the particulars never transpired, took his 
 leave and returned home, re -committing his cause to the skilful 
 management of his own agent, and the discussion of his brother's 
 ambassadors. 
 
 Long and frequent meetings of the privy-council were now 
 held, by command of her majesty, for the discussion of the ques- 
 tion of marriage ; from the minutes of which some interesting 
 details may be recovered. 
 
 The earl of Sussex was still, as ever, strongly in favour of the 
 match ; and chiefly, as it appears, from an apprehension that 
 France and Spain might otherwise join to dethrone the queen 
 and set up another in her place. Lord Hunsdon was on the 
 same side, as was also the lord-admiral, (the earl of Lincoln,) 
 but less warmly. Burleigh laboured to find arguments in sup- 
 port of the measure, but evidently against his judgment, and to 
 please the queen. Leicester openly professed to have changed 
 his opinion, "for her majesty was to be followed." Sir Walter 
 Mild may reasoned freely and forcibly against the measure, on 
 the ground of the too advanced age of the queen, and the reli- 
 gion, the previous public conduct and the family connexions of. 
 Anjou. Sir Ralph Sadler subscribed to most of the objections of 
 Mildmay, and brought forward additional ones. Sir Henry Sid-, 
 ney approved all these, and subjoined, " that the marriage could 
 not be made good by all the counsel between England and Rome^ 
 a mass might not be suffered in the court ;■■ meaning, probably, 
 that the marriage rite could not, by any expedient, be accomnw 
 dated to the consciences of both parties and the law of England 
 
290 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 " On the whole, with the single exception perhaps of the earl ol 
 Sussex, those counsellors who pronounced in favour of the mar- 
 riage in this debate, did so, almost avowedly, in compliance with 
 the wishes of the queen, whose inclination to the alliance had be 
 come very evident since the visit of her youthful suitor ; while 
 such as opposed it were moved by strong and earnest convic- 
 tions of the gross impropriety and thorough unsuitableness of the 
 match, with respect to Elizabeth herself, and the dreadful evils 
 which it was likely to entail on the nation. How entirely the 
 real sentiments of this body were adverse to the step, became 
 further evident when the council, instead of immediately obey 
 ing her majesty's command, that they should come to a formal 
 decision on the question and acquaint her with the same, hesi- 
 tated, temporised, assured her of their readiness to be entirely 
 guided on a matter so personal to herself, by her feelings and 
 wishes ; requested to be further informed what these might be, 
 and inquired whether, under all the circumstances, she was de- 
 sirous of their coming to a full determination." This message was 
 reported to her majesty in the forenoon, (October 7th, 1579,) 
 i( and she allowed very well of the dutiful offer of their services. 
 Nevertheless, she uttered many speeches, and that not without 
 shedding of many tears, that she should find in her councillors, 
 by their long disputations, any disposition to make it doubtful, 
 whether there could be any more surety for her and her realm 
 than to have her marry and have a child of her own body to in- 
 herit, and so to continue the line of king Henry VIII. ; and she 
 said she condemned herself of simplicity in committing this mat- 
 ter to be argued by them, for that she thought to have rather had 
 an universal request made to her to proceed in this marriage, 
 than to have made doubt of it ; and being much troubled here- 
 with she requested" the bearers of this message " to forbear her 
 till the afternoon." 
 
 On their return, she repeated her former expressions of dis- 
 pleasure ; then endeavoured, at some length, to refute the ob- 
 jections brought against the match ; and finally, her " great mis- 
 liking" of all opposition, and her earnest desire for the marriage, 
 being reported to her faithful council, they agreed, after long 
 consultations, to offer her their services in furtherance of it, 
 should such really be her pleasure.* 
 
 But the country possessed some men less obsequious than 
 privy-councillors, who could not endure to stand by in silence 
 and behold the great public interests here at stake surrendered 
 in slavish deference to the fond fancy of a romantic woman, 
 caught by the image of a passion which she was no longer of an 
 age to inspire, and which she ought to have felt it an indecorum 
 to entertain. Of this number, to his immortal honour, was Phi- 
 lip Sidney. This young gentleman bore at the time the courtly 
 office of cup-bearer to the queen, and was looking for further ad- 
 vancement at her hands ; and as, on a former occasion, he hatf 
 
 * " Burleigh Papers," l>y Murdlii, passim. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 391 
 
 not scrupled to administer some food to her preposterous desire 
 of personal admiration, Elizabeth, when she applied to him for his 
 opinion on her marriage, assuredly did so in the hope and ex- 
 pectation of hearing from him something more grateful to her 
 ears than the language of truth and wisdom. But Sidney had be- 
 held with his own eyes the horrors of the Paris massacre ; he had 
 imbibed, with all the eagerness of a youthful and generous mind, 
 the principles of his friend the excellent Hubert Languet, one of 
 the ablest advocates of the protestant cause; and he had since, 
 on his embassy to Germany and Holland, enjoyed the favour and 
 contemplated the illustrious virtues of William prince of Orange 
 its heroic champion. 
 
 To this sacred cause the purposed marriage must prove, as he 
 well knew, deeply injurious, and to the reputation of his sove- 
 reign fatal: — this was enough to decide his judgment and his 
 conduct ; and magnanimously disdaining the suggestions of a 
 selfish and servile policy, he replied to the demand of her ma- 
 jesty by a letter of dissuasion, almost of remonstrance, at once 
 the most eloquent and the most courageous piece of that nature 
 which the age can boast. Every important view of the subject 
 is comprised in this letter, which is long, but at the same time so 
 condensed in style, and so skilfully compacted as to matter, that 
 it well deserves to be read entire, and must lose materially ei- 
 ther by abridgement or omission. Yet it may be permitted to 
 detach from political reasonings, foreign to the nature and object 
 of this work, a few sentences referring more immediately to the 
 personal character of Anjou, and displaying, in a strong light, 
 the enormous unfitness of the connexion ; and also the animated 
 and affectionate conclusion by which the writer seems desirous 
 to atone for the enunciation of so many unwelcome truths. 
 
 " These," speaking of her majesty's protestant subjects .... 
 " These, how will their hearts be galled, if not aliened, when 
 they shall see you take a husband, a Frenchman and a papist, in 
 whom, (howsoever fine wits may find further dealings or painted 
 excuses,) the very common people well know this, that he is the 
 son of a Jezabel of our age ; that his brother made oblation of 
 his own sister's marriage, the easier to make massacres of our 
 brethren in belief : That he himself, contrary to his promise and 
 all gratefulness, having his liberty and principal estate by the 
 Hugonots' means, did sack La Charitc, and utterly spoil them 
 with fire and sword ! This, I say, even at first sight, gives 
 occasion to all truly religious to abhor such a master, and con- 
 sequently to diminish much of the hopeful love they have long 
 held to you." 
 
 "Now the agent party, which is Monsieur. Whether he be 
 not apt to work on the disadvantage of your estate, he is to be 
 judged by his will and power: his will to be as full of light am- 
 bition as is possible, besides the French disposition and his own 
 education, his inconstant temper against his brother, his thrust- 
 ing himself into the Low Country matters, his sometimes seek- 
 ing the king of Spain's daughter, sometimes your majesty, are 
 
THE COURT OF 
 
 evident testimonies of his being carried away with every wind of 
 hope ; taught to love greatness any way gotten ; and having for 
 the motioners and ministers of the mind only such young men 
 as have showed they think evil contentment a ground of any re- 
 bellion ; who have seen no commonwealth but in faction, and 
 divers of which have defiled their hands in odious murders. 
 With such fancies and favourites, what is to be hoped for ? Or 
 that he will contain hjmself within the limits of your conditions?" 
 
 .... " Against contempt, if there be any, which I will never 
 believe, let your excellent virtues of piety, justice, and liberal- 
 ity, daily, if it be possible, more and more shine. Let such par- 
 ticular actions be found out, (which be easy,], as I think, to be 
 done,) by which you may gratify all the hearts of your people. 
 Let those in whom you find trust, and to whom you have com- 
 mitted trust, in your weighty affairs, be held up in the eyes of 
 your subjects: Lastly, doing as you do, you shall be as you be, 
 the example of princes, the ornament of this age, and the most 
 excellent fruit of your progenitors, and the perfect mirror of 
 your posterity." 
 
 Such had ever been the devoted loyalty of Philip Sidney to- 
 wards Elizabeth, and so high was the place which he held in her 
 esteem, that she appears to have imputed the boldness of this 
 latter to no motives but good ones ; and instead of resenting his 
 interference in so delicate a matter, she is thought to have been 
 deeply moved by his eloquence, and even to have been influenced 
 by it in the formation of her final resolve. But far other success 
 attended the efforts of a different character, who laboured with 
 equal zeal, equal reason, and probably not inferior purity of in- 
 tention, though far less courtliness of address, to deter, rather 
 than dissuade her from the match, on grounds much more offen- 
 sive to her feelings, and by means of what was then accounted a 
 seditious appeal to the passions and prejudices of the nation. 
 
 The work alluded to was entitled " The discovery of a gaping 
 gulf wherein England is like to be swallowed by another French 
 marriage, if the Lord forbid not the banns by letting her see the 
 sin and punishment thereof." Its author was a gentleman named 
 Stubbs, then of Lincoln's Inn, and previously of Bene't College 
 Cambridge, where we are told that his intimacies had been form- 
 ed among the more learned and ingenious class of students, and 
 where the poet Spenser had become his friend. He was known 
 as a zealous puritan, and had given his sister in marriage to the 
 celebrated Edmund Cartwright the leader of the sect, \t is pro- 
 vable that neither his religious principles nor this connexion 
 were forgotten by the queen in her estimate of his offence. A 
 furious proclamation was issued against the book, all the copies 
 <cf which were ordered to be seized and burned ; and the author 
 and publisher, being proceeded against on a severe statute of 
 Philip and Mary, which many lawyers held to be no longer in 
 force, were found guilty, and condemned to the barbarous punish.- 
 ment of amputation of the right hand. 
 
 T\-h words of Stubbs on being brought to the scaffold to un- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 dergo his sentence have been preserved, and well merit transcrip- 
 tion. " What a grief it is to the body to lose one of his mem- 
 bers you all know. I am come hither to receive my punishment 
 according, to the law. I am sorry for the loss of my hand, and 
 more sorry to lose it by judgment; but most of all with her ma- 
 jesty's indignation and evil opinion, whom I have so highly dis- 
 pleased. Before I was condemned, I might speak for my inno- 
 eency ; but now my mouth is stopped by judgment, to the which 
 I submit myself, and am content patiently to endure whatsoever 
 it plcaseth God, of his secret providence, to lay upon me, and 
 take it justly deserved for my sins ; and I pray God it may 
 be an example to you all, that it being so dangerous to offend 
 the laws, without an evil meaning, as breedeth the loss of a hand, 
 you may use your hands holily, and pray to God for the long pre- 
 servation of her majesty over you, whom God hath used as an 
 instrument for a long peace and many blessings over us ; and 
 specially for his Gospel, whereby she hath made a way for us to 
 rest and quietness to our consciences. For the French I force 
 not ; but my greatest grief is, in so many weeks and days of im- 
 prisonment, her majesty hath not once thought me worthy of her 
 mercy, which she hath often times extended to divers persons in 
 greater offences. For my hand, I esteem it not so much, for I 
 think I could have saved it, and might do yet; but I will not have 
 a guiltless heart and an infamous hand. I pray you all to pray 
 with me, that God will strengthen me to endure and abide the 
 pain that I am to suffer, and grant me this grace, that the loss of 
 my hand do not withdraw any part of my duty and affection to- 
 ward her majesty, and because, when so many veins of blood are 
 opened, it is uncertain how they may be stayed, and what will be 
 the event thereof.". . . . The hand ready on the block to be 
 stricken off, he said often to the people : " Pray for me now my 
 calamity is at hand." And so, with these words, it was smitten 
 off, whereof he sownded."* 
 
 In this speech, tfre language of which is so remarkably con- 
 trasted with those abject submissions which fear extorted from 
 the high-born victims of the tyranny of Henry VIII., the atten- 
 tive reader will discern somewhat of the same spirit which com- 
 bated popery and despotism under the Stuarts, though tempered 
 by that loyal attachment towards the restorer and protectress of 
 reformed religion which dwelt in the hearts of all the protestant 
 subjects of Elizabeth without exception. 
 
 After the execution of the more painful part of his sentence, 
 Stubbs was further punished by an imprisonment of several 
 months in the Tower : but under all these inflictions, his courage 
 and his cheerfulness were supported by a firm persuasion of the 
 goodness of the cause in which he suffered. He wrote many let- 
 ters to his friends with the left hand, signing them Scsevoia ; a 
 surname which it was his pleasure to adopt in memory of a cir- 
 cumstance by which he did not feel himself to be the person dis 
 
 * " Nugce," 
 
THE COURT OF 
 
 honoured. Such was the opinion entertained by Burleigh of the 
 theological learning of this eminent person and the soundness of 
 his principles, that he engaged him in 1587 to answer Cardinal 
 Allen's violent book entitled " The English Justice ;" a task 
 which he is said to have performed with distinguished ability. 
 
 During the whole of the year 1580, the important question of 
 the queen's marriage remained in an undecided state. The court 
 of France appears to have suffered the treaty to languish, and 
 Elizabeth, conscious no doubt that her fond inclination could only 
 be gratified at the expense of that popularity which it had been 
 the leading object of her policy to cherish, sought not to revive 
 it. Various circumstances occurred to occupy public attention 
 during the interval. 
 
 Sir Nicolas Bacon, who, under the humbler title of lord keeper, 
 had exercised from the beginning of the reign the office of lord 
 high chancellor, died generally regretted in 1579. No one is 
 recorded to have filled this important post with superiour assi- 
 duity or a greater reputation for uprightness and ability than sir 
 Nicholas, and several well-known traits afford a highly pleasing 
 image of the general character of his mind. Of this number are 
 his motto, " Mediocria firma" and his handsome reply to the 
 remark of her majesty that his house was too little for him ; — 
 " No, madam ; but you have made me too big for my house." 
 Even when, upon this royal hint, he erected his elegant mansion 
 of Gorhambury, he was still careful not to lose sight of that idea 
 of lettered privacy in which he loved to indulge ; and the ac- 
 complishments of his mind were reflected in the decorations of 
 his home. In the gardens, on which his chief care and cost were 
 bestowed, arose a banqueting house consecrated to the seven 
 Sciences, whose figures adorned the walls, each subscribed with 
 a Latin distich and surrounded with portraits of her most cele- 
 brated votaries ; a temple in which we may imagine the youthful 
 mind of that illustrious son of his, who " took all learning to be" 
 his "province," receiving with delight its earliest inspiration ! 
 In his second wife, — one of the learned daughters of sir Anthony 
 Cook, a woman of a keen and penetrating intellect, and much 
 distinguished by her zeal for reformed religion in its austerer 
 forms, — sir Nicholas found a partner capable of sharing his views 
 and appreciating his character. By her he became the father of 
 two sons ; that remarkable man Anthony Bacon, and Francis, 
 the light of science, the interpreter of nature ; the admiration of 
 his own age, and the wonder of succeeding ones ; the splendid 
 dawn of whose unrivalled genius his father was happy enough to 
 behold ; more happy still in not surviving to witness the calami- 
 tous eclipse which overshadowed his reputation at its highest noon. 
 
 The lord keeper was esteemed the second pillar of that state 
 of which Burleigh was the prime support. In all public measures 
 of importance they acted together ; and similar speculative opin- 
 ions, with coinciding views of national policy, united these two 
 eminent statesmen in a brotherhood dearer than that of alliance ; 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 295 
 
 but in their motives of action, and in the character of their minds, 
 a diversity was observable which it may be useful to point out. 
 
 Of Bitrleigh it has formerly been remarked, that with liis own 
 interest he considered also, and perhaps equally, that of his queen 
 and his country* but the patriotism or Bacon seems to have risen 
 higher ; and his conformity with the wishes and sentiments of his 
 sovereign was less obsequiously exact. In the affair of lady Cathe- 
 rine Grey 's title, he did not hesitate to risk the favour of the queen 
 and his own continuance in office, for the sake of what appeared 
 to him the cause of religion and his country. On the whole, 
 however, moderation and prudence were the governing principles 
 of his mind and actions. The intellect of Burleigh was more ver- 
 satile and acute, that of Bacon more profound ; and their parts 
 in the great drama of public life were cast accordingly : Bur- 
 leigh had most of the alertness of observation, the fertility of ex- 
 pedient, the rapid calculation of contingencies, required in the 
 minister of state ; Bacon, of the gravity and steadfastness which 
 clothe with reverence and authority the counsellor and judge. 
 "He was a plain man," says Francis Bacon of his father, "direct 
 and constant, without all finesse and doubleness, and one that 
 was of a mind that a man in his private proceedings and estate, 
 and in the proceedings of state, should rest upon the soundness 
 and strength of his own courses, and not upon practice to circum- 
 vent others." 
 
 After Elizabeth had forgiven his interference respecting the 
 succession, no one was held by her in greater honour and esteem 
 than her lord keeper ; she visited him frequently, conversed with 
 him familiarly; took pleasure in the flashes of wit which often 
 relieved the seriousness of his wisdom ; and flattered with kind 
 condescension his parental feelings by the extraordinary notice 
 which she bestowed on his son Francis, whose brightness and soli- 
 dity of parts early manifested themselves to her discerning eye, 
 and caused her to predict that her " little lord keeper" would 
 one day prove an eminent man. 
 
 Great interest was excited by the arrival in Plymouth har- 
 bour, in November 1580, of the celebrated Francis Drake from 
 his circumnavigation of the globe. National vanity was flattered 
 by the idea that this Englishman should have been the first com- 
 mander-in-chief by whom this great and novel enterprise had been 
 successfully achieved ; and both himself and his ship became in 
 an eminent degree the objects of public curiosity and wonder. 
 The courage, skill and perseverance of this great navigator were 
 deservedly extolled ; the wealth which he had brought home, 
 from the plunder of the Spanish settlements, awakened the cupi- 
 dity which in that age was a constant attendant on the daring 
 spirit of maritime adventure, and half the youth of the country 
 were on fire to embark in expeditions of pillage and discovery." 
 
 But the court was not so easily induced to second the ardour 
 of the nation. Drake's captures from the Spaniards had been 
 made, under some vague notion of reprisals, whilst no open war 
 was subsisting between the nations ; and the Spanish ambassa 
 
:396 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 dor, not, it must be confessed, without some reason, branded his 
 proceeedings with the reproach of piracy, and loudly demanded* 
 restitution of the booty. Elizabeth wavered for some time be- 
 tween admiration of the valiant Drake, mixed with a desire of 
 sharing in the profits of his expedition, and a dread of incensing 
 the king of Spain ; but she at length decided on the part most 
 acceptable to her people, — that of giving a public sanction to his 
 acts. During the spring of 1581, she accepted of a banquet on 
 board his ship off Deptford, conferred on him the order of knight- 
 hood, and received him into favour. 
 
 Much anxiety and alarm was about this time occasioned to the 
 queen and her protestant subjects by the clandestine arrival in 
 the country of a considerable number of catholic priests, mostly 
 English by birth, but educated at the seminaries respectively 
 founded at Douay, Rheims, and Rome, by the king of Spain, car- 
 dinal Lorrain, and the pope, for the express purpose of furnish- 
 ing means for the disturbance of the queen's government. Monks 
 of the new order of Jesuits presided over these establishments, 
 who made it their business to inspire the pupils with the most 
 frightful excess of bigotry and fanaticism ; and two of these 
 friars, fathers Parsons and Campion, coming over to England to 
 guide and regulate the efforts of their party, were detected in 
 treasonable practices ; on account of which Campion, with some 
 accomplices, underwent capital punishment, or, in the language 
 of his church, received the crown of martyrdom. 
 
 In order to check the diffusion among the rising generation of 
 doctrines so destructive of the peace and good government of the 
 country, a proclamation was issued in June 1580, requiring that 
 all persons who had any children, wards, or kinsmen, in any parts 
 beyond seas, should within ten days give in their names to the 
 ordinaries, and within four months send for them home again. 
 
 Circular letters were also dispatched by the privy council ta 
 the bishops, setting forth, that whereas her majesty found daily 
 inconvenience to the realm by the education of numbers of young 
 gentlemen and others her subjects in parts beyond the seas :— 
 where for the most part they were " nourselled and nourished in 
 papistry," with such instructions as "made them to mislike the go- 
 vernment of their country and thus tended to render them undutifui 
 subjects;" &c. and intending to "take some present order there- 
 in as well by prohibiting that any but such as were known to be 
 well affected in religion, and would undertake for the good edu- 
 cation of their children, should send them abroad ; and they not 
 without her majesty's special license ; — as also, by recalling such 
 as were at present in Spain, France, or Italy, without such li- 
 cense ; — had commanded that the bishops should call before 
 them, in their respective dioceses, certain parents or guardians 
 whose names were annexed, and bind them in good sums of money 
 for the recall of their sons or wards within three months.* Man^» 
 other indications of a jealousy of the abode of English youth "t . 
 
 ♦ Strype's « Whitgift." 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 catholic countries, which at such a juncture will scarcely appeal 
 unreasonable, might be collected from various sources. 
 
 A friend of Anthony Bacon's sends him this warning to Bor 
 deaux in 1583 : " I can no longer abstain from telli ( g you plainly 
 that the injury is great you do to yourself, and your best friends, 
 in this your voluntary banishment (for so it is already termed.) 
 The times are not as heretofore for the best disposed travellers : 
 but in one word, sir, believe me, they are not the best thought 
 of where they would be that take any delight to absent them- 
 selves in foreign parts, especially such as are of quality, and 
 known to have no other cause than their private contentment ; 
 which also is not allowable, or to be for any long time, as you 
 will shortly hear further; touching these limitations. In the 
 mean time I could wish you looked well to yourself, and to think, 
 that whilst you live there, perhaps in no great security, you are 
 within the compass of some sinister conceits or hard speeches 
 here, if not of that jealousy which is now had even of the best, 
 that in these doubtful days, wherein our country hath need to 
 be furnished of the soundest members and truest hearts to God 
 and prince, do yet take delight to live in those parts where our 
 utter ruin is threatened :* &c." 
 
 "The old lord Burleigh," says a contemporary, "if any one 
 came to the lords of the council for a license to travel, would 
 first examine him of England ; and if he found him ignorant, 
 would bid him stay at home and know his own country firsf 't 
 A plausible evasion, doubtless, of requests with which that cau- 
 tious minister judged it inexpedient to comply. 
 
 These machinations of the papists afforded a plea to the puri- 
 tans in the house of commons for the enactment of still severer 
 laws against this already persecuted sect; and Elizabeth judged 
 it expedient to accord a ready assent to these statutes, for the 
 purpose of tranquilising the minds of her protestant subjects 
 on the score of religion, previously to the renewal of negociations 
 with the court of France. 
 
 Simier, who still remained in England, had been but too suc- 
 cessful in continuing or reviving the tender impressions created 
 in the heart of the queen by the personal attentions of his master ; 
 and the French king, finding leisure to turn his attention once 
 more to this object, from which he had been apparently diverted 
 by the civil wars which had broken out afresh in his country, 
 was encouraged to send in 1581 a splendid embassy, headed by 
 a prince of the blood, to settle the terms of this august alliance, 
 of which every one iypv expected to see the completion. A mag- 
 nificent reception was prepared by Elizabeth for these noble 
 strangers ; but she had the weakness to choose to appear before 
 them in the borrowed character of a heroine of romance, rather 
 than in that of a great princess, whose vigorous yet cautious po- 
 litics had rendered her for more than twenty years the admiration 
 of all the statesmen of Europe. She caused to be erected on the 
 
 * Birch's " Memoirs.'* \ " Complete Gentleman," by H. Peachaai, 
 
298 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 south side of her palace of Whitehall, a vast banqueting-house 
 framed of timber, and covered with painted canvas,/which was 
 decorated internally in a style of the most fantastic gaudiness. 
 Pendants of fruits of various kinds (amongst which cucumbers 
 and carrots are enumerated) were hung from festoons of ivy, bay, 
 rosemary, and different flowers, the whole lavishly sprinkled with 
 gold spangles: the ceiling was painted like a sky, with stars, 
 9imbeams, and clouds, intermixed with scutchions of the royal 
 arms ; and a profusion of glass lustres illuminated the whole. In 
 this enchanted palace the French ambassadors were entertained 
 by the maiden queen at several splendid banquets, while her 
 ministers were engaged by her command in drawing up the mar- 
 riage articles. Meantime several of her youthful courtiers, 
 anxious to complete the gay illusion in the imagination of their 
 sovereign, prepared for the exhibition of what was called a tri- 
 umph, — of which the following was the plan. 
 
 The young earl of Arundel, lord Windsor, Philip Sidney, and 
 Fulke Greville, the four challengers, styled themselves the foster 
 children of Desire, and to that end of the tilt-yard where her 
 majesty was seated, their adulation gave the name of the Castle 
 of Perfect Beauty. This castle the queen was summoned to 
 surrender in a very courtly message delivered by a boy dressed 
 in red and white, the colours of Desire. On her refusal, a mount 
 placed on wheels was rolled into the tilt-yard, and the four cava- 
 liers rode in superbly armed and accoutred, and each at the 
 head of a splendid troop ; and when they had passed in military 
 order before the queen, the boy who had delivered the former 
 message thus again addressed her: — 
 
 " If the message lately delivered unto you had been believed 
 and followed, 0 queen \ in whom the whole story of virtue is 
 written with the language of beauty ; nothing should this violence 
 have needed in your inviolate presence. Your eyes, which till 
 now have been wont to discern only the bowed knees of kneel- 
 ing hearts, and, inwardly turned, found always the heavenly 
 peace of a sweet mind, should not now have their fair beams re- 
 flected with the shining of armour, should not now be driven to 
 see the fury of desire, nor the fiery force of fury. But sith so 
 it is (alas that it is so !) that in the defence of obstinate refusal 
 there never groweth victory but by compassion, they are come: 
 — what need I say more ? You see them, ready in heart as you 
 know, and able with hands, as they hope, not only to assailing but 
 to prevailing. Perchance you despise the smallness of number, 
 I say unto you, the force of Desire goeth ngkby fullness of com- 
 pany. Nay, rather view with what irresSible determination 
 themselves approach, and how not only the heavens send their 
 invisible instruments to aid them, (music within the mount) but 
 also the very earth, the dullest of all the elements, which with 
 natural heaviness still strives to the sleepy centre, yet, for ad- 
 vancing this enterprise, is content actively (as you shall see) 
 to move itself upon itself to rise up in height, that it may the 
 better command the high and highmincled fortresses. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 299 
 
 %t (Herc the mount rose up in height.) Many words, when 
 deeds ate in the field, are tedious both unto the speaker and 
 hearer. You see their forces, but know not their fortunes : if 
 you be resolved, jt boots not, and threats dread not. I have dis- 
 charged my charge, which was even when all things were ready 
 for (he assault, then to offer parley, a thing not so much used as 
 gracious in besiegers. You shall now be summoned to v. eld, 
 which if it be rejected, then look for the affectionate alarm to 
 be followed with desirous assault. The time approacheth for 
 their approaches, but no time shall stay me from wishing, that 
 however this succeed the world may long enjoy its chiefest or- 
 nament, which decks it with hers slf, and herself with the love 
 of goodness." 
 
 The rolling mount was now moved close to the queen, the 
 music sounded, and one of the boys accompanied with cornets 
 sung a fresh summons to the fortress. 
 
 When this was ended, another boy, turning to the challengers 
 and their retinue, sung an alarm, which ended, the two cannons 
 were shot off, 'the one with sweet powder and the other with 
 sw r eet water, very odoriferous and pleasant, and the noise of the 
 shooting was very excellent consent of melody within the mount. 
 And after that, was store of pretty scaling-la ders, and the foot- 
 men threw flowers and such fancies against the wails, with all 
 such devices as might seem fit shot for Desire. All which did 
 continue till time the defendants came in.' These were above 
 twenty in number, and each accompanied by his servants, pages, 
 and trumpeters. Speeches were delivered to the queen on the 
 part of these knights, several of whom appeared in some assumed 
 character ; sir Thomas Perrot and Anthony Cook thought proper 
 to personate Adam and Eve; the latter having 'hair hung all 
 down his helmet.' The messenger sent on the part of Thomas 
 Ratcliff described his master as a forlorn knight, whom despair 
 of achieving the favour of his peerless and sunlike mistress had 
 driven out of the haunts of men into a cave of the desert, where 
 moss was his couch, and moss, moistened by tears, his only 
 food. Even here however the report of this assault upon the 
 castle of Perfect Beauty had reached his ears, and roused him 
 from his slumber of despondency ; and in token of his devoted 
 loyalty and inviolable fidelity to his divine lady, he sent his 
 shield, which he intreated her to accept as the ensign of her 
 fame, and the instrument of his glory, prostrating himself at her 
 feet as one ready toundertake any adventures in hope of her 
 gracious favour, (■■his romantic picture of devoted and des- 
 pairing passion the aescription of Amadis de Gaul at the Poor 
 Rock seems to have been the prototype. 
 
 On the part of the four sons of sir Francis Knolles, Mercury 
 appeared, and described them as 'legitimate sons of Despair, 
 brethren to hard mishap, suckled with sighs, and swathed up in 
 sorrow, weaned in woe, and dry-nursed by Desire, long time 
 fostered with favourable countenance, and fed with sweet fan- 
 cies, but now of late (alas) wholly given oyer to grief and dis- 
 
300 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 graced by disdain.' &c. The speeches being ended, probably to 
 the relief of the hearers, the tilting commenced, and lasted till 
 night. It was resumed the next day with some fresh circum- 
 stances of magnificence and a few more harangi^s : at length the 
 challengers presented to the queen an olive bough in token of 
 their humble submission, and both parties were dismissed by her 
 with thanks and commendations.* 
 
 By whom the speeches for this triumph were composed does 
 not appear ; but their style appears to correspond very exactly 
 with that of John Lilly, a dramatic poet who in this year gave 
 to the public a romance in two parts ; the first entitled " Euphues 
 the Anatomy of Wit/' the second " Euphues and his England :" 
 A work which in despite, or rather perhaps by favour, of the new 
 and singular affectations with which it was overrun, obtained 
 extraordinary popularity, and communicated its infection for a 
 time to the style of polite writing and fashionable speech. 
 
 An author of the present day, whose elegant taste and whose 
 profound acquaintance with the writers of this and the following 
 reign entitle him to be heard with deference, has favoured us 
 with his opinion of Euphues in these w*rds. " This production 
 is a tissue of antithesis and alliteration, and therefore justly 
 entitled to the appellation of affected; but we cannot with Ber- 
 kenhout consider it as a most contemptible piece of nonsense.] 
 The moral is uniformly good ; the vices and follies of the day 
 are attacked with much force and keenness*; there is in it much 
 display of the manners of the times ; and though as a composition 
 it is very meretricious and sometimes absurd in point of ornament, 
 yet the construction of its sentences is frequently turned with 
 peculiar neatness and spirit, though with much monotony of ca- 
 dence. "So greatly," adds the same writer, "was the style of 
 Euphues admired in the court of Elizabeth, and, indeed, through- 
 out the kingdom, that it became a proof of refined manners to 
 adopt its phraseology. Edward Blount, who republished six of 
 Lilly's plays in 1632, under the title of Sixe Court Comedies, 
 declares that 'Our nation are in his debt for a new English 
 which he taught them.' ' Euphues and his England? he adds, 
 * began first that language. All our ladies were then his scholars ; 
 and that beauty in court who could not parley Euphuesme, was 
 as little regarded as she which now there speaks not French :' 
 a representation certainly not exaggerated ; for Ben Jonson, de- 
 scribing a fashionable lady, makes her address her gallant in 
 the following terms: — '0 master Brisk, las it is in Euphues) 
 hard is the choice when one is compellecflfcther by silence to 
 die with grief, or by speaking to live withsname :' upon which 
 Mr. Whalley observes, that ' the court ladies in Elizabeth's 
 time had all the phrases of Euphues by heart.'!" 
 
 Shakespeare is believed to have satirised the affectations of 
 Lilly, amongst other prevailing modes of pedantry and bad 
 
 * Hoi in shed. f Berkenhout's " Biographia Literaria," p. 377. note a. 
 ? "Shakspeare and his times:" &c. by Nathan Drake, M. D. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 301 
 
 taste, under the character of the schoolmaster Holophernes ; and 
 to Sidney is ascribed by Drayton the merit, that he 
 
 "did first reduce 
 
 Our tongue from Lilly's writing then in use, 
 Talking of stones, stars, plants, of fishes, flies, 
 Playing with words and idle similies." 
 
 But in this statement there is an inaccuracy, if it refers to the 
 better model of style furnished by hiin in his Arcadia, since that 
 work, though not published till after the death of its author, is 
 known to have been composed previously to the appearance of 
 Euphues. Possibly however the lines of Drayton may be ex- 
 plained as alluding to the critical precepts contained in Sidney's 
 Defence of Poetry, which was written in 1582 or 1583. 
 
 It may appear extraordinary that this accomplished person, 
 after his noble letter of remonstrance against the French mar- 
 riage, should have consented to take so conspicuous a part in 
 festivities designed to celebrate the arrival of the commissioners 
 by whom its terms were to be concluded. But the actions of 
 eve^ man, it may be pleaded, belong to such an age, or such a 
 station, as well as to such a school of philosophy, religious sect, 
 political party, or natural class of character ; and the spirit which 
 prompted this eminent person to aspire after all praise and every 
 kind of glory, compelled him, at the court of Elizabeth to unite, 
 with whatever incongruity, the quaint personage of a knight 
 errant of romance and a devotee of the beauties and perfections 
 of his liege lady, with the manly attributes of an English patriot 
 and a champion of reformed religion. 
 
 Fulke Greville furnishes another instance of a respectable cha- 
 racter strangely disguised by the affectations and servilities of a 
 courtier of this "Queen of Faery." He was the cousin, school- 
 fellow, and inseparable companion of Sidney, and so devoted to 
 him that, in the inscription which he composed long after for 
 his own tomb, he entitled himself " servant to Queen Elizabeth, 
 councillor to king James, and friend to sir Philip Sidney." Born 
 to a fortune so ample as to render him entirely independent of 
 the emoluments of office or the favours of a sovereign, and early 
 smitten with a passion for the gentle muse which rendered him 
 nearly insensible to the enticements of ambition, Greville was 
 yet contented to devote himself, as a volunteer, to that court- 
 life, the irksomeiyyis of which has often been treated as insup- 
 portable by meAo have embraced it from interest or from 
 necessity. 
 
 A devotedness so signal was not indeed suffered to go with- 
 out its reward. Besides that it obtained for him a lucrative 
 place, Naunton says of Greville, " He had no mean place in 
 queen Elizabeth's favour, neither did he hold it for any short 
 time or term ; for, if I be not deceived, he had the longest lease, 
 the smoothest time without rubs, of any of her favourites." Lord 
 Bacon also testifies that he " had much and private access to her, 
 
302 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 which he used honourably and did many men good; yet he would 
 say merrily of himself, that he was like Robin Goodfellow ; for 
 when the maids spilt the milk-pans or kept any racket, they 
 would lay it upon Robin : so what tales the ladies about the 
 queen told her, or other, bad offices they did, they would put it 
 upon him." The poems of Fulke Greville, celebrated and fash- 
 ionable in his own time, but now known only to the more curious 
 students of our early literature, consist of two tragedies in inter- 
 woven rhyme, with choruses on the Greek model; a hundred 
 love sonnets, in one of which he styles his mistress " Fair-dog:" 
 and " Treaties" " on Human Learning," " on Fame and Honour," 
 and "of Wars." Of these pieces the last three, as well as the 
 tragedies, contain many noble, free, and virtuous sentiments ; 
 many fine and ingenious thoughts, and some elegant lines; but 
 the harshness and pedantry of the style render their perusal on 
 the whole more of a fatigue than a pleasure, and they have gra- 
 dually sunk into that neglect which constantly awaits the verse 
 of which it has been the aim to instruct rather than to delight. 
 Among the English patrons of Letters, however, Fulke Greville, 
 afterwards lord Brook, will ever deserve a conspicuous station ; 
 and Speed and Camden have gratefully recorded their obliga- 
 tions both to his liberality and to his honourable exertion of court 
 interest. 
 
 The articles of the marriage-treaty were at length concluded 
 between the commissioners of France and England, and it was 
 stipulated that the nuptials should take place six weeks after 
 their ratification : but Elizabeth, whose uncertainties were not 
 yet at an end, had insisted on a separate article purporting, that 
 she should not however be obliged to complete the marriage un- 
 til further matters, not specified, should have been settled be- 
 tween herself and the duke of Anjou ; by which stipulation it 
 still remained in her power to render the whole negociation vain. 
 
 The moment that all opposition on the part of her privy-coun- 
 cil was over, and every external obstacle surmounted, Elizabeth 
 seems to have begun to recover her sound discretion, and to see 
 in their true magnitude all the objections to which she had hither- 
 to been anxious to blind her own eyes and those of others. She 
 sent Walsingham to open new negociations at Paris, and to try 
 whether the league offensive and defensive, stipulated by the late 
 articles, could not be brought to effect before the marriage, which 
 she now discovered that it was not a convenient season to com- 
 plete. The French court, after some hesitaJ^i, had just been 
 brought to agree to this proposal, when she ^Hfned again to go 
 on with the marriage ; but no sooner had it iWumed with alac- 
 rity this part of the discussion, than she again declared for the 
 alliance. Walsingham, puzzled and vexed by such a series of 
 capricious changes, proceeding from motives in which state ex- 
 pediency had no share, remained uncertain how to act ; and at 
 length all the politicians English and French, equally discon- 
 certed, seem to have acquiesced in the conviction that this strange 
 strife must end where it began, in the bosom of Elizabeth herself. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 303 
 
 while nothing was left to them but to await the result in anxious 
 silence. But the duke of Anjou, aware that from a youthful lover 
 some unequivocal symptoms of impatience would be required, 
 and that upon a skilful display of this kind his final success 
 might depend, brought to a speedy conclusion his campaign in 
 the Netherlands, which a liberal supply of money from the Eng- 
 lish queen, who now concurred in his views, had rendered uni- 
 formly successful, and putting his army into winter quarters, 
 hurried over to England to throw himself at her feet. 
 
 He was welcomed with all the demonstrations of satisfaction 
 which could revive or confirm the hopes of a suitor; every mark 
 of honour, every pledge of affection, was publicly conferred upon 
 feim ; and the queen, at the conclusion of a splendid festival on 
 the anniversary of her coronation, even went so far as to place 
 on his finger a ring drawn from her own. This passed in sight 
 of the whole assembled court, who naturally regarded the action 
 as a kind of betrothment ; and the long suspense being appa- 
 rently ended, the feelings of every party broke forth without re- 
 straint or disguise. 
 
 Some rejoiced ; more grieved or wondered ; Leicester, Hatton 
 and Walsingham loudly exclaimed that ruin impended over the 
 church, the country, and the queen. The ladies of the court 
 alarmed and agitated their mistress by tears, cries, and lament- 
 ations. A sleepless and miserable night was passed by the queen 
 amid her disconsolate handmaids : the next morning she sent for 
 Anjou, and held with him a long private conversation ; after 
 which he retired to his chamber, and hastily throwing from him, 
 but as quickly resuming, the ring which she had given him, utter- 
 ed many reproaches against the levity of women and the fickle- 
 ness of islanders. 
 
 Such is the account given by the annalist Camden ; our only 
 authority for circumstances some of them so public in their na- 
 ture, that it is surprising they should not be recorded by others, 
 the rest so secret that we are at a loss to conceive how they 
 should have become known to him. What is certain in the mat- 
 ter is, — that the French prince remained in England above two 
 months after this festival ; — that no diminution of the queen's 
 attentions to him became apparent during that time ; — that when 
 his affairs imperiously demanded his return to the Netherlands, 
 Elizabeth still detained him that she might herself conduct him 
 on his way as far as Canterbury ; — that she then dismissed him 
 with a large supplyof money and a splendid retinue of English 
 lords and gentleidj^and that he promised a quick return. 
 
 Let us hear on^r subject lord Talbot's report to his father. . 
 
 . . . . " Monsieur hath taken shipping into Flanders .... there 
 is gone over' with him my lord of Leicester, my lord Hunsdon, 
 my lord Charles Howard, my lord Thomas Howard, my lord 
 Windsor, my lord Sheffield, my lord Willoughby, and a number 
 ©t young gentlemen besides. As soon as he is at Antwerp all 
 the Englishmen return, which is thought will be about a fortnight 
 hence. . . . The departure was mournful between her majesty and 
 
3t)4 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 Monsieur ; she loth to let him go, and he as loth to depart. Her 
 majesty on her return will be long in no place in which she lodged 
 as she went, neither will she come to Whitehall, because the 
 places shall not give cause of remembrance to her of him with 
 whom she so unwillingly parted. Monsieur promised his return 
 in March, but how his Low Country causes will permit him is 
 uncertain. Her highness went no further but Canterbury, Mon- 
 sieur took shipping at Sandwich."* 
 
 It is, after all, extremely difficult to decide whether the cir 
 cumstances here related ought to invalidate any part of Cam- 
 den's narrative. There can be no doubt that Elizabeth had at 
 times been violently tempted to accept this young prince for a 
 husband ; and even when she sent Walsingham to France instruc- 
 ted to conclude, if possible, the league without the marriage, she 
 evidently had not in her own mind absolutely concluded against 
 the latter measure, because she particularly charged him to -exa- 
 mine whether the duke, who had lately recovered from the small 
 pox, still retained enough of his good looks to engage a lady's af- 
 fections. It is probable that his second visit revived her love : 
 and the truth of the circumstance of her publicly presenting to 
 him a ring, is confirmed by Camden's further statement, that St. 
 Aldegond, minister in England for the United Provinces, M'rotc 
 word of it to the States, who regarding the match as now conclu * 
 ded, caused public rejoicings to be celebrated at Antwerp. After 
 this the duke would undoubtedly press for a speedy solemnisa- 
 tion, and he cannot but have experienced some degree of disap- 
 pointment in at length quitting the country, re infecta. But it 
 was still greatly and obviously his interest to remain on the best 
 possible terms with Elizabeth, in order to secure from her that 
 co-operation, and those pecuniary aids, on which the success of 
 his affairs in the Netherlands must mainly depend. It is even 
 possible that a further acquaintance with the state of public opi- 
 nion in England, and with the temper, maxims, and personal 
 qualities of the queen herself, might very much abate the poig- 
 nancy of his mortification, or even incline him secretly to prefer 
 the character of her ally to that of her husband. Be this as it 
 may, the favourite son of Catherine de' Medici was a sufficient 
 adept in the dissimulation of courts to assume with ease all the 
 demonstrations of complacency and good understanding that the 
 case required, whatever portion of indignation or malice he might 
 conceal in his heart. Neither was Elizabeth a novice in the arts 
 of feigning ; and even without the promptings of those tender re- 
 grets which accompany a sacrifice extorted b^feason from incli- 
 nation, she would have been careful, by evUpnanifestation of 
 friendship and esteem, to smooth over the affront which her 
 change of purpose had compelled her to put upon the brother and 
 heir of so potent a monarch as the king of France. 
 
 Shortly after his return to the continent, the duke of Anjou 
 lost at once his reputation, and his hopes of an independent prin- 
 
 * << Illustrations," vol. ii. p. 258. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 305 
 
 <ipality, in an unprincipled and abortive attempt on the liberties 
 of the provinces which had chosen him as their protector ; and his 
 death, which soon followed, brings to a conclusion this long and 
 mortifying chapter, occupied with the follies of the wise. It is 
 worth observing, that appearances in this affair were kept up to 
 the last : the English ambassador refrained from giving in his of- 
 ficial letters any particulars of the last illness of Monsieur, lest he 
 should aggravate the grief of her majesty ; and the king of France, 
 in defiance of some established rules of court precedence and 
 etiquette, admitted this minister to pay his compliments of con- 
 dolence before all others, professedly because he represented that 
 princess who best loved his brother. 
 
 Bohun ends his minute description of " the habit of queen Eli- 
 zabeth in public and private," with a passage proper to com- 
 plete this pori ion of her history. "The coming of the duke 
 d'Alencon opened a way to a more free way of living, and relax- 
 ed very much the old severe form of disclipline. The queen 
 danced often then, and omitted no sort of recreation, pleasing 
 conversation, or variety of delights for his satisfaction. At the 
 same time, the plenty of good dishes, pleasant wines, fragrant 
 ointments and perfumes, dances, masks, and variety of rich attire, 
 were all taken up and used to show him how much he was hon- 
 oured. There were then acted comedies and tragedies with much 
 cost and splendour. When these things had once been enter- 
 tained, the courtiers were never more to be reclaimed from them, 
 and they could not be satiated or wearied with them. But when 
 Alencon was once dismissed and gone, the queen herself left off 
 these diversions, and betook herself as before to the care of her 
 kingdom, and both by example and severe corrections endeavour- 
 ed to reduce her nobility to their old severe way of life." 
 
300 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 1582 to 1587. 
 
 Traits of the queen. — Brown and his sect. — Promotion of Wliit- 
 gift. — Severities exercised against the puritans. — Embassy of 
 Walsingham to Scotland. — Particulars of lord Willoughby. — 
 Transactions with the Czar. — Death of Sussex. — Adventures of 
 Egremond Ratcliffe — of the earl of Desmond. — Account of Ra 
 high — of Spenser. — Prosecutions of catholics. — Burleigh's apo- 
 logy for the government. — Leicester's Commonwealth. — Loyal 
 association. — Transactions with the queen of Scots. — Account of 
 Parry. — Case of the earl of Arundel — of the earl of Northum- 
 berland. — Transactions of Leicester in Holland. — Death and 
 character of P. Sidney — of sir H. Sidney. — Return of Leicester. 
 — Approaching war with Spain. — Babingtoris conspiracy. — 
 Trial and condemnation of the queen of Scots. — Rejoicings of 
 the people. — Artful conduct of the queen. — Reception of the 
 Scotch embassy. — Conduct of Davison. — Death of Mary. — Be- 
 haviour of Elizabeth. — Davison's case. — Conduct of Leicester. 
 Reflections. 
 
 The disposition of Elizabeth was orginally deficient in be- 
 nevolence and sympathy, and prone to suspicion, pride and an- 
 ger ; and we observe with pain in the progress of her history, 
 how much the influences to which her high station and the pecu- 
 liar circumstances of her reign inevitably exposed her, tended in 
 various modes to exasperate these radical evils of her nature. 
 
 The extravagant flattery administered to her daily and hourly, 
 was of most pernicious effect ; it not only fostered in her an ab- 
 surd excess of personal vanity, but, what was worse, by filling her 
 with exaggerated notions both of her own wisdom and of her so- 
 vereign power and prerogative, it contributed to render her rule 
 more stern and despotic, and her mind on many points incapable 
 of sober counsel. This effect was remarked by one of her clergy, 
 who, in a sermon preached in her presence, had the boldness to 
 tell her, that she who had been meek as lamb was become an un- 
 tameable heifer ; for which reproof he was in his turn reprehend- 
 ed by her majesty on his quitting the pulpifks " an over confi- 
 dent man who dishonoured his sovereign." 
 
 The decay of her beauty was an unwelcome truth which all 
 the artifices of adulation were unable to hide from her secret 
 consciousness ; since she could never behold her image in a mir- 
 ror, during the latter years of her life, without transports of im- 
 potent anger ; and this circumstance contributed not a little to ' 
 sour her temper, while it rendered the young and lovely the 
 chosen objects of her malignity. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 307 
 
 On this head the following striking anecdote is furnished by 
 
 sir John Harrington " She did oft ask the ladies around her 
 
 chamber, if they loved to think of marriage? And the wise ones 
 did conceal well (heir liking hereto, as knowing the queen's 
 judgment in this matter. Sir Matthew Arundel's fair cousin, 
 not knowing so deeply as her fellows, was asked one day here- 
 of, and simply said, she had thought much about marriage, if her 
 father did consent to the man she loved. 4 You seem honest 
 
 i'faith,' said the queen ,* ' I will sue for you to your father.' 
 
 The damsel was not displeased hereat; and when sir Robert came 
 to court, the queen asked him hereon, and pressed his consent- 
 ing, if the match was discreet. Sir Robert, much astonied at 
 this news, said he never heard his daughter had liking to any 
 man, and wanted to gain knowledge of her affection ; but would 
 give free consent to what was most pleasing to her highness will 
 and advice. ' Then I will do the rest,' saith the queen. The 
 lady was called in, and the queen told her that her father had 
 given his free consent. ' Then,' replied the lady, * I shall be hap- 
 py, ancj please your grace.' ' So thou shalt, but not to be a fool 
 and marry ; I have his consent given to me, and I vow thou shalt 
 never get it into thy possession. So go to thy business, I see 
 thou art a bold one to own thy foolishness so readily.' "* 
 
 The perils of many kinds, from open and secret enemies, by 
 which Elizabeth had found herself environed since her unwise 
 and unauthorised detention of the queen of Scots, aggravated 
 the mistrustfulness of her nature ; and the severities which fear 
 and anger led her to exercise against that portion of her sub- 
 jects who still adhered to the ancient faith, increased its harsh- 
 ness. It is true that, since the fulmination of the papal anathe- 
 ma, the zealots of this church had kept no measures with respect 
 to her either in their words, their writings, or their actions. 
 Plans of insurrection and even of assassination were frequently 
 revolved in their councils, but as often disappointed by the ex- 
 traordinary vigilance and sagacity of her ministers ; while the 
 courage evinced by her herself under these circumstances of se- 
 vere probation was truly admirable. Bacon relates that l< the 
 council once represented to her the danger in which she stood 
 by the continual conspiracies against her life, and acquainted her 
 that a man was lately taken w ho stood ready in a very dangerous 
 and suspicious manner to do the deed ; and they showed her the 
 weapon wherewith he thought to have acted it. And therefore 
 they advised her that she should go less abroad to take the air, 
 weakly attended, as she used. But the queen answered, ' that she 
 had rather be dedd than put in custody' " 
 
 "Ireland," says Naunton, "cost her more vexation than any thing 
 else ; the expense of it pinched her, the ill success of her officers 
 wearied her, and in that service she grew hard to please." She 
 also arrived at a settled persuasion that the extreme of seve- 
 rity was safar than that of indulgence ; an opinion which, being 
 
 * c -NugSB." 
 
308 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 communicated to her officers and ministers, was the occasion, 
 especially in Ireland, of many a cruel and arbitrary act. 
 
 When angry, she observed little moderation in the expression of 
 her feelings. In the private letters even of Cecil, whom she treat- 
 ed on the whole with more consideration than any other person, 
 we find not unfrequent mention of the harsh words which he had 
 to endure from her, sometimes, as he says, on occasions when he 
 appeared to himself deserving rather of thanks than of censure. 
 The earl of Shrewsbury often complains to his correspondents 
 of her captious and irascible temper ; and we find Walsingham 
 taking pains to console sir Henry Sidney under some manifesta- 
 tions of her displeasure, by the assurance that they had proceeded 
 only from one of those transient gusts of passion for which she 
 was accustomed to make sudden amends to her faithful servants 
 by new and extraordinary tokens of her favour. 
 
 There was no branch of prerogative of which Elizabeth was 
 more tenacious than that which invested her with the sole and 
 supreme direction of ecclesiastical affairs. The persevering 
 efforts therefore of the puritans, to obtain various relaxations or 
 alterations of the laws which she in her wisdom had laid down 
 for the government of the church, — on failure of which they scru- 
 pled not to recall to her memory the strong denunciations of the 
 Jewish prophets against wicked and irreligious princes, — at once 
 exasperated and alarmed her, and led her to assume continually 
 more and more of the incongruous and odious character of a pro- 
 testant persecutor of protestants. But the puritans themselves 
 must have seemed guiltless in her eyes, compared with a new 
 sect, the principles of which, tending directly to the abrogation 
 of all authority of the civil magistrate in spiritual concerns, call- 
 ed forth about this time her indignation manifested by the ut- 
 most severity of penal infliction. 
 
 It was in the year 1580 that Robert Brown, having completed 
 his studies in divinity at Cambridge, began to preach at Norwich 
 against the discipline and ceremonies of the church of England, 
 and to promulgate a scheme which he affirmed to be more con- 
 formable to the apostolical model. According to his system, 
 each congregation of believers was to be regarded as a separate 
 church, possessing in itself full jurisdiction over its own concerns; 
 the liberty of prophesying was to be indulged to all the brethren 
 equally, and pastors were to be elected and dismissed at the 
 pleasure of the majority, in whom he held that all power ought 
 of right to reside. On account of these opinions Brown was call- 
 ed before certain ecclesiastical commissioners, who imprisoned 
 him for contumacy; but the interference of his relation lord Bur- 
 leigh procured his release, after which he repaired to Holland, 
 where he founded several churches and published a book in de- 
 fence of his system, in which he strongly inculcated upon his 
 disciples the duty of separating themselves from what he stated 
 antichristian churches For the sole offence of distributing this 
 work, two men were hanged in Suffolk in 1583 ; to which extre- 
 mity of punishment they were subjected as having impugned the. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 309 
 
 queen's supremacy, which was declared felony by a late statute 
 now for the first time put in force against protestants. Brown 
 himself, after his return from Holland, was repeatedly imprisoned, 
 and, but for the protection of his powerful kinsman might proba- 
 bly have shared the fate of his two disciples. At length, the ter 
 ror of a sentence of excommunication drove him to recant, and 
 joining the established church he soon obtained preferment. But 
 the Brownist sect suffered little by the desertion of its founder, 
 whose private character was far from exemplary: in spite of pe- 
 nal laws, of persecution, and even of ridicule and contempt, k 
 survived, increased, and eventually became the model, on which 
 the churches not only of the sect of Independents, butaisoof the 
 two other denominations of English protestant dissenters remain 
 at the present day constituted. 
 
 The death of archbishop Grindal in 1583, afforded the queen 
 the long desired opportunity of elevating to the primacy a prelate 
 not inclined to offend her, like his predecessor, by any remiss- 
 ness in putting in force the laws against puritants and other non- 
 conformists. She nominated to this high dignity Whitgift bishop 
 of Worcester, known to polemics as the zealous antagonist of 
 Cartwright the puritan, and further recommended to her majesty 
 by his single life, his talents for business, whether secular or eccle- 
 siastical, his liberal and hospitable style of living, and the nume- 
 rous train of attendants which swelled the pomp of his appear- 
 ance on occasions of state and ceremony, when he even claimed 
 to be served on the knee. 
 
 This promotion forms an important ?era in the ecclesiastical 
 history of the reign of Elizabeth : but only a few circumstances 
 more peculiarly illustrative of the sentiments and disposition of 
 Whitgift, of the queen herself, and of some of her principal coun- 
 sellors, can with propriety find a place in a work like the present. 
 
 To bring back the clergy to that exact uniformity with respect 
 to doctrines, rites, and ceremonies, from which the lenity of his 
 predecessor had suffered them in many instances to recede, ap- 
 peared to the new primate the first and most esssential duty of 
 his office ; and the better to enforce obedience, he eagerly de- 
 manded to be armed with that plenitude of power which her ma- 
 jesty as head of the church was authorised to delegate at her 
 pleasure. His request was granted with alacrity, and the work 
 of intolerance began. Subscriptions were now required of the 
 whole clerical body to the supremacy; to the book of Common- 
 prayer ; and to the articles of religion settled by the convocation 
 of 1560. In consequence of this first step alone, so large a num- 
 ber of zealous preachers and able divines attached to the Cal- 
 vinistic model were suspended from their functions for non-com- 
 pliance, that the privy-council took alarm, and addressed a let- 
 ter to the archbishop requesting a conference ; but he loftily re- 
 proved their interference in matters of this nature, declaring 
 himself amenable in the discharge of his functions to his sove-' 
 reign alone. In the following year he prevailed upon her ma- 
 jesty to appoint a second high-commission court, the members of 
 
310 
 
 THE COURT OB 
 
 which were authorised, ex officio, to administer interrogatories on 
 oath in matters of faith ; — an assumption of power not merely 
 cruel and oppressive, but absolutely illegal, if we are to rely on 
 Beal, clerk of the council, an able and learned but somewhat in- 
 temperate partisan of the puritans, who published on this occa- 
 sion a work against the archbishop. To enter into controversy 
 was now no part of the plan of Whitgift ; he held it as a maxim, 
 that it was safer and better for an established church to silence 
 than <o confute ; and a book of Calvinistic discipline having issu- 
 ed from the Cambridge press, he procured a Star-chamber de- 
 cree for lessening and limiting the number of presses ; for re- 
 straining any man from exercising the trade of a printer without 
 a special licence ; and for subjecting all works to the censorship 
 of the archbishop or the bishop of London. At the same time he 
 vehemently declared that he would rather He in prison all his 
 life, or die, than grant any indulgence to puritans; and he ex- 
 pressed his wonder, as well as indignation, that men high in 
 place should countenance the factious portion of the clergy, low 
 and obscure individuals and not even considerable by their num- 
 bers, against him, the second person of the state. The earl of 
 Leicester was not however to be intimidated from extending to 
 these conscientious sufferers a protection which was in many in- 
 stances effectual: Walsingham occasionally interceded in be- 
 half of Calvinistic preachers of eminence ; and sir Francis 
 Knolles, whose influence with the queen was considerable, never 
 failed to encounter the measures of the primate with warm, cou- 
 rageous, and persevering opposition. Even Burleigh, whom 
 Whitgift had regarded as a friend and patron, and hoped to num- 
 ber among his partisans, could not forbear expressing to him on 
 various occasions his serious disapprobation of the rigours now 
 resorted to ; nor was he to be silenced by the plea of the arch- 
 bishop, that he acted entirely by the command of her majesty. 
 On the contrary, as instances multiplied daily before his eyes of 
 the tyranny and persecution exercised, through the extraordinary 
 power of the ecclesiastical commission, on ministers of unble- 
 mished piety and often of exemplary usefulness, his remonstran- 
 ces assumed a bolder tone and more indignant character : as in 
 the ■following instance. " But when the said lord treasurer un- 
 derstood ; that two of these ministers, living in Cambridgeshire, 
 whom for the good report of their modesty and peaceableness he 
 had a little before recommended unto the archbishop's favour, 
 were by the archbishop in commission sent to a register in Lon- 
 don, to be strictly examined upon those four and twenty articles 
 before mentioned, he was displeased. And reading over the ar- 
 ticles himself, disliked them as running in a Romish style, and 
 making no distinction of persons. Which caused him to write 
 in some earnestness to the archbishop, and in his letter he told 
 him, that he found these articles so curiously penned, so full of 
 branches and circumstances, as he thought the inquisitors of Spain 
 used not so many questions to comprehend and to trap their 
 preys. And that this juridical and canonical sifting of poor min- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 311 
 
 isters was not to edify and reform. And that in charity he 
 thought, they ought not to answer to all these nice points, except 
 they were very notorious offenders in papistry or heresy : Beg- 
 ging his grace to bear with that one fault, if it were so, that he had 
 willed these ministers not to answer those articles, except their 
 consciences might suffer them."* 
 
 The archbishop, in a long and laboured answer, expressed his 
 surprise at his lordship's "vehement speeches" against the admin- 
 istering of interrogatories, " seeing it was the ordinary course in 
 other courts : as in the star-chamber, in the courts of the marches, 
 and in other places:" and he advanced many argum'ents, or 
 assertions, in defence of his proceedings, none of which proved 
 satisfactory to the lord treasurer, as appeared by his reply. In 
 the end, the archbishop found himself obliged to compromise this 
 dispute by engaging that in futur^the twenty-four articles should 
 only be administered to students in divinity previouslyTto their 
 ordination; and not to ministers already settled in cures, un- 
 less they should have openly declared themselves against the 
 church-government by law established. But this instance of 
 concession extorted by the urgency of Walsingham, appears to 
 have been a solitary one ; the high commission, with the arch- 
 bishop at its head, proceeded unrelentingly in the work of 
 establishing conformity, and crushing with a strong hand all 
 appeals to the sense of the public on controverted points of 
 discipline or doctrine. The queen vehemently prepossessed 
 with the idea that the opposers of episcopacy must ever be ill 
 aifected also to monarchy, made no scruple of declaring, after 
 some years experience of the untameable spirit of the sect, that 
 the puritans w ere greater enemies of hers than the papists ; and 
 in the midst of her greatest perils from the machinations of the 
 latter sect, she seldom judged it necessary to conciliate by indul- 
 gence the attachment of the former. Several Calvinistic minis- 
 
 tal punishment, on account of the scruples which they entertain- 
 ed respecting the lawfulness of acknowledging the queen's su- 
 premacy : on the other hand, the attempts of sir Francis Knolles 
 to inspire her majesty with jealousy of the designs of the arch- 
 bishop, by whom some advances were made towards claiming for 
 the episcopal order an authority by divine right, independently 
 of the appointment of the head of the church, failed entirely of 
 success. No ecclesiastic had ever been able to acquire so great 
 an ascendancy over the mind of Elizabeth as Whitgift ; there was 
 a conformity in their views, and in some points a sympathy in 
 their characters, which seem to have secured to the primate in all 
 his undertakings the sanction and approval of his sovereign : his 
 favour continued unimpaired to the latest hour of her life : it was 
 from his lips that she desired to receive the final consolations of 
 religion ; and regret for her loss, from the apprehension of un- 
 welcome changes in the ecclesiastical establishment under the 
 auspices of her successor, is believed to have contributed to the 
 
 ters, during the course of tl 
 
 subjected even to capi- 
 
 ' tMe oi Whitgifi," by Sirvpe. 
 
>12 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 attack which carried off the archbishop within a year after the 
 decease of his gracious and lamented mistress. 
 
 Elizabeth took an important though secret part in the struggles 
 for power among the Scottish nobles of opposite factions by which 
 that kingdom was now agitated during several years. It has been 
 suspected, but seems scarcely probable, that she was concerned 
 in the conspiracy of the carl of Gowrie for seizing the person of 
 the young king ; she certainly, however, interposed afterwards 
 to mitigate his just anger against the participators in that dark 
 design. On the whole, she was generally enabled to gain all the 
 influence in the court of Scotland which she found necessary to 
 her ends ; for James could always be intimidated, and his min- 
 ions most frequently bribed or cajoled. She regarded it, how- 
 ever, as an object of some consequence to gain an accurate know- 
 ledge of the character and capacity of her young kinsman, from 
 one on whom she could rely ; and for this purpose she prevailed 
 on Walsingham, notwithstanding his age and infirmities, to un- 
 dertake an embassy into Scotland, of which the ostensible objects 
 were so trifling that its real purpose became perfectly evident to 
 the more sagacious of James's counsellors. Melvil confesses, 
 that it cost him prodigious pains to equip the king, at short no- 
 tice, with so much of artificial dignity and borrowed wisdom as 
 might enable him to pass successfully through the ordeal of Wal- 
 singham's examination. But his labour was not thrown away ; 
 for James, who really possessed considerable quickness of parts, 
 and a competent share of book learning, played with such plausi- 
 bility the part assigned him, that even this sagacious statesman 
 is believed to have returned impressed with a higher opinion of 
 his abilities than any part of his after conduct was found to war- 
 rant. 
 
 Her increasing apprehensions from the hostility of the king of 
 Spain, caused Elizabeth to cultivate with added fceal the friend- 
 ship of the northern powers of Europe, and in 1582 she sent the 
 Garter to the king of Denmark as a pledge of amity ; making, at 
 the same time, a fruitless endeavour to obtain for English mer- 
 chant ships some remission of the duties newly levied by the 
 Danish sovereign on the passage of the Sound. It was the pru- 
 dent practice of her majesty to intrust these embassies of com- 
 pliment to young noblemen lately come into possession of their 
 estates, who, for her favour and their own honour, were willing 
 to discharge them in a splendid manner at their private expense. 
 The Danish mission was the price which she exacted from Pere- 
 grine Bertie, lately called up to the house of peers as lord Wil- 
 loughby of Eresby, in right of his mother, for her reluctant and 
 ungracious recognition of his undeniable title to this dignity. On 
 the occurrence of this first mention of a high-spirited nobleman, 
 afterwards celebrated for a brilliant valour which rendered him 
 the idol of popular fame, the remarkable circumstances of his 
 birth and parentage must not be omitted. His mother, only, 
 daughter and heir of the ninth lord Willoughby by a Spanish 
 lady of high birth, who had been maid of honour to queen Cathe- 
 rine of Arragon, was first the ward and afterwards the third wife 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 313 
 
 of Charles Brandon, duke of Suffolk, by whom she had two sons, 
 formerly mentioned as victims to the sweating sickness. 
 
 lad ies of that age chose long to continue in the unprotect- 
 ed state of widowhood ; and the duchess had already re-entered 
 the matrimonial state with Richard Bertie, a person of obscure 
 birth but liberal education, when the accession of Mary exposed 
 her to all the cruelties and oppressions exercised without remorse 
 by the popish persecutors of that reign, upon such of their private 
 enemies as they could accuse of being also the enemies of the ca- 
 tholic church. The duchess, during the former reign, had drawn 
 upon herself the bitter enmity of Gardiner by some imprudent 
 and insulting manifestations of her abhorrence of his character, 
 and contempt for his religion ; and she now learned with dismay 
 that it was his intention to subject her to a strict interrogatory 
 on the subject of her faith. 
 
 Except apostacy, there was no other resource than the hazard- 
 ous and painful one of voluntary banishment, and this she with- 
 out hesitation adopted. Bertie first obtained license for quitting 
 the country on some pretended business ; and, soon after, the 
 duchess, attended only by two or three domestics, escaped by 
 night with her infant daughter from her house in Barbican, and 
 taking boat on the Thames, arrived at a pert in Kent. Here she 
 embarked ; and through many perils, — for stress of weather com- 
 pelled her to put back into an English port, and the search was 
 every where very strict, — she reached at length a more h< spita* 
 ble shore, and rejoined her husband at Santon in the duchy of 
 Cleves. From this town, however, they were soon chased the 
 imminent apprehension of molestation from the bishop of Arras. 
 It was on an October evening that, followed only by two maid- 
 servants, on foot, through rain and mire and darkness, Bertie 
 carrying a bundle and the duchess her child, the forlorn wan- 
 derers began their march for Wesel, one of the Hanse-iowns, 
 about four miles distant. On their arrival, their wild and wretch- 
 ed appearance, with the sword which Bertie carried, gave them 
 in the eyes of the inhabitants so suspicious an appearance, that 
 no one would harbour them ; and while her husband ran from 
 inn to inn vainly imploring admittance, the afflicted duchess was 
 compelled to betake herself to the shelter of a church porch; and 
 there, in that misery and desolation and want of every thing, 
 was delivered of a child, to whom, in memory of the circumstance, 
 she gave the name of Peregrine. Bertie meantime, addressing 
 himself in Latin to two young scholars whom he overheard speak- 
 ing together in that language, obtained a direction to a Walloon 
 minister, to whom the duchess had formerly shown kindness in 
 England. By his means, such prompt and affectionate succour 
 was administered as served to restore her to health ; and here 
 for some time they found rest for the sole of their foot. A fresh 
 alarm then obliged them to remove into the dominions of the 
 Palsgrave, where they had remained till the supplies which they 
 had brought with them in money and jewels were nearly exhaust- 
 ed ; when a friend of the duchess's having interested the king of 
 
 Rr 
 
314 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 Poland in their behalf, they fortunately received an invitation 
 from this sovereign. Arriving in his country, after great hard- 
 ships and imminent danger of their lives, from the brutality of 
 some soldiers on their way, a large demesne was assigned them 
 by their princely protector, on which they lived in great honour 
 and tranquillity till the happy accession vH Elizabeth recalled 
 them to their native land. 
 
 Peregrine lord Willoughby found many occasions of distin- 
 guishing himself in the wars of Flanders, where he rose to the 
 rank of lieutenant-general. He was not less magnanimous than 
 brave ; and disdaining the servility of a court life, is thought to 
 have enjoyed, on this account, less of the queen's favour than 
 her admiration of military merit would otherwise have prompted 
 her to bestow upon him. He died governor of Berwick in 1601; 
 his son was afterwards created earl of Lindsey, and the title of 
 duke of Ancaster is now borne by his descendants. 
 
 The king of Sweden, conducted to the brink of ruin by an un- 
 equal contest with the arms of Russia, sent, in 1583, a solemn 
 embassy to the queen of England to entreat her to mediate a 
 peace for him. This good work, in which she cheerfully engaged, 
 was speedily brought to a happy issue ; and the Czar seized the 
 opportunity of the negociations to press for the conclusion of 
 that league offensive and defensive with England, which he had 
 formerly proposed in vain. The objection that such an alliance 
 was inconsistent with the laws of nations, since it might engage 
 the queen to commit hostilities on princes against whom she had 
 never declared war, made, as might be expected, little impres- 
 sion on this barbarian ; and Elizabeth had considerable difficulty 
 in escaping from the intimate embrace of his proffered friendship, 
 to the cool civilities of a commercial treaty. Another perplexing 
 circumstance occured. The Czar had set his heart upon an Eng- 
 lish wife ; some say he ventured to address the queen herself ; but 
 however this might be, she was about to gratify his wish by send- 
 ing him for a bride a lady of royal blood, sister of the earl of 
 Huntingdon, when the information which she received of the un- 
 limited privilege of divorce exercised by his Muscovite majesty, 
 deterred her from completing her project. She was, in conse- 
 quence, obliged to excuse the failure on the ground of the de- 
 licate health of the young lady, the reluctance of her brother to 
 part with her, and, what must have filled the despot with aston - 
 ishment, her own inability to dispose of her female subjects in 
 marriage against the consent of their own relations. 
 
 About this time died the earl of Sussex. In him the queen was 
 deprived of a faithful and honourable counsellor, and an affec- 
 tionate kinsman ; Leicester lost the antagonist whom he most 
 dreaded, and the nobility one of its principal ornaments. Dying 
 childless, his next brother succeeded him, in whom the race end- 
 ed ; for Egremond Ratcliffe, his youngest brother, had already 
 completed his disastrous destiny. This unfortunate gentleman,* 
 it will be remembered, was rendered a fugitive and an outlaw by 
 the part which he had taken, at a very early age, in the Northern 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 31J 
 
 rebellion. For several years he led a forlorn and rambling life, 
 sometimes in Flanders, sometimes in Spain, deriving his sole 
 support from an ill paid pension and occasional donations of Phi- 
 lip II., and often enduring extremities of poverty and hardship. 
 
 Wearied with so many sufferings in a desperate cause, he then 
 employed all his endeavours to make his peace at home: and 
 impatient" at length of the suspense which he endured, he took 
 the step of returning to England at all hazards and throwing 
 himself on the compassion of lord Burleigh. The treasurer, 
 touched with his misery and his expressions of penitence, inter- 
 ceded with the queen for his pardon ; but she, on some fresh oc- 
 casion of suspicion, caused him to be advised to steal out of the 
 kingdom again: and neglecting this intimation, he was committed 
 to the Tower. After some months he was released, possibly un- 
 der a promise of attempting some extraordinary piece of service 
 to his country, and was sent back to Flanders, where he was 
 soon after apprehended on a charge of conspiring against the life 
 of don John of Austria : some say, and some deny, that he con- 
 fessed his guilt, and accused the English ministry of a partici- 
 pation in the design : however this might be, he perished by the 
 hand of public justice, a lamentable victim to the guilty violence 
 of the popish faction which first beguiled his inexperience ; to 
 the relentless policy of Elizabeth, which forbade the return 
 of offenders perhaps not incorrigible ; and to the desperation 
 which, gaining dominion over his mind, had subverted all its 
 moral principles. 
 
 Ireland had been as usual the scene of much danger and dis- 
 turbance. In 1582 an attempt was made by the King of Spain 
 to incite the catholic inhabitants to a general rebellion, by throw- 
 ing on the coast a small body of troops seconded by a very con- 
 siderable sum of money, and attended by a number of priests 
 prepared to preach up his title to the sovereignty of the island 
 in virtue of the papal donation. But the vigorous measures of 
 Arthur lord Grey the deputy, by holding the Irish in check, ren- 
 dered this effort abortive. The Spaniards, unable to penetrate 
 into the country, raised a fort near the pi ace of their landing, 
 which they hoped to be able to hold out till the arrival of rein- 
 forcements. They obstinately refused the terms of surrender 
 first offered them by the deputy ; and the fort being afterwards 
 taken by assault, the whole garrison, with the exception of the 
 officers, was put to the sword : an act of cruelty which the de- 
 puty is said to have commanded with tears, in obedience to the 
 decision of a court-martial from which he could not venture to 
 depart ; and which Elizabeth publicly reprobated, perhaps with- 
 out internally condemning. 
 
 The earl of Desmond, who on the arrival of the Spanish troops 
 had risen in arms against the government with all the power he 
 could muster, was excepted from the general pardon granted to 
 other Irish insurgents, and thus remaining by necessity in a state 
 of rebellion, gave for some time considerable disquiet, if not 
 alarm, to the English government. But his resources of every 
 
316 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 kind gradually falling off, he was hunted about through bogs and 
 forests, from one fastness or lurking place to another, enduring 
 every kind of privation and hardship, and often foiling his pur- 
 suers by hair-breadth scapes. It is even related that he and his 
 countess on one occasion being roused from their bed in the 
 middle of the night, found no other mode of concealment than 
 that of wading up to their necks in the river which bathed the 
 walls of their retreat. At length, a small party of soldiers having 
 entered by surprise a solitary cabin, they there found one old man 
 sitting alone, to whom their brutal leader gave a blow with his 
 sword, which nearly cut oft' his arm, and another on the side of 
 his head ; on which he cried out, " I am the earl of Desmond." 
 The name was no protection ; for perceiving that he bled fast 
 and was unable to march, the ruthless soldier, bidding him pre- 
 pare for instant death, struck off his head and brought it away as 
 a trophy ; leaving the mangled trunk to the chance of interment 
 by any faithful follower of the house of Fitzgerald who might 
 venture from his hiding place to explore the fate of his chief. 
 The head was sent to England as a present to the queen, and 
 placed by her command on London Bridge. 
 
 From this time, the beginning of 1583, Ireland enjoyed a short 
 respite from scenes of violence and blood under the vigorous yet 
 humane administration of sir John Perrot, the new deputy. 
 
 The petty warfare of this turbulent province, amid the many and 
 great evils of various kinds which it brought forth, was produc- 
 tive however of some contingent advantage to the queen's affairs, 
 by serving as a school of military discipline to many an officer 
 of merit, whose abilities she afterwards found occasion to employ 
 in more important enterprises to check the power of Spain. Ire- 
 land was, in particular, the scene of several of the early ex- 
 ploits of that brilliant and extraordinary genius Walter Raleigh ; 
 and it was out of his service in this country that an occasion 
 arose for his appearing before her majesty, which he had the ta- 
 lent and dexterity so to improve as to make it the origin of all his 
 favour and advancement. Raleigh was the poor younger brother 
 of a decayed but ancient family in Devonshire. His education 
 at Oxford was yet incomplete, when the ardour of his disposition 
 impelled him to join a gallant band of one hundred volunteers 
 led by his relation Henry Champernon, in 1569, to the aid of the 
 French protestants. Here he served a six-years apprenticeship 
 to the art of war, after which, returning to his own country, he 
 gave himself for a while to the more tranquil pursuits of litera- 
 ture ; for "both Minervas" claimed him as their own. In 1578 he 
 resumed his arms under general Norris, commander of the English 
 forces in the Netherlands ; the next year, ambitious of a new 
 kind of glory, he accompanied that gallant navigator sir Hum- 
 phrey Gilbert, his half brother, in a voyage to Newfoundland. 
 This expedition proving unfortunate, he obtained in 1580 a cap- 
 tain's commission in the Irish service ; and recommended by his 
 vigour and capacity, rose to be governor of Cork. He was the 
 officer appointed to carry into effect the bloody sentence passed 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 317 
 
 upon the Spanish garrison ; a cruel service, but one which the 
 military duty of obedience rendered matter of indispensible ob- 
 ligation. A quarrel with lord Grey put a stop to his promotion 
 in Ireland ; and on his following this nobleman to England, their 
 difference was brought to a hearing before the privy-council, 
 when the great talents and uncommon flow of eloquence exhi- 
 bited by Raleigh in pleading his own cause, by raising the admi- 
 ration of all present, proved the means of introducing him to the 
 presence of the queen. His comely person, fine address, and 
 prompt proficiency in the arts of a courtier, did all the rest ; 
 and he rapidly rose to such a height of royal favour as to inspire 
 with jealousy even him who had long stood foremost in the good 
 graces of his sovereign. 
 
 It is recorded of Raleigh during the early days of his court 
 attendance, when a few handsome suits of clothes formed almost 
 the sum total of his worldly wealth, that as he was accompany- 
 ing the queen in one of her daily walks, — during which she was 
 fond of giving audience, because she imagined that the open air 
 produced a favourable effect on her complexion, — she arrived at 
 a miry spot, and stood in perplexity how to pass. With an adroit 
 presence of mind, the courtier pulled off his rich plush cloak and 
 threw it on the ground to serve her for a footcloth. She accept- 
 ed with pleasure an attention which flattered her, and it was 
 afterwards quaintly said, that the spoiling of a cloak had gained 
 him many good suits. 
 
 It was in Ireland too that Edmund Spenser, one of our first 
 genuine poets, whose rich and melodious strains will find de- 
 lighted audience as long as inexhaustible fertility of invention, 
 truth, fluency, and vivacity of description, copious learning, and 
 a pure, amiable and heart-ennobling morality shall be prized 
 among the students of English verse, was now tuning his en- 
 chanting lyre ; and the ear of Raleigh was the first to catch its 
 strains. This eminent person was probably of obscure parentage 
 and slender means, for it was as a sizer, the lowest order of 
 students, that he was entered at Cambridge ; but that his humble 
 merit early attracted the notice of men of learning and virtue is 
 apparent from his intimacy with Stubbs, already commemorated; 
 and from his friendship with that noted literary character Ga- 
 briel Hervey, by whom he was introduced to the acquaintance, 
 of Philip Sidney. His leaning towards puritanical principles, 
 clearly manifested by various passages in the Shepherd's Calen- 
 dar, had probably betrayed itself to his superiors at the univer- 
 sity, by his choice of associates, or other circumstances, pre- 
 viously to the publication of that piece ; and possibly might have 
 some share in the disappointment of his hopes of a fellowship 
 which occurred in 1576. Quitting college on this occurrence, 
 he retired for some time into the north of England : but the 
 friendship of Sidney drew him again from his solitude and it 
 was at Penshurst that he composed much of his Shepherd's Ca- 
 lendar, published in 1579, under the signature of Immerito, and 
 dedicated to this generous patron of his muse. The earl of 
 
THE COURT OF 
 
 Leicester, probably at his nephew's request, sent Spenser the 
 same year on some commission to France ; and in the next he 
 obtained the post of secretary to lord Grey, and attended him to 
 Ireland. 
 
 Though the child of fancy and the muse, Spenser now showed 
 that business was not u the contradiction of his fate he drew 
 up an excellent discourse on the state of Ireland, stih read and 
 valued, and received as his reward the grant of a considerable 
 tract of land out of the forfeited Desmond estates, and of the cas- 
 tle of Kilcolman, which henceforth became his residence, and 
 where he had soon the satisfaction of receiving a first visit from 
 Raleigh. Both pupils of classical antiquity, both poets and as- 
 pirants after immortal fame, they met in this land of ignorance 
 and barbarity as brothers ; and so strong was the impression 
 made on the mind of Raleigh, that even on becoming a success- 
 ful courtier he dismissed not from his memory or his affection, the 
 tuneful shepherd whom he left behind tending his flocks "under 
 the foot of Mole, that mountain hoar." He spoke of him to the 
 queen with all the enthusiasm of kindred genius ; obtained for 
 him some favours, or promises of favours ; and on a second visit 
 which he made to Ireland, probably for the purpose of inspect- 
 ing the large grants which he had himself obtained, he drag- 
 ged his friend from his obscure retreat, carried him over with 
 him to England, and hastened to initiate him in those arts of 
 pushing a fortune at court which with himself had succeeded so 
 prosperously. But bitterly did the disappointed poet learn to 
 deprecate the mistaken kindness which had taught him to ex- 
 change leisure and independence, though in a solitude so bar- 
 barous and remote, for the servility, the intrigues, and the treach- 
 eries of this heart-sickening scene. He put upon lasting record 
 his grief and his repentance, in a few lines of energetic warning 
 to the inexperienced in the Mays of courts, and hastened back 
 to earn in obscurity his title to immortal fame by the composi- 
 tion of the Faery Queen. This great work appeared in 1589, 
 with a preface addressed to Raleigh and a considerable appara- 
 tus of recommendatory poems ; one of which, a sonnet of great 
 elegance, is marked with initials which assign it to the same pa- 
 tronising friend. 
 
 The proceedings of the administration against papists accused 
 of treasonable designs or practices, began about this time to ex- 
 cite considerable perturbation in the public mind ; for though 
 circumstances were brought to light which seemed to justify in 
 some degree the worst suspicions entertained of this faction, a 
 system of conduct on the part of the government also became ap- 
 parent, which no true Englishman could without indignation and 
 horror contemplate. The earl of Leicester, besides partaking 
 w r ith the other confidential advisers of her majesty in the blame 
 attached to the general character of the measures now pursued, 
 lay under the popular imputation of making these acts of power 
 subservient, in many atrocious instances, to his private purposes 
 of rapacity or vengeance, and a cloud of odium was raised against 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 319 
 
 him which the breath of his indulgent sovereign was in vain ex- 
 erted to disperse. 
 
 There was in Warwickshire a catholic gentleman named So- 
 merville, a person of violent temper and somewhat disordered in 
 mind, who nad been worked up, by the instigations of one Hall 
 his confessor, to such a pitch of fanatical phrensy, that he set out 
 for London with the fixed purpose of killing the queen; but fall- 
 ing furiously upon some of her protestant subjects by the way, 
 he was apprehended, and readily confessed the object of his jour- 
 ney. Being closely questioned, perhaps with torture, he is said 
 to have dropped something which touched Mr. Arden his father- 
 in-law; and Hall on examination positively declared that this 
 gentleman had oeen made privy to the bloody purpose of Somer- 
 viile. On this bare assertion of the priest, unconfirmed, as ap- 
 pears, by any collateral evidence, Arden was indicted, found 
 guilty, and underwent the whole sentence of the law. It hap- 
 pened to be publicly known that Arden was the personal enemy 
 of Leicester, for he had refused to wear his livery ; — a base 
 kind of homage which was paid him without scruple, as it seems, 
 by other neighbouring gentlemen ; — and he was also in the habit 
 of reproaching him with the murder of his first wife. The wife 
 also of Arden was the sister of sir Nicholas Throgmorton, whom 
 Leicester was vulgarly supposed to have poisoned, and of the 
 chief justice of Chester lately displaced. When therefore, in ad- 
 dition to these circumstances of suspicion, it was further obser- 
 ved that Somerville, instead of being produced to deny or con- 
 firm on the scaffold the evidence which he was said to have given 
 against Arden, died strangled in prison, by his own hand as was 
 affirmed ; — when it was seen that Hall, who was confessedly the 
 instigator of the whole, and further obnoxious to the laws as a 
 catholic priest, was quietly sent out of the kingdom by Leices- 
 ter's means, in spite of the opposition of sir Christopher Hatton;. 
 — and finally, when it appeared that the forfeited lands of Arden 
 went to enrich a creature of the same great man, — this victim of 
 law was regarded as a martyr, and it was found impossible to 
 tie up the tongues of men from crying shame and vengeance on 
 his cruel and insidious destroyer. 
 
 The plot thickened when Francis Throgmorton, son of the de- 
 graded judge of Chester, was next singled out. Some intercept- 
 ed letters to the queen of Scots formed the first ground of this 
 gentleman's arrest; but being carried to the Tower, he was there 
 racked to extort further discoveries, and lord Paget and Charles 
 Arundel, a courtier, quitted the kingdom in haste as soon as 
 they knew him to be in custody. After this many of the lead- 
 ing catholics fell into suspicion, particularly the earls of North- 
 umberland and Arundel, who were ordered to confine them- 
 selves to their houses ; lord William Howard, brother to the lat- 
 ter nobleman, and his uncle lord Henry Howard, were likewise 
 subjected to several long and rigorous examinations, but were 
 dismissed at length on full proof of their perfect innocence. The 
 confessions of Throgmorton further implicated the Spanish am- 
 
320 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 bassador ; who replied in so high a tone to the representations 
 made him on the subject, that her majesty commanded him to 
 quit the kingdom. 
 
 Francis Throgmorton was condemned, and suffered as a trai- 
 tor, and, it is probable, not undeservedly : there was reason also 
 to believe that a dangerous activity was exercised by the queen 
 of Scots and her agents, and that the letters which she was con- 
 tinually finding means of conveying, not only to the heads of the 
 popish party, but to all whose connexions led her to imagine them 
 in any degree favourable to the cause, had shaken the allegiance 
 of numbers. On the other hand, the catholics complained and 
 certainly not without reason, of dark and detestable means em- 
 ployed by the ministry to betray and ensnare them. Counter- 
 feited letters, it seems, were often addressed to gentlemen of this 
 persuasion, purporting to come either from the queen of Scots 
 or from certain English exiles, and soliciting concurrence in some 
 scheme for her deliverance, or some design against the govern- 
 ment. If the unwary receivers either answered the letters, or 
 simply forbore to deliver them up to the secretary of state, their 
 houses were entered ; search was made for these papers by the 
 emissaries of government, who were themselves the fabricators 
 of them ; the unfortunate owners were dragged to prison as sus- 
 pected persons ; and interrogated, and perhaps tortured, till they 
 discovered all that they knew of the secrets of the party. Spies 
 were planted upon them, every unguarded word was caught up 
 and interpreted in the worst sense, and false or frivolous accu- 
 sations were greedily entertained. 
 
 Walsingham, next to Leicester, bore the chief odium of these 
 proceedings ; but to him no corrupt motives or private ends ever 
 appear to have been imputed in particular cases, though an anx- 
 iety to preserve his place, and to recommend himself to the queen 
 his mistress by an extraordinary manifestation of care for her 
 safety and zeal in her service, may not unfairly be supposed to 
 have influenced the general character of his policy. 
 
 The loud complaints of the catholics had excited so strong and 
 so widely diffused a sentiment of compassion for them, and indig- 
 nation against their oppressors, that it was judged expedient to 
 publish an apology for the measures of government, written either 
 by lord Burleigh himself, or under his direction, which bore the 
 title of "A declaration of the favourable dealing of her majesty's 
 commissioners appointed for the examination of certain traitors, 
 and of tortures unjustly reported to be done upon them for mat- 
 ters of religion." 
 
 It thus begins : " Good reader, although her majesty's most 
 mild and gracious government be sufficient to defend itself against 
 those most slanderous reports of heathenish and unnatural tyran- 
 ny and cruel tortures pretended to have been exercised upon 
 certain traitors who lately suffered for their treason, and others; 
 as well as spread abroad by rungates, Jesuits, and seminary men 
 in their seditious books, letters and libels, in foreign countries 
 and princes courts, as also intimated into the hearts of some of 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 321 
 
 our own countrymen and her majesty's subjects I have 
 
 conferred with a very honest gentleman whom I knew to have 
 good and sufficient means to deliver the truth," &c. And the 
 following are the heads of this "honest gentleman's" testimony. 
 " It is affirmed for truth, and is offered upon due examination to 
 be proved," " that the forms of torture in their severity or rigour 
 of execution have not been such as is slanderously represented," 
 . . . . " that even the principal offender Campion himself" .... 
 " before the conference had with him by learned men in the Tower 
 wherein he was charitably used, was never so racked but that he 
 was presently able to walk and to write, and did presently write 
 and subscribe all his confessions." That Briant, a man said to . 
 have been reduced to such extremities of hunger and thirst in 
 prison, that he ate the clay out of the walls and drank the dip- 
 pings of the roof, was kept in that state by his own fault ^for cer- 
 tain treasonable writings being found upon him, he was required 
 to give a specimen of his hand-writing; which refusing, he was 
 told he should have no food till he wrote for what he wanted, and 
 after fasting nearly two days and nights, he complied. Also, that 
 both with respect to these two and others, it might be affirmed, 
 that the warders, whose office it is to use the rack, " were ever 
 by those that attended the examinations specially charged to use 
 it in as charitable a manner as such a thing might be." 
 
 Secondly, that none of those catholics who have been racked 
 during her majesty's reign were, " upon the rack or in any other 
 torture," demanded of any points of faith and doctrine merely, 
 " but only with what persons, at home or abroad, and touching 
 what plots and practices they had dealt .... about attempts 
 against her majesty's estate or person, or to alter the laws of the 
 realm for matters of religion, by treason or by force ; and how 
 they were persuaded themselves and did persuade others, touch- 
 ing the pope's pretence of authority to depose kings and princes; 
 and namely for deprivation of her majesty, and to discharge sub- 
 jects from their allegiance," &c. 
 
 Thirdly, that none of them have been put to the rack or tor- 
 ture, no not for the matters of treason, or partnership of treason, 
 or such like, but where it was first known and evidently proba- 
 ble, by former detections, confessions, and otherwise, that the 
 party was guilty, and could deliver truth of the things where- 
 with he was charged ; so as it was first assured that no innocent 
 was at any time tormented, and the rack was never used to wring- 
 out confessions at adventure, upon uncertainties," &c. 
 
 " Fourthly, that none of them hath been racked or tortured un- 
 less he had first said expressly, or amounting to as much, that he 
 will not tell the truth though the queen did command him," &c. 
 
 " Fifthly, that the proceeding to torture was always so slowly, 
 so unwillingly, and with so many preparations of persuasions to 
 spare themselves, and so many means to let them know that the 
 truth was by them to be uttered, both in duty to her majesty, and 
 in wisdom for themselves, as whosoever was present at those ac- 
 tions must needs acknowledge in her majesty's ministers a full 
 
322 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 purpose to follow the example of her own gracious disposition.'* 
 
 " Thus it appeareth, that albeit, by the more general 
 
 laws of nations, torture hath been, and is, lawfully judged to be 
 used in lesser cases, and in sharper manner, for inquisition of 
 truth in crimes not so near extending to public danger as these 
 ungracious persons have committed, whose conspiracies, and the 
 particularities thereof, it did so much import and behove to have 
 disclosed ; yet even in that necessary use of such proceeding, 
 enforced by the offenders notorious obstinacy, is nevertheless to 
 be acknowledged the sweet temperature of her majesty's mild 
 and gracious clemency, and their slanderous lewdness to be the 
 4 more condemned, that have in favour of heinous malefactors and 
 stubborn traitors spread untrue rumours and slanders, to make 
 he# merciful government disliked, under false pretence and ru- 
 mours ^f sharpness and cruelty to those against whom nothing 
 can be cruel, and yet upon whom nothing hath been done but 
 gentle and merciful." 
 
 This is a document which speaks sufficiently for itself. Tor- 
 ture, in any shape, was, even at this time, absolutely contrary to 
 the law of the land ; and happily, there was enough of true Eng- 
 lish feeling in the country, even under the rule of a Tudor, to 
 render it expedient for Elizabeth, soon after the exposition of 
 these " favourable dealings" of her commissioners, to issue an 
 order that no species of it should in future be applied to state- 
 prisoners on any pretext whatsoever. 
 
 Parsons, the Jesuit, who had been fortunate enough to make 
 his escape when his associate Campion was apprehended, is be- 
 lieved to have been the papist who sought to avenge his party on 
 its capital enemy by the composition of that virulent invective 
 called " Leicester's Commonwealth :" a pamphlet which was 
 printed in Flanders in 1584, and of which a vast number of co- 
 pies were imported into England, where it obtained, from the 
 colour of the leaves and the supposed author, the familiar title of 
 "Father Parsons' Green-coat." In this work all the current 
 stories against the unpopular favourite were collected and set 
 forth as well attested facts ; and they were related with that cir- 
 cumstantiality and minuteness of detail which are too apt to pass 
 upon the common reader as the certain and authentic characters 
 ot truth The success of this book was prodigious ; it was read 
 universally and with the utmost avidity. All who envied Lei- 
 cester's power and grandeur; all who had smarted under his in- 
 solence, or felt the gripe of his rapacity; all who had been scan 
 dalised, or wounded in family honour, by his unbridled licen 
 tiousness ; all who still cherished in their hearts the image of the 
 unfortunate duke of Norfolk, whom he was believed to have en- 
 tangled in a deadly snare ; all who knew him for the foe and sus- 
 pected him for the murderer of the gallant and lamented earl of 
 Essex ; — finally, all, and they were nearly the whole of the na- 
 tion, who looked upon him as a base and treacherous miscreant, 
 shielded by the affection of his sovereign and wrapped in an im- 
 penetrable cloud of hypocrisy and artifice, who aimed in the dark 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 hi& envenomed weapons against the bosom of innocence; — cx- 
 ulted in this exposure of his secret crimes, and eagerly received 
 and propagated for truth even the grossest of the exaggerations 
 and falsehoods with which the narrative was intermixed. 
 
 Elizabeth, incensed to the last degree at so furious an attack 
 upon the man in whom her confidence was irremovably fixed, 
 caused her council to write letters to all persons in authority for 
 the suppression of these books, and punishment of such as were 
 concerned in their dispersion ; adding, at the same time, the de- 
 claration, that her majesty " testified in her conscience before 
 God, that she knew in assured certainty the books and libels 
 against the earl to be most malicious, false, and scandalous, and 
 such as none but an incarnate devil himself could dream to be 
 true." The letters further stated, that her majesty regarded this 
 publication as an attempt to discredit her own government, " as 
 though she should have failed in good judgment and discretion 
 in the choice of so principal a councillor about her, or to be with- 
 out taste or care of all justice or conscience, in suffering such 
 heinous and monstrous crimes, as by the said books and libels be 
 infamously imputed, to pass unpunished ; or finally, at the least, 
 to want either good will, ability, or courage, if she knew these 
 enormities were true, to call any subject of hers whatsoever to 
 render sharp account of them, according to the force of her laws." 
 The councillors in their own persons afterwards went on to de- 
 clare, that they, " to do his lordship but right, of their sincere 
 consciences must needs affirm these strange and abominable 
 crimes to be raised of a wicked and venomous malice against the 
 said earl, of whose good service, sincerity of religion and all other 
 faithful dealings towards her majesty and the realm, they had 
 had long and true experience." 
 
 These letters said too much ; it was not credible that either 
 her majesty or her privy-councillors should each individually 
 know to be false all the imputations thrown upon Leicester in the 
 libels written against him ; there was even good reason to believe 
 that many of them were firmly believed to be well founded by 
 several, and perhaps most, of the privy-councillors ; at all events, 
 nothing like exculpatory evidence was brought, or attempted to 
 be brought, on the subject, consequently, no effect was produced 
 on public opinion ; the whole was regarded as an ex parte proceed- 
 ing. Philip Sidney, who probably set out with a sincere disbe- 
 lief of these shocking accusations brought against an uncle who 
 had shown for him an affection next to parental, eagerly took up 
 the pen in his defence. But the only point on which his refuta- 
 tion appears to have been triumphant, was unfortunately one of 
 no moral moment, — the antiquity and nobility of the Dudley fa- 
 mily, falsely, as it seems, impugned by the libeller. Some incon- 
 sistencies and contradictions he indeed pointed out in other mat- 
 ters ; but, on the whole, the answer was miserably deficient in 
 every thing but invective, of which there was far too much ; and 
 either from a gradual perception of the badness of his cause or 
 the weakness of his performance, or perhaps for other reasons 
 
324 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 with which we are unacquainted, he abandoned his design ; and 
 the fragment never saw the light till the publication of the Sidney 
 Papers about sixty years ago. But whatever might be the private 
 judgments of men concerning the character and conduct of the 
 earl of Leicester, the support of the queen, and the strength of 
 the party which the long possession of power, and a remarkable 
 fidelity in the observance of his engagements towards his own ad- 
 herents, had enabled him to form* effectually protected him from 
 experiencing any decline of his political influence. Of this, a 
 proof appeared soon after, when, in consequence of further dis- 
 closures of the dangerous designs of the catholics, a form of as- 
 sociation, by which the subscribers bound themselves to pursue, 
 to the utmost of their power, even to the death, all who should 
 attempt any thing against the queen in favour of any pretender 
 to the crown, was drawn up by this nobleman and obtained the 
 signatures of all orders of men. 
 
 This was a measure which the queen of Scots perceived to be 
 aimed expressly against herself, and of which she sought to di- 
 vert the ill effects by all the means still within her power. She 
 desired to be one of the first to whom the association should be 
 offered for subscription ; and she begged that this act might form 
 the basis of a treaty by which all differences between herself and 
 Elizabeth might be finally composed, and her long captivity ex- 
 changed at length, if not for absolute freedom, at least for a state 
 of comparative independence, under articles guaranteed by the 
 principal powers of Europe. These articles, far different from 
 the former claims of Mary, appeared to Walsingham so advan- 
 tageous to his mistress, by the exemption which they seemed to 
 promise her from future machinations on the part of the queen of 
 Scots, that he strenuously urged their acceptance ; but it was in 
 vain. Mutual injuries, dissimulation on both sides, and causes 
 of jealousy on the part of Elizabeth, from which all her advan- 
 tages over her captive enemy had not served to set her free, now, 
 as ever, opposed the conclusion of any terms of agreement ; and 
 the imprudent and violent conduct of Mary served to confirm 
 Elizabeth in her unrelentingness. Even while the terms were 
 under discussion, a letter was intercepted addressed by the queen 
 of Scots to sir Francis Englefield, an English exile and pensioner 
 in Spain, in which she thus wrote : " Of the treaty between the 
 queen of England and me, I may neither hope nor look for good 
 issue. Whatsoever shall become of me, by whatsoever change of 
 my state and condition, let the execution of the Great Plot go 
 forward, without any respect of peril or danger to me. For I will 
 account my life very happily bestowed, if 1 may with the same 
 help and relieve so great a number of the oppressed children of 
 the Church And further, I pray you, use all possible dili- 
 gence a id endeavour to pursue and promote, at the pope's and 
 other ki ags' hand, such a speedy execution of their former de- 
 signments, that the same may be effectuated some time this next 
 spring,'' &c. It must be confessed, that after such a letter, Mary 
 had little right to complain of the failure of these negotiations. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 325 
 
 fhe countess of Shrewsbury, now at open variance with her hus- 
 band, had employed every" art to infuse into the queen suspi- 
 cions of a too great intimacy subsisting between the earl and his 
 prisoner; and Elizabeth, either from a jealousy which the long 
 fidelity of Shrewsbury to his arduous trust was unable to coun- 
 teract, or, as was believed, at the instigation of some who meant 
 further mischief to Mary, ordered about this time her removal to 
 the custody of sir Amias Paulet and sir Drugo Drury. 
 
 This change filled the mind of the captive queen with terror, 
 which prepared her to listen with avidity to any schemes, how- 
 ever desperate, for her own deliverance and the destruction of 
 her enemy ; and proved the prelude to that tragical catastrophe 
 which was now advancing fast upon her. 
 
 A violent quarrel between Mary and the countess af Shrews- 
 bury had naturally resulted from the conduct of this furious wo- 
 man ; and Mary, whose, passions, whether fierce or tender, easily 
 hurried her beyond the bounds of decency and of prudence, gra- 
 tified her resentment at once against, the countess and the queen 
 by addressing to Elizabeth a letter which could never be forgiven 
 or forgotten. I/i this piece, much too gross for insertion in the 
 present work, she professes to comply with the request of her 
 royal sister, by acquainting her very exactly with all the evil of 
 every kind that the countess of Shrewsbury had ever spoken of 
 her majesty in her hearing. She then proceeds to repeat or in- 
 vent all that the most venomous malice could devise against the 
 character of Elizabeth : as, that she had conferred her favours on 
 a nameless person, (probably Leicester,) to whom she had pro- 
 mised marriage ; on the duke of Anjou, on Simier, on Hatton and 
 others ; that the latter was quite disgusted with her fondness ; 
 that she was generous to none but these favourites, &c. That 
 her conceit of her beauty was such, that no flattery could be too 
 gross for her to swallow ; and that this folly was the theme of ri- 
 dicule to all her courtiers, who would often pretend that their 
 eyes were unable to sustain the radiance of her countenance, — a 
 trait, by the way, which stands on other and better authority than 
 this infamous letter. That her temper was so furious that it was 
 dreadful to attend upon her ; — that she had broken the finger of 
 one lady, and afterwards pretended to the courtiers that it was 
 done by the fall of a chandelier, and that she had cut another 
 across the hand with a knife ; — stories very probably not entirely 
 unfounded in fact, since we find the earl of Huntingdon com- 
 plaining, in a letter still preserved in the British Museum, that 
 the queen, on some quarrel, had pinched his wife "very sorely." 
 That she interfered in an arbitrary manner with the marriage of 
 one of the countess of Shrewsbury's daughters, and wanted to 
 engross the disposal of all the heiresses in the kingdom; — in which 
 charge there was also some truth. This insulting epistle con- 
 cluded with assurances of the extreme anxiety of the writer to see 
 a good understanding restored between herself and Elizabeth. 
 
 Meantime, the most alarming manifestations of the inveterate 
 hostility of the persecuted papists against the queen, continued 
 
326 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 to agitate the minds of a people who loved and honoured her ; 
 and who anticipated with well founded horror the succession ol 
 another Mary, which seemed inevitable in the event of her death. 
 A book was written by a Romish priest, exhorting the female at- 
 tendants of her majesty to emulate the merit and glory of Judith 
 by inflicting on her the fate of Holophernes. Dr. Allen, after- 
 wards cardinal, published a work to justify and recommend the 
 murder of a heretic prince ; and by this piece a gentleman of 
 the name of Parry was confirmed, it is said, in the black design 
 which he had several times revolved in his mind, but relinquish- 
 ed as often from misgivings of conscience. 
 
 In the history of this person there are some circumstances very 
 remarkable. He was a man of considerable learning, but, being 
 vicious and needy, had some years before this time committed a 
 robbery, for which he had received the royal pardon. After- 
 wards he went abroad, and was reconciled to the Romish church, 
 though employed at the same time by the ministers of Elizabeth 
 to give intelligence respecting the English exiles, whom he often 
 recommended to pardon or favour, and sometimes apparently 
 with success. Returning home, he gained access to the queen, 
 who admitted him to several private interviews ; and he after- 
 wards declared, that fearing he might be tempted to put in act 
 the bloody purpose which perpetually haunted his mind, he al- 
 ways left his dagger at home when he went to wait upon her. 
 On these occasions he apprised her majesty of the existence of 
 many designs against her life, and endeavoured, with great ear- 
 nestness and plainness of speech, to convince her of the cruelty 
 and impolicy of those laws against the papists which had render- 
 ed them her deadly foes : but finding his arguments thrown away 
 upon the queen, he afterwards procured a seat in parliament, 
 where he was the sole opponent of a severe act passed against 
 the Jesuits. On account of the freedom with which he expressed 
 himself on this occasion, he was for a few days imprisoned. 
 
 Soon after, a gentleman of the family of Nevil, induced, it is 
 said, by the hope of obtaining as his reward the honours and lands 
 of the rebel earl of Westmoreland lately dead, disclosed to the 
 government a plot for assassinating the queen, in which he af- 
 firmed that Parry had engaged his concurrence. Parry confess- 
 ed in prison that he had long deliberated on the means of effec- 
 tually serving his church, and it appeared that he had come to 
 the decision that the assassination of the queen's greatest sub- 
 ject might be lawful : a letter was also found upon him from car- 
 dinal Como, expressing approbation of some design which he had 
 communicated to him. On this evidence he was capitally con- 
 demned ; but to the last he strongly denied that the cardinal's 
 letter, couched in general terms, referred to any attempt on the 
 queen's person, or that he had ever entertained the design charg- 
 ed upon him. Unlike all the other martyrs of popery at this time, 
 he died, — not avowing and glorying in" the crime charged upon 
 him, — but earnestly protesting his innocence, his loyalty, his 
 warm attachment to her majesty. An account of his life was 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 327 
 
 published immediately afterwards by the queen's printer, writ- 
 ten in a style of the utmost virulence, and filled with tales of 
 his monstrous wickedness which have much the air of violent 
 calumnies. 
 
 Parry was well known to lord Burleigh, with whom he had 
 corresponded for several years ; and the circumstance of his be- 
 ing brought by him to the presence of the queen, proves that 
 this minister was far from regarding him either as the low, the 
 infamous, or the desperate wretch, that he is here represented. 
 That he had sometimes imagined the death of the queen, he 
 seems to have acknowledged ; but most probably he had never 
 so far conquered the dictates of loyalty and conscience as to 
 have laid any plan for her destruction, or even to have resolved 
 upon hazarding the attempt. The case therefore was one in 
 which mercy and even justice seem to have required the remis- 
 sion of a harsh and hasty sentence ; but the panic terror which 
 had now seized the queen, the ministry, the parliament, and the 
 nation, would have sufficed to overpower tie pleadings of the 
 generous virtues in hearts of nobler mould than those of Eliza- 
 beth, of Leicester, or of Walsingham. 
 
 Nevil, the accuser of Parry, far from gaining any reward, was 
 detained prisoner in the Tower certainly till the year 1588, and 
 whether he even then obtained his liberation iloes not appear. 
 
 The severe enactments of the new parliament against papists, 
 which included a total prohibition of every exercise of the rites 
 of their religion, so affected the mind of Philip Howard earl of 
 Arundel, already exasperated by the personalhardships to which 
 the suspicions, of her majesty and the hostility of her ministers 
 had exposed him, that he formed the resolution of banishing him- 
 self for ever from his native land. Having secretly prepared 
 every thing for his departure, he put his who e case upon record 
 in a letter addressed to her majesty, and left behind at his house 
 in London. This piece ought, as it appears, to have excited in 
 the breast of his sovereign sentiments of regret and compunction, 
 rather than of indignation. The writer complains, that without 
 any offence given on his part, or even objected against him by 
 her majesty, he had long since fallen into her disfavour, as by 
 her "bitter speeches'' had become publicly known ; so that he 
 was generally accounted, " nay in a manner pointed at," as one 
 whom her majesty least favoured, and in most disgrace as a person 
 whom she did deeply suspect and especially mislike." That after 
 he had continued for some months under this cloud, he had been 
 called sundry times by her command before the council, where 
 charges had been brought against him, some of them ridiculously 
 trifling, others incredible, all so untrue, that even his greatest 
 enemies could not, after his answers were made, reproach him 
 with any disloyal thought; — yet was he in the end ordered to keep 
 his house. That his enemies still continued to pursue him with 
 interrogatories, and continued his restraint ; and that even after 
 the last examination had failed to produce any thing against him, 
 he was still kept fifteen weeks longer in the same state, though 
 
328 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 accused of nothing. That when either his enemies being ashamed 
 to pursue these proceedings further, or her majesty being pre- 
 vailed upon by his friends to put an end to them, he had at length 
 recovered his liberty, he had been led to meditate on the fates of 
 his three unfortunate ancestors, all circumvented by their enemies, 
 and two of them, (the earl of Surry his grandfather and the duke 
 of Norfolk his father) brought for slight causes to an untimelv 
 end. And having weighed their cases with what had just befallen 
 himself, he concluded that it might well be his lot to succeed 
 them in fortune as in place. His foes were strong to overthrow, 
 he weak to defend himself, since innocence, he had found was 
 no protection ; her majesty being " easily drawn to an ill opinion 
 of" his " ancestry ;" and moreover, he had been " charged by the 
 council to be of the religion which was accounted odious and 
 dangerous to her estate." " Lastly," he adds, " but principally, I 
 weighed in what miserable doubtful case my soul had remained if 
 my life had been taken, as it was not unlikely, in my former trou- 
 bles. For I protest, the greatest burden that rested on my con- 
 science at that time was, because I had not lived according to 
 the prescript ruleof that which I undoubtedly believed," &c. 
 
 The earl had actually embarked at a small port in Sussex, 
 when, his project having been betrayed to the government by 
 the mercenary vil ainy of the master of the vessel and of one of 
 his own servants, orders were issued for his detention, and he 
 was brought back n custody and committed to the Tower. The 
 letter just quotec was then produced against him ; it was de- 
 clared to reflect cn the justice of the country ; and for the dou- 
 ble offence of having written it and of attempting to quit the 
 kingdom without icense, he underwent a long imprisonment, 
 and was aribtraril/ sentenced to a fine of one thousand pounds, 
 which he proved bis inability to pay. The barbarous tyranny 
 which held his body in thraldom, served at the same time to rivet 
 more strongly upon his mind the fetters of that stern supersti- 
 tion which had gained dominion over him. The more he endured 
 for his •religion, tie more awful and important did it appear in 
 his eyes ; while in proportion to the severity and tediousness of 
 his suffering from without, the scenery within became continu- 
 ally more cheerless and terrific ; and learning to dread in a fu- 
 ture world the prolonged operation of that principle of cruelty 
 under which he groaned in this, he sought to avert its everlasting 
 action by practising upon himself the expiatory rigours of asce- 
 ticism. The sequel of his melancholy history we shall have oc- 
 casion to contemplate hereafter 
 
 Thomas Percy earl of Northumberland, brother to that earl 
 who had suffered death on account of the Northern rebellion,—- 
 by his participation in which he had himself also incurred a fine, 
 though afterwards remitted, — was naturally exposed at this 
 juncture to vehement suspicions. After some examinations be- 
 fore the council, cause was found for his committal to the Tower; 
 and here, according to the iniquitous practice of the age, he re- 
 mained for a considerable time without being brought to trial. At 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 length the public Was informed that another prisoner on a like 
 account having been put to the torture to force disclosures, had 
 revealed matters against the earl of Northumberland amounting 
 to treason, on which account he had thought lit to anticipate the 
 sentence of the law by shooting himself through the heart. That 
 the earl was really the author of his own death was indeed pro- 
 ved before a coroner's jury by abundant and unexceptionable tes- 
 timony, as well as by his deliberate precautions for making his 
 lands descend to his son, and his indignant declaration that the 
 queen, on whom he bestowed a most opprobrious epithet, should 
 never have his estate; though it may still bear a doubt whether a 
 consciousness of guilt, despair of obtaining justice, or merely the 
 misery of an indefinite captivity, were the motive of the rash act; 
 but the catholics, actuated by the true spirit of party, added with- 
 out scruple the death of this nobleman to the " foul and midnight 
 murders" perpetrated within these gloomy walls. 
 
 Meantime the opposition to popery, which had now become the 
 reigning principle of English policy, was to be maintained on 
 other ground, and with other weapons than those with which an 
 inquisitorial high-commission, or a fierce system of penal enact- 
 ments, had armed the hands of religious intolerance, political 
 jealousy, or private animosity ; and all the more generous and 
 adventurous spirits prepared with alacrity to draw the sword in 
 the noble cause of Belgian independence, against the united ty- 
 ranny and bigotry of the detestable Philip II. 
 
 The death of that patriot hero, William prince of Orange, by 
 the hand of a fanatical assassin, had plunged his country in dis- 
 tress and dismay, and the States General had again made an 
 earnest tender of their sovereignty to Elizabeth. She once more 
 declined it, from the same motives of caution and anxiety to avoid 
 the imputation of ambitious encroachment on the rights of neigh- 
 bouring princes, which had formerly determined her. But more 
 than ever aware how closely her own safety and welfare were 
 connected with the successful resistance of these provinces, she 
 now consented to send over an army to their succour, and to 
 grant them supplies of money ; in consideration of which several 
 cautionary towns were put into her hands. Of these, Flushing 
 was one ; and Elizabeth gratified at once the protestant zeal of 
 Philip Sidney and his aspirations after military glory, by ap- 
 pointing him its governor. It was in November 1585, that he 
 took possession of his charge^ 
 
 Meanwhile the earl of Leicester, whose haughty and grasping 
 spirit led him to covet distinction and authority in every line, 
 was eagerly soliciting the supreme command of this important 
 armament ; and in spite of the general mediocrity of his talents 
 and his very slight experience in the art of war, his partial mis- 
 tress had the weakness to indulge him in this unreasonable and 
 ill-advised pretension. The title of general of the queen's aux- 
 iliaries in Holland was conferred upon him, and with it a com- 
 mand over the whole English navy paramount to that of the lord- 
 high-admiral himself. 
 
 Tt 
 
330 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 He landed at Flushing, and was received first by its governor' 
 and afterwards by the States of Holland and Zealand with the 
 highest honours, and with the most magnificent festivities which 
 it was in their power to exhibit. A splendid band of youthful 
 nobility followed in his train : — the foremost of them all was his 
 stepson Robert earl of Essex, now in his 19th year, who had 
 already made his appearance at court, and experienced from hei 
 majesty a reception which clearly prognosticated, to such as 
 were conversant in the ways of the court, the height of favour 
 to which he was predestined. 
 
 It was highly characteristic of the jealous haughtiness of Eli- 
 zabeth's temper, that the extraordinary honours lavished by the 
 States upon Leicester instantly awakened her utmost indigna- 
 tion. She regarded them as too high for any subject, even for 
 him who enjoyed the first place in her royal favour, whom she 
 had invested with an amplitude of authority quite unexampled, 
 and who represented herself in the council of the States -general. 
 She expressed her anger in a tone which made both Leicester and 
 the Belgians tremble ; and the explanations and humble submis- 
 sions of both parties were found scarcely sufficient to appease 
 her. At the same time the incapacity and misconduct of Lei- 
 cester as a commander were daily becoming more conspicuous 
 and offensive in the eyes of the Dutch authorities ; and the most 
 serious evils would immediately have ensued, but for the pru- 
 dence, the magnanimity, the conciliating behaviour, and the stre- 
 nuous exertions, by which his admirable nephew laboured unceas- 
 ingly to remedy his vices and cover his deficiencies. 
 
 The brilliant valour of the English troops, and particularly of 
 the young nobility and gentry who led them on, was conspicu- 
 ous in every encounter ; but the want of a chief able to cope with 
 that accomplished general the prince of Parma, precluded them 
 from effecting any important object. Philip Sidney distinguish - 
 ed himself by a well conducted surprise of the town of Axel, 
 and received in reward among a number of others, the honour of 
 knighthood from the hands of his uncle. Afterwards, having 
 made an attack with the horse under his command on a rein- 
 forcement which the enemy was attempting to throw into Zut- 
 phen, a hot action ensued, in which though the advantage re- 
 mained with the English, it was dearly purchased by the blood of 
 their gallant leader, who received a shot above the knee, which 
 after sixteen days of acute suffering brought his valuable life to 
 its termination. 
 
 Thus perished at the early age of thirty-two, sir Philip Sid- 
 ney, the pride and pattern of his time,, the theme of song, the 
 favourite of English story. The beautiful anecdote of his re- 
 signing to the dving soldier the draught of water with which he 
 was about to quench his thirst as he rode faint and bleeding 
 from the fatal field, is told to every child., and inspires a love 
 and revere nce for his name which never ceases to cling about 
 the hearts of his countrymen. He is regarded as the most per- 
 fect example which English history affords of the preux Cheva- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 331 
 
 tier; and is named in parallel with the spotless and fearless 
 Bayard, the glory of Frenchmen, whom he excelled in all the 
 accomplishments of peace as much as the other exceeded him in 
 the number and splendour of his military achievements. 
 
 The demonstrations of grief for his loss, and the honours paid 
 tq his memory, went far beyond all former example, and appear- 
 ed to exceed what belonged to a private citizen. The court 
 went into mourning for him, and his remains received a magni- 
 ficent funeral in St. Paul's, the United Provinces having in vain 
 requested permission to inter him at their own expense, with 
 the promise that he should have as fair a tomb as any prince in 
 Christendom. Elizabeth always remembered him with affection 
 and regret. Cambridge and Oxford published three volumes of 
 *' Lachrymse" on the melancholy event. Spenser in verse, and 
 Camden in prose, commemorated and deplored their friend and 
 patron. A crowd of humbler contemporaries pressed emulously 
 forward to offer up their mite of panegyric and lamentation; 
 and it would be endless to enumerate the poets and other wri- 
 ters of later times, who have celebrated in various forms the name 
 of Sidney. Foreigners of the highest distinction claimed a share 
 in the general sentiment. Du Plessis Mornay condoled with 
 Walsingham on the loss of his incomparable son-in-law in terms 
 of the deepest sorrow. Count Hohenlo passionately bewailed 
 his friend and fellow-soldier, to whose representations and in- 
 tercessions he had sacrificed his just indignation against the pro- 
 ceedings of Leicester. Even the hard heart of Philip IL was 
 touched by the untimely fate of his godson, though slain in bear- 
 ing arms against him. 
 
 We are told that on the next tilt-day after the last wife of 
 the earl of Leicester had borne him a son, Sidney appeared with 
 a shield on which was the word " Speravi" dashed through. This 
 anecdote, — if indeed the allusion of the motto be rightly explain- 
 ed, which it is difficult to believe, — would serve to show how 
 publicly he had been regarded, both by himself and others, as 
 the heir of his all-powerful uncle. The death of this child, on 
 which occasion adulatory verses were produced by the univer- 
 sity of Cambridge, restored Sidney, the year before his death, to 
 this brilliant expectancy; and it cannot reasonably be doubted, 
 that the academic honours paid to his memory were, like the 
 court-mourning, a homage to the power of the living rather than 
 the virtues of the dead. But though he should be judged to have 
 owed to his connexion with a royal favourite much of his con- 
 temporary celebrity, and even in some measure his enduring 
 fame, no candid estimator will suffer himself to be hurried, un- 
 der an idea of correcting the former partiality of fortune, into 
 the clear injustice of denying to this accomplished character a 
 just title to the esteem and admiration of posterity. On the con- 
 trary, it will be considered, that the very circumstances which 
 rendered him so early conspicuous, would also expose him to the 
 shafts of malice and envy ; and that if his spirit had not been in 
 reality noble, and his conduct irreproachable, it would have ex- 
 
'332 
 
 THE COURT O* 
 
 ceeded all the power of Leicester to shield the reputation of his 
 nephew against attacks similar to those from which he had found 
 it impracticable to defend his own. 
 
 Philip Sidney was educated, by the cares of a wise and excel- 
 lent father, in the purest and most elevated moral principles and 
 in the best learning of the age. A letter of advice addressed to 
 him by this exemplary parent at the age of twelve, fully exem- 
 plifies both the laudable solicitude of sir Henry respecting his 
 future character, and the soundness of his views and maxims : 
 in the character of his son, as advancing to manhood, he saw 
 his hopes exceeded and his prayers fulfilled. Nothing could be 
 more correct than his conduct, more laudable than his pursuits, 
 while on his travels ; young as he was, he merited the friendship 
 of Hubert Languet. He also gained just and high reputation for 
 the manner in which he acquitted himself of an embassy to the 
 protestant princes of Germany, though somewhat of the osten- 
 tation and family pride of a Dudley was apparent in the port 
 which he thought it necessary to assume on the occasion. After 
 his return, he commenced the life of a courtier; and that indis- 
 criminate thirst for glory which was in some measure the foible 
 of his character, led him into an ostentatious profusion, which, 
 by involving his affairs, rendered it necessary for him to solicit 
 the pecuniary lavours of her majesty, and to earn them by some 
 acts of adulation unworthy of his spirit : for all these, however, 
 he made large amends by his noble letter against the French 
 marriage. He afterwards took up, with a zeal and ability highly 
 honourable to his heart and his head, the defence of his father, 
 accused, but finally acquitted, of some stretches of power as 
 lord-deputy of Ireland, This business involved him in disputes 
 which the earl of Ormond, his father's enemy, who seems to 
 have generously overlooked provocations which might have led to 
 more serious consequences, in consideration of the filial feelings 
 of his youthful adversary. 
 
 These indications of a bold and forward spirit appear however 
 to have somewhat injured him in the mind of her majesty ; his 
 advancement by no means kept pace either with his wishes or 
 his wants ; and a subsequent quarrel with the earl of Oxford, — 
 in which he refused to make the concessions required by the 
 queen, reminding her at the same time that it had been her fa- 
 ther's policy, and ought to be hers, rather to countenance the 
 gentry against the arrogance of the great nobles than the con- 
 trary, — sent him in disgust from court. Retiring to Wilton, the 
 seat of his brother-in-law the earl of Pembroke, he composed 
 the Arcadia. This work he never revised or completed ; it was 
 published after his death, probably contrary to his orders ; and 
 it is of a kind long since obsolete. Under all these disadvan- 
 tages, however, though faulty in plan and as a whole tedious, 
 this romance has been found to exhibit extensive learning, a 
 poetical cast of imagination, nice discrimination of character, 
 and, what is far more, a fervour of eloquence in the cause of vir- 
 tue, a heroism of sentiment and purity of thought, which stamp 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH 
 
 333 
 
 it for the offspring of a noble mind, — which evince that the work- 
 man was superior to his work. 
 
 But the world re-absorded him ; and baffled at court, he me- 
 ditated, in correspondence with one of his favourite mottos, — 
 W Aut viam inveniam out faciam.' 9 — to join one of the almost pi- 
 ratical expeditions of Drake against the Spanish settlements. 
 Perhaps he might then be diverted from his design by the strong 
 and kind warning of his true friend Languet, " to beware lest the 
 thirst of lucre should creep into a mind which had hitherto ad- 
 mitted nothing but the love of truth and an anxiety to deserve 
 well of all men." After the death of this monitor, however, he 
 engaged in a second scheme of this very questionable nature, and 
 was only prevented from embarking by the arrival of the queen's 
 peremptory orders for his return to court and that of Fulke Gre- 
 ville who accompanied him. 
 
 It would certainly be difficult to defend in point of dignity and 
 consistency his conspicuous appearance, as formerly recorded, 
 at the triumph held in honour of the French embassy, or his at- 
 tendance upon the duke of Anjou on his return to the Nether- 
 lands. 
 
 The story of his nomination to the throne of Poland deserves 
 little regard; it is certain that such an elevation was never with- 
 in his possibilities of attainment. His reputation on the conti- 
 nent was however extremely high ; Don John of Austria himself 
 esteemed him ; the great prince of Orange corresponded with 
 him as a real friend ; and Du Plessis Mornay solicited his good 
 offices on behalf of the French protestants. Nothing but the 
 highest praise is due to his conduct in Holland ; to the valour 
 of a knight-errant he added the best virtues of a commander and 
 counsellor. Leicester himself apprehended that it would be 
 .scarcely possible for him to sustain his high post without the 
 countenance and assistance of his beloved nephew; and the event 
 showed that he was right. 
 
 His death was worthy of the best parts of his life ; he showed 
 himself to the last devout, courageous, and serence. His wife, 
 the beautiful daughter of Walsingham ; his brother Robert, to 
 whom he had performed the part rather of an anxious and indul- 
 gent parent than of a brother ; and many sorrowing friends sur- 
 rounded his bed. Their grief was beyond a doubt sincere and 
 poignant, as well as that of the many persons of letters and of 
 worth who gloried in his friendship and flourished by his boun 
 tiful patronage. 
 
 On the whole, though justice claims the admission that the 
 character of Sidney was not entirely free from the faults most 
 incident to his age and station, and that neither as a writer, a 
 scholar, a soldier, or a statesman, — in all which characters du- 
 ring the course of his short life he appeared, and appeared with 
 distinction, — is he yet entitled to the highest rank ; it may how- 
 ever be firmly maintained that, as a man, an accomplished and 
 high-souled man, he had among his contemporary countrymen 
 neither equal nor competitor. Such was the verdict in his own 
 
334 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 times not of flatterers only, or friends, but of England, of Eu- 
 rope ; such is the title of merit under which the historian may 
 enroll him, with confidence and with complacency, among the 
 illustrious few whose name and example still serve to kindle 
 in the bosom of youth the animating glow of virtuous emulation. 
 
 Leicester never appears in an amiable light except in con- 
 nexion with his nephew, for whom his affection was not only sin- 
 cere but ardent. A few extracts from a letter written by him to 
 sir Thomas Hteneage, captain of the queen's guards, giving an 
 account of the action in which Sidney received his mortal wound, 
 will illustrate this remark, while it records the gallant exploits 
 of several of his companions in arms. 
 
 After relating that sir Philip had gone out with a party to in- 
 tercept a convoy of the enemy's, he adds, " Many of our horses 
 were hurt and killed, among which was my nephew's own. He 
 went and changed to another, and would needs to the charge 
 again, and once passed those musqueteers, where he received a 
 sore wound upon his thigh, three fingers above his knee, the bone 
 broken quite in pieces ; but for which chance, . God did send 
 such a day as I think was never many years seen, so few against 
 so many." The earl then enumerates the other commanders 
 and distinguished persons engaged in the action. Colonel Nor- 
 ris, the earl of Essex, sir Thomas Perrot ; " and my unfortunate 
 Philip, with sir William Russell, and divers gentlemen ; and not 
 one hurt but only my nephew. They killed four of their ene- 
 my's chief leaders, and carried the valiant count Hannibal Gon- 
 zaga away with them upon a horse ; also took captain George 
 Cressier, the principal soldier of the camp, and captain of all 
 the Albanese. My lord Willoughby overthrew him at the first 
 encounter, man and horse. The gentleman did acknowledge it 
 himself. There is not a properer gentleman in the world to 
 wards than this lord Willoughby is : but I can hardly praise one 
 more than another, they all did so well ; yet every one had his 
 horse killed or hurt. And it was thought very strange that sir 
 William Stanley with three hundred of his men should pass, in 
 spite of so many musquets, such troops of horse three several 
 times, making them remove their ground, and to return with no 
 more loss than he did. Albeit, I must say it, it was too much 
 loss for me ; for this young man, he was my greatest comfort, 
 next her majesty, of all the world ; and if I could buy his life 
 with all I have, to my shirt, I would give it. How God will dis 
 pose of him I know not, but fear I must needs, greatly, the 
 worst ; the blow in so dangerous a place and so great ; yet did I 
 never hear of any man that did abide the dressing and setting of 
 his bones better than he did ; and he was carried afterwards in 
 my barge to Arnheim,and I hear this day, his is still of good heart , 
 and comforteth all about him as much as may be. God of his 
 mercy grant me his life ! which I cannot but doubt of greatly. I 
 was abroad that time in the field giving some order to supply 
 that business, which did endure almost two hours in continual 
 fight ; and meeting Philip coming upon his horseback, not a little 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 335 
 
 /o my grief. But I would you had stood by to hear his most 
 loyal speeches to her majesty ; his constant mind to the cause ; 
 his loving care over me, and his most resolute determination for 
 death, not one jot appalled for his blow ; which is the most griev- 
 ous I ever saw with such a bullet ; riding so a long mile and a 
 half upon his horse, ere he came to the camp ; not ceasing to 
 speak still of her majesty, being glad if his hurt and death might 
 any way honour her majesty, for hers he was whilst he lived, 
 and God's he was sure to be if he died. Prayed all men to think 
 the cause was as well her majesty's as the country's ; and not 
 to be discouraged ; for you have seen such success as may en- 
 courage us all ; and this my hurt is the ordinance of God by the 
 hap of the war. Well, I pray God, if it be his will, save me his 
 life ; even as well for her majesty's service sake, as for mine own 
 comfort."* 
 
 Sir Henry Sidney was spared the anguish of following such a 
 son to the grave, having himself quitted the scene a few months 
 before. It was in 1578, that he received orders to resign the 
 government of Ireland, having become obnoxious to the gentle- 
 men of the English pale by his rigour in levying certain assess- 
 ments for the maintenance of troops and the expenses of his own 
 household, which they affirmed to be illegally imposed. There 
 is every reason to believe that their complaint was well found- 
 ed ; but Elizabeth, refusing as usual to allow her prerogative to 
 be touched, imprisoned several Irish lawyers, who came to Eng- 
 land to appeal against the tax; and sir Henry, being able to prove 
 that he had royal warrant for what he had done, was finally ex- 
 onerated by the privy-council from all the charges which had 
 been preferred against him, and retained to the last his office of 
 lord-president of Wales. 
 
 The sound judgment of sir Henry Sidney taught him, that his 
 near connexion with the earl of Leicester had its dangers as 
 well as its advantages ; and observing the turn for show and ex- 
 pense with which it served to inspire the younger members of 
 his family, he would frequently enjoin them "to consider more 
 whose sons than whose nephews they were." In fact, he was not 
 able to lay up fortunes for them ; — the offices he held were higher 
 in dignity than emolument ; his spirit was noble and munificent; 
 and the following, among other anecdotes, may serve to show r 
 that he himself was not averse to a certain degree of parade ; at 
 least on particular occasions. The queen, standing once at a 
 window of her palace at Hampton-court, saw a gentleman ap- 
 proach escorted by two hundred attendants on horseback ; and 
 turning to her courtiers, she asked with some surprise, who this 
 might be ? But on being informed that it was sir Henry Sidney, 
 her lord deputy of Ireland and president of Wales, she answer- 
 ed, " And he may well do it, for he has two of the best officers in 
 my kingdom." 
 
 The following letter, addressed to sir Henry as lord-president 
 of AVales, discloses an additional trait of his character, which 
 
 * " Sidney Papers " 
 
33G THE COURT OF 
 
 cannot fail to recommend him still more to the esteem of a hu- 
 mane and enlightened age ; — his reluctance, namely, to lend his 
 concurrence to the measures of religious persecution which the 
 queen and her bishops now urged upon all persons in authority 
 as their incumbent duty. 
 
 Sir Francis Walsingham to sir H. Sidney, lord-president 
 
 of Wales. 
 
 " My very good lord : 
 
 " My lords of late calling here to remembrance the commission 
 that was more than a year ago given out to your lordship, and 
 certain others for the reformation of the rescusants and obstinate 
 persons in religion, within Wales and the marches thereof, mar- 
 velled very much that in all this time they have heard of nothing 
 done by you and the rest ; and truly, my lord, the necessity of 
 this time requiring so greatly to have these kind of men dili- 
 gently and sharply proceeded against, there will here a very hard 
 construction be made, I fear me, of you, to retain with you the 
 said commission so long, doing no good therein. Of late now I 
 received your lordship's letter touching such persons as you 
 think meet to have the custody and oversight of Montgomery 
 Castle, by which it appeareth you have begun, in your present 
 journeys in Wales, to do somewhat in causes of religion ; but 
 having a special commission for that purpose, in which are named 
 special, and very apt persons to join with you in those matters, it 
 will be thought strange to my lords to hear of your proceeding in 
 those causes without their assistance ; and, therefore, to the end 
 their lordships should conceive no otherwise than well of your 
 dealing without them, I have forborne to acquaint them with our 
 late letter, wishing your lordship, for the better handling and 
 success of those matters in religion, you called unto you the bishop 
 of Worcester, Mr. Philips, and certain others specially named in 
 the commission. They will, I am sure, be glad to wait on you 
 in so good a service, and your proceeding together with them in 
 these matters will be better allowed of here, &c. 
 
 " P. S. Your lordship had need to walk warily, for your doings 
 are narrowly observed, and her majesty is apt to give ear to any 
 that shall ill you. Great hold is taken by your enemies for ne- 
 glecting the execution of this commission. 
 
 " Oatlands, August 9th, 1580."* 
 
 Leicester, soon after the death of his nephew, placed his army 
 in winter-quarters, having effected no one object of importance. 
 The States remonstrated with him in strong terms on the various 
 and grievous abuses of his administration ; he answered them in 
 the tone of graciousness and conciliation which it suited his pur- 
 pose to assume ; and publicly surrendering up to them the whole 
 apparent authority of the provinces, whilst, by a secret act of re- 
 
 * Sidnev Papers, !. j>. 2~6. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 337 
 
 striction, he in fact retained for himself full command over all 
 the governors of towns and provinces, he set sail for England. 
 
 Enzabeth received her favourite with her usual complacency, 
 either because his abject submissions had in reality succeeded in 
 banishing from her mind all resentment of his conduct in Hol- 
 land, or because she required the support of his long-tried coun- 
 sels under the awful responsibilities of that impending conflict 
 with the whole collected force of the Spanish monarchy for which 
 ^he felt herself summoned to prepare. The king of Denmark, 
 ;wonished to behold a princess of Elizabeth's experienced caution 
 involving herself with seeming indifference in peril so great and 
 so apparent, exclaimed, that she had now taken the diadem from 
 her brow to place it on the doubtful cast of war ; and trembling 
 for the fate of his friend and ally, he dispatched an ambassador in 
 haste to offer her his mediation for the adjustment of all differ- 
 ences arising out of the revolt of the Netherlands. But Eliza- 
 beth firmly, though with thanks, declined all overtures towards a 
 reconciliation with a sovereign whom she now recognised as her 
 implacable and determined foe. 
 
 She was far, however, from despising the danger which she 
 braved ; and with a prudence and diligence equal to her forti- 
 tude, she had begun to assemble and put in action all her means, 
 internal and external, of defence and annoyance. She linked 
 herself still more closely, by benefits and promises, with the prince 
 of Condc, chief of the Hugonots now in arms against the League, 
 or Catholic association, formed in France under the auspices of 
 the king of Spain. With the king of Scots also she entered into 
 an intimate alliance ; and she had previously secured the friend- 
 ship of all the protestant princes of Germany and the northern 
 powers of Europe. She now openly avowed the enterprises of 
 Drake, which she had hitherto only encouraged underhand, or on 
 certain pretexts of retaliation ; and she sent him with a fleet of 
 twenty-one ships, carrying above eleven thousand soldiers, to 
 make war upon the Spanish settlements in the West Indies. 
 
 But if all these measures seemed likely to afford her kingdom 
 sufficient means of protection against the attacks of a foreign 
 enemy, it was difficult for her to regard her own person as equally 
 well secured against the dark conspiracies of her catholic sub- 
 jects, instigated as they were by the sanguinary maxims of the 
 Roman see, fostered by the atrocious activity of the emissaries 
 of Philip, and sanctioned by the authority of the queen of Scots, 
 to whom homage was rendered by her party as rightful sovereign 
 of the British isles. 
 
 During the festival of Easter, 1586, some English priests of 
 the seminary at Rheims had encouraged a fanatical soldier named 
 Savage to vow the death of the queen. About the same time, 
 Ballard, also a priest of this seminary, was concerting in France, 
 with Mendoca and the fugitive lord Paget, the means of procur- 
 ing an invasion of the country during the absence of Us best troops 
 in Flanders. Repairing to England, Ballard communicated both 
 these schemes to Anthony Babington, a gentleman who had been 
 
338 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 gained over on a visit to France by the bishop of Glasgow, Mary's 
 ambassador there, and whose vehement attachment to her cause 
 had rendered him capable of any enterprise, however criminal or 
 desperate, for her deliverance. Babington entered into both plots 
 with eagerness ; but he suggested, that so essential a part of the 
 action as the assassination of the queen ought not to be entrusted 
 to one adventurer ; and he lost no time in associating five others 
 in the vow of Savage, himself undertaking the part of setting free 
 the captive Mary. With her he had previously been in corres- 
 pondence, having frequently taken the charge of transmitting to 
 her by secret channels her letters from France ; and he immedi- 
 ately imparted to her this new design for her restoration to li- 
 berty and advancement to the English throne. There is full evi- 
 dence that Mary approved it in all its parts ; that in several suc- 
 cessive letters she gave Babington counsels or directions relative 
 to its execution ; and that she promised to the perpetrators of the 
 murder of Elizabeth every reward which it should hereafter be in 
 her power to bestow. 
 
 All this time the vigilant eye of Walsingham was secretly fix- 
 ed on the secure conspirators. He held a thread which vibrated 
 to their every motion, and he was patiently awaiting the moment 
 of their complete entanglement to spring forth and seize his vic- 
 tims. 
 
 To the queen, and to her only, he communicated the daily in- 
 telligence which he received from a spy who had introduced him- 
 self into all their secrets ; and Elizabeth had the firmness to hasten 
 nothing, though a picture was actually shown her, in which the 
 six assassins had absurdly caused themselves to be represented 
 with a motto underneath intimating their common design. These 
 dreadful visages remained, however, so perfectly impressed on 
 her memory, that she immediately recognised one of the conspi- 
 rators who had approached very near her person as she was one 
 day walking in her garden. She had the intrepidity to fix him 
 with a look which daunted him ; and, afterwards, turning to her 
 captain of the guards, she remarked that she was well guarded, 
 not having a single armed man at the time about her. 
 
 At length, Walsingham judged it time to interpose and rescue 
 his sovereign from her perilous situation. Ballard was first seized 
 and soon after Babington and his associates. All, overcome by 
 terror, or allured by vain hopes, severally and voluntarily con- 
 fessed their guilt and accused their accomplices. The nation was 
 justly exasperated against the partakers in a plot which compris- 
 ed foreign invasion, domestic insurrection, the assassination of a 
 beloved sovereign, the elevation to the throne of her feared and 
 hated rival, and the restoration of popery. The traitors suffered, 
 notwithstanding the interest which the extreme youth and good 
 moral characters of most or all of them were formed to inspire, 
 amid the execrations of the protestant spectators. But what was 
 to be the fate* of that "pretender to the crown," on whose behalf 
 and with whose privity this foul conspiracy had been entered into, 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 339 
 
 and who was, by the late statute, passed with a view to this very 
 case, liable to condign punishment ? 
 
 This was now the important question which awaited the deci- 
 sion of Elizabeth, and divided the judgments of her most confi- 
 dential counsellors. Some advised that the royal captive should 
 be spared the ignominy of any public proceeding; but that her 
 attendants should be removed, and her custody rendered so se- 
 vere as to preclude all possibility of her renewing her pestilent 
 intrigues. Leicester, in conformity with the baseness and atro- 
 city of his character, is related to have suggested the employment 
 of treachery against the life of a prisoner whom it appeared 
 equally dangerous to spare or to punish ; and to have sent a di- 
 vine to convince Walsingham of the lawfulness of taking her off' 
 bypoison. But that minister rejected the proposal with abhor- 
 rence, and concurred with the majority of the council in urging 
 the queen to bring her without fear or scruple to an open trial. 
 In favour of this measure Elizabeth at length decided, and steps 
 were taken accordingly. 
 
 By means of well concerted precautions, Mary had been kept in 
 total ignorance of the apprehension of the conspirators, till their 
 confessions had been made and their fates decided : — a gentleman 
 was then sent to her from the court to announce that all was dis- 
 covered. 
 
 It was just as she had mounted her horse to take her usual ex- 
 ercise with her keepers, that this alarming message was delivered 
 to her ; and for obvious reasons she was compelled to proceed on 
 her excursion, instead of returning, as she desired, to her cham- 
 ber. Meantime, all her papers were seized, sealed up, and con- 
 veyed to the queen. Amongst them were letters from a large 
 proportion of the nobility and other leading characters of the 
 English court, filled with expressions of attachment to the person 
 of the queen of Scots and sympathy in her misfortunes, not un- 
 mixed, in all probability, with severe reflections on the conduct 
 of her rival and oppressor. All these Elizabeth perused, and no 
 doubt stored up in her memory ; but her good sense and prudence 
 supplied on this occasion the place of magnanimity ; and well 
 knowing that the conscious fears of the writers would be ample 
 security for their future conduct, she buried in lasting silence 
 and apparent oblivion all the discoveries which had reached her 
 through this channel. 
 
 The principal domestics of Mary were now apprehended, and 
 committed to different keepers ; and Nau and Curl, her two se- 
 cretaries, were sent prisoners to London. She herself was im- 
 mediately removed from Tutbury, and conveyed with a great at- 
 tendance of the neighbouring gentry, and with pauses at several 
 noblemen's houses by the way, to the strong castle of Fotherin- 
 gay, in Northamptonshire. This part of the business was safely 
 and prudently conducted by sir Amias Paulet ; and he received 
 for his encouragement and reward the following characteristic 
 letter, subscribed by the hand of her majesty, and surely of her 
 own inditing. 
 
340 
 
 THE COURT OK 
 
 " To my faithful Amias. 
 
 " Amias, my most careful servant, God reward thee treble fold 
 in the double for thy most troublesome charge so well discharged ! 
 If you knew, my Amias, how kindly, besides dutifully, my grate- 
 ful heart accepteth your double labours and faithful actions, your 
 wise orders and safe conduct performed in so dangerous and 
 crafty a charge, it would ease your troubles and rejoice your heart. 
 And (which I charge you to carry this most just thought,) that I 
 cannot balance in any weight of my judgment the value I prize 
 you at : And suppose no treasure to countervail such a faith : And 
 condemn myself in that fault which I have committed, if I reward 
 not such deserts. Yea, let me lack when I have most need, if I 
 acknowledge not such a merit with a reward 'non omnibus datum.' 
 
 " But let your wicked mistress know, how with hearty sorrow 
 her vile deserts compel those orders ; and bid her from me ask 
 God forgiveness for her treacherous dealing toward the saver of 
 her life many years, to the intolerable peril of her own. And yet, 
 not content with so many forgivenesses, must fall again so hor- 
 ribly, far passing a woman, much more a princess. Instead of ex- 
 cusing thereof, not one can serve, it being so plainly confessed by 
 the authors of my guiltless death. 
 
 " Let repentance take place ; and let not the fiend possess so 
 as her best part be lost. Which I pray, with hands lifted up to 
 him that may both save and spill. With my loving adieu and 
 prayer for thy long life, 
 
 " Your assured and loving sovereign and heart, 
 
 by good desert induced, 
 
 " Eliz. R." 
 
 Soon after the arrival of Mary at Fotheringay, Elizabeth, ac- 
 cording to the provisions of the late act, issued out a commission 
 to forty noblemen and privy-councillors, empowering them to try 
 and pass sentence upon Mary, daughter and heir of king James 
 V r . and late queen of Scots ; for it was thus that she was designa- 
 ted, with a view of intimating to her that she was no longer 
 to be regarded as possessing the rights of a sovereign princess. 
 Thirty-six of the commissioners repaired immediately to Fother- 
 ingay, where they arrived on October 9th, 1586, and cited Mary 
 to appear before them. This summons she refused to obey, on 
 the double ground, that as an absolute princess she was free from 
 all human jurisdiction, since kings only could be her peers ; and 
 that having been detained in England as a prisoner, she had not 
 enjoyed the protection of the laws, and consequently ought not. 
 in equity to be regarded as amenable to their sentence. Weighty 
 as these objections may appear, the commissioners refused to ad- 
 mit them, and declared that they would proceed to judge her by 
 default. This menace she at first disregarded ; but soon after, 
 overcome by the artful representations of Hatton, on the infer- 
 ences which must inevitably be drawn, from her refusal to justify 
 herself for the satisfaction of a princess who had declared that 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 341 
 
 she desired nothing so much as the establishment of her inno 
 < nee, she changed her mind and consented to plead. None of 
 her papers were restored, no counsel was assigned her ; and her 
 request that her two secretaries, whose evidence was principalis 
 relied on by the prosecutors, might be confronted with her. 
 v as denied. But all these were hardships customarily inflicted 
 on prisoners accused of high treason ; and it does not appear that, 
 with respect to its forms and modes of proceedings-, Mary had 
 cause to complain that her trial was other than a regular and 
 legal one. 
 
 On her first appearance she renewed her protestation agains 
 the competence of the tribunal. Bromley, lord -chancellor an 
 swered her, showing the jurisdiction of the English law over all 
 persons within the country ; and the commissioners ordered both 
 the objection and the reply to be registered, as if to save the point 
 of law ; but it does not appear that it was ever referred for deci 
 -ion to any other authority. 
 
 Intercepted letters, authenticated by the testimony of her se 
 retaries, formed the chief evidence against Mary. From these 
 the crown lawyers showed, and she did not attempt to deny, that 
 she had suffered her correspondents to address her as queen of 
 England ; that she had endeavoured, by means of English fugi- 
 tives, to incite the Spaniards to invade the country ; and that she 
 had been negociating at Rome the terms ot a transfer of all her 
 claims, present and future, to the king of Spain, disinheriting by 
 this unnatural act, her own schismatic son. The further charge 
 of having concurred in the late plot for the assassination of Eli- 
 zabeth, she strongly denied and attempted to disprove ; but it 
 stood on equally good evidence with all the rest ; and, in spite 
 of some suggestions of which her modern partisans have endea- 
 voured to give her the benefit, there appears no solid foundation 
 on which an impartial inquirer can rest any doubt of the fact. 
 
 The deportment of Mary on this trying emergency exhibited 
 somewhat of the dignity, but more of the spirit and adroitness, 
 for which she has been famed. She justified her negociations, or 
 intrigues, with foreign princes, on the ground of her inalienable 
 right to employ all the means within her power for the recovery 
 of that liberty of which she had been cruelly and unjustly depri- 
 ved. With great effrontery she persisted in denying that she had 
 ever entertained with Babington any correspondence whatever ; 
 and she urged that his pretending to receive, or having in fact 
 received, letters written in her cipher, was no conclusive proof 
 against her ; since it was the same which she used in her French 
 correspondence, and might have fallen into other hands. But 
 finding herself hard pressed by evidence on this part of the sub- 
 ject, she afterwards hazarded a rash attempt to fix on Walsing- 
 ham the imputation of having suborned witnesses and forged let- 
 ters for her destruction. The aged minister, greatly moved by 
 this attack upon his character, immediately rose and asserted his 
 innocence in a manner so solemn, and with such circumstantial 
 
342 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 corroboration, as compelled her to retract the accusation with ui>. 
 apology. 
 
 On some mention of the earl of Arundel and lord William 
 Howard his brother, which occurred in the intercepted letters, 
 she sighed, and exclaimed with a feeling which did her honour, 
 " Alas, what has not the noble house of Howard suffered for my 
 
 sake !" 
 
 On the whole, her presence of mind was remarkable : though 
 the quick sensibilities of her nature could not be withheld from 
 breaking out at times,either in vehement sallies of anger or long 
 tits of weeping, as the sense of past and present injuries, or of 
 her forlorn and afflicted state and the perils and sufferings which 
 still menaced her, rose by turns upon her agitated and affrighted 
 mind. 
 
 The commissioners, after a full hearing of the cause, quitted 
 Fotheringay, and, meeting again in the Star-chamber, summoned 
 before them the two secretaries, who voluntarily confirmed on 
 oath the whole of their former depositions : after this, they pro- 
 ceeded to an unanimous sentence of death against Mary, which 
 was immediately transmitted to the queen for her approbation. 
 On the same day a declaration was published on the part of the 
 commissioners and judges, importing, that the sentence did in 
 no manner derogate from the titles and honours of the king of 
 Scots. 
 
 Most of the subsequent steps taken by Elizabeth in this un- 
 happy business are marked with the features of that intense self- 
 ishness, which, scrupling nothing for the attainment of its own 
 mean objects, seldom fails by exaggerated efforts and overstrained 
 manoeuvres to expose itself to detection and merited contempt. 
 
 Never had she enjoyed a higher degree of popularity than at 
 this juncture: the late discoveries had opened to view a series 
 of popish machinations which had fully justified, in the eyes of 
 an alarmed and irritated people, even those previous measures 
 of severity on the part of her government which had most con- 
 tributed to provoke these attempts. 
 
 The queen was more than ever the heroine of the protestant 
 party ; and the image of those imminent and hourly perils to 
 which her zeal in the good cause had exposed her, inflamed to 
 enthusiasm the sentiment of loyalty. On occasion of the de- 
 tection of Babington's plot, the whole people gave themselves 
 up to rejoicings. Sixty bon-fires, says the chronicler, were kin- 
 dled between Ludgate and Charing-cross, and tables were set 
 out in the open streets at which happy neighbours feasted toge- 
 ther. The condemnation of the queen of Scots produced similar 
 demonstrations. After her sentence had been ratified by both 
 houses of parliament, it was thought expedient, probably by way 
 of feeling the pulse of the people, that solemn proclamation of it 
 should be made in London by the lord-mayor and city officers, 
 and by the magistrates of the county in Westminster. The 
 multitude, untouched by the long misfortunes of an unhappy 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 343 
 
 princess born of the blood royal of England and heiress to its 
 throne, — insensible too of every thing arbitrary, unprecedented, 
 or unjust, in the treatment to which she had been subjected re- 
 ceived the notification of heft doom with expressions of triumph 
 and exultations truly shocking. Bonfires were lighted, church 
 bells were rung, and every street and lane throughout the city 
 resounded with psalms of thanksgiving.* 
 
 It is manifest, therefore, that no deference for the opinions or 
 feelings of her subjects, compelled Elizabeth to hesitate or to dis- 
 semble in this matter. 
 
 Had she permitted the execution of the sentence simply, and 
 without delay, all orders of men attached to the protestant esta- 
 blishment would have approved it as an act fully justified by 
 state-expediency and the law of self-defence; and though mis- 
 givings might have arisen in the minds of some on cooler reflec- 
 tion, when alarm had subsided and the bitterness of satiated re- 
 venge had begun to make itself felt, — these " compunctious vi- 
 sitings" could have led to no consequences capable of alarming 
 her. It must have been felt as highly inequitable to reproach 
 the queen, when all was past and irrevocable, for the consent 
 which she had afforded to a deed sanctioned by a law, ratified by 
 the legislature, and applauded by the people, and from which both 
 church and state had reaped the fruits of security and peace. 
 Foreign princes also would have respected the vigour of this pro- 
 ceeding: they would not have been displeased to see themselves 
 spared by a decisive act, the pain of making disregarded repre- 
 sentations on such a subject ; and a secret consciousness that few 
 of their number would have scrupled under all the circumstances 
 to take like vengeance on a deadly foe and rival, might further have 
 contributed to reconcile them to the fact. Even as it was, pope 
 Sixtus V. himself could scarcely restrain his expressions of ad- 
 miration at the completion of so strong a measure as the final ex- 
 ecution of the sentence : his holiness had indeed a strange pas- 
 sion for capital punishments, and he is said to have envied the 
 queen of England the glorious satisfaction of cutting off" a royal 
 head : — a sentiment not much more extraordinary from such a 
 personage* than the ardent desire which he is reported to have 
 expressed, that it were possible for him to have a son by this he- 
 retic princess ; because the offspring of such parents could not 
 fail, he said, to make himself king of the world. 
 
 But it was the weakness of Elizabeth to imagine, that an ex- 
 traordinary parade of reluctance, and the interposition of some 
 affected delays, would change, in public opinion, the whole cha- 
 racter of the deed which she contemplated, and preserve to her 
 the reputation of feminine mildness and sensibility, without the 
 sacrifice of that great revenge on which she was secretly bent. 
 The world, however, when it has no interest in deceiving itself, 
 is too wise to accept of words instead of deeds, or in opposition 
 to them ; and the sole result of her artifices was to aggravate in 
 
 * IIol linshcd's Castrations. 
 
344 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 the eyes of all mankind the criminality of the act, by giving it ra- 
 ther the air of a treacherous and cold-blooded murder, than of 
 solemn execution done upon a formidable culprit by the sentence 
 of offended laws. The parliament which Elizabeth had sum- 
 moned to partake the odium of Mary's death, met four days after 
 the judges had pronounced her doom, and was opened by com- 
 mission. An unanimous ratification of the sentence by both 
 houses was immediately carried, and followed by an earnest ad- 
 dress to her majesty for its publication and execution ; to which 
 she returned along and laboured answer. 
 
 She began with the expression of her fervent gratitude to Pro 
 vidence for the affections of her people ; adding protestations ol 
 her love towards them and of her perfect willingness to have 
 suffered her own life still to remain exposed as a mark to the 
 aim of enemies and traitors, had she not perceived how intimate 
 ly the safety and well-being of the nation was connected with 
 her own. With regard to the queen of Scots, she said, so severe 
 had been the grief^which she had sustained from her recent con 
 duct, that the fear of renewing this sentiment had been the cause 
 and the sole cause, of her withholding her personal appearance 
 at the opening of that assembly, where she knew that the subject, 
 must of necessity become matter of discussion ; and not, as had 
 been suggested, the apprehension of any violence to be attempted 
 against her person ; — yet she might mention, that she had actu 
 ally seen a bond by which the subscribers bound themselves to 
 procure her death within a month. 
 
 So far was she from indulging any ill-will against one of the 
 same sex, the same rank, the same race as herself, — in fact her 
 nearest kinswoman, — that after having received full information 
 of certain of her machinations, she had secretly written with her 
 own hand to the queen of Scots, promising that, on a simple con - 
 fession of her guilt in a private letter to herself, all should be 
 buried in oblivion. She doubted not that the ancient laws of the 
 land would have been sufficient to reach the guilt of her who 
 had been the great artificer of the recent treasons ; and she had 
 consented to the passing of the late statute* not for the purpose 
 of ensnaring her, but rather to give her warning of the danger 
 in which she stood. Her lawyers, from their strict attachment 
 to ancient forms, would have brought this princess to trial within 
 the county of Stafford, have compelled her to hold up her hand 
 at the bar, and have caused twelve jurymen to pass judgment 
 upon her. But to her it had appeared more suitable to the dig- 
 nity of the prisoner and the importance of the cause to refer the 
 examination to the judges, nobles, and counsellors of the realm ; 
 —happy if even thus she could escape that ready censure to 
 which the conspicuous station of sovereigns on all occasions ex- 
 posed them. 
 
 The statute, by requiring her to pronounce judgment upon her 
 kinswoman, had involved her in anxiety and difficulties. Amid 
 all her perils, however, she must remember with gratitude and 
 affection the voluntary association into which her subjects had 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 345 
 
 entered for her defence. It was never her practice to decide 
 hastily on any matter; in a case so rare and important some in- 
 terval of deliberation must be allowed her ; and she would pray 
 Heaven to enlighten her mind, and guide it to the decision most 
 beneficial to the church, to the state, and to the people. 
 
 Twelve days after the delivery of this speech, her majesty 
 sent a message to both houses, entreating that her parliament 
 would carefully reconsider the matter, and endeavour to hit upon 
 some device by which the life of the queen of Scots might be 
 rendered consistent with her own safety, and that of the country. 
 Her faithful parliament, however, soon after acquainted her, that 
 with their utmost diligence they had found it impracticable to 
 form any satisfactory plan ot the kind she desired ; and the 
 speakers of the two houses ended a long representation of the 
 mischiefs to be expected from any arrangement by which Mary 
 would be suffered to continue in life, with a most earnest and 
 humble petition, that her majesty would not longer deny to the 
 united wishes and entreaties of all England, what it would be 
 iniquitous to refuse to the meanest individual ; the execution of 
 justice. 
 
 Elizabeth, after pronouncing a second long harangue designed 
 to display her own clemency, to upbraid the malice of her libel- 
 lers, and to refute the suspicion, which her conscience no doubt 
 helped her to anticipate, that all this irresolution was but feigned, 
 and that the decisions of the two houses were influenced by a 
 secret acquaintance with her wishes, — again dismissed their pe- 
 tions without any positive answer. Soon after, however, she per- 
 mitted herself to authorise the proclamation of the sentence, and 
 sent lord Buckhurst, and Beal, clerk of the council, to announce 
 it to Mary herself. 
 
 During the whole of this time the kings of France and of Scot- 
 land were interceding by their ambassadors for the pardon of the 
 illustrious prisoner. How the representations of Henry III, 
 were received, we do not find minutely recorded ; but Elizabeth 
 knew that they might be safely disregarded : that monarch was 
 himself too much a sufferer by the arrogance and ambition of the 
 house of Guise, to be very strenuous in his friendship towards 
 any one so nearly connected with it ; and it is even said that, 
 while a sense of decorum extorted from him in public some en- 
 ergetic expressions of the interest taken by him in the fate of a 
 sister-in-law and queen-dowager of France, a sentiment of re- 
 gard for Elizabeth, his friend and ally, prompted him to counsel 
 her, through a secret agent, to execute the sentence with the 
 least possible delay. Of the treatment experienced by the mas- 
 ter of Gray, the envoy of James, we gain some particulars from 
 an original memorial drawn up by himself. 
 
 He appears to have reached Ware on December 24th, whence 
 he sent to desire Keith and Douglas, the resident Scotch am- 
 bassadors, to announce to the queen his approach ; and she vo- 
 luntarily promised that the life of Mary should be spared till 
 his proposals were heard. His reception in London was some- 
 
346 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 what ungracious ; — no one was sent to welcome or convoy him. 
 and it was ten days before he and sir Robert Melvil his coadju 
 tor, were admitted to an audience. Elizabeth's first address to 
 them was, " A thing long looked for should be welcome when it 
 comes ; L would now see your master's offers." Gray desired 
 first to be assured that the cause for which those offers were 
 made was 4i still extant;" that is, that the life of Mary was still 
 safe, and should be so till their mission had been heard. She 
 answered, " 1 think it be extant yet, but I will not promise for an 
 hour." They then brought forward certain proposals, not here 
 recited, which she rejected with contempt; and calling in Lei- 
 cester, the lord -admiral, and Hatton, " very despitefully" re- 
 peated them in hearing of them all. Gray then propounded his 
 last offer: — that the queen of Scots should resign all her claims 
 upon the English succession to her son, by which means the hopes 
 M the papists would, as he said, be cut off. The terms in which 
 this overture was made, Elizabeth affected not to understand ; 
 Leicester explained their meaning to be, that the king of Scots 
 should be put in his mother's place. " Is H so?" the que^n an- 
 swered : " then I put myself in a worse case than before: — By 
 God's passion that were to cut my own throat; and for a duchy 
 or an earldom to yourself, you, or such as you, would cause some 
 of your desperate knaves to kill me. No, by God, he shall never 
 be in that place !" Gray answered, " He craves nothing of your 
 majesty, but only of his mother." " That," said Leicester, 
 *' were to make him party (rival or adversary) to the queen my 
 mistress." " He will be far more party," replied Gray, "if he 
 be in her place through her death." Her majesty exclaimed, 
 that she should not have a worse in his mother's place, and 
 added ; " Teli your king what good I have done for him in hold- 
 ing the crown on his head since he was born, and that I mind 
 (intend) to keep the league, that now stands between us, and if 
 he break it, it shall be a double fault." With this speech she 
 would have left them ; but they persisted in arguing the matter 
 further, though in vain. Gray then requested that Mary's life 
 might be spared for fifteen days ; the queen refused : sir Robert 
 Melvil begged for only eight days ; she said not for an hour, and 
 so quitted them. 
 
 After this the Scotch ambassadors assumed a tone of menace; 
 but the perfidious Gray secretly fortified Elizabeth's resolution 
 with the proverb, " The dead cannot bite ;" and undertook soor? 
 to pacify, in any event, the anger of his master, whose minion 
 he at this time was. 
 
 No sooner had Elizabeth silenced with this show of inflexibi 
 lity all the pleadings or menaces by which others had attempted 
 to divert her from her fatal aim, than she began, as in the affair 
 of the French marriage, to feel her own resolution waver. It 
 appears unquestionable that to affected delays a real hesitation 
 succeeded. When her pride was no longer irritated by opposi- 
 tion, she had leisure to survey the meditated deed in every light; 
 and as it rose upon her view in all its native deformity, anxious 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 347 
 
 fears for her own fame and credit, yet untainted by any crime, 
 and perhaps genuine scruples of conscience, forcibly assailed her 
 resolution. But her ministers, deeply sensible that both she and 
 they had already gone too far to recede with reputation or with 
 safety, encountered her growing reluctance with a proportional 
 increase in the vehemence of their clamours for what they call- 
 ed, and perhaps thought, justice. All the hazards to which hei 
 excess of clemency might be imagined to expose her, were con- 
 jured up in the most alarming forms to repel her scruples. A 
 plot for her assassination was disclosed, to which the French am - 
 bassador was ascertained to have been privy ; — rumours were 
 raised of invasions and insurrections; and it may be suspected 
 that the queen, really alarmed in the first instance by the repre- 
 sentations of her council, voluntarily contributed afterwards to 
 keep up these delusions for the sake of terrifying the minds of 
 men into an approval of the deed of blood. 
 
 At length, on February 1st, 1587, her majesty ordered secre- 
 tary Davison to bring her the warrant, which had remained ready 
 drawn in his hands for some weeks ; and having signed it, she 
 told him to get it sealed with the great seal, and in his way to 
 call on Walsingham, and tell him what she had done ; " though," 
 she added smiling, " I fear he will die of grief when he hears of 
 it;" — this minister being then sick. Davison obeyed her direc- 
 tions, and the warrant was sealed. The next day he received a 
 message from her, purporting that he should forbear to carry the 
 warrant to the lord keeper till further orders. Surprised and 
 perplexed, he immediately waited upon her to receive her fur- 
 ther directions ; when she chid him for the haste he had used in 
 this matter, and talked in a fluctuating and undetermined manner 
 respecting it which greatly alarmed him. On leaving the queen 
 he immediately communicated the circumstances to Burleigh 
 and Hatton ; and thinking it safest for himself to rid his hands 
 of the warrant, he delivered it up to Burleigh, by whom it had 
 been drawn, and from whom he had at first received it. A council 
 was now called, consisting of such of the ministers as either the 
 queen herself or Davison had made acquainted with the signing 
 of the warrant ; and it was proposed that, without any further 
 communication with her majesty, it should be sent down for im- 
 mediate execution to the four earls to whom it was directed. 
 
 Davison appears to have expressed some fears that he should 
 be made to bear the blame of this step ; but all his fellow-coun- 
 cillors then present joined to assure him that they would share 
 the responsibility : it was also said, that her majesty had desired 
 of several that she might not be troubled respecting any of the 
 particulars of the last dismal scene ; consequently it was impos- 
 sible that she could complain of their proceeding without her 
 privity. By these arguments Davison was seduced to give his 
 concurrence ; and Beal, a person noted for the vehemence of his 
 attachment to the protestant cause and to the title of the coun- 
 tess of Hertford, was dispatched with the instrument ; in obe - 
 dience to which Mary underwent the fatal stroke on February 8th. 
 
348 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 The news of this event was received by Elizabeth with the 
 most extraordinary demonstrations of astonishment, grief, and 
 anger. Her countenance changed, her voice faltered, and she 
 remained for some moments fixed and motionless ; a violent burst 
 of tears and lamentations succeeded, with which she mingled 
 expressions of rage against her whole council. They had com- 
 mitted, she said, a crime never to be forgiven ; they had put to 
 death without her knowledge her dear kinswoman and sister, 
 against whom they well knew that it was her fixed resolution 
 never to proceed to this fatal extremity. She put on deep mourn- 
 ing, kept herself retired among her ladies abandoned to sighs and 
 tears, and drove from her presence with the most furious re- 
 proaches such of her ministers as ventured to approach her. She 
 caused several of the councillors to be examined as to the share 
 which they had taken in this transaction. Burleigh was of the 
 number ; and against him she expressed herself with such pecu- 
 liar bitterness that he gave himself up for lost, and begged per- 
 mission to retire with the loss of all his employments. This re- 
 signation was not accepted ; and after a considerable interval, 
 during which this great minister deprecated the wrath of his so- 
 vereign in letters of penitence and submission worthy only of an 
 Oriental slave, she condescended to be reconciled to a man whose 
 services she felt to be indispensable. 
 
 But the manes of Mary, or the indignation of her son, could 
 not be appeased, it seems, without a sacrifice ; and a fit victim 
 was at hand. From some words dropped by lord Burleigh on 
 his examination, it had appeared that it was the declaration of 
 Davison respecting the sentiments -of the queen, as expressed to 
 himself, which had finally decided the council to send down the 
 warrant ; and on this ground proceedings were instituted against 
 the unfortunate secretary. He was stripped of his office, sent to 
 the Tower in spite of the warm and honest remonstrances of Bur- 
 leigh, and after several examinations subjected to a process in 
 the Star-chamber for a twofold contempt. First, in revealing 
 her majesty's counsels to others of her ministers ; — secondly, in 
 giving up to them an instrument which she had committed to him 
 in special trust and secrecy, to be kept in case of any sudden 
 emergency which might require its use. 
 
 Davison demanded that his own examination, which with that 
 of Burleigh formed the whole evidence against him, should be 
 read entire, instead of being picked and garbled by the crown 
 lawyers; but this piece of justice the queen's counsel refused him, 
 on the ground that they contained matter unfit to be divulged. He 
 was found guilty, and sentenced to a fine of ten thousand marks 
 and imprisonment during the queen's pleasure, by judges who 
 at the same time expressed a high opinion both of his abilities 
 and his integrity, and who certainly regarded his offence as no- 
 thing more than an error of judgment or want of due caution. 
 Elizabeth ordered a copy of his sentence to be immediately 
 transmitted to the king of Scots, as triumphant evidence of that 
 perfect innocence in the tragical accident of his mother's death, 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 S49 
 
 of which she had already made solemn protestation. James com- 
 plied so far with obvious motives of policy as to accept her ex- 
 cuses without much inquiry; but impartial posterity will not be 
 disposed to dismiss so easily an important and curious investi- 
 gation which it possesses abundant means of pursuing. The re- 
 cord of Burleigh's examination is still extant, and so likewise is 
 Davison's apology ; a piece which was composed by himself at 
 the time and addressed to Walsingham, who could best judge of 
 its accuracy; and which after being communicated to Camden, 
 who has inserted an extract from it in his Annals, has at length 
 been found entire among the original papers of sir Amias Pau- 
 let. From this authentic source we derive the following very 
 extraordinary particulars. 
 
 It was by the lord-admiral that the queen first sent a message 
 to Davison requiring him to bring the warrant for her signa- 
 ture ; after subscribing it, she asked him if he were not heartily 
 sorry it were done ? to which he replied by a moderate and 
 cautious approval of the act. She bade him tell the chancellor 
 when he carried the warrant to be sealed, that he must " use it 
 as secretly as might be." She then signed other papers which 
 he had brought ; dispatching them all " with the best disposition 
 and willingness that could be." Afterwards she recurred to tire 
 subject ; mentioned that she had delayed the act so long that the 
 world might see " that she had not been violently or maliciously 
 drawn unto it;" but that she had all along perceived the neces- 
 sity of it to her own security. She then said, that she would 
 have it done as secretly as might be, and not in the open court 
 or green of the castle, but in the hall. Just as Davison was ga- 
 thering up his papers to depart, " she fell into some complaint 
 of sir Amias Paulet and others that might have eased her of this 
 burthen;'' and she desired that he would yet "deal with secre- 
 tary Walsingham to write jointly to sir Amias and sir Drue 
 Drury to sound them in this matter ; " aiming still at this, that 
 it might be so done as the blame might be removed from herself." 
 This nefarious commission Davison strangely consented to ex- 
 ecute, though he declares that he had always before refused to 
 meddle therein "upon sundry of her majesty's motions," — as a 
 thing which he utterly disapproved ; and though he was fully 
 persuaded that the wisdom and integrity of sir Amias would ren- 
 der the application fruitless. The queen repeated her injunc- 
 tions of secrecy in the matter, and he departed. 
 
 He went to Walsingham, told him that the warrant was sign- 
 ed for executing the sentence against the queen of Scots ; agreed 
 with him at the same time about the letter to be written to sir 
 Amias for her private assassination ; — then got the warrant seal- 
 ed, then dispatched the letter. 
 
 The next morning, the queen sent him word to forbear going 
 to the chancellor till she had spoken with him again. He went 
 directly to acquaint her that he had already seen him. She ask - 
 ed, " what needed such haste?" He pleaded her commands, 
 and the danger of delay. The queen particularised some other 
 
HIE COURT OF 
 
 form in which she thought it would be safer and better for her to 
 have the thing done. Davison answered, that the just and honour- 
 able way would, he thought, be the safest and the best, if she 
 meant to have it done at all. The queen made no reply, but 
 went to dinner. — It appears from another statement of Davison's 
 case, also drawn up by himself, that it was on this very day, 
 without waiting either for Paulet's answer or for more explicit 
 orders from her majesty, that he had the incredible rashness to 
 deliver up the warrant to Burleigh, and to concur in the subse- 
 quent proceedings of the council ; though aware that the mem- 
 bers were utterly ignorant of the queen's application to Paulet. 
 
 A day or two after, her majesty called him to her in the privy 
 chamber, and told him smiling that she had been troubled with 
 him in a dream which she had had the night before, that the 
 queen of Scots was put to death ; and which so disturbed her, 
 that she thought she could have run him through with a sword. 
 He answered at first jestingly, but, on recollection, asked her 
 with great earnestness, whether she did not intend that the mat- 
 ter should go forward? She answered vehemently and with an 
 oath, that she did ; but again harped upon the old string ; — that 
 this mode would cast all the blame upon herself, and a better 
 might be contrived. The same afternoon she inquired if he had 
 received an answer from sir Amias ; which at the time he had 
 not, but he brought it to her the next morning. It contained an 
 absolute refusal to be concerned in any action inconsistent with 
 justice and honour. At this the queen was much offended ; she 
 complained of what she called the "dainty perjury'' of him and 
 others, who contrary to their oath of association cast the burthen 
 upon herself. Soon after, she again blamed " the niceness of 
 these precise fellows ;" but said she would have the thing done 
 without them, and mentioned one Wingfield who would under- 
 take it. Davison remonstrated against this design ; and also re- 
 presented the dangerous dilemma in which Paulet and Drury 
 would have been placed by complying with her wishes ; since, if 
 she avowed their act, she took it upon herself, " with her infinite 
 dishonour if she disavowed it, they were ruined. It is abso- 
 lutely inconceivable how a man who understood so well the perils 
 which these persons had skilfully avoided, should have remained 
 so blind to those which menaced himself ; yet Davison, by his 
 own account, still suffered the queen to go on devising new 
 schemes for the taking oft' of Mary, without either acquainting 
 her that the privy-council had already sent oft" Beal with the 
 warrant, or interfering with them to procure, if possible, the re- 
 call of this messenger of death. Even on his next interview with 
 her, which he believes to have been on Tuesday, the very day 
 before the execution of the sentence, when her majesty, after 
 speaking of the daily peril in which she lived, swore a great oath 
 that it was a shame for them all that the thing was not yet done, 
 and spoke to him to write a letter to Paulet for the dispatch of 
 the business; he contented himself with observing generally, that 
 the warrant was, he thought sufficient ; and though the queen 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 351 
 
 still inclined to think the letter requisite, he left her without 
 even dropping a hint that it was scarcely within the limits of 
 possibility that it should arrive before the sentence had been put- 
 in execution. 
 
 Of this unaccountable imprudence the utmost advantage was 
 taken against him by his cruel and crafty mistress ; whose chief 
 concern it had all along b?en to discover by what artifice she 
 might throw the greatest possible portion of the blame from her- 
 self upon others. Davison underwent a long imprisonment; the 
 fine, though it reduced him to beggary, was rigorously exacted ; 
 some scanty supplies for the relief of his immediate necessities, 
 while in prison, were all that her majesty would vouchsafe him; 
 and neither the zealous attestations of Burleigh in the beginning 
 to his merit and abilities and the importance of his public ser- 
 vices, nor the subsequent earnest pleadings of her own beloved 
 Essex for his restoration, could ever prevail with Elizabeth to 
 lay aside the appearances of perpetual resentment which she 
 thought good to preserve against him. She would neither rein- 
 state him in office nor ever more admit him to her presence ; un- 
 able perhaps to bear the pain of beholding a countenance which 
 carried with it an everlasting reproach to her conscience. 
 
 From the formidable responsibilities of this unprecedented ac- 
 tion, the wary Walsingham had withdrawn him by favour of an 
 opportune fit of sickness, which disabled him from taking part 
 in any thing but the application to sir Amias Paulet, by which he 
 could incur, as he well knew, no hazard. A still more crafty 
 politician, Leicester, after throwing out in the privy-council hints 
 of her majesty's wishes, which served to accelerate the decisive 
 steps there taken, had artfully contrived to escape from all fur- 
 ther participation in their proceedings. Both ministers, in secret 
 letters to Scotland, washed their hands of the blood of Mary. 
 But Leicester, not content with these defensive measures, sought 
 to improve the opportunity to the destruction of a rival whom he 
 had never ceased to hate and envy. To his insidious arts the 
 temporary disgrace of Burleigh is probably to be imputed ; and 
 it seems to have been from the apprehension of his malignant 
 misconstructions that the lord treasurer refused to put on paper 
 the particulars of his defence, and never ceased to implore ad- 
 mission to plead his cause before his sovereign in person. His 
 perseverance at length prevailed : the queen saw him ; heard his 
 justification, and restored him to her wonted grace ; after which 
 the tacit compromise between the minister and the favourite was 
 restored ; — that compromise by which, during eight-and-twenty 
 years, each had vindicated to himself an equality of political 
 power, personal influence, and royal favour, with the secret ene- 
 my whom he vainly wished, or hoped, or plotted, to displace. 
 
 To relate again those melancholy details of Mary's closing 
 scene, on which the historians of England and of Scotland, as 
 well as the numerous biographers of this ill-fated princess, have 
 exhausted all the arts of eloquence, would be equally needless 
 and presumptuous. It is, however, important to remark, that 
 
352 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 she died rather with the triumphant air of a martyr to her reli- 
 gion, the character which she falsely assumed, than with the 
 meekness of a victim or the penitence of a culprit. She bade 
 Melvil tell her son that she had done nothing injurious to his 
 rights or honour ; though she was actually in treaty to disinherit 
 him, and had also consented to a nefarious plot for carrying him 
 off prisoner to Rome ; and she denied with obstinacy to the last 
 the charge of conspiring the death of Elizabeth, though by her 
 will, written the day before her death, she rewarded as faithful 
 servants the two secretaries who had borne this testimony against 
 her. A spirit of self-justification so haughty and so unprincipled, 
 a perseverance in deliberate falsehood so resolute and so shame- 
 less, ought under no circumstances and in no personage, not even 
 in a captive beauty and an injured queen, to be confounded, by 
 any writer studious of the moral tendencies of history and capa- 
 ble of sound discrimination, with genuine religion, true fortitude, 
 or the dignity which renders misfortune respectable. 
 
 Let due censure be passed on the infringement of morality 
 committed by Elizabeth, in detaining as a captive that rival kins- 
 woman, and pretender to her crown, whom the dread of still 
 more formidable dangers had compelled to seek refuge in her 
 dominions : let it be admitted, that the exercise of criminal ju- 
 risdiction over a person thus lawlessly detained in a foreign 
 country was another sacrifice of the just to the expedient, which 
 none but a profligate politician will venture to defend ; and let 
 the efforts of Mary to procure her own liberty, though with the 
 destruction of her enemy and at the cost of a civil war to Eng- 
 land, be held, if religion will permit, justifiable or venial ; — but 
 let not our resentment of the wrongs, or compassion for the long 
 misfortunes, of this unhappy woman betray us into a blind con- 
 currence in eulogiums lavished, by prejudice or weakness, on a 
 character blemished by many foibles, stained by some enormous 
 crimes, and never under the guidance of the genuine principles 
 of moral recitude. 
 
 t 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 353 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 1587 and 1588. 
 
 U political effect of the death of Mary. — Warlike preparations 
 of Spain destroyed by Drake. — Case of lord Beauchamp. — Death 
 and character of the duchess of Somerset. — Hatton appointed 
 chancellor. — Leicester returns to Holland — is again recalled. — 
 Disgrace of lord Buckhurst. — Rupture with Spain. — Prepara- 
 tions against the Armada. — Notices of the earls of Cumberland 
 and Northumberland — T. and R. Cecil — earl of Oxford — sir C. 
 Blount — W. Raleigh — lord Howard of Effingham. — Hawkins — 
 Frobisher — Drake. — Leicester appointed general. — Queen at 
 Tilbury. — Defeat of the Armada. — Introduction of newspapers. 
 — Death of Leicester. 
 
 It is well deserving of remark, that the strongest and most 
 extraordinary act of the whole administration of Elizabeth, — 
 that which brought the blood of a sister-queen upon her head and 
 indelible reproach upon her memory, — appears to have been pro- 
 ductive of scarcely any assignable political effect. It changed 
 her relations with no foreign power, it altered very little the 
 state of parties at home, it recommended no new adviser to her 
 favour, it occasioned the displacement of Davison alone. 
 
 She may appear, it is true, to have obtained by this stroke an 
 immunity from that long series of dark conspiracies by which, 
 during so many years, she had been disquieted and endangered. 
 To deliver the queen of Scots was an object for which many men 
 had been willing to risk their lives ; but none were found despe- 
 rate or chivalrous enough to run the same hazard in order to 
 avenge her. But the recent detection of Babington and his asso- 
 ciates, and the rigorous justice executed upon them, was likely, 
 even without the death of Mary, to have deterred from the speedy 
 repetition of similar practices ; and a crisis was now approach- 
 ing fitted to suspend the machinations of faction, to check the 
 operation even of religious bigotry, and to unite all hearts in the 
 love, all hands in the protection, of their native soil. 
 
 Philip of Spain, though he purposely avoided as yet a declara- 
 tion of war, was known to be intently occupied upon the means 
 of taking signal vengeance on the queen of England for all the 
 acts of hostility on her part of which he thought himself entitled 
 to complain. 
 
 Already in the summer of 1587 the ports of Spain and Portugal 
 had begun to be thronged with vessels of various sorts and every 
 size, destined to compose that terrible armada from which no- 
 thing less than the complete subjugation of England was antici- 
 pated : — already had the pope showered down his benedictions 
 
3j4 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 on the holy enterprise ; and, by a bull declaring the throne of the 
 schismatic princess forfeited to the first occupant, made way for 
 the pretensions of Philip, who claimed it as the true heir of the 
 house of Lancaster. 
 
 But Elizabeth was not of a temper so timid or so supine as to 
 suffer these preparations cO advance without interruption. She 
 ordered Drake to sail immediately for the coast of Spain, and 
 put in practice against her enemy every possible mode of injury 
 and annoyance. To the four great ships which she allotted to 
 him for this service, the English merchants, instigated by the 
 hopes of plunder, cheerfully added twenty-six more of different 
 sizes ; and with this force the daring leader steered for the port 
 of Cadiz, where a richly laden fleet lay ready to sail for Lisbon, 
 the final rendezvous for the whole armada. By the impetuosity 
 of his attack, he compelled six galleys which defended the mouth 
 of the harbour to seek shelter under its batteries ; and having thus 
 forced an entrance, he took, burned, and destroyed about a hun- 
 dred store-ships and two galleons of superior size. This done, 
 he returned to Cape St. Vincent ; then took three castles ; and 
 destroying as he proceeded every thing that came in his way, even 
 to the fishing-boats and nets, he endeavoured to provoke the 
 Spanish admiral to come out and give him battle off the mouth of 
 the Tagus. But the marquis of Santa Croce deemed it prudent 
 to suffer him to pillage the coast without molestation. Having 
 fully effected this object, he made sail for the Azores, where the 
 capture of a bulky carrack returning from India amply indemni- 
 fied the merchants for all the expenses of the expedition, and en- 
 riched the admiral and his crews. Drake returned to England in 
 a kind of triumph, boasting that he had "singed the whiskers" of 
 the king of Spain : nor was his vaunt unfounded ; the destruction 
 of the store-ships, and the havoc committed by him on the maga- 
 zines of every kind, was a mischief so great, and for the present 
 so irreparable, that it crippled the whole design, and compelled 
 Philip to defer, for no less than a year, the sailing of his invinci- 
 ble armada. 
 
 The respite thus procured was diligently improved by Eliza- 
 beth for the completion of her plans of defence against the hour 
 of trial, which she still anticipated. — The interval seems to afford 
 a fit occasion for the relation of some incidents of a more private 
 nature, but interesting as illustrative of the manners and prac- 
 tices of the age. 
 
 It has been already mentioned, that the secret marriage of the 
 earl of Hertford with lady Catherine Gray, notwithstanding the 
 sentence of nullity which the queen had caused to be so precipi 
 tateJ pronounced, and the punishment which she had tyranni 
 inflicted on the parties, had at length been duly established 
 . ;egal decision in which her majesty was compelled to ac - 
 quiesce. The eldest son of the earl assumed in consequence his 
 father's second title of lord Beauchamp, and became undoubted 
 heir to all the claims of the Suffolk line. About the year 1585. 
 this young nobleman married, unknown to his father, a daughter 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 ot sir Richard Rogers, of Brianston, a gentleman of ancient fa- 
 mily, whose son had already been permitted to intermarry with 
 a daughter of the house of Seymour It might have been hoped 
 that the earl of Hertford, from his own long and unmerited suf- 
 ferings on a similar account, would have learned such a lesson of 
 indulgence towards the affections of his children, that a match 
 of greater disparity might have received from him a ready for- 
 giveness. But he inherited, it seems, too much of the unfeeling 
 haughtiness of his high-born mother ; and, in the fury of his re- 
 sentment, on discovery of this connexion of his son's, he made 
 no scruple of separating by force the young couple, in direct de- 
 fiance of the sacred tie which bound them to each other. Lord 
 Beauchamp bore in the beginning this arbitrary treatment with a 
 dutiful submission, by which he flattered himself that the heart 
 of his father must sooner or later be touched ; but, at length, 
 finding all entreaties vain, and seeing reason to believe that a 
 settled plan was entertained by the earl of estranging him for 
 ever from his wife, he broke on a sudden from the solitary man- 
 sion which had been assigned him as his place of abode, or of 
 banishment, and was hastening to London to throw himself at 
 the feet of her majesty and beseech her interposition, when a 
 servant of his father's overtook and forcibly detained him 
 
 Well aware that his nearness to the crown must have rendered 
 peculiarly offensive to the queen what she would regard as his 
 presumption in marrying without her knowledge and consent, he 
 at first suspected her majesty as the author of this attack on his 
 liberty ; but being soon informed of her declaration, " that he was 
 no prisoner of her's, and the man had acted without warrant," 
 he addressed to lord Burleigh an earnest petition for redress. In 
 this remarkable piece, after a statement of his case, he begs to 
 submit himself by the lord-treasurer's means to the queen and 
 council, hoping that they will grant him the benefit of the laws of 
 the realm ; that it would please his lordship to send for him by his 
 warrant; and that he might not be injured by his father's men, 
 though hardly dealt with by himself. Such were the lengths to 
 which, in this age, a parent could venture to proceed against his 
 child, and such the measures which it was then necessary to take 
 in order to obtain the protection of the laws. It is not stated 
 whether lord Beauchamp was at this time a minor ; but if so, he 
 probably made application to Burleigh as master of the wards. 
 Apparently, ins representations were not without effect ; for he 
 procured in the end both a re-union with his wife, and a recon- 
 ciliation with his father. 
 
 The grandmother of this young nobleman, Anne duchess-dow- 
 ager of Somerset, died at a great age in 1587. Maternally de- 
 scended from the Plantagenets, and elevated by marriage to the 
 highest rank of English nobility, she perhaps gloried in the cha- 
 racter of being the proudest woman of her day. It has often been 
 repeated, that her repugnance to yield precedence to queen Cathe- 
 rine Parr, when re-married to theyounger brother of her husband, 
 was the first occasion of that division in the house of Seymour by 
 
3j6 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 which Northumberland succeeded in working its overthrow In 
 the misfortune to which she hail thus contributed, the duchess 
 largely shared. When the Protector was committed to the Tower, 
 she also was carried thither amid the insults of the people, to 
 whom her arrogance had rendered her odious ; and rigorous ex- 
 aminations and an imprisonment of considerable duration here 
 awaited her. She saw her husband stripped of power and repu- 
 tation, convicted of felony, and led by his enemies to an ignomi- 
 nious death ; and what, to a woman of her temper was perhaps a 
 still severer trial, she beheld her son, — that son for whose ag- 
 grandisement she had without remorse urged her weak husband 
 to strip of his birthright his own eldest born,— dispossessed in 
 his turn of title and estates, and reduced by an act of forfeiture 
 to the humble level of a private gentleman. 
 
 Her re-marriage to an obscure person of the name of Newdi- 
 gate, may prove, either that ambition was not the only inordinate, 
 affection to which the disposition of the duchess was subject, or 
 that she was now reduced to seek safety in insignificance. 
 
 During the reign of Mary, no favour beyond an unmolested ob- 
 scurity was to be expected by the protestaut house of Seymour; 
 but it was one of the earliest acts of Elizabeth generously to re- 
 store to Edward Seymour the whole of the Protector's confiscated 
 estates not previously granted to his elder half-brother, and with 
 them the title of earl of Hertford, the highest which his father 
 had received from Henry VIII., and that with which he ought to 
 have rested content. Still no door was opened for the return of 
 the duchess of Somerset to power or favour; Elizabeth never 
 ceasing to behold in this haughty woman, both the deadly enemy 
 of admiral Seymour — that Seymour who was the first to touch her 
 youthful heart, and whose pretensions to her hand had precipitated 
 his ruin, — and that rigid censor of her early levities, who, dress- 
 ed in a " brief authority," had once dared to assume over her a 
 kind of superiority, which she had treated at the time with dis- 
 dain, and apparently continued to recollect with bitterness. 
 
 It appears from a letter in which the duchess earnestly implores 
 the intercession of Cecil in behalf of her son, when under con- 
 finement on account of his marriage, that she was, at the time of 
 writing it, excluded from the royal presence ; and it was nine 
 whole years before all the interest she could make, all the solici- 
 tations which she compelled herself to use towards persons whom 
 she could once have commanded at her pleasure, proved effectual 
 in procuring his release. The vast wealth which she had amass- 
 ed must stili, however, have maintained her ascendency over her 
 own family and numerous dependants, though with its final dis- 
 posal her majesty evinced a strong disposition to intermeddle. 
 Learning that she had appointed her eldest son sole executor, to 
 the prejudice of his brother sir Henry Seymour, whom she did 
 not love, the queen sent a gentleman to expostulate with her, and 
 urge her strongly to change this disposition. The aged duchess, 
 after long refusal, agreed at length to comply with the royal wish : 
 but this promise she omitted to fulfil, and some obstruction was 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 357 
 
 in consequence given to the execution of her last will. We pos- 
 sess a large inventory of her jewels and valuables, among which 
 are enumerated " two pieces of unicorn's horn," an article highly 
 Valued in that day, from its supposed efficacy as an antidote, or 
 a test, for poisons. The extreme smallness of her bequests for 
 charitable purposes was justly remarked as a strong indication of 
 a harsh and unfeeling disposition, in an age when similar benefac- 
 tions formed almost the sole resource of the sick and needy. 
 
 In this year lord-chancellor Bromley died : and it should ap- 
 pear that there was at the time no other lawyer of eminence who 
 had the good fortune to stand high in the favour of the queen and 
 her counsellors, for we are told that she had it in contemplation 
 to appoint as his successor the earl of Rutland ; a nobleman in 
 the thirtieth year of his age, distinguished indeed among the cour- 
 tiers for his proficiency in elegant literature and his knowledge 
 of the laws of his country, but known to the public only in the 
 capacity of a colonel of foot in the bloodless campaign of the earl 
 of Sussex against the Northern rebels. 
 
 How far this young man might have been qualified to do hon- 
 our to so extraordinary a choice, remains matter of conjecture ; 
 his lordship being carried off" by a sudden illness within a week 
 of Bromley himself, after which her majesty thought proper to 
 invest with this high office sir Christopher Hatton her vice-cham- 
 berlain. 
 
 This was a nomination scarcely less mortifying to lawyers than 
 that of the earl of Rutland. Hatton's abode at one of the inns of 
 court had been so short as scarcely to entitle him to a profes- 
 sional character ; and since his fine dancing had recommended 
 him to the favour of her majesty, he had entirely abandoned his 
 legal pursuits for the life and the hopes of a courtier. It is as- 
 serted that his enemies promoted his appointment with more zeal 
 than his friends, in, the confident expectation of seeing him dis- 
 grace himself : what may be regarded as more certain is, that he 
 was so disquieted by intimations of the queen's repenting her 
 choice, that he tendered to her his resignation before he entered 
 on the duties of his office ; and that in the beginning of his career 
 the Serjeants refused to plead before him. But he soon found 
 means both to vanquish their repugnance and to establish in the 
 public mind an opinion of his integrity and sufficiency, which 
 served to redeem his sovereign from the censure or ridicule to 
 which this extraordinary choice seemed likely to expose her. He 
 had the wisdom to avail himself, in all cases of peculiar difficulty, 
 of the advice of two learned Serjeants; — in other matters he 
 might reasonably regard his own prudence and good sense as 
 competent guides. In fact, it was only since the reformation, 
 that "this great office had begun to be filled* by common-law law- 
 yers: before this period it was usually exercised by some eccle- 
 siastic who was also a civilian, and instances were not rare of 
 the seals having been held in commission by noblemen during 
 considerable intervals ; — facts which, in justice to Hatton and to 
 Elizabeth, ought, on this occasion, to be kept in mind. 
 
358 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 The pride of Leicester had been deeply wounded by the cir- 
 cumstances of that forced return from Holland, which, notwith- 
 standing all his artful endeavours to colour it to the world, was 
 perfectly understood at court as a disgraceful recal. 
 
 The queen, in the first emotions of indignation and disap 
 pointment. called forth by his ill success, had in public made use 
 of expressions respecting his conduct, of which he well knew 
 that the effect could only be obviated by some mark of favour 
 equally public : and he spared no labour for the accomplishment 
 of this object. By an extraordinary exertion of that influence 
 over her majesty's affections which enabled him to hold her 
 judgment in lasting captivity, he was at length successful, and 
 the honourable and lucrative place of chief justice in Eyre of 
 all the forests south of Trent was bestowed upon him early in 
 1587. So far was well ; but he disdained to rest satisfied with 
 less than the restitution of that supreme command over the Dutch 
 provinces which had flattered his vanity with a title never borne 
 by Englishman before ; that of Excellence. His usual arts pre- 
 vailed in this instance likewise. By means of the authority 
 which he had surreptitiously reserved to himself, he held the go- 
 vernors of towns and forts in Holland in complete dependence, 
 whilst his solemn ostentation of religion had secured the zealous 
 attachment of the protestant clergy; an order which then exerted 
 an important influence over public opinion. It had thus been 
 in his power to raise a strong faction in the country, through the 
 instrumentality of which he raised such impediments to the mea- 
 sures of administration, that the states-general saw themselves 
 at length compelled, as the smaller of two evils, to solicit the 
 queen for his return. It was a considerable time before she 
 could be brought to sanction a step of which her sagest counsel- 
 lors, secretly hostile to Leicester, laboured to demonstrate the 
 entire inexpediency. The affairs of Holland suffered at once by 
 the dissentions which the malice of Leicester had sown, and by 
 the long irresolution of Elizabeth ; and she at length sent over 
 lord Buckhurst to make inquiry into some measures of the States 
 which had given her umbrage, and to report upon the whole 
 matter. 
 
 The sagacious and upright statesman was soon satisfied where 
 the blame ought to rest, and he suggested a plan for the govern- 
 ment of the country which excluded the idea of Leicester's re- 
 turn. But the intrigues of the favourite finally prevailed, and 
 he was authorised in June 1587, to resume a station of which he 
 had proved himself equally incapable and unworthy, having pre- 
 viously been further gratified by her majesty with the office of 
 lord high-steward, and with permission to resign that of master 
 of the horse to his step-son the earl of Essex. But fortune dis- 
 dained to smile upon his arms ; and his failure in an attempt to 
 raise the siege of Sluys produced such an exasperation of his 
 former quarrel with the states, that in the month of November 
 the queen found herself compelled to supersede him, appointing 
 the brave lord Willoughby captain-general in his place. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 359 
 
 On his return to England, Leicester found Lord Buckhurst 
 preparing against him a charge of malversation in Holland, and 
 he received a summons to justify himself before the privy-council : 
 but he better consulted his safety by flying for protection to the 
 footstool of the throne. The queen, touched by his expressions 
 of humility and sorrow, and his earnest entreaties "that she 
 would not receive with disgrace on his return, him whom she 
 had sent forth with honour, nor bring down alive to the grave 
 one whom her former goodness had raised from the dust," con- 
 sented once again to receive him into wonted favour. Nor was 
 this all ; for on the day when he was expected to give in his an- 
 swer before the council, he appeared in his place, and bv a tri- 
 umphant appeal to her majesty, whose secret orders limited, as 
 he asserted, his public commission, baffled at once the hopes of 
 his enemies and the claims of public justice. What was still 
 more gross, he was suffered to succeed in procuring a censure to 
 be passed upon lord Buckhurst, who continued in disgrace for 
 the nine remaining months of Leicester's life, during which a 
 royal command restrained him within his house. Elizabeth must 
 in this instance have known her own injustice even while she 
 was committing it ; but by the loyal and chivalrous nobility, who 
 knelt before the footstool of the maiden queen, " her butfets and 
 rewards were ta'en with equal thanks ;" and Abbot, the chaplain 
 of lord Buckhurst, has recorded of his patron, that " so obsequious 
 was he to this command, that in all the time he never would 
 endure, openly or secretly, by day or night, to see either wife or 
 child." He had his reward ; for no sooner was the queen re- 
 stored to liberty by the death of her imperious favourite, than 
 she released her kinsman; honoured him with the garter, pro- 
 cured, two years after, his election to the chancellorship of the 
 university of Oxford, and finally appointed him Burleigh's suc- 
 cessor in the honourable and lucrative post of lord treasurer. 
 
 During the unavoidable delay which the expedition of Drake 
 had brought to the designs of Philip II. the prince of Parma had 
 by his master's directions been endeavouring to amuse the vigi- 
 lance of Elizabeth with overtures of negotiation. The queen, at 
 the request of the prince, sent plenipotentiaries to treat with 
 him in Flanders ; and though the Hollanders absolutely refused 
 to enter into the treaty, they proceeded with apparent earnest- 
 ness in the task of settling preliminaries. Some writers maintain, 
 that there was, from the beginning, as little sincerity on one side 
 as on the other ; to gain time for the preparations of attack or 
 defence, being the sole object of both parties in these manoeuvres. 
 Yet the cautious and pacific character of the policy of Elizabeth, 
 and the secret dread which she ever entertained of a serious con- 
 test with the power of Spain, seem to render it more probable 
 that the wish and hope of an accommodation was at first on her 
 side real ; and that the fears of the States that their interests 
 might become the sacrifice, must have been by no means desti- 
 tute of foundation. Leicester is said to have had the merit of 
 first opening the eyes of his sovereign to the fraudulent conduc t 
 
360 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 of the prince of Parma, — who in fact was furnished with no pow- 
 ers to treat, — and to Have earned for himself by this discovery 
 the restoration of her favour. 
 
 In March 1-588 these conferences broke off abruptly. It was 
 impossible for either party longer to deceive or to act the being 
 deceived ; for all Europe now rang with the mighty preparations 
 of king Philip for the conquest of England ; — preparations which 
 occupied the whole of his vast though disjointed empire, from the 
 Flemish provinces which still owned his yoke, to the distant 
 ports of Sicily and Naples. 
 
 The spirit of the English people rose with the emergency. 
 All ranks and orders vied with each other in an eager devoted- 
 ness to the sacred cause of national independence : the rich 
 poured forth their treasures with unsparing hand ; the chivalrous 
 and young rushed on board ships of their own equipment, a band 
 of generous volunteers ; the poor demanded arms to exterminate 
 every invader who should set foot on English ground ; while the 
 clergy animated their audience against the pope and the Span- 
 iard, and invoked a blessing on the holy warfare of their fellow- 
 citizens. Elizabeth, casting aside all her weaknesses, showed 
 herself worthy to be the queen and heroine of such a people. 
 Her prudence, her vigilance, her presence of mind, which failed 
 not for a moment, inspired unbounded confidence, while her 
 cheerful countenance and spirited demeanour breathed hope and 
 courage and alacrity into the coldest bosoms. Never did a sove- 
 reign enter upon a great and awful contest with a more strenuous 
 resolution to fulfil all duties, to confront all perils ; never did a 
 people repay with such ardour of gratitude, such enthusiasm of 
 attachment, the noblest virtues of a prince. 
 
 The best troops of the country were at this time absent in 
 Flanders ; and there was no standing army except the queen's 
 guard and the garrisons kept in a few forts on the coast or the 
 Scottish border. The royal navy was extremely small, and the 
 revenues of the crown totally inadequate to the effort of raising 
 it to any thing approaching a parity with the fleets of Spain. The 
 queen possessed not a single ally on the continent capable of 
 affording her aid ; she doubted the fidelity of the king of Scots to 
 her interests, and a formidable mass of disaffection was believed 
 to subsist among her own subjects of the catholic communion. 
 It was on the spontaneous efforts of individuals that the whole 
 safety of the country at this momentous crisis was left depen- 
 dent : if these failed, England was lost ; — but in such a cause, 
 at such a juncture, they could not fail ; and the first appeal made 
 by government to the patriotism of the people was answered with 
 that spirit in which a nation is invincible. A message was sent 
 by the privy council to inquire of the corporation of London 
 what the city would be willing to undertake for the public ser- 
 vice. The corporation requested to be informed what the council 
 might judge requisite in such a case. Fifteen ships and five . 
 thousand men was the answer. Two days after, the city "hum- 
 bly intreated the council, in sign of their perfect love and loy- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 361 
 
 alty, to prince and country, to accept ten thousand men and 
 thirty ships amply furnished." " And," adds the chronicler, 
 ' even as London, London-like, gave precedent, the whole king- 
 dom kept true rank and equipage." At this time, the able- 
 bodied men in the capital between the ages of eighteen and sixty 
 amounted to no more than 17,083. 
 
 Without entering into further detail respecting the particular 
 contributions of different towns or districts to the common de- 
 fence, it is sufficient to remark, that every sinew was strained, 
 and that little was left to the charge of government but the task 
 of arranging and applying the abundant succours furnished by 
 the zeal of the country. One trait of the times, however, it is es- 
 se tit ial to commemorate. Terror is perhaps the most merciless 
 of all sentiments, and that which is least restrained either by 
 shame or a sense of justice; and under this debasing influence 
 some of the queen's advisers did not hesitate to suggest, that in 
 a crisis so desperate, she ought to consult her own safety and that 
 of the country, by seeking pretexts to take away the lives of some 
 of the leading catholics. They cited in support of this atrocious 
 proposal the example of Henry VIII. her father, who, before his 
 departure for the French wars, had without scruple brought to 
 the block his own cousin the marquis of Exeter and several 
 others, whose chief crime was their attachment to the ancient 
 faith, and their enjoying a degree of popularity which might 
 enable them to raise commotions in his absence. 
 
 Elizabeth rejected with horror these suggestions of cowardice 
 and cruelty, at the same time that she omitted no measures of 
 precaution which she regarded as justifiable. The existing laws 
 against priests and seminary men were enforced with vigilance 
 and severity, all popish recusants were placed under close in- 
 spection, and a considerable number of those accounted most 
 formidable were placed under safe custody in Wisbeach-castle. 
 
 To these gentlemen, however, the queen caused it to be inti- 
 mated, that the step which she had taken was principally de- 
 signed for their protection, since it was greatly to be apprehend- 
 ed, that, in the event of landing of the Spaniards,' the Roman 
 catholics might become the victims of some ebullition of popular 
 fury which it would not then be in the power of government to 
 repress. 
 
 This lenient proceeding on the part of her majesty was pro- 
 ductive of the best effects ; the catholics who remained at liberty 
 became earnest to prove themselves possessed of that spirit of 
 patriotism and loyalty for which she had given them credit. 
 Some entered the ranks as volunteers ; others armed and encou- 
 raged their tenantry and dependants for the defence of their 
 country ; several even fitted out vessels at their own expense, 
 and intrusted the command of them to protestant officers on whom 
 the government could entirely rely. 
 
 After the defeat of the armada, the prisoners at Wisbeach- 
 castle, having signed the submission required by law of such as 
 
 Z z 
 
THE COURT OF 
 
 had offended in hearing mass and absenting themselves from 
 church, petitioned the privy-council for their liberty; but a bond 
 for good behaviour being further demanded of them, with the 
 condition of being obedient to such orders as six members of 
 the privy-council should write down respecting them, they re- 
 fused to comply with such terms of enlargement, and remained 
 iu custody. As the submission which they had tendered volun- 
 tarily was in terms apparently no less strong than the bond which 
 they refused, it was conjectured that the former piece had been 
 drawn up by their ghostly fathers with some private equivocation 
 or mental reservation ; a suspicion which receives strong confir- 
 mation from the characters and subsequent conduct of some of 
 these persons, — the most noted fanatics certainly of their party, 
 and amongst whom we read the names of Talbot, Catesby, and 
 Tresham, afterwards principal conspirators in the detestable 
 gun-powder plot.* 
 
 The ships equipped by the nobility and gentry to combat the 
 armada amounted in the whole to forty-three, and it was on 
 board these vessels that young men of the noblest blood and 
 highest hopes now made their first essay in arms. In this num- 
 ber may be distinguished George Clifford third earl of Cumber- 
 land, one of the most remarkable, if not the greatest, characters 
 of the reign of Elizabeth. 
 
 The illustrious race of Clifford takes origin from William duke 
 of Normandy ; in a later age its blood was mingled with that of 
 the Plantagenets by the intermarriage of the seventh lord de 
 Clifford and a daughter of the celebrated Hotspur by Elizabeth 
 his wife, whose father was Edward Mortimer earl of March. Not- 
 withstanding this alliance with the house of York, two successive 
 lords de Clifford were slain in the civil wars fighting strenuously 
 on the Lancastrian side. It was to the younger of these, whose 
 sanguinary spirit gained him the surname of the Butcher, that the 
 barbarous murder of the young earl of Rutland was popularly im- 
 puted ; and a well founded dread of the vengeance of the Yorkists 
 caused his widow to conceal his son and heir under the lowly 
 disguise of a shepherd-boy, in which condition he grew up among 
 the fells of Westmoreland totally illiterate, and probably unsus- 
 picious of his origin. 
 
 At the end of five-and -twenty years, the restoration of the 
 line of Lancaster in the person of Henry VII. restored to lord 
 de Clifford the name, rank, and large possessions of his ances- 
 tors ; but the peasant-noble preferred through life that rustic ob- 
 scurity in which his character had been formed and his habits 
 fixed, to the splendours of a court or the turmoils of ambition. 
 He kept aloof from the capital ; and it was only on the field of 
 Floden, to which he led in person his hardy tenantry, that this 
 de Clifford exhibited some sparks of the warlike fire inherent in 
 his race. 
 
 His successor, by qualities very different from the homely 
 
 * Life of Whitgift by Slrype. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 36S 
 
 virtues which had obtained for his father among his tenantry and 
 neighbours the surname of the Good, recommended himself to 
 the special favour of Henry VIII., who created him earl of Cum 
 bcrland, and matched his heir to his own niece lady Eleanoi 
 Brandon. The sole fruit of this illustrious alliance, which in 
 volved the earl in an almost ruinous course of expense, was a 
 daughter, who afterwards became the mother of Ferdinand o ear! 
 of Derby, a nobleman whose mysterious and untimely fate re- 
 mains to be hereafter related. By a second and better-assorted 
 marriage, the earl of Cumberland became the father of George, 
 his successor, our present subject, who proved the most remark- 
 able of this distinguished family. The death of his father during 
 his childhood had brought him under wardship to the queen ; and 
 by her command he was sent to pursue his studies at Peterhouse, 
 Cambridge, under Whitgift, afterwards primate. Here he ap- 
 plied himself with ardour to the mathematics, and it was appa- 
 rently the bent of his genius towards these studies which first 
 caused him to turn his attention to nautical matters. An enter- 
 prising spirit and a turn for all the fashionable profusions of the 
 day, which speedily plunged him in pecuniary embarrassments, 
 added incitements on his activity in these pursuits ; and in 1580 
 he fitted out three ships and a pinance to cruise against the Spa- 
 niards and plunder their settlements. It appears extraordinary 
 that he did not assume in person the command of his little 
 squadron; but combats and triumphs perhaps still more glorious 
 in his estimation awaited him on the smoother element of the 
 court. 
 
 In the games of chivalry he bore off the prize of courage and 
 dexterity from all his peers ; the romantic band of knights-ti Iters 
 boasted of him as one of its brightest ornaments, and her majesty 
 deigned to encourage his devotedness to her glory by an envied 
 pledge of favour. 
 
 As he stood or kneeled before her, she dropped her glove, per- 
 haps not undesignedly, and on his picking it up, graciously de- 
 sired him to keep it. He caused the trophy to be encircled with 
 diamonds, and ever after at all tilts and tourneys bore it con- 
 spicuously placed in front of his high-crowned hat. 
 
 But the emergencies of the year 1588, summoned him to re- 
 sign the fopperies of an antiquated knight-errantry for serious 
 warfare and the exercise of genuine valour. Taking upon him 
 the command of a ship, he joined the fleet appointed to hang 
 upon the motions of the Spanish armada and harass it in its pro- 
 gress up the British Channel ; and on several occasions, especi- 
 ally in the last action, otf Calais, he signalised himself by un- 
 common exertions. 
 
 In reward of his services, her majesty granted him her royal 
 commission to pursue a voyage to the South Sea, which he had 
 already projected ; she even lent him for the occasion one of her 
 own ships ; and thus encouraged, he commenced that long series 
 of naval enterprises which has given him an enduring name. 
 After two or three voyages he constantly declined her majesty's 
 
THE COURT OF 
 
 gracious offers of the loan of her ships, because they we r e accoin 
 panied with the express condition that he should never lay any 
 vessel of hers on -board a Spanish one, lest both should be de- 
 stroyed by fire. Such was the character of mingled penurious- 
 ness and timidity which pervaded the maritime policy of this 
 great princess, even after the defeat of the armada had demon- 
 strated that, ship for ship, her navy might defy the world ! 
 
 At this period, all attempts against the power and prosperity 
 of Spain were naturally regarded with high favour ami admira- 
 tion ; and it cannot be dented that in his long and hazardous ex- 
 peditions the earl of Cumberland evinced high courage, undaunt- 
 ed enterprise, and an extraordinary share of perseverance under 
 repeated failures, disappointments, and hardships of every kind. 
 It is also true that his vigorous attacks embarrassed extremely 
 the intercourse of Spain with her colonies ; and, besides the direct 
 injury which they inflicted, compelled this power to incur an 
 immense additional expense for the protection of her treasure 
 ships and settlements. But the benefit to England was compa- 
 ratively trifling; and to the earl himself, notwithstanding occa- 
 sional captures of great value, his voyages were far from produc- 
 ing any lasting advantage ; they scarcely icpaid on the whole 
 the cost of equipment ; while the influx of sudden wealth with 
 which they sometimes gratified him, only ministered food to that 
 magnificent profusion in which he finally squandered both his 
 acquisitions and his patrimony. None of the liberal and enlight- 
 ened views which had prompted the efforts of the great naviga- 
 tors of this and a preceding age appear to have had any share in 
 the enterprises of the earl of Cumberland. Even the thirst of 
 martial glory seems in him to have been subordinate to the love 
 of gain, and that appetite for rapine to which his loose and ex- 
 travagant habits had given the force of a passion. 
 
 He had formed, early in life, an attachment to the beautiful 
 daughter of that worthy character and rare exemplar of old En- 
 glish hospitality, sir William Holies, ancestor to the earls of 
 Clare of that surname ; but her father, from a singular pride of 
 independence, refused to listen to his proposals, saying " that he 
 would not have to stand cap in hand to his son-in-law; his 
 daughter should marry a good gentleman with whom he might 
 have society and friendship." Disappointed thus of the object 
 of his affections, he matched himself with a daughter of the earl 
 of Bedford ; a woman of merit, as it appears, but whom their mu- 
 tual indifference precluded from exerting over him any salutaiy 
 influence. As a husband, he proved both unfaithful and cruel ; 
 and separating himself after a few years from his countess, on 
 pretence of incompatibility of tempers, he suffered her to pine 
 not only in desertion, but in poverty. We shall hereafter have 
 occasion to view this celebrated earl in the idly-solemn personage 
 of queen's champion ; meantime, he must be dismissed with no 
 more of applause than may be challenged by a character signally 
 deficient in the guiding and restraining virtues, and endowed 
 with such a share only of the more active ones as served to ren- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 365 
 
 der it conspicuous and glittering rather than truly and perma- 
 nently illustrious. 
 
 Henry earl of Northumberland likewise joined the fleet* oft 
 board a vessel hired by himself. Immediately after the fatal 
 catastrophe of his father in 1585, this young nobleman, anxious 
 apparently to efface the stigma of popery and disaffection stamp- 
 ed by the rash attempts of his uncle and father on the gallant 
 name of Percy, had seized the opportunity of embarking with 
 Leicester for the wars of the Low Countries. He now sought 
 distinction on another element, and in a cause still nearer to the 
 hearts of Englishmen. The conversion to protestantism and 
 loyalty of the head of such a house could not but be regarded b;v 
 Elizabeth with feelings of peculiar complacency, and in 1593. 
 she was pleased to. confer upon the earl the insignia of the gar- 
 ter. He was present in 1 601 , at the siege of Ostend, where he 
 considered himself as so much aggrieved by the conduct of sir 
 Francis Vere, that on the return of this officer to England he 
 sent him a challenge. During the decline of the queen's health, 
 Northumberland was distinguished by the warmth with which 
 he embraced the interests of the king of Scots, and he was the 
 first privy-councillor named by James on his accession to the 
 English throne. But the fate of his family seemed still to pur- 
 sue him : on some unsupported charges connected with the gun- 
 powder plot, he was stripped of all his offices, heavily fined, and 
 sentenced to perpetual imprisonment: the tardy mercy of the 
 king procured however his release at the end of fifteen years, 
 and he spent the remnant of his life in tranquil and honourable 
 retirement. This unfortunate nobleman was a man of parts : the 
 abundant leisure for intellectual pursuits afforded by his long 
 captivity was chiefly employed by him in the study of the mathe- 
 matics, including perhaps the occult sciences ; and as he was per- 
 mitted to enjoy freely the conversation of such men of learning 
 as he wished to assemble around him, he became one of their 
 most bountiful patrons. 
 
 Thomas Cecil, eldest son of the lord-treasurer, formerly a 
 volunteer in the expedition to Scotland undertaken in favour ot 
 the regent Murray, and more recently appointed governor of the 
 Brill in consideration of his services in the war in Flanders, also 
 embarked to repel the invaders ; as did Robert his half-brother, 
 the afterwards celebrated secretary of state created earl of Sa- 
 lisbury by James I. 
 
 Robert Cecil was deformed in his person, of a feeble and sickly 
 constitution, and entirely devoted to the study of politics ; and 
 nothing, it is to be presumed, but his steady determination of 
 omitting no means of attracting to himself that royal favour 
 which he contemplated as the instrument by which to work out 
 his future fortunes, could have engaged him in a service so re- 
 pugnant to his habits and pursuits, and for which the hand of na. 
 ture herself had so evidently disabled him. 
 
 The earl of Oxford, in expiation perhaps of some of those vio- 
 lences of temper and irregularities of conduct by which he was 
 
366 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 perpetually offending the queen and obstructing his own advance 
 ment in the state, equipped on this occasion a vessel which he 
 commanded. 
 
 Sir Charles Blount, notwithstanding the narrowness of his pre- 
 sent fortunes, judged it incumbent on him to give a similar proof 
 of attachment to his queen and country ; and the circumstance 
 affords an occasion of introducing to the notice of the reader one 
 of the brightest ornaments of the court of Elizabeth. 
 
 This distinguished gentleman, now in the twenty-fifth year 
 of his age, was the second son of James sixth lord Montjoy 
 of the ancient Norman name of Le Blonde, corruptly writ- 
 ten Blount. The family history might serve as a commen- 
 tary on the reigning follies of the English court during two or 
 three generations. His grandfather, a splendid courtier, con- 
 sumed his resources on the ostentatious equipage with which he 
 attended to the French wars his master Henry VIII., with whom 
 he had the misfortune to be a favourite. His father squandered 
 a diminished patrimony still more absurdly in his search after 
 the philosopher's stone ; and the ruin of the family was so con- 
 summated by the ill-timed prodigalities of his elder brother, that 
 when his death without children in 1594, transmitted the title of 
 lord Montjoy to sir Charles, a thousand marks was the whole 
 amount of the inheritance by w hich this honour was to be main- 
 tained. It is needless to add that the younger brother's portion 
 with which he set out in life was next to nothing. Having thus 
 his own way to make, he immediately after completing his edu- 
 cation at Oxford entered himself of the Inner Temple, as mean- 
 ing to pur&ue the profession of the law : but fortune had ordain- 
 ed his destiny otherwise ; and being led by his curiosity to visit 
 the court, he there found " a pretty strange kind of admission," 
 which cannot be related with more vivacity than in the ori- 
 ginal words of Naunton. " He was then much about twenty 
 years of age, of a brown hair, a sweet face, a most neat compo- 
 sure, and tall in his person. The queen was then at Whitehall 
 and at dinner, whither he came to see the fashion of the court. 
 The queen had soon found him out, and with a kind of an affect- 
 ed frown asked the lady carver who he was ? She answered, 
 she knew him not; insomuch that enquiry was made from one to 
 another who he might be, till at length it was told the queen that 
 he was brother to the lord William Mountjoy. This inquisition, 
 with the eye of majesty fixed upon him, (as she was wont to do 
 to daunt men she knew not,) stirred the blood of this young gen- 
 tleman, insomuch as his colour went and came; which the queen 
 observing called him unto her, and gave him her hand to kiss, 
 encouraging him with gracious words and new looks ; and so 
 diverting her speech to the lords and ladies, she said, that she 
 no sooner observed him, but that she knew there was in him 
 some noble blood, with some other expressions of pity towards 
 his house. And then again, demanding his name, she said, ' Fail 
 you not to come to the court, and I will bethink myself how to 
 do you good.' And this was his inlet, and the beginning of his 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 367 
 
 grace." It does not appear what boon the queen immediately 
 bestowed upon her new courtier ; but he deserted the profession 
 of the law, sat in the parliaments of 1585 and 1586, as the re- 
 presentative of two different Cornish boroughs, received in the 
 latter year the honour of knighthood, and soon after his present 
 expedition appeared considerable enough at court to provoke the 
 hostility of the earl of Essex himself. Raleigh, now high in fa- 
 vour, and invested with the offices of captain of the queen's 
 guard and her lieutenant for Cornwall, had been actively engaged 
 since the last year in training to arms the militia of that county. 
 He had also been employed, as a member of the council of war, 
 in concerting the general plan of national defence: but his ar- 
 dent and adventurous valour prompted him to aid his country in 
 her hour of trial on both elements, and with hand as well as head: 
 throwing himself therefore into a vessel of his own which waited 
 his orders, he hastened to share in the discomfiture of her insult- 
 ing foe. 
 
 But it would be endless to enumerate all who spontaneously 
 came forward to partake the perils and the glory of this ever- 
 memorable contest; and the naval commanders of principal emi 
 nence have higher claims to our notice. 
 
 The dignity of lord-high-admiral, — customarily conferred on 
 mere men of rank, in whom not the slightest tincture of profes- 
 sional knowledge was required or expected, — at this critical junc- 
 ture belonged to Charles second lord Howard of Effingham, of 
 whom we have formerly spoken, and who appears never in the 
 whole course of his life to have been at sea but once before, and 
 that only on an occasion of ceremony. He was every way an 
 untried man, and as yet distinguished for nothing except the ac- 
 complishments of a courtier : but he exhibited on trial, courage, 
 resolution, and conduct ; an affability of manner which endeared 
 him to the sailors; and a prudent sense of his own inexperience, 
 which rendered him perfectly docile to the counsels of those ex- 
 cellent sea-officfcrs by whom he had the good fortune to find him- 
 self surrounded. He encouraged his crew, and manifested his 
 alacrity in the service, by putting his own hand to the rope which 
 was to tow his ship out of harbour ; and he afterwards gave proof 
 of his good sense and his patriotism, by his opposition to the or- 
 ders which her majesty's excess of ceconomy led her to issue on 
 the first dispersion of the armada by a storm, for laying up four 
 of her largest ships ; earnestly requesting that he might be per- 
 mitted to retain them at his own expense rather than the safety 
 of the cou itry should be risked by their dismissal. John Haw- 
 kins, one of the ablest and most experienced seamen of the age, 
 was chiefly relied upon for the conduct of the main fleet, in 
 which he acted as vice-admiral. For his good service he was 
 knighted by the lord admiral on board his own ship immediately 
 after the action, when the like honour was bestowed on that 
 eminent navigator Frobisher, who led into action the Triumph, 
 one of the three first-rates which were then all that the English 
 navy could boast. 
 
368 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 To the hero Jlrake, as rear-admiral, a separate squadron was 
 intrusted : and it was by this division that the principal execu- 
 tion M as (lone upon the discomfited armada as it fled in confusion 
 before the valour of the English and the fury of their tempestu- 
 ous seas. An enormous galleon surrendered .without firing a 
 shot to the much smaller vessel of Drake, purely from the ter- 
 ror of his name. 
 
 Whilst the lord-admiral, with the principal fleet stationed off 
 Plymouth, prepared to engage the armada in its passage up the 
 Channel, sir Henry Seymour, youngest son of the protector, was 
 stationed with a smaller force, partly English, partly Flemish, 
 off Dunkirk, for the purpose of intercepting the duke of Parma, 
 who was lying with his veteran forces on the coast, ready to em- 
 bark and co-operate in the conquest of England. 
 
 In the midst of these naval preparations, which happily suffi- 
 ced in the event to frustrate entirely the designs of the enemy, 
 equal activity was exerted to place the land forces in a condi- 
 tion to dispute the soil against the finest troops and most con- 
 summate general of Europe. 
 
 An army of reserve consisting of about thirty-six thousand 
 men was drawn together for the defence of the queen's person, 
 and appointed to march towards any quarter in which the most 
 pressing danger should manifest itself. A smaller, but probably 
 better appointed force, of twenty-three thousand was stationed 
 in a camp near Tilbury to protect the capital against which it 
 was not doubted that the most formidable efforts of the enemy 
 on making good his landing would be immediately directed. 
 
 Owing to the long peace which the country had enjoyed, Eng- 
 land possessed at this juncture no general of reputation, though, 
 doubtless, a sufficiency of men of resolution and capacity whom 
 a short experience of actual service would have matured into 
 able officers. Under circumstances which afforded to the govern- 
 ment so small a choice of men, the respective appointment of 
 Arthur lord Grey, — distinguished by the vigour which he had 
 exerted in suppressing the last Irish rebellion, — to the post of 
 president of the council of war ; of lord Hunsdon, — a brave sol- 
 dier long practised in the desultory warfare of the northein bor- 
 der, as well as in several regular campaigns against Scotland, — 
 to the command of the army of reserve; and of the earl of Essex, 
 — a gallant you\h who had fleshed his maiden sword and gained 
 his spurs in the affair of Zutpl>en, to the post of general of the 
 horse in the main army ; — seem to have merited the sanction of 
 public approbation. But the most strenuous defender of the 
 measures of her majesty must have been staggered by her nomi- 
 nation of Leicester, — the hated, the disgraced, the incapable 
 Leicester, — to the station of highest honour, danger, and impor- 
 tance ; — that of commander in chief of the army at Tilbury. 
 Military experience, indeed, the favourite possessed in a higher 
 degree than most of those to whom the defence of the country 
 was now of necessity intrusted, but of skill and conduct he had 
 proved himself destitute ; even his personal courage was doubt- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 S69 
 
 Jul ; and his recent failures in Holland must have inspired dis- 
 trust in the bosom of every individual, whether officer or private, 
 appointed to serve under him. Something must be allowed for 
 the embarrassments of the time; the deficiency of military talent; 
 the high rank of Leicester in the service, which forbade his em- 
 ployment in any inferior capacity: but, with all these palliations, 
 the nomination of such an antagonist to confront the duke of 
 Parma must eternally be regarded as the weakest act into which 
 the prudence of Elizabeth was ever betrayed by a blind and un~ 
 acc o u n tabl e pa i t i ali ty. 
 
 All these preparations for defence being finally arranged, her 
 majesty resolved to visit in person the camp at Tilbury, for the 
 purpose of encouraging her troops. 
 
 It had been a part of the commendation of Elizabeth, that in 
 her public appearances, of whatsoever nature, no sovereign on 
 record had acted the part so well, or with such universal ap- 
 plause. But on this memorable and momentous occasion, when, — 
 like a second Boadicea, armed for defence against the invader of 
 her country, — she appeared at once the warrior and the queen, 
 the sacred feelings of the moment, superior to all the artifices of 
 regal dignity and the tricks of regal condescension, inspired her 
 with that impressive earnestness of look, of words, of gesture, 
 which alone is truly dignified and truly eloquent. 
 
 Mounted on a noble charger, with a general's truncheon in her 
 hand, a corselet of polished steel laced on over her magnificent 
 apparel, and a page in attendance bearing her white-plumed hel- 
 met, she rode bare-headed from rank to rank with a courageous 
 deportment and smiling countenance ; and amid the affection- 
 ate plaudits and shouts of military ardour which burst from the 
 animated and admiring soldiery, she addressed them in the fol- 
 lowing short and spirited harangue. 
 
 " Myloving people ; we have been persuaded by some that are 
 careful of our safety, to take heed how we commit ourselves to 
 armed multitudes, for fear of treachery ; but, assure you, I do not 
 desire to live to distrust my faithful and loving people. Let ty- 
 rants fear : I have always so behaved myself that, under God, I 
 have placed my chiefest strength and safeguard in the loyal 
 hearts and good-will of my subjects. And therefore I am come 
 amongst you at this time, not as for my recreation or sport, but being 
 resolved in the midst and heat of the battle, to live or die amongst 
 you all ; to lay down for my God, and for my kingdom, and for 
 my people, my honour and my blood, even in the dust. I know 
 I have but the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the 
 heart of a king, and of a king of England too; and think foul 
 scorn, that Parma or Spain, or any prince of Europe, should dar e 
 to invade the borders of my realms : To which, rather than any 
 dishonour should grow by me, I myself will take up arms : I my- 
 self will be your general, judge, and rewarder of every one of 
 your virtues in the field. 
 
 " I know already by your forwardness, that you have deserved 
 
 3 A 
 
370 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 rewards and crowns ; and we do assure you, on the word of a 
 prince, they shall be duly paid you. In the meantime, my lieuten- 
 ant-general shall be in my stead, than whom never prince com- 
 manded a more noble and worthy subject; not doubting by your 
 obedience to my general, by your concord in the camp, and your 
 valour in the field, we shall shortly have a famous victory over 
 those enemies of my God, of my kingdom, and of my people." 
 
 The extraordinary reliance placed by the queen in this emer- 
 gency upon the counsels of Leicester encouraged the insatiable 
 favourite to grasp at honour and authority still more exorbitant; 
 and he ventured to urge her majesty to invest him with the office 
 of her lieutenant in England and Ireland ; a dignity paramount 
 to all other commands. She had the weakness to comply ; and 
 it is said that the patent was actually drawn out, when the de- 
 feat of the armada, by taking away all pretext for the creation of 
 such an officer gave her leisure to attend to the earnest repre- 
 sentations of Hatton and Burleigh on the imprudence of confer- 
 ring on any subject powers so excessive, and capable even in 
 some instances of controlling her own prerogative. On better 
 consideration the project therefore was dropped. 
 
 It is foreign from the business of this work to detail the par- 
 ticulars of that signal victory obtained by English seamanship 
 and English valour against the boasted armament of Spain, pro- 
 digiously superior as it was in every circumstance of force ex- 
 cepting the moral energies employed to wield it. While the his- 
 tory of the year 1588, in all its details, must ever form a favour- 
 ite chapter in the splendid tale of England's naval glory, it will 
 here suffice to mark the general results. 
 
 Not a single Spaniard set foot on English ground but as a pri- 
 soner; one English vessel only, and that of smaller size, became 
 the prize of the invaders. The duke of Parma did not venture to 
 embark a man. The king of Scots, standing firm to his alliance 
 •with his illustrious kinswoman, afforded not the slightest succour 
 to the Spanish ships which the storms and the English drove in 
 shattered plight upon his rugged coast; while the lord-deputy of 
 Ireland caused to be butchered without remorse the crews of all 
 the vessels wrecked upon that island in their disastrous circum- 
 navigation of Great Britain : so that not more than half of this 
 vaunted invincible armada returned in safety to the ports of 
 Spain. Never in the records of history was the event of war on 
 one side more entirely satisfactory and glorious, on the other 
 more deeply humiliating and utterly disgraceful. Philip did in- 
 deed support the credit of his personal character by the dignified 
 composure with which he heard the tidings of this great disaster: 
 but it was out of his power to throw the slightest veil over the 
 dishonour of the Spanish arms, or repair the total and final fai- 
 lure of the great popish cause. 
 
 By the English nation, this signal discomfiture of its most 
 dreaded and detested foe was hailed as the victory of protestant 
 principles no less than of national independence ; and the tid- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 371 
 
 ings of the'' national deliverance were welcomed, by all the re- 
 formed churches of Europe, with an ardour of joy and thankful- 
 ness proportioned to the intenseness of anxiety with which they 
 had watched the event of a conflict, where their own dearest in- 
 terests were staked along with the existence of their best ally 
 and firmest protector. 
 
 Repeated thanksgivings were observed in London in commem- 
 oration of this great event : on the anniversary of the queen's 
 birth, a general festival was proclaimed and celebrated with "ser- 
 mons, singing of psalms, bonfires, &c." and on the following Sun- 
 day her majesty went in state to St. Paul's, magnificently at- 
 tended by her nobles and great officers, and borne along on a 
 sumptuous chariot formed like a throne, with four pillars sup- 
 porting a canopy, and drawn by a pair of white horses. The streets 
 througli which she passed were hung with blue cloth, in honour 
 doubtless of the navy, and the colours taken from the enemy were 
 borne in triumph. 
 
 Her majesty rewarded the lord-admiral with a considerable 
 pension, and settled annuities on the wounded seamen and on 
 some of the more necessitous among the officers ; the rest she hon- 
 oured with much personal notice and many gracious terms of com- 
 mendation, which they w ere expected to receive in lieu of more 
 substantial remuneration ; — for parsimony, the darling virtue of 
 Elizabeth, was not forgotten even in her gratitude to the brave 
 defenders of her country. 
 
 Two medals were struck on this great occasion ; one, repre- 
 senting a fleet retiring under full sail, with the motto, " Venit, 
 vidityfugit the other, fire-ships scattering a fleet; the motto, 
 " Dux fsemina facti a compliment to the queen, w r ho is said to 
 have herself suggested the employment of these engines of de- 
 struction, by which the armada suffered severely. 
 
 The intense interest in public events excited in every class 
 by the threatened invasion of Spain, gave rise to the introduction 
 in this country of one of the most important inventions of social 
 life, — that of newspapers, Previously to this period all articles 
 of intelligence had been circulated in manuscript; and all political 
 remarks which the government had found itself interested in ad- 
 dressing to the people, had issued from the press in the shape of 
 pamphlets, of which many had been composed during the admin- 
 istration of Burleigh, either by himself or immediately under his 
 direction. But the peculiar convenience at such a juncture, of 
 uniting these two objects in a periodical publication becoming 
 obvious to the ministry, there appeared, some time in the month 
 of April, 1588, the first number of The English Mercury, a paper 
 resembling the present London Gazette, which must have come 
 out almost daily ; since No. 50, the earliest specimen of the work 
 now extant, is dated July 23d of the same year. This interesting 
 relic is preserved in the British Museum. 
 
 In the midst of the public rejoicings, an event occurred, which, 
 in whatever manner it might be felt by Elizabeth herself, certainlv 
 
THE COURT OF 
 
 cast no damp on the spirits of the nation at large ; the death ot 
 Leicester. 
 
 After the frequent notices of this celebrated favourite con- 
 tained in the foregoing pages, a formal delineation of his charac- 
 ter is unnecessary ; — a few traits may however be added. 
 
 Speaking of his letters and public papers, Naunton says, " 1 
 never yet saw a style or phrase more seeming religious and fuller 
 of the streams of devotion ;" and notwithstanding the charge of 
 hypocrisy on tins head usually brought against Leicester in the 
 most unqualified terms, many reasons might induce us to believe 
 his religious faith sincere, and his attachment for certain schemes 
 of doctrine, zealous. On no other supposition does it appear pos- 
 sible to account for that steady patronage of the puritanical party, 
 — so odious to his mistress, — which gave on some occasions such 
 important advantages over him to his adversary Hatton, — the 
 only minister of Elizabeth who appears co have aimed at the cha 
 racter of a high church -of-England man. The circumstance also 
 of his devoting during his lifetime a considerable sum of ready 
 money, which he could ill spare, to the endowment of a hospital, 
 has much the air of an act of expiation prompted by religious 
 fears. As a statesman, Leicester appears to have displayed on 
 some occasions considerable acuteness and penetration, but in the 
 higher kind of wisdom he was utterly deficient. His moral in- 
 sensibility sometimes caused him to offer to his sovereign the 
 most pernicious counsels ; and had not the superior rectitude of 
 Burleigh's judgment interposed, his influence might have inflict- 
 ed still deeper wounds on the honour of the queen and the pros- 
 perity of the nation. 
 
 Towards his own friends and adherents, he is said to have been 
 a religious observer of his promises ; a virtue very remarkable in 
 such a man. In the midst of that profusion which rendered him 
 rapacious, he was capable of acts of real generosity, and both sol- 
 diers and scholars tasted largely of his bounty. That he was 
 guilty of many detestable acts of oppression, and pursued with 
 secret and unrelenting vengeance such as offended his arrogance 
 by any failure in the servile homage which he made it his glory 
 to exact, are charges proved by undeniable facts ; but it has al- 
 ready been observed, that the more atrocious of the crimes popu- 
 larly imputed to him, remain, and must ever remain, matters of 
 suspicion rather than proof. 
 
 His conduct during the younger part of life was scandalously 
 licentious : latterly, he became, says Camden, uxorious to excess. 
 In the early days of his favour with the queen, her profuse dona- 
 tions had gratified his cupidity and displayed the fondness of her 
 attachment ; but, at a later period, the stream of her bounty ran 
 low; and following the natural bent of her disposition, or com- 
 plying with the necessity of her affairs, she compelled him to 
 mortgage to her his barony of Denbigh for the expenses of his 
 last expedition to Holland. Immediately after his death she also 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 373 
 
 < a used his effects to be sold by auction, for the satisfaction of 
 certain demands of her treasury. From these circumstances, it 
 may probably be inferred, that the influence which Leicester still 
 retained over her was secured rather by the chain of habit than 
 the tie of affection ; and after the first shock of final separation 
 from him whom she had so long loved and trusted, it is not im- 
 probable that she might contemplate the event with a feeling, 
 somewhat akin to that of deliverance from a yoke, under which 
 her haughty spirit had repined without the courage to resist. 
 
 Leicester died, beyond all doubt, of a fever; but so reluc- 
 tant were the prejudices of that age to dismiss any eminent per- 
 son by the ordinary roads of mortality, that it was judged neces- 
 sary to take examinations before the privy-council respecting 
 certain magical practices said to have been employed against his 
 life. The son of sir James Croft, comptroller of the household, 
 made no scruple to confess that he had consulted an adept of the 
 name of Smith, to learn who were his father's enemies in the 
 council ; that Smith mentioned the earl of Leicester ; and that a 
 little while after, flirting with his thumbs, he exclaimed, allud 
 ing to this nobleman's cognisance, " The bear is bound to the 
 stake and again, that nothing could now save him. But as it 
 might, after all, have been difficult to show in what manner the 
 flirting of a thumb in London could have exerted a fatal power 
 over the life of the earl at Kennelworth, the adept seems to have 
 escaped unpunished, notwithstanding the accidental fulfilment of 
 his denunciations. 
 
574 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 from 1588 to 1591. 
 
 Effects of Leicester's death. — Rise of the queen's affection for Es- 
 sex. — Trial of the earl of Arundel. — Letter of Walsingham on 
 religious affairs. — Death of Mildmay. — Case of don Antonio. — 
 Expedition to Cadiz. — Behaviour of Essex. — Traits of sir C. 
 Blount. — Sir H. Leigh's resignation. — Conduct of Elizabeth to 
 the king of Scots. — His marriage. — Death and character of sir 
 Francis Walsingham. — Struggle between the earl of Essex and 
 lord Burleigh for the nomination of his successor. — Extracts of 
 letters from Essex to Davison. — Inveteracy of the queen against 
 Davison. — Robert Cecil appointed assistant secretary. — Private 
 marriage of Essex. — Anger of the queen. — Reform effected by the 
 queen in the collection of the revenue. — Speech oj Burleigh. — Par- 
 simony of the queen considered. — Anecdotes on this subject. — 
 Lin es by Spenser. — Succours afforded by her to the king of France. 
 — Account of sir John Norris. — Essex's campaign in France. — 
 Royal progress. — Entertainment at Coudray — at Elvetham — at 
 Theobald's. — Death and character of sir Christopher Hatton. — 
 Puckering lord-keeper. — Notice of sir John Perrot. — Putten- 
 ham's Art of Poetry. — Verses by Gascoigne. — Warner's Al 
 bion's England. 
 
 The death of Leicester forms an important sera in the his- 
 tory of the court of Elizabeth, and also in that of her private life 
 and more intimate feelings. The powerful faction of which the 
 favourite had been the head, acknowledged a new leader in the 
 earl of Essex, whom his step-father had brought forward at court 
 as a counterpoise to the influence of Raleigh, and who now stood 
 second to none in the good graces of her majesty. But Essex, 
 however gifted with noble and brilliant qualities totally deficient 
 in Leicester, was on the other hand confessedly inferior to him 
 in several other endowments still more essential to the leader of 
 a court party. Though not void of art, he was by no means mas- 
 ter of the profound dissimulation, the exquisite address, and es- 
 pecially the wary coolness by which his predecessor well knew 
 how to accomplish his ends in despite of all opposition. His cha- 
 racter was impetuous, his natural disposition frank ; and expe- 
 rience had not yet taught him to distrust either himself or others. 
 
 With the friendships, Essex received as an inheritance the en- 
 mities also of Leicester, and no one at court could have enter- 
 tained the least doubt whom he regarded as his principal oppo- 
 nent; but it would have been deemed too high a pitch of pre- 
 sumption in so young a man and so recent a favourite as Essex, 
 to place himself in immediate and open hostility to the long es- 
 
QITKEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 375 
 
 lablished and far extending influence of Burleigh. With this 
 great minister, therefore, and his adherents he attempted at first 
 a kind of compromise, and the noted division of the court into the 
 Essex and the Cecil parties does not appear to have taken place 
 till some years after the period of which we are treating. Mean- 
 time, the death of Walsingham afforded the lord-treasurer an oc- 
 casion of introducing to the notice and confidence of her majesty, 
 and eventually to the important office of secretary of state, his 
 son Robert, whose transcendent talents for affairs, joined to the 
 utmost refinement of intrigue and duplicity, immediately esta- 
 blished him in the same independence on the good will of the new 
 favourite, as the elder Cecil nad ever asserted on that of the for- 
 mer one ; and appears finally to have enabled him to prepare in 
 secret that favourite's disastrous fall. 
 
 With regard to Elizabeth herself, it has been a thousand 
 times remarked, that she was never able to forget the woman in 
 the sovereign ; and in spite of that preponderating love of sway 
 which all her life forbade her to admit a partner of her bed and 
 throne, her heart was to the last deeply sensible to the want, or 
 her imagination to the charm, of loving and being beloved. The 
 death therefore of a man who had been for thirty years the ob- 
 ject of a tenderness which he had long repaid by every flattering 
 profession, every homage of gallantry, and every manifestation 
 of entire devotedness, left, notwithstanding any late disgusts 
 which she might have entertained, a void in her existence which 
 9he felt it necessary to supply. It was this situation, doubtless, 
 of her feelings which led to the gradual conversion into a softer 
 sentiment, of that natural and innocent tenderness with which 
 she had hitherto regarded the brilliant and engaging qualities of 
 her youthful kinsman the earl of Essex; — a change which termi- 
 nated so fatally to both. 
 
 The enormous disproportion of ages gave to the new inclina^ 
 tion of the queen a stamp of dotage inconsistent with the reputa- 
 tion for good sense and dignity of conduct which she had hitherto 
 preserved. Nor did she long receive from the indulgence of so 
 untimely a sentiment any portion of the felicity which she co- 
 veted. The careless and even affronting behaviour in which 
 Essex occasionally indulged himself, combined with her own sa- 
 gacity to admonish her that her fondness was unreturned ; and 
 that nothing but the substantial benefits by which it declared it- 
 self could have induced its object to meet it with even the semb- 
 lance of gratitude. As this mortifying conviction came home to 
 her bosom, she grew restless, irritable, and captious to excess ; 
 she watched all his motions with a self-tormenting jealousy ; she 
 fed her own disquiet by listening to the malicious informations 
 of his enemies ; and her heart at length becoming callous by re- 
 peated exasperations, she began to visit his delinquencies with 
 an unrelenting sternness. This conduct, attempted too late and 
 persisted in too long, hurried Essex to his ruin, and ended by 
 inflicting upon herself the mortal agonies of an unavailing re 
 pentance. 
 
576 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 Lord Bacon relates, in his Apothegms, that "a great officer 
 about court when my lord of Essex was first in trouble, and that 
 he and those that dealt for him would talk much of my lord's 
 friends and of his enemies, answered to one of them ; < I will 
 tell you, I know but one friend and one enemy my lord hath; 
 and that one friend is the queen, and that one enemy, is him 
 self.' " But rather might both have been esteemed his enemies : 
 for what except the imprudent fondness of the queen, and the 
 excess of favour which she at first lavished upon him, was the 
 original cause of that intoxication of mind which finally became 
 the instrument of his destruction ? 
 
 But from observations which anticipate perhaps too much the 
 catastrophe of this melancholy history, it is time to return to a 
 narrative of events. 
 
 The Spanish armament incidentally became the occasion of 
 involving the earl of Arundel in a charge of a capital nature. 
 Ever since the treachery of his agents, in the year 1585, had 
 baffled his design of quitting for ever a country in which his re- 
 ligion and his political attachments had rendered him an alien, 
 this unfortunate nobleman had remained close prisoner in the 
 Tower. Such treatment might well be supposed calculated to 
 augment the vehemence of his bigotry and the rancour of his 
 disaffection; and it became a current report that, on hearing 
 news of the sailing of the armada, he had caused a mass of the 
 Holy Ghost and devotions of twenty-four hours continuance to 
 be celebrated for its success. This rumour being confirmed by 
 one Bennet, a priest then under examination, and other circum- 
 stances of suspicion coming out, the earl, on April the 14th, 
 1589, was brought to the bar of the house of lords on a charge 
 of high treason. Bennet, struck with compunction, addressed 
 to him a letter acknowledging his testimony to have been false, 
 and extorted from him solely by the fear of the rack. But it ap- 
 pears that this letter, still extant among the Burleigh papers, was 
 intercepted by the government; and the prisoner, by this cruel 
 and iniquitous artifice, was deprived of all means of invalidating 
 the testimony of Bennet, who was brought into court as a wit- 
 ness against him. By a second violation of every principle of 
 justice, the matters for which, as contempts, he had already un- 
 dergone the sentence of the Star-chamber, were now introduced 
 into his indictment for high treason, to which the following ar- 
 ticles were added : — that he had engaged to assist cardinal Allen 
 in the restoration of popery ; — that he had intimated the unfit- 
 ness of the queen to govern ; that he had caused masses to be 
 said for the success of the armada ; — that he had attempted to 
 withdraw himself beyond seas for the purpose of serving under 
 the duke of Parma ; — and that he had been privy to the bull of 
 pope Sixtus V., transferring the sovereignty of England from her 
 majesty to the king of Spain. 
 
 To all these articles, which he was not allowed to separate, 
 the earl pleaded Not guilty ; but afterwards, in his defence, con- 
 fessed some of them, though* with certain extenuations. He as- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 377 
 
 serted, that the prayers and masses which he had caused to be 
 said, were for the averting of a general massacre of the English 
 catholics, alleged to be designed; and not for the success of the 
 armada. The aid to the catholic cause, which he had promised 
 in his correspondence with cardinal Allen, he declared to refer 
 only to peaceful attempts at making converts, not to the encou- 
 ragement of any plan of rebellion. He acknowledged a design 
 of going to serve under the prince of Parma, since he was* denied 
 the exercise of his religion at home ; but he argued his innocence 
 of any view of co-operating in plans of invasion, from the circum- 
 stance, that his attempt to leave England had taken place during 
 the year fixed by cardinal Allen and the queen of Scots for the 
 execution of a scheme of this nature. 
 
 The crown lawyers, in order to make out a case of constructive 
 treason, urged the reconcilement of the prisoner with the church 
 of Rome, which they held to be of itself a traitorous act ; his 
 correspondence with declared traitors ; and the high opinion 
 entertained of him by the queen of Scots and cardinal Allen, 
 as the chief support of popery in England. They likewise exhi- 
 bited an emblematical picture found in his house, representing 
 in one part, a hand shaking off a viper into the fire, with the 
 motto, " If God is for us, who can be against us?" and in an- 
 other part a lion, the cognisance of the Howard family, deprived 
 of his claws, under him the words, " Yet still a lion." On these 
 charges, none of which, though proved by the most unexception- 
 able witnesses, could bring him within the true meaning of the 
 old statute of Edward III., on which he was indicted, the peers 
 were base enough to pronounce an unanimous verdict of Guilty ; 
 which he received, as his father had done before him, with the 
 words "God's will be done !" But here the queen felt herself 
 concerned in honour to interpose. It had ever been her maxim 
 and her boast, to punish none capitally for religious delinquen- 
 cies unconnected with traitorous designs ; and sensible probably 
 how imperfectly in this case the latter had been proved, she 
 was pleased, in her abundant mercy, to commute the capital 
 part of the sentence against her unhappy kinsman for perpetual 
 imprisonment, attended with the forfeiture of the greater part of 
 his estate. 
 
 In 1595, this victim of the religious dissensions of a fierce and 
 bigoted age ended in his thirty-ninth year an unfortunate life, 
 shortened, as well as embittered, by the more than monkish aus- 
 terities which he imagined it meritorious to inflict upon himself. 
 
 From the period of the abortive attempt at insurrection under 
 the earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland, the whole course 
 of public events had tended to increase the difficulties and aggra- 
 vate the sufferings in which the catholics of England found 
 themselves inextricably involved. Their situation was thus for- 
 cibly depicted by Philip Sidney, in a passage of his celebrated 
 letter to her majesty against the French marriage, which at the 
 present day will probably be read in a spirit very different from 
 that in which it was written. 
 
 SB 
 
378 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 " The other faction, most rightly indeed to be called a faction, is' 
 the papists ; men whose spirits are full of anguish ; some being in- 
 fested by others whom they accounted damnable ; some having 
 their ambition stopped because they are not in the way of ad- 
 vancement ; some in prison and disgrace ; some whose best friends 
 are banished practisers ; many thinking you an usurper; many 
 thinking also you had disannulled your right because of the pope's 
 excommunication ; all burthened with the weight of their con- 
 sciences. Men of great numbers, of great riches (because the 
 affairs of state have not lain on them,) of united minds, as all 
 men that deem themselves oppressed naturally are." 
 
 A further commentary on the hardships of their condition may 
 be extracted from an apology for the measures of the English 
 government towards both papists and puritans, addressed by 
 Walsingham to M. Critoy the French secretary of state. 
 
 « Sir, 
 
 " AVhereas you desire to be advertised touching the proceed 
 ings here in ecclesiastical causes, because you seem to note in 
 them some inconstancy and variation, as if we sometimes in 
 clined to one side, sometimes to another, as if that clemency and 
 lenity were not used of late that was used in the beginning, all 
 which you impute to your own superficial understanding of the 
 affairs of this state, having notwithstanding her majesty's doing 
 in singular reverence, as the real pledges which she hath given 
 unto the world of her sincerity in religion and her wisdom in 
 government well meriteth; I am glad of this occasion to impart 
 that little I know in that matter to you, both for your own satis- 
 faction, and to the end you may make use thereof towards any 
 that shall not be so modestly and so reasonably minded as you 
 are. I find therefore her majesty's proceedings to have been 
 grounded upon two principles. 
 
 " 1. The one, that consciences are not to be forced, but to be 
 won and reduced by the force of truth, with the aid of time, and 
 use of all good means of instruction and persuasion. 
 
 " 2. The other, that the causes of conscience, wherein they 
 exceed their bounds, and grow to be matter of faction, lose their 
 nature ; and that sovereign princes ought distinctly to punish the 
 practice in contempt, though coloured under the pretence of con 
 science and religion. 
 
 " According to these principles, her majesty, at her coming to* 
 the crown, utterly disliking the tyranny of Rome, which had 
 used by terror and rigour to settle commandments of men's faiths 
 and consciences ; though, as a prince of great wisdom and mag- 
 nanimity, she suffered but the exercise of one religion, yet her 
 proceedings towards the papists was with great lenity, expecting 
 the good effects which time might work in them. And therefore 
 her majesty revived not the laws made in the 28 and 35 of her 
 father's reign, whereby the oath of supremacy might have been 
 offered at the king's pleasure to any subject, though he kept his 
 conscience never so modestly to himself; and the refusal to 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 sr9 
 
 lake the same oath without further circumstance was made trea- 
 son, liul contrariwise her majesty, not liking to make windows 
 into men's hearts and secret thoughts, except the abundance of 
 them did overflow into overt or express acts or. affirmations, 
 tempered her laws so as it restraineth every manifest disobe- 
 dience in impugning and impeaching advisedly and malicious! \ 
 her majesty's supreme power, maintaining and extolling a foreign 
 jurisdiction. And as for the oath, it was altered by her majesty 
 into a more grateful form; the hardness of the name and appel- 
 lation of supreme head was removed; and the penalty of the 
 refusal thereof turned only into disablement to take any promo- 
 tion, or to exercise any charge, and yet with liberty of being re- 
 invested therein if any man should accept thereof during his life. 
 But when, after Pius Quiuius had excommunicated her majesty, 
 and the bills of excommunication were published in Lon Ion, 
 whereby her majesty was in a sort proscribed ; and that there- 
 upon, as a principal motive or preparative, followed the rebellion 
 in the north; yet because the ill-humours of the realm were by 
 that rebellion partly purged, and that she feared at that time no 
 foreign invasion, and much less the attempt of any within the 
 realm not backed by some potent succour from without, she con- 
 tented herself to make a law against that special case of bringing 
 and publishing any bulls, or the like instruments ; whereunto 
 was added a prohibition, upon pain, not of treason, but of an in- 
 ferior degree of punishment, against the bringing in of agnas Dei, 
 hallowed bread, and such other merchandise of Rome, as are 
 well known not to be any essential part of the Romish religion, 
 but only to be used in practice as love tokens to inchaut the 
 people's affections from their allegiance to their natural sovereign. 
 In all other points her majesty continued her former lenity: but 
 when, about the twentieth year of her reign, she had discovered 
 in the king of Spain an intention to invade her dominions, and 
 that a principal part of the plot was, to prepare a party within 
 the realm that might adhere to the foreigner; and after that the 
 seminaries began to blossom, and to send forth daily priests and 
 professed men, who should by vow taken at shrift reconcile her 
 subjects from their obedience, yea, and bind many of them to 
 attempt against her majesty's sacred person; and that, by the 
 poison which they spread, the humours of papists were altered, 
 and that they were no more papists in conscience, and of soft- 
 ness, but papists in faction ; then were there new laws made for 
 the punishment of such as should submit themselves to such re- 
 concilements, or renunciations of obedience. And because it 
 was a treason carried in the clouds, and in wonderful secresy, 
 and came seldom to light, and that there was no presupposition 
 thereof so great, as the recusants to come to divine service, be- 
 cause it was set down by their decrees, that to come to church 
 before reconcilement was absolutely heretical and damnable : 
 Therefore there were laws added containing punishment pecu- 
 niary against such recusants, not to enforce conscience, but to 
 enfeeble and impoverish the means of those of whom it resteth 
 
380 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 indifferent and ambiguous whether they were reconciled or no. 
 And when, notwithstanding all this provision, this poison was dis- 
 persed so secretly, as that there were no means to stay it but by 
 restraining the merchants that brought it in; then, lastly, there was 
 adde ; another law, whereby such seditious priests ot new erec- 
 tion were exiled, and those that were at that time within the 
 land shipped over, and so commanded to keep hence on pain of 
 treason. 
 
 "This hath been the proceeding, though intermingled not only 
 with sundry examples of her majesty's grace towards such as 
 she knew to be papists in conscience, and not in faction and sin- 
 gularity, but also with an ordinary mitigation towards offenders 
 in the highest degree committed by law, if they would but protest 
 that in case the realm should be invaded with a foreign army, by 
 the pope's authority, for the catholic cause, as they term it, they 
 would take part with her majesty and not adhere to her enemies." 
 &c. 
 
 The country sustained a heavy loss in 1589 by the death pf 
 sir Walter Mildmay chancellor of the exchequer, one of the most 
 irreproachable public characters and best patriots of the age. He 
 was old enough to have received his introduction to business in 
 the time of Henry VIII., under whom he enjoyed a gainful of- 
 fice in the court of augmentations. During the reign of Edward 
 he was warden of the mint. Under Mary, he shrowded himself 
 in that profound obscurity in which alone he could make safety 
 accord with honour and conscience. Elizabeth, on the death of 
 sir Richard Sackville in 1568, advanced Mildmay to the impor- 
 tant post of chancellor of the exchequer, which he held to the 
 end of his life ; but not so, it should appear, the favour of her 
 majesty, some of his backfriends, or secret enemies, having whis- 
 pered in her ear, that he was a better patriot than subject, and 
 over-popular in parliament, where he had gone so far as to com- 
 plain that many subsidies were granted and few grievances re- 
 dressed. Another strong ground of royal displeasure existed in 
 the imputation of puritan ism under which he laboured. 
 
 Generously sacrificing to higher considerations the aggrandise- 
 ment of his children, Mildmay devoted a large share of the 
 wealth which he had gained in the public service to the erection 
 and endowment of a college ; — that of Emanuel at Cambridge, — 
 an action little agreeable it seems to her majesty, — for, on his 
 coming to court after the completion of this noble undertaking, 
 she said tartly to him ; " Sir Walter, I hear you have erected a 
 puritan foundation." " No, Madam," replied he ; " far be it 
 from me to countenance any thing contrary to your established 
 laws ; but I have set an acorn, which, when it comes to be an 
 oak, God alone knows what will be the fruit of it." That this 
 fruit however proved to be of the flavour so much distasted by 
 her majesty, there is good evidence. 
 
 " In the house of pure Emanuel 
 I had my education, 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 381 
 
 Where some surmise I- dazzled my eyes 
 With the light of revelation ;" 
 
 says "the Distracted Puritan," in a song composed in king 
 James's days by the witty bishop Corbet. 
 
 Miliimay was succeeded in his office by sir John Fortescue, 
 master of the wardrobe, a gentleman whose accomplishments in 
 classical literature had induced the queen to take him for her 
 guide and assistant in the study of the Greek and Latin writers. 
 In the discharge of his new functions he too was distinguished 
 by moderation and integrity, so that in this important department 
 of administration no oppression was exercised upon the subject 
 during the whole of the reign ; — a circumstance highly conducive 
 * botii to the popularity of the queen, and to the alacrity in grant- 
 ing supplies usually exhibited by her parliaments. 
 
 The late attempt at invasion, so gloriously and happily frus- 
 trated, had given a new impulse to the public mind ; the gallant 
 youth of the country were seized with an universal rage for mili- 
 tary enterprise, and burned at once for vengeance and renown. 
 The riches and the weakness of the Spanish empire, both of them 
 considerably exaggerated in popular opinion, tempted the hopes 
 and the cupidity of adventurers of a different class ; and by means 
 of the united stimulus of gain and glory, a numerous fleet was 
 fitted out in the spring of 1589 for an expedition to Portugal, 
 which was equipped and manned almost entirely by the exertions 
 of individuals, the queen contributing only sixty-six thousand 
 pounds to the expenses, and six of her ships to the armament. 
 
 It will be remembered that on the death in 1580 of Henry- 
 king of Portugal, Philip of Spain had possessed himself of that 
 kingdom as rightful heir; having compelled don Antonio, an ille- 
 gitimate nephew of the deceased sovereign, who had ventured to 
 dispute the succession, to quit the country, and take refuge first 
 in France, and afterwards in England. 
 
 This pretender had hitherto received little support or encou- 
 ragement at the hands of Elizabeth ; in fact, she had suffered him 
 to languish in the most abject poverty ; for there is a letter extant 
 from a person about him to lord Burleigh,* entreating that he 
 would move her majesty either to advance don Antonio two hun- 
 dred thousand crowns out of her share of the rich Portuguese 
 carrack captured by sir Francis Drake, to enable him to recover 
 his kingdom, — or at least to take upon herself the payment of his 
 debts, amounting to twelve or thirteen pounds, without which his 
 poor creditors are likely to be ruined. The first part of this ex- 
 traordinary alternative the prudent princess certainly declined ; 
 what might be the fate of the second does not in this place ap- 
 pear : but we learn elsewhere, that during the long vacancy of 
 the see of Ely which the queen caused to succeed to the death of 
 bishop Cox in 1581, a part of its revenues were appropriated to 
 the maintenance of this unfortunate competitor for royalty. It 
 
 * Stiyp«*8 Annals, vol. iii. p. 450. 
 
o82 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 was imagined however, by the projectors of the present expedi- 
 tion, that the discontent of the Portuguese under the yoke of 
 Spain would now incline them to receive as a deliverer even this 
 spurious representative of their ancient race of monarchs ; and 
 don Antonio received an invitation, which he joyfully embraced, 
 to embark himself and his fortunes on board the English fleet. 
 
 The armament consisted of 180 vessels of all kinds, carrying 
 21,000 men ; it set sail from Plymouth on April 18th, sir Francis 
 Drake being admiral, and sir John Norris general. The earl of 
 Essex, urged by the romantic gallantry of his disposition, after- 
 wards joined the expedition with several ships fitted out at his 
 own expense in support of don Antonio's title, though he bore 
 in it no regular command, since he sailed without the consent or 
 privity of her majesty. The first landing of the forces was at 
 Corunna, where having captured four ships of war in the har- 
 bour, they took and burnfed the lower town and made some bold 
 attempts on the upper, which was strongly fortified : but after 
 defeating with great slaughter a body of Spaniards who were in- 
 trenched in the neighbourhood, sir John Norris, finding it im- 
 practicable to renew his assaults on the upper town, on account 
 of a general want of powder in the fleet, re-embarked his men, 
 already suffering from sickness, and made sail for Portugal. 
 
 After some consultation they landed at Penicha, about thirty 
 miles to the north of Lisbon, took the castle ; and having thrown 
 into it a garrison, every man of which was afterwards put to the 
 sword by the Spaniards, they began their march for the capital. 
 So ill was the army provided, that many died on the road for 
 want of food ; and others who had fainted with the heat must 
 also have perished, had not Essex, with characteristic generosity, 
 caused all his baggage to be thrown out, and the carriages to be 
 filled with the sick and weary. Instead of the troops of nobility 
 and gentry by whom don Antonio had flattered himself and his 
 companions that he should be joined and recognised, there only 
 appeared upon their march a band of miserable peasants without 
 shoes or stockings, and one gentleman who presented him with a 
 basket of plums and cherries. The English however proceeded, 
 and made themselves masters without difficulty of the suburbs 
 of Lisbon, in which they found great riches ; but the entreaties 
 of don Antonio, and his anxiety to preserve the good-will of the 
 people, caused the general to restrain his men from plunder. 
 Essex distinguished himself in every skirmish ; and, knocking at 
 the gates of Lisbon itself, challenged the governor, or any other 
 of equal rank, to single combat: but this romantic proposal was 
 prudently declined ; and though the city w^as known to be weakly 
 guarded, the total want of battering cannon in the English army 
 precluded the general from making an assault. 
 
 In the mean time Drake, who was to have co-operated with 
 the land forces by an attack upon the city from the water side 
 found his progress effectually barred by the forts at the mouth of 
 the Tagus, and was thus compelled to relinquish ail share in the 
 enterprise. This disappointment, joined to the want of ammu 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 383 
 
 iiitiori and other necessaries, and the rapid progress of sickness 
 among the men, rendered necessary a speedy retreat and re- 
 embarkation. About sixty vessels lying at the mouth of the 
 ragus, laden with coin and other articles of commerce, were 
 seized by the English, though the property of the Hanse Towns, 
 and Drake and Norris in their return burned Vigo: but various 
 disasters overtook the fleet on its homeward voyage, subsequent- 
 ly to its dispersion by a violent storm. On the whole, it was 
 computed that not less than eleven thousand persons perished 
 in this unfortunate and ill-planned expedition, by which no one 
 important object had been attained ; and that of eleven hundred 
 gentlemen who accompanied it, not more than three hundred and 
 fifty escaped the united ravages of famine, sickness, and the 
 sword. 
 
 The queen, on discovering that Essex had without permission 
 absented himself from her court and from the duties of his office 
 of master of the horse, to embark in the voyage to Portugal, had 
 instantly dispatched a peremptory order for his return, enforced 
 by menaces of her utmost indignation in case of disobedience; 
 but even to this pressing mandate he had dared to turn a deaf 
 ear. During the four or five months therefore of his absence, 
 the whole court had remained in fearful or exulting anticipation 
 of the thunderbolt about to fall on his devoted head. But the 
 laurels with which he had encircled his brows proved his safe- 
 guard : Elizabeth had listened with a secret complacency to the 
 reports of his valour and generosity which reached her through 
 various channels ; her tenderness had been strongly excited by 
 the image of the perils to which he was daily exposing himself; 
 and her joy at his safe return, too genuine and too lively for 
 concealment, left her so little of the power or the wish to chide, 
 that his pardon seemed granted even before it could be implored. 
 Essex had too much sensibility not to be deeply touched by this 
 affectionate behaviour on the part of his sovereign ; he redoubled 
 his efforts to deserve the oblivion of his past offence, and with a 
 success so striking, that it was soon evident to all that the te- 
 merity which might have ruined another had but heightened and 
 confirmed his favour. 
 
 Essex possessed, as much as Leicester himself, the art of sti - 
 mulating Elizabeth in his own behalf to acts of munificence; and 
 she soon consoled him by some valuable grants for any anxiety 
 which her threatened indignation might have occasioned him, or 
 any disappointment which he might have conceived in seeing sir 
 Christopher Hatton preferred by her to himself as Leicester's 
 successor in the office of chancellor of the university of Cam 
 bridge. 
 
 Among the gallant adventurers in the cause of (ion Antonio, 
 sir Walter Raleigh had made one, and he also was received by 
 her majesty on his return with tokens of distinguished favour. 
 But not long after he embarked for Ireland, in which country he 
 remained without public employment till the spring of 1592, 
 
384 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 when he undertook an expedition against the Spanish settle - 
 ments in South America. 
 
 The ostensible purpose of his visit to Ireland was to superin- 
 tend the management of those large estates which had been 
 granted him in that country ; but it was the story of the day that 
 '• the earl of Essex had chased Raleigh from court and confined 
 him into Ireland:"* and the length of his absence, with the 
 known enmity between these rival favourites, lends some coun 
 tenance to the suggestion. 
 
 That Essex, even in the early days of his favour, already as 
 sumed the right of treating as interlopers such as advanced too 
 rapidly in the £<>od graces of his sovereign, we learn from an in- 
 cident which probably occurred about this time, and is thus re- 
 lated by Naunton. " My lord Montjoy being but newly come to 
 court, and then but sir Charles Blount had the good fortune one 
 day to run very well a tilt ; and the queen therewith was so well 
 pleased, that she sent him a token of her favour, a queen at chess 
 of gold, richly enamelled, which his servants had the next day 
 fastened on his arm with a crimson ribbon ; which my lord of 
 Essex, as he passed through the privy chamber, espying, with his 
 cloak cast under his arm, the better to commend it to the view, 
 enquired what it was, and for what cause there fixed. Sir Fulk 
 Greville told him that it was the queen's favour, which the day 
 before, and after the tilting, she had sent him : whereat my lord 
 of Essex, in a kind of emulation, and as though he would have 
 limited her favour, said, • Now I perceive every fool must have a 
 favour.' 
 
 " This bitter and public affront came to sir Charles Blount's 
 ear, who sent him a challenge, which was accepted by my lord; 
 and they went near Marybone-park,' where my lord was hurt in 
 the thigh and disarmed : the queen, missing the men, was very 
 curious to learn the truth ; and when at last it was whispered 
 out, she swore by God's death, it was fit that some one or other 
 should take him down, and teach him better manners, otherwise 
 there would be no rule with him."t 
 
 Notwithstanding her majesty's ostentation of displeasure 
 against her favourite on this occasion, it is pretty certain that he 
 could not better have paid his court to her than by a duel of which, 
 in spite of her wisdom and her age, she seems to have had the 
 weaki\ess to imagine her personal charms the cause. She com- 
 pelled however the rivals to be reconciled, from this period all 
 the externals of friendship were preserved between them ; and 
 there is eyen reason to believe, notwithstanding some insinuations 
 to the contrary, that latterly at least the sentiment became a 
 genuine on?. If the queen had further insisted on cementing 
 their reconciliation by an alliance, she would have preserved from 
 its only considerable blot the brilliant reputation of sir Charles 
 Blount. This, courtier, whilst he as yet enjoyed no higher rank 
 than that of knighthood, had conceived an ardent passion for a 
 
 * Birch's Memoir?. 
 
 f Fragments Regalia. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 585 
 
 lister of the earl of Essex ; the same who was once destined to be 
 the bride of Philip Sidney. She returned his attachment; but 
 her friends, judging the match inferior to her just pretensions, 
 broke off the affair and compelled her to give her hand to lord 
 Rich ; a man of disagreeable character, who was the object of her 
 aversion. In such a marriage the unfortunate lady found it im- 
 possible to forget the lover from whom tyrannical authority had 
 severed her; and some years after, when Montjoy returned vic- 
 torious from the Irish wars, she suffered herself to be seduced 
 by him into a criminal connexion, which was detected after it 
 had subsisted for several years, and occasioned her divorce from 
 lord Rich. Her lover, now earl of Devonshire, regarded himself 
 as bound in love and in honour to make her his wife ; but to mar- 
 ry a divorced woman in the lifetime of her husband was at this 
 time so unusual a proceeding, and regarded as so violent a scan- 
 dal, that Laud, then chaplain to the earl of Devonshire, who 
 joined their hands, incurred severe blame, and thought it neces- 
 sary to observe the anniversary ever after as a day of humiliation. 
 King James, in whose reign the circumstance took place, long 
 refused to avail himself further of the services of the earl ; and 
 the disgrace and vexation of the affair embittered, and some say 
 abridged, the clays of this otherwise admirable person. Whether 
 any incidents connected with this attachment had a share in 
 producing that hostile state of feeling in the mind of Essex to- 
 wards Blount which led to their combat, remains matter of con- 
 jecture. 
 
 This year the customary festivities on the anniversary of her 
 majesty's accession were attended by one of those romantic 
 ceremonies which mark so well the taste of the age and of Eli- 
 zabeth. This was no other than the formal resignation by that 
 veteran of the tilt-yard, sir Henry Leigh, of the office of queen's 
 champion, so long his glory and delight. The gallant earl of 
 Cumberland was his destined successor, and the momentous 
 transfer was accomplished after the following fashion. 
 
 Having first performed their respective parts in the chivalrous 
 exercises of the band of knights -tilters, sir Henry and the ear- 
 presented themselves to her majesty at the foot of the gallery 
 where she was seated, surrounded by her ladies and nobles, to 
 view the games. They advanced to slow music, and a conceal- 
 ed performer accompanied the strain with the following song. 
 
 My golden locks time hath to silver turn'd, 
 (Oh time too swift, and swiftness never ceasing) 
 My youth 'gainst age, and age at youth hath spurn'd : 
 But spurn'd in vain, youth waneth by increasing, 
 Beauty, strength, and youth, flowers fading been, 
 Duty, faith, and love, are roots and evergreen. 
 
 My helmet now shall make a hive for bees, 
 And lovers songs shall turn to holy psalms ; 
 
 3 C 
 
THE COURT OF 
 
 A man if arms must now sit on his knees, 
 And feed on pray'rs that are old age's alms 
 And so from court to cottage I depart ; 
 My saint is sure of niine unspotted heart. 
 
 And when I sadly sit in homely cell, 
 
 I'll teach my swains this carol for a song : < 
 " Blest be the hearts that think my sovereign well, 
 Curs'd be the souls that think to do her wrong." 
 Goddess, vouchsafe this aged man his right, 
 To be your beadsman now, that was your knight. 
 
 During this performance, there arose out of the earth a pavi 
 lion of white taffeta, supported on pillars resembling porphyry 
 and formed to imitate the temple of the Vestal virgins. A su- 
 perb altar was placed within it, on which were laid some rich 
 gifts for her majesty. Before the gate stood a crowned pillar 
 embraced by an eglantine, to which a votive tablet was attached, 
 inscribed " To Elizabeth :" The gifts and the tablet being with 
 great reverence delivered to the queen, and the aged knight in 
 the meantime disarmed, he offered up his armour at the foot of 
 the pillar; then kneeling, presented the earl of Cumberland to 
 her majesty, praying her to be pleased to accept of him for her 
 knight and to continue these annual exercises. The proposal 
 being graciously accepted, sir Henry armed the earl and mount- 
 ed him on his horse : this done, he clothed himself in a long vel- 
 vet gown and covered his head, in lieu of a helmet, with "a but- 
 toned cap of the country fashion." 
 
 The king of Scots had now for a considerable time deserved 
 extremely well of Elizabeth. During the whole period of the 
 Spanish armament he had remained unshaken in his attachment 
 to her cause, resolutely turning a deaf ear to the flattering of- 
 fers of Philip II. with the shrewd remark, that all the favour he 
 had to expect from this monarch in case of his success against 
 England, was that of Polypheme to Ulysses ; — to be devoured 
 the last. A bon mot which was carefully copied into The Eng- 
 lish Mercury. The ambassador to Scotland, from an unfounded 
 opinion that the discomfited armada sought shelter in the ports 
 of that country under the faith of some secret engagement with 
 James, had thought it necessary to bribe him to fidelity by some 
 brilliant promises, of which when the danger was past, Elizabeth 
 unhandsomely evaded the fulfilment; but even on this occasion 
 he abstained from any vehement expressions of indignation : in 
 short, his whole demeanour towards iris lofty kinswoman was 
 that of a submissive expectant much more than of a competitor 
 and rival prince. True it is, that he had begun to attach to him- 
 self among her nobles and courtiers as many adherents as his 
 means permitted; but besides that his manceuvers remained for 
 the most part concealed from her knowledge, they certainly 
 carried with them no danger to her government. The partisans 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 wi James were not, like those of his mother, the adherents also 
 of a religious faction leagued with the foreign powers most ini- 
 mical to her rule, and from whose machinations she was exposed 
 to daily peril of her throne and life. They were protestants and 
 Englishmen, and many of them possessed of such strong here- 
 ditary influence or official rank, that it could never become their 
 interest to throw the country into confusion by ill-timed efforts 
 in favour of the king of Scots ; whose cause they in fact em- 
 braced with no other view than to secure the state from commo- 
 tion, and themselves from the loss of power on the event of the 
 queen's demise. The puritan party indeed, by whom several 
 attempts were afterwards made in parliament to extort from the 
 queen a settlement of the crown in James's favour, were doubt- 
 less actuated in part by discontent with the present church -es- 
 tablishment, and the hope of seeing it superseded under James 
 by a presbyterian form resembling that of Scotland. For the 
 present, however, these religionists were sufficiently repressed 
 under the iron rod of the High-commission court, and James had 
 entered with them into no regular correspondence, and engaged 
 their attachment by no promises of future indulgence or support. 
 
 On the whole, therefore, the violent jealousy with which Eli- 
 zabeth continued to regard this feeble and inoffensive young 
 king, in every point so greatly her inferior, must rather be im- 
 puted to her* narrowness and malignity of temper than to any 
 dictates of sound policy or advisable precaution ; and the mea- 
 sures with which it prompted her were impressed accordingly 
 with every character of spite and meanness. She was peculiarly 
 solicitous to prevent Jlmes from increasing his consequence by 
 marriage, and through innumerable intrigues with his ministers 
 and favourites she had hitherto succeeded in her object. When 
 he appeared to have set his mind on a union with the eldest 
 daughter of the king of Denmark, she contrived to interpose so 
 many delays and obstacles that this sovereign, conceiving him- 
 self trifled with, ended the affair by giving the princess in mar- 
 riage to another. To embarrass matters still more, she next 
 proposed to James a match with the sister of the king, of Na- 
 varre, a princess much older than himself, destitute of fortune, 
 and whose brother might be influenced to protract the negotia- 
 tion to any length convenient to his valuable ally the queen of 
 England. This proposal being declined by James, and overtures 
 made in his name to a younger daughter of the Danish house, she 
 again set her engines at work to thwart his wishes: but indigna- 
 tion and an amourous impatience for once lent to James resolu- 
 tion sufficient to carry his point. Disregarding a declaration of 
 his privy-council against the match, he instigated the citizens of 
 Edinburgh to take up arms in his cause, and finally accomplish- 
 ed the sending out of a splendid embassy, by which the marriage- 
 articles were speedily settled, and the princess conducted on 
 board the fleet which was to convey her to Scotland. A violent 
 storm having driven her for shelter into a port of Norway, the 
 young monarch carried his gallantry so far as to set sail in quest 
 
ob8 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 of her; and re-conducting her, at the request of the king her 
 father to Copenhagen, he there passed the winter in great joy 
 and festivity ; and as soon as the season would permit, conduct- 
 ed his royal consort home in triumph, and crowned her with all 
 the magnificence that Scotland could display. Seeing the turn 
 which matters had taken, Elizabeth now made a virtue of neces- 
 sity, and dispatched a solemn embassy to express to her good 
 brother of Scotland her hearty congratulations on his nuptials, 
 and her satisfaction in his happy return from so adventurous a 
 voyage. 
 
 In April 1590 died sir Francis Walsingham, principal secre- 
 tary of state, whose name is found in such intimate connexion 
 '.villi the whole domestic policy of Elizabeth during several 
 eventful years, that his character is in a manner identified with 
 that of the measures at this period pursued. 
 
 This eminent person, in his youth an exile for the protestant 
 cause, retained through life so serious a sense of religion as some- 
 times to expose him to the suspicion of puritanism. In his pri- 
 vate capacity he was benevolent, friendly, and accounted a man 
 of strict integrity : but it is right that public characters should 
 principally be estimated by that part of their conduct in which 
 the public is concerned ; and to Walsingham as a minister the 
 unsullied reputation of virtue and honour is not to be conceded. 
 Unlike that pure and noble patriot who "would have lost his 
 life with pleasure to serve his country, but would not have done 
 a base thing to save it," this statesman seems to have held that 
 few base things ought to be scrupled by which his queen and 
 country might be served. 
 
 That Walsingham was of unimpeached fidelity towards his 
 sovereign requires no proof ; that he was not stimulated by 
 \ iews of private emolument seems also to be satisfatorily evinced, 
 though somewhat to the discredit of his mistress, by the load of 
 debt incurred in his official capacity under the pressure of which 
 he lived and died : but here our praise of his public virtue must 
 end. It is impossible to regard without indignation and disgust 
 the system of artifice and intrigue which he contrived for the 
 purpose of insnaring the persecuted and therefore disaffected 
 catholics ; and while due credit is given to his unwearied dili- 
 gence and remarkable sagacity in detecting dangerous conspi- 
 racies, it cannot be doubted that the extraordinary encourage- 
 ments held out by him to spies and informers, — those pests of a 
 commonwealth, — must in numberless instances have rendered 
 himself the dupe, and innocent persons the victims, of designing 
 villany. Looking even to the immediate results of his measures, 
 it may triumphantly be demanded by the philanthropist and the 
 sage, whether a system less artificial, less treacherous and less 
 cruel, would not equally well have succeeded in protecting the 
 person of the queen from the machinations of traitors, with the 
 further and inestimable advantage of preserving her government 
 from reproach, and the national character from degradation. 
 
 That the system of Walsingham was in the main that also of 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 389 
 
 his Court and of his age, is indeed true; and this consideration 
 might in some degree plead his excuse, did it not appear that 
 there was in his personal character a native subtilty and talent, 
 of insinuation, which, aptly conspiring with the nature of his of- 
 fice, might truly be said to render his duty his delight ; — a fea- 
 ture of his mind which is thus happily delineated by a witty and 
 ingenious writer. 
 
 " None alive did better ken the secretary's craft, to get coun- 
 sels out of others and keep them in himself. Marvellous his sa- 
 gacity in examining suspected persons, either to make them con- 
 fess the truth, or confound themselves by denying it to their de- 
 tection. Cunning his hands, who could unpick the cabinets in 
 the pope's conclave ; quick his ears, who could hear at London 
 what was whispered at Rome ; and numerous the spies and eyes 
 of this Argus dispersed in all places. 
 
 " The Jesuits, being out shot in their own bow, complained 
 that he out equivocated their equivocation, having a mental re- 
 servation deeper and further than theirs. They tax him for 
 making heaven bow too much to earth, oft-times borrowing a 
 point of conscience with full intent never to pay it again ; whom 
 others excused by reasons of state and dangers of the times. In- 
 deed his simulation (which all allow lawful) was as like to dis- 
 simulation (condemned by all good men) as two things could be 
 which were not the same. He thought that gold might, but in- 
 telligence could not, be bought too dear ; — the cause that so great 
 a statesman left so small an estate, and so public a person was so 
 privately buried in St. Pauls."* 
 
 The long state of infirmity which preceded the death of Wal- 
 singham, had afforded abundant opportunity for various intrigues 
 and negotiations respecting the appointment of his successor in 
 office. Burleigh hoped to make the choice of her Majesty fall 
 on his son Robert ; Essex was anxious to decide it in favour 
 of the discarded Davison, who seems to have been performing 
 some part of the functions of a secretary of state during the illness 
 of Walsingham, though he did not venture to appear in the sight of 
 his still offended mistress. No one was more susceptible of ge- 
 nerous emotions than Essex ; and it ought not to be doubted that 
 much of the extraordinary zeal which he manifested, during two 
 or three entire years, in the cause of this unfortunate and ill- 
 treated man, is to be ascribed to genuine friendship : but neither 
 must it be concealed that this struggle for the nomination of a se- 
 cretary was in effect the great and decisive trial of strength be- 
 tween himself and the Cecils. Several letters have been printed, 
 written by Essex to Davison, and bearing date between the years 
 1 587 and 1590, from which a few extracts may be worth tran- 
 scribing, both for the excellence of the style and the light which 
 they reflect on the behaviour and sentiments of Elizabeth in this 
 matter. " I had speech with her Majesty yesternight after my 
 departure from you, and I did find that the success of my spoor!; 
 
 * Fuller's Worthies in Kent. 
 
390 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 (although I hoped for good) yet did much overrun my expectation 
 ... I made her majesty see what, in your health, in your for- 
 tune, in your reputation in the world, you had suffered since the 
 time that it was her pleasure to commit you ; I told her how 
 many friends and well wishers the world did afford you, and 
 how, for the most part, throughout the whole realm her best sub 
 jects did wish that she would do herself the honour to repair for 
 you and restore to you that state which she had overthrown ; 
 your- humble suffering of these harms and reverend regard to hei 
 majesty, must needs move a princess so noble and so just to do 
 you right ; and more I had said, if my gift of speech had been 
 any way comparable to my love. Her majesty seeing her judg- 
 ment opened by the story of her own actions, showed a very feel- 
 ing compassion of you, she gave you many praises, and among 
 the rest, that she seemed to please herself in was, that you were 
 a man of her own choice. In truth she was so well pleased with 
 those things that she spake and heard of you, that I dare (if of 
 things future there be any assurance) promise to myself that 
 your peaee will be made to your content and the desire of your 
 friends, I mean in her favour and your own fortune, to a better 
 estate than, or at least the same you had, which with all my 
 power I will employ myself to effect." &c. 
 
 That these sanguine hopes were soon checked, appears by the 
 following passage of a subsequent letter. " I have, as I could, 
 taken my opportunity since I saw you to perform as much as I 
 promised you ; and though in all I have been able to effect no- 
 thing, yet even now I have had better leisure to solicit the queen 
 than in this stormy time I did hope for. My beginning was, as 
 being amongst others entreated to move her in your behalf ; my 
 course was, to lay open your sufferings and your patience ; in 
 them you had felt poverty, restraint and disgrace, and yet you 
 showed nothing but faith and humility ; faith, as been never wea- 
 ried nor discouraged to do her service, humbleness, as content 
 to forget all the burdens that had been laid upon you, and to 
 serve her majesty with as frank and willing a heart as they that 
 have received greatest grace from her. To this I received no an- 
 swer but in general terms, that her honour was much touched ; 
 your presumption had been intolerable, and that she could not 
 let it slip out of her mind. When I urged your access she de- 
 nied it, but so as I had no cause to be afraid to speak again. 
 When I offered in them both to reply, she fell into other dis- 
 course, and so we parted." &c. 
 
 On the death of Walsingham he writes thus " Upon this 
 
 unhappy accident I have tried to the bottom what the queen 
 will do for you, and what the credit of your solicitor is worth, 
 I urged not the comparison between you and any other, but in 
 my duty to her and zeal to her service I did assure her, that 
 she had not any other in England that would for these three or 
 four years know how to settle himself to support so great a bur- 
 then. She gave me leave to speak, heard me with patience, con- 
 fessed with me that none was so sufficient, and would not denv 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 391 
 
 but that which she lays to your charge was done without hope, 
 Fear, malice, envy, or any respects of your own, but merely for 
 her safety both of state and person. In the end she absolutely 
 denied to let you have that place and willed me to rest satisfied, 
 for she was resolved. Thus much I write to let you know, I am 
 more honest to my friends than happy in their cases." &c. 
 
 As the fear of giving offence to the king of Scots was one reason 
 or pretext for the implacability of the queen towards Davison, 
 Essex hazarded the step of writing to request, as a personal fa- 
 vour to himself, the forgiveness and good offices of this monarch 
 in behalf of the man who bore the blame of his mother's death. 
 Nothing could be more dexterous than the turn of this letter ; 
 but what reception it found we do not discover. On the whole, all 
 his efforts were unavailing : the longer Elizabeth reflected on the 
 matter, the less she felt herself able to forgive the presumption of 
 the rash man who had anticipated her final resolution on the 
 fate of Mary. Other considerations probably concurred ; as, the 
 apprehension which seems to have been of perpetual recurrence 
 to her mind, of rendering her young favourite too confident and 
 presuming by an uniform course of success in his applications to 
 her ; the habitual ascendency of Burleigh ; and, probably, some 
 distrust of the capacity of Davison for so difficult and important 
 a post. 
 
 In conclusion, no principal secretary was at present appointed; 
 but Robert Cecil was admitted as an assistant to his father, who 
 resumed on this condition the duties of the office, and held it as 
 it were in trust, till her majesty, six years afterwards, was 
 pleased to sanction his resignation in favour of his son, now fully 
 established in her confidence and good opinion. Of Davison no- 
 thing further is known ; probably he did not long survive. 
 
 Some time in the year 1590, the earl of Essex married in a 
 private manner the widow of sir Philip Sidney, and daughter of 
 Walsingham ; a step with which her majesty did not scruple to 
 show herself highly offended. The inferiority of the connexion 
 in the two articles of birth and fortune to the just pretensions 
 of the earl, and the circumstances that the union had been formed 
 without that previous consultation of her gracious pleasure, — 
 which from her high nobility and favourite courtiers, and espe- 
 cially from those who, like Essex and his lady, shared the ho- 
 nour of her relationship, she expected as a homage and almost 
 claimed as a right, — were the ostensible grounds of her dis- 
 pleasure. But that peculiar compound of ungenerous feelings 
 which rendered her the universal foe of matrimony, exalted on 
 this occasion by a jealousy too humiliating to be owned, but too 
 powerful to be repressed, formed without doubt the more genuine 
 sources of her deep chagrin. The courtiers quickly penetrated 
 the secret of her heart ; for what vice, what weakness, can long 
 lurk unsuspected in a royal bosom? and it is thus that John Stan- 
 hope, one of her attendants, ventures to write on the subject to 
 Lord Talbot. 
 
 ''This night, God willing, she will to Richmond, and on Sa 
 
392 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 turd ay next to Somerset house, and if she should overcome her 
 passion against my lord of Essex for his marriage, no doubt she 
 would be much quieter ; yet does she use it more temperately 
 than was thought for, and, God be thanked, doth not strike all 
 that she threats.* The earl doth use it with good temper, con- 
 cealing his marriage as much as so open a matter may be : not 
 that he denies it to any, but for her majesty's better satisfaction, 
 is pleased that my lady shall live very retired in her mother's 
 house."t 
 
 On the whole, the indignation of the queen against Essex stop- 
 ped very short of the rage with which she had been transported 
 against Leicester on a similar occasion ; she never even talked 
 of sending him to prison for his marriage. Her good sense came 
 to her assistance somewhat indeed too late for her own dignity, 
 but soon enough to intercept any serious mischief to the earl ; 
 and having found leisure to reflect on the folly and disgrace of 
 openly maintaining an ineffectual resentment, she soon after re - 
 admitted the offender to the same station of seeming favour as 
 before. There has appeared, however, some ground to suspect 
 that the queen never entirely dismissed her feelings of mortifi- 
 cation ; or again reposed in Essex the same unbounded confi- 
 dence with which she had once honoured him. Fiom a passage 
 of a letter addressed by lord Buckhurst to sir Robert Sidney, 
 then governour of the Brill, we learn, that in the autumn of the 
 next year she still retained such displeasure against sir Robert 
 for having been present at a banquet given by Essex, either on 
 occasion of his marriage, or with a view to the furtherance of 
 some design of his which excited her suspicion, that she could 
 not be induced to grant him leave of absence for a visit to Eng- 
 land. 
 
 But cares and occupations of a nature peculiarly uncongenial 
 with the indulgence of sentimental sorrows, now claimed, and 
 not in vain, the serious thoughts of this prudent and vigilant 
 princess. The low state of her finances, exhausted by no waste- 
 ful prodigalities, but by the necessary measures of national de- 
 fence and the politic aid which she had extended to the United 
 Provinces and to the French Hugonots, now threatened to place 
 her in a painful dilemma. She must either desert her allies, and 
 suffer her navy to relapse into the dangerous state of weakness 
 from which she had exerted all her efforts to raise it, or summon 
 a new parliament for the purpose of making fresh demands upon 
 the purses of her people; and this at the risk either of shaking 
 their attachment, or, — a humiliation not to be endured, — seeing 
 herself compelled to sacrifice to the importunities of the popular 
 members some of the more oppressive branches of her preroga- 
 tive ; the right of purveyance for instance, or that of granting 
 monopolies ; both of which she had suffered to grow into enor- 
 mous grievances. Mature reflection discovered to her, however, 
 
 * It may be regarded as dubious whether this expression is to be understood lite 
 rally or metaphorically. 
 
 f" Illustrations" by Lodge. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 393 
 
 a third alternative ; that of practising a still stricter economy on 
 tide hand, and on the other, of increasing the productiveness to 
 the exchequer of the customs and other branches of revenue, by 
 reforming abuses, by detecting frauds and embezzlements, and 
 by cutting off the exorbitant profits of collectors. 
 
 Tikis last plan, which best accorded with her disposition, was 
 that adopted by Elizabeth. It may be mentioned as a charac- 
 teristic trait, that a few years before she had accepted with 
 ihanks an ofter secretly made to herself by some person holding 
 an inferior station in the customs, of a full disclosure of the im- 
 positions practised upon her in that department. She had ad- 
 mitted this voluntary informer several times to her presence; 
 had imposed silence in the tone of a mistress on the remonstran- 
 ces of Leicester, Burleigh, and Walsingham, who indignantly 
 urged that he was not of a rank to be thus countenanced in ac- 
 cusation of his superiors ; and had reaped the reward of this ju- 
 dicious patronage, by finding herself entitled to demand from 
 her farmer of the customs an annual rent of forty-two thousand 
 pounds, instead of the twelve thousand pounds which he had for- 
 merly paid. She now exacted from him a further advance of ight 
 thousand pounds per annum ; and stimulated Burleigh to such a 
 rigid superintendence of all the details of public economy as 
 produced a very important general result. It was probably in the 
 ensuing parliament that, a conference being held between the two 
 houses respecting a bill for making the patrimonial estates of ac- 
 countants liable for their arrears to the queen, and the commons 
 desiring that it might not be retrospective, the lord -treasurer 
 pithily said, "My lords, if you had lost your purse by the way, 
 would you look back or forwards to find it ? The queen hath lost 
 her purse." 
 
 This rigid parsimony, at once the virtue and the foible of Eli- 
 zabeth, was attended accordingly with its good and its evil. It 
 endeared her to the people, whom it protected from the imposition 
 of new and oppressive taxes ; but, being united in the complex 
 character of this remarkable woman with an extraordinary taste 
 for magnificence in all that related to her personal appearance, 
 it betrayed her into a thousand meannesses, which, in spite of all 
 the arts of graciousness in which she was an adept, served to 
 alienate the affections of such as more nearly approached her. 
 Her nobles found themselves heavily burthened by the long and 
 frequent visits which she paid them at their country-seats, at- 
 tended always by an enormous retinue ; as well as by the con- 
 tributions to her jewelry and wardrobe which custom required 
 of them under the name of new year's gifts, and on all occasions 
 when they had favours, or even justice, to ask at her hands.* 
 
 * Lists of the New Year's Gifts received by Eliza] ieth during many years, have 
 more than once appeared in print. They show that not only jewels, trinkets, rich 
 robes, and every ornamental article of dress, were abundantly supplied to her from 
 ibis source, but that sets of body linen worked with black silk round the bosom and 
 sleeves, were regarded as no inappropriate offering from peers of the realm to the 
 maiden-queen. The presents of the bishops and of some of the nobihtv alwovs con- 
 
 3D 
 
394 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 There were few of the inferior suitors and court-attendants com - 
 posing the crowd by which she had a vanity in seeing herself 
 constantly surrounded, who did not find cause bitterly to rue the 
 day when first her hollow smiles and flattering speeches seduced 
 them to long years of irksome, servile, and often profitless as 
 siduity. 
 
 Bacon, in his Apophthegms relates on this subject the following 
 
 anecdote. " Queen Elizabeth, seeing sir Edward in her 
 
 garden, looked out at her window and asked him, in Italian, 
 ' ' What does a man think of when he thinks of nothing ?' Sir 
 Edward, -who had not had the effect of some of the queen's grants 
 so soon as he had hoped and desired, paused a little, and then 
 made answer, ' Madam, he thinks of a woman's promise.' The 
 queen shrunk in her 'lead, but was heard to say, ' Well, sir Ed- 
 ward, I must not confute you : anger makes dull men witty, but 
 it keeps them poor.' " 
 
 " Queen Elizabeth," says the same author, " was dilatory enough 
 in suits of her own nature; and the lord -treasurer Burleigh, be 
 ing a wise man, and willing therein to feed her humour, would 
 say to her, 'Madam, you do well to let suitors stay ; for I shall 
 tell you, Bis dat qui cito dat ; if you grant them speedily, they 
 will come again the sooner.' " 
 
 It is probable, that the popular story of this minister's inter 
 cepting the very moderate bounty which her majesty had propos 
 ed to herself the honour of bestowing on Spenser, is untrue with 
 respect to this great poet ; since the four lines relating to the 
 c ircumstance, 
 
 " Madam, 
 
 You bid your treasurer on a time 
 To give me reason for my rhime, 
 But from that time and that season 
 I have had nor rhyme nor reason,'* 
 
 Long attributed to Spenser, are now known to be Churchyard's, 
 Yet that the author of the Faery Queen had similar injuries to 
 endure, is manifest from those lines of unrivalled energy in which 
 the poet, from the bitterness of his soul, describes the miseries 
 of a profitless court-attendance. Few readers will have forgotten 
 a passage so celebrated ; but it will here be read with peculiai 
 interest, as illustrative of the character of Elizabeth and thesuf 
 fe rings of her unfortunate courtiers. 
 
 fc Full little knowest thou that hast not tried 
 What hell it is in suing long to bide; 
 To lose good days that might be better spent; 
 To waste long nights in pensive discontent ; 
 
 stated of gold pieces, to the value of from five to twenty or thirty pounds, contained 
 in embnid.-red silk purses. Her majesty distributed at the same season pieces q! 
 gift plate ; but not always to the same persons from whom ^he had received presents, 
 nor, apparently, to an equal amount. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 To speed to-day. to be put back to-morrow ; 
 To feed on hope, to pine with fear and sorrow ; 
 To have thy prince's grace, yet want her peers ; 
 To have thy asking, yet wait many years; 
 » To fret thy soul with crosses and with cares ; 
 To eat thy heart through comfortless despairs ; 
 To fawn, to crouch, to wait, to ride, to run ; 
 To spend, to give, to want, to be undone.'' 
 
 Mother Hubbard's Tale. 
 
 One of the most laudable objects of the parsimony exercised by 
 Elizabeth at this period was that of enabling herself to aflford ef- 
 fectual aid to Henry IV. of France, now struggling, with adverse 
 fortune but invincible resolution, to conquer from the united ar- 
 mies of Spain and the League the throne which was his birth- 
 right. In the depth of his distress, just when his Swiss and Ger- 
 man auxiliaries were on the point of disbanding themselves for 
 want of pay, the friendship of Elizabeth came in aid of his ne- 
 cessities with a supply of twenty-two thousand pounds ; a 
 sum, trifling as it may seem in modern estimation, which sufficed 
 to rescue Henry from his immediate embarrassment, and which 
 he frankly avowed to be the largest he had ever seen. The gene- 
 rosity of his ally did not stop here ; for she speedily equipped a 
 body of four thousand men and sent them to join him at Dieppe 
 under command of the gallant lord Willoughby By this rein- 
 forcement Henry was enabled to march to Paris and possess him- 
 self of its suburbs, and subsequently to engage in several other 
 enterprises, in which he gratefully acknowledged the eminent 
 service rendered him by the valour and fidelity of this band of 
 English. 
 
 The next year Elizabeth, alarmed at seeing several of the 
 ports of Bretagne opposite to her own shores garrisoned by Spa- 
 nish troops, whom the Leaguers had called into their assistance, 
 readily entered into a new treaty with Henry, by virtue of which 
 she sent a fresh supply of three thousand men to assist him in 
 the recovery of this province. Her expenses, however, were to 
 be repaid by the king after the expulsion of the enemy. 
 
 Sir John Norris, the appointed leader of this force, ranked 
 among the most eminent of Elizabeth's captains, and was also 
 possessed of some hereditary claims to her regard, which she did 
 not fail to acknowledge as far as the jealousy of her favourites 
 would give her leave. One of sir John's grandfathers was that 
 Norris who suffered in the cause of Anne Boleyn ; the other was 
 lord Williams of Tame, to whom she had herself been indebted 
 for so much respectful attention in the days of her greatest ad- 
 versity. She had called up his father to the house of peers, as 
 lord Norris of Ricot ; and his mother she constantly addressed 
 by a singular term of endearment, " My own Crow." This pair 
 had six sons, of whom sir John was the eldest; — all, it is said, 
 brave men, addicted to arms, and much respected by her majes- 
 ty. But an unfortunate quarrel with the four sons of sir Francis 
 
39b 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 Knollcs, their Oxfordshire neighbour, arising out oi the tourna- 
 ment in which the two brotherhoods were opposed to each other, 
 procured to the Norrises the lasting enmity of this family, 
 which, strong both by its relationship to the queen and its close 
 alliance with Leicester, was able to impede their advancement 
 to stations equal to their merits. 
 
 Sir John Norris learned the rudiments of military science 
 under the celebrated admiral Coligni, to whom in his early 
 youth he acted as a page ; and he enlarged his experience as 
 captain of the English volunteers who in 1578 generously car- 
 ried the assistance of their swords to the oppressed Netherland- 
 er when they had rushed to arms in the sacred cause of liberty 
 and conscience. This gallant band particularly signalised its 
 valour in the repulse of an assault made by don John of Austria 
 upon the Dutch camp ; a hot action, in which Norris had three 
 horses shot under him. In 1588 he was a distinguished member 
 of the council of war. The expedition to Portugal in which he 
 commanded has been already related, and its ill-success was 
 certainly imputable to no want of courage or conduct on his part. 
 In the war of Bretagne he gained high praise by a skilful retreat, 
 in Which he drew off his small band of English safe and entire 
 amid a host of foes. We shall afterwards hear of him in a high 
 command in Ireland. 
 
 Military glory was the darling object of the ambition of Essex ; 
 and jealous perhaps of the fame which sir John Norris was ac- 
 quiring in the French wars, he prevailed upon the queen to grant 
 him the command of a fresh body of troops destined to assist 
 Henry in expelling the Leaguers from Normandy. The new 
 general was deeply mortified at being obliged to remain for some 
 time inactive at Dieppe, while the French king was carrying his 
 arms into another quarter, whither Essex was restrained by the 
 positive commands of his sovereign from following him. At 
 length they formed in concert the siege at Rouen ; but when the 
 town was nearly reduced to extremity, an unexpected march of 
 the duke of Parma compelled Henry to desert the enterprise. 
 Elizabeth made it a subject of complaint against her ally, that 
 the English soldiers were always thrust foremost on every occa- 
 sion of danger ; but by themselves this perilous pre-eminence 
 was claimed as a privilege due to the brilliancy of their valour; 
 and their leader, delighted with the spirit which they displayed, 
 encouraged and rewarded it by distributing among his officers, 
 with a profusion which highly offended his sovereign, the honour 
 of knighthood, bestowed by herself with so much selection and 
 reserve. Essex supported his character for personal courage, 
 and indulged his impetuous temper, by sending an idle chal- 
 lenge to the governor of Rouen, who seems to have known his 
 duty too well to accept it ; but his sanguine anticipations of some 
 distinguished success were baffled by a want of correspondence 
 between the plans of Henry and the commands of Elizabeth y 
 perhaps also in some degree by his own deficiency in the skill of 
 a general. He had the further grief to lose by a musket-shot his 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 397 
 
 only brother Walter Devereux, a young man of great hopes to 
 whom he was fondly attached ; and leaving hiu men before Rou- 
 en, under the conduct of sir Roger Williams, a brave soldier, la: 
 returned with little glory in the beginning of 1592, to soothe the 
 displeasure of the queen and combat the malicious suggestions 
 of his enemies. In this bloodless warfare better success awaited 
 him. His partial mistress received with favour his excuses ; and 
 not only restored him to her wonted grace, but soon after testi- 
 tied her opinion of his abilities by granting him admission into 
 the privy-council. 
 
 The royal progress of this year in Sussex and Hampshire af- 
 fords some circumstances worthy of mention. Viscount Mon- 
 tacute, (now written Montagu,) a nobleman in much esteem with 
 Elizabeth, though a zealous catholic, solicited the honour of en- 
 tertaining her at his seat of Coudray near Midhurst ; a mansion 
 splendid enough to attract the curiosity and admiration of a royal 
 visitant. The manor of Midhurst, in which Coudray is situated, 
 had belonged during several ages to a branch of the potent fa- 
 mily of Bohun ; thence it passed into possession of the Nevils, 
 a race second to none in England in the antiquity of its nobility 
 and the splendour of its alliances. It thus became a part of the 
 vast inheritance of Margaret countess of Salisbury, daughter of 
 George duke of Clarence. Coudray-house was the principal 
 residence of this illustrious and injured lady, and it was here 
 that the discovery took place of those papal bulls and emblema- 
 tical banners which afforded a pretext to malice and rapacity to 
 arm themselves against the miserable remnant of her days. 
 
 By the attainder of the countess, this with the rest of her es- 
 tates became forfeited to the crown : but the tyrant Henry was 
 prevailed upon to regrant it, in exchange for other lands, to the 
 heirs of her great uncle John Nevil marquis Montagu. From an 
 heir female of this branch, viscount Montagu, son of sir Anthony 
 Brown master of the horse to Henry VIII., derived it and his 
 title, conferred by queen Mary. But to the ancient mansion 
 there had previously been substituted by his half-brother the 
 earl of Southampton, a costly structure decorated internally with 
 that profusion of homely art which displayed the wealth and sa- 
 tisfied the taste of a courtier of Henry VIII. The building was 
 as usual quadrangular, with a great gate flanked by two towers in 
 the centre of the principal front. At the upper end of the hall 
 stood a buck, as large as life, carved in brown wood, bearing on 
 his shoulder the shield of England and under it that of Brown 
 with many quarterings : ten other bucks, in various attitudes 
 and of the size of life, were planted at intervals. There was a 
 parlour more elegantly adorned with the works of Holbein and 
 his scholars; — a chapel richly furnished a long gallery painted 
 with the twelve apostles ; — and a corresponding one hung with 
 family pictures and with various old paintings on subjects reli- 
 gious and military, brought from Battle Abbey, the spoils of 
 which had been assigned to sir Anthony Brown as that share oi 
 
m 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 the general plunder of the monasteries to which his long and 
 faithful service had entitled him from the bounty of his master. 
 
 Amongst other particulars of the visit of her majesty at Coud- 
 ray, we are told that on the morning after her arrival she rode 
 in the park, where " a delicate bower" was prepared, and a 
 nymph with a sweet song delivered her a cross bow to shoot at 
 the deer, of which she killed three or four, and the countess of 
 Kildare one : — it may be added that this was a kind of amuse- 
 ment not unfrequently shared by the ladies of that age ; an ad- 
 ditional trait of the barbarity of manners. 
 
 Viscount Montagu died two years after this visit, and, to com- 
 plete his story, lies buried in Midhurst church under a splendid 
 monument of many-coloured marbles, on which may still be seen 
 a figure representing him kneeling before an altar, in fine guilt 
 armour, with a cloak and "beard of formal cut." Beneath are 
 placed recumbent effigies of his two wives dressed in rich cloaks 
 and ruffs, with chained unicorns at their feet, and the whole is 
 surrounded with sculptured scutcheons laboriously executed 
 with innumerable quarterings. 
 
 At Elvetham in Hampshire the queen was sumptuously enter- 
 tained during a visit of four days by the earl of Hertford. This 
 nobleman was reputed to be master of more ready money than 
 any other person in the kingdom ; and though the cruel impri- 
 sonment of nine years, by which Elizabeth had doomed him to 
 expiate the offence of a clandestine union with the blood-royal, 
 could scarcely have been obliterated from his indignant memory, 
 certain considerations respecting the interests of his children 
 might probably render him not unwilling to gratify her by a 
 splendid act of homage, though peculiar circumstances increas- 
 ed beyond measure the expense and inconvenience of her pre- 
 sent visit. Elvetham, which was little more than a hunting- 
 seat, was far from possessing sufficient accommodation for the 
 court, and the earl was obliged to supply its deficiencies by very 
 extensive erections of timber, fitted up and furnished with all 
 the elegance that circumstances would permit. He likewise 
 found it necessary to cause a large pond to be dug, in which 
 were formed three islands, artificially constructed in the like- 
 ness of a fort, a ship, and a mount, for the exhibition of fire- 
 works and other splendid pageantries. The water was made to 
 swarm with swimming and wading sea-gods, who blew trumpets 
 instead of shells, and recited verses in praise of her majesty, 
 finally, a tremendous battle was enacted between the Tritons of 
 the pond and certain sylvan deities of the park, which was long 
 and valiantly disputed, with darts on one side and large squirts 
 on the other, and suddenly terminated, to the delight of all be- 
 holders, by the seizure and submersion of old Sylvanus himself. 
 
 Elizabeth quitted Elvetham so highly gratified by the atten- 
 tions of the noble owner, that she made him a voluntary promise 
 of her special favour and protection ; but we shall find hereafter,- 
 that her long-enduring displeasure against him relative to his 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 399 
 
 first marriage was not yet so entirely laid aside but that a 
 slight pretext was sufficient to bring it once more into malig- 
 nant activity. 
 
 Early in the same summer the queen had also paid a visit to 
 Lord Burleigh at his favourite seat in Hertfordshire, of which 
 sir Thomas Wylks thus speaks in a letter to sir Robert Sidney : 
 
 " 1 suppose you have heard of her majesty's great entertain- 
 ment at Theobalds', of her knighting Mr. Robert Cecil, and oi 
 the expectation of his advancement to the secretaryship ; but 
 so it is as we say in court, that the knighthood must serve for 
 both."* 
 
 Sir Christopher Hatton cued in the latter end of the year 
 1591. It appears that he had been languishing for a conside- 
 rable time under a mortal disease ; yet the vulgar appetite for 
 the wonderful and the tragical occasioned it to be reported that 
 he died of a broken heart, in consequence of her majesty's having 
 demanded of him, with a rigour which he had not anticipated, 
 the payment of certain moneys received by him for tenths and 
 first fruits : it was added, that struck with compunction on learn- 
 ing to what extremity her severity had reduced him, her ma- 
 jesty had paid him several visits, and endeavoured by her gra- 
 cious and soothing speeches to revive his failing spirits ; — but 
 that the blow was struck, and her repentance came too late. It 
 is indeed certain that the queen manifested great interest in 
 the fate of her chancellor, and paid him during his last illness 
 very extraordinary personal attentions : — but it ought to be men- 
 tioned, in refutation of the former part of the story, that she re- 
 mitted to his nephew and heir, who was married to a grand 
 daughter of Burleigh's, all her claims on the property which Re- 
 left behind him. 
 
 During his lifetime, also, Hatton seems to have tasted more 
 largely than most of his competitors of the solid fruits of royal 
 favour. Elizabeth persevered in the practice originating in the 
 reigns of her father and brother, of endowing her courtiers out 
 of the spoils of the church. Sometimes, to the public scandal, 
 she would keep a bishopric many years vacant for the sake of 
 appropriating its whole revenues to secular uses and persons ; 
 and still more frequently, the presentation to a see was given 
 under the condition, express or implied, that certain manors 
 should be detached from its possessions, or beneficial leases of 
 lands and tenements granted to particular persons. Thus the 
 bishop of Ely was required to make a cession to sir Christopher 
 Hatton of the garden and orchard of Ely-house near Holborn ; 
 on the refusal of the prelate to surrender property which he re- 
 garded himself as bound in honour and conscience to transmit 
 unimpaired to his successors, Hatton instituted against him a 
 chancery suit; and having at length succeeded in wresting from 
 him the land, made it the site of a splendid house surrounded by 
 
 * " Sidney's Papers. " 
 
400 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 gardens, which have been succeeded by the street still bearing 
 his name. He had even sufficient interest with her majesty to 
 cause her to address to the bishop the following violent letter, 
 several times, with some variations, reprinted. 
 " Proud prelate ; 
 " I understand you are backward in complying; with your 
 agreement ; but I would have you to know, that I who made 
 you what you are, can unmake you; and if you do not forth 
 with fulfil your engagement, by God I will immediately unfrock 
 you. 
 
 " Yours as you demean yourself, 
 
 " Elizabeth." 
 
 Sir John Harrington, in his Brief View of the Church of Eng 
 and, accuses the lord-chancellor Hatton of coveting likewise 
 a certain manor attached to the see of Bath and Wells, and of 
 inflaming the queen's indignation against Bishop Godwin on ac- 
 count of his second marriage, in order to frighten him into com- 
 pliance ; a manoeuvre which in part succeeded, since the bishop 
 was reduced, by way of compromise, to grant him a long lease of 
 another manor somewhat inferior in value. 
 
 With all this, Hatton, as we have formerly observed, was dis- 
 tinguished as the patron of the established church against the 
 puritans ; but his zeal in its behalf, whether real or affected, was 
 attended by a spirit of moderation then rare and always com- 
 mendable. He disliked, and sometimes checked, the oppressions 
 exercised against the papists by the rigid enforcement of recent 
 statutes ; and he is reported to have held the doctrine, at that 
 time a novel one,;that neither fire nor steel ought ever to be em- 
 ployed on a religious account. 
 
 The chancellor, besides his other merits and accomplishments, 
 was a cultivator of the drama. In 1568 a tragedy was performed 
 before her majesty, and afterwards published, entitled Tancred 
 and Gismund, or Gismonde of Salerne, the joint performance of 
 five students of the Temple, who appear each to have taken an 
 act ; the fourth bears the signature of Hatton. It is also probable 
 that he gave the queen some assistance in similar pursuits, as 
 her translation of a part of the tragedy of Hercules (Etseus, pre- 
 served in the Bodleian, is in his hand writing. 
 
 But it was never forgotten by others, nor apparently by him- 
 self, that he was brought into notice by his dancing ; and we 
 iearn from a contemporary letter writer, that even after he had 
 attained the dignity of lord chancellor, he laid aside his gown 
 to dance at the wedding of his nephew. The circumstance is 
 pleasantly alluded to by Gray in the description of Stoke-Pogei^- 
 uouse with which his " Long Story" opens. 
 
 " In Britain's isle, no matter where, 
 An ancient pile of building stands ; 
 The Huntingdons and Hattons there 
 Employed the power of fairy hands. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 401 
 
 To raise the ceiling's fretted height, 
 Each pa unci in achievements clothing, 
 Rich windows that exclude the light, 
 And passages that lead to nothing. 
 
 Full oft within the spacious walls, 
 When he had fifty winters o'er him, 
 My grave lord keeper led the brawls, 
 The seal and maces danced before him. 
 
 His bushy beard and shoe-strings green, 
 His high-crown'd hat and satin doublet, 
 Moved the stout heart of England's queen, 
 Though pope and Spaniard could not trouble it.'* 
 
 As chancellor of Oxford, Hatton was succeeded by lord Buck 
 hurst, to the fresh mortification of Essex, who again advanced 
 pretensions to this honorary oflice, and was a second time baf- 
 fled by her majesty's open interference in behalf of his com- 
 petitor. 
 
 The more important posts of lord chancellor remained vacant 
 for some months, the seals being put in commission ; after which 
 serjeant Pickering was appointed lord keeper, — a person of re- 
 spectable character, who appears to have performed the duties of 
 his office without taking any conspicuous part in the court fac- 
 tions, or exercising any marked influence over the general ad- 
 ministration of affairs. 
 
 Towards one person of considerable note in his day, sir John 
 Perrot, some time deputy of Ireland, Hatton is reported to have 
 acted the part of an industrious and contriving enemy ; being 
 provoked by the taunts which Sir John was continually throw- 
 ing out against him as one who " had entered the court in a 
 galliard," and further instigated by the complaints, well or ill 
 founded, against the deputy, of some of his particular friends 
 and adherents. 
 
 Sir John Perrot derived from a considerable family of that 
 name seated at Haroldstone in Pembrokeshire, his name and 
 large estates ; but his features, his figure, his air, and common 
 fame, gave him king Henry VIII. for a father. Nor was his resem- 
 blance to this redoubted monarch merely external ; his temper 
 was haughty and violent, his behaviour blustering, his language 
 always course, and, in the fits of rage to which he was subject, 
 abusive to excess. Yet was he destitute neither of merit nor 
 abilities. As president of Munster, he had rendered great ser- 
 vices to her majesty in 1572 by his vigorous conduct against the 
 rebels. As lord deputy of Ireland between the years 1584 and 
 1588, he had made efforts still more praiseworthy towards the 
 pacification of that unhappy and ill -governed country, by 
 checking as much as possible the oppressions of every kind 
 exercised by the English of the pale against the miserable natives' 
 towards whom his policy was liberal and benevolent. But his 
 
 3Fi 
 
4th2 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 attempts at reformation armed against him, as usual, a host of 
 foes, amongst whom was particularly distinguished Loftus arch- 
 bishop of Dublin, whom he had exasperated by proposing to 
 apply the revenues of St. Patrick's cathedral to the foundation 
 of an university in the capital of Ireland. Forged letters were 
 amongst the means to which the unprincipled malice of his ad 
 versaries resorted for his destruction. One of these atrocious 
 fabrications, in which an Irish chieftain was made to complain 
 of excessive injustice on the part of the deputy, was detected 
 by the exertions of the supposed writer, whom Perrot had in 
 reality attached to himself by many benefits ; but a second letter, 
 which contained a protection to a catholic priest and made him 
 employ the words our castle of Dublin, our kingdom of Ireland, 
 produced a fatally strong impression on the jealous mind ot 
 Elizabeth. 
 
 Meantime the ill-fated deputy, conscious of his own fidelity 
 and essential loyalty, and unsuspicious of the snares spread 
 around him, was often unguarded enough to give vent in gross 
 and furious invective against the person of majesty itself, to the 
 profound vexation which he, in common with all preceding and 
 following governors of Ireland under Elizabeth, was destined to 
 endure from the penury of her supplies and the magnitude of 
 her requisitions. His words were all carried to the queen, 
 mingled with such artful insinuations as served to impart to 
 these unmeaning ebullitions of a hasty temper the air of delibe 
 rate contempt and meditated disloyalty towards his sovereign. 
 
 Just before the sailing of the armada, Perrot was recalled, 
 partly indeed at his own request. A rigid or rather a malicious 
 inquiry was then instituted into all the details of his actions, 
 words and behaviour in Ireland, and he was committed to the 
 friendly custody of lord Burleigh. Afterwards, the lords Huns 
 don and Buckhurst, with two or three other councillors, were 
 ordered to search and seize his papers in the house of the lord 
 treasurer without the participation of this great minister, who 
 was at once orFended and alarmed at the step. Perrot was car- 
 ried to the Tower, and at length, in April 1592, put Upon his 
 trial for high treason. The principal heads of accusation were ; 
 — his contemptuous words of the queen ; — his secret encourage- 
 ment of O'Rourk's rebellion and the Spanish invasion, and his 
 favouring of traitors. Of all these charges except the first he 
 seems to have proved his innocence and on this he excused him- 
 self by the heat of his temper and the absence of all ill intention 
 from his mind. He was how r ever found guilty by a jury much 
 more studious of the reputation of loyalty than careful of the 
 rights of Englishmen. 
 
 On leaving the bar, he is reported to have exclaimed, " God's 
 death ! will the queen suffer her brother to be oifered up as a sa- 
 crifice to the envy of my frisking adversaries ?" 
 
 The queen felt the force of this appeal to the ties of blood. It . 
 was long before she could be brought to confirm his sentence, 
 and she would never sign a warrant for its execution. Burleigh 
 
QIJKKN ELIZABETH. 
 
 403 
 
 shed tears on hearing the verdict, saying with a sigh, that hatred 
 m;is always the more inveterate the less it was deserved. 
 
 Elizabeth, when her first emotions of anger had passed away, 
 was now frequently heard to praise that rescript of the empe- 
 ror Theodosius in which it is thus written : — 
 
 "Should any one have spoken evil of the emperor, if through 
 levity, it should be despised ; if through insanity, pitied ; if 
 though malice, forgiven." She is likewise said in language more 
 familiar to her, to have sworn a great oath that they who ac- 
 cused Perrot were all knaves, and he an honest and faithful 
 man. It was accordingly presumed that she entertained the de- 
 sign of extending to him the royal pardon; but her mercy, if 
 such it merits to be called, was tardy ; and in September 1592, 
 six months after his condemnation, this victim of malice, peris!.- 
 ed in the Tower, of disease, according to Camden ; but, by other 
 accounts, of a broken heart. In either case the story is an af- 
 fecting one, and worthy to be had in lasting remembrance, as a 
 striking and terrible example of the potency of court-intrigue, 
 and the guilty subserviency of judicial tribunals under the jea- 
 lous rule of the last of the Tudors. 
 
 English literature, under the auspices of Elizabeth and her 
 learned court, had been advancing with a steady and rapid pro- 
 gress ; and it may be interesting to contemplate the state of one 
 of its fairest provinces as exhibited by the pen of an able critic, 
 who in the year 1589 gave to the woild an Art of English Poesy. 
 This work, though addressed to the queen, was published with 
 a dedication by the printer to lord Burleigh ; for the author 
 thought proper to remain concealed : on its first appearance its 
 merit caused it to be ascribed to Spenser by some, and by others 
 to Sidney ; but it was traced at length to Puttenham, one of her 
 majesty's gentleman -pensioners, the author of some adulatory 
 poems addressed to her, and called Partheniads and of various 
 other pieces now lost. 
 
 The subject is here methodically treated in three books ; the 
 first, " Of Poets and Poesy ;" the second, " Of Proportion the 
 third, " Of Ornament.'.' After some remarks on the origin of the 
 art and its earliest professors, and an account of the various 
 kinds of poems known to the ancients, — in which there is an 
 absence of pedantry, of quaintness, and of every species of pue- 
 rility, very rare among the didactic writers of the age, — the cri- 
 tic proceeds to an enumeration of our principal vernacular 
 poets, or " vulgar makers," as he is pleased to anglicise the 
 words. Beginning with a just tribute to Chaucer, as the father 
 of genuine English verse, he passes rapidly to the latter end of 
 the reign of Henry VIII., when, as he observes, there "sprung 
 up a new company of courtly makers, of whom sir Thomas Wyat 
 the elder and Henry earl of Surry were the two chieftains ; who 
 having travelled into Italy, and there tasted the sweet and 
 stately measures and style of the Italian poesy, as novices newly 
 crept out of the schools of Dante, Arioste, and Petrarch, they 
 greatly polished our rude and homely manner of vulgar poesy, 
 
404 THE COURT OF 
 
 from that it had been before, and for that cause may justly be 
 said the first reformers of our English metre and style."* 
 
 After slight notice of the minor poets who flourished under 
 Edward VI. and Mary, he goes on to observe that " in her ma- 
 jesty's time that now is, are sprung up another crew of courtlv 
 maker*, noblemen and gentlemen of her majesty's own servants, 
 who have written excellently well, as it would appear if their 
 doing could be found out and made public with the rest." And 
 in a subsequent passage he thus awards to each of them his ap- 
 propriate commendation. " Of the latter sort [ think thus : That 
 for tragedy the lord Buckhurst and master Edward Ferry's (Fer- 
 rers,) for such doings as I have seen of theirs do deserve the 
 highest price. The earl of Oxford and master Edwards of her 
 majesty's chapel for comedy and interlude. For eglogue and 
 pastoral poesy, sir Philip Sidney and master Chaloner, and that 
 other gentleman who wrate the late * Shepherd's Calendar.'t 
 For ditty and amorous ode I find sir Walter Raleigh's vein most 
 lofty, insolent and passionate. Master Edward Dyer for elegy, 
 most sweet, solemn and of high conceit. Gascoigne for a good 
 metre and for a plentiful vein. Phaer and Golding for a learned 
 and well corrected verse, specially in translation clear and very 
 faithfully answering their author's intent. Others have also 
 written with much facility, but more commendably perchance if 
 they had not written so much nor so popularly."^: The passage 
 concludes with a piece of flattery to her majesty in her poetical 
 capacity, unworthy of transcription. 
 
 Under the head of "Poetical proportion" or metre, our author 
 writes learnedly of the measures of the ancients, and on those 
 employed by our native poets with singular taste and judgment, 
 except that the artist-like pride in difficulty overcome has in- 
 spired him with an unwarrantable fondness for verses arranged 
 in eggs, roundels, lozenges, triquets, and other ingenious figures 
 of which he has given diagrams further illustrated by finished 
 specimens of his own construction. 
 
 Great efforts had been made about this period by a literary 
 party, of which Stainhurst the translator of Virgil, Sidney, and 
 Gabriel Hervey were the leaders, to introduce the Greek and 
 Roman measures into English verse, and Puttenham has judged 
 it necessary to compose a chapter thus intituled : How, if all 
 manner of sudden innovations were not very scandalous, specially 
 in the laws of any language or art, the use of Greek and Latin 
 feet might be brought into our vulgar poesy, and with good grace 
 enough." But it is evident on the whole, that he bore no good 
 will to this pedantic novelty. 
 
 In treating of " Ornament," our author enumerates, explains, 
 
 * I have quoted this passage partly for the sake of the express and authentic 
 Testimony which it bears to the fact of Surry's having visited Italy, v/ hi ch Mr. Chal- 
 mers and after him Dr. Nott, in their respective biographies of the noble poet, have 
 been induced to call in question. 
 
 f Spenser published this work under the signature of "Immerito." 
 
 i Art of English Poesy, book i. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 405 
 
 and exemplifies all the rhetorical figures of the Greeks ; adding, 
 for the benefit of courtiers and ladies, to whom his work is 
 principally addressed, translations of their names ; several of 
 which would require to be retranslated for the benefit of the 
 modern reader, as for example the three following, all figures of 
 derision : — " The fleering frump ;'' — " The broad flout ; — " The 
 privy nip." At the present day, however, the work of Putten 
 nam is most of all to be valued for the remarks on language and 
 on manners, and the contemporary anecdotes with which it 
 abounds, and of which some examples may be quoted. After 
 observing that " as it hath been always reputed a great fault 
 to use figurative speeches foolishly and indiscreetly, so it is 
 esteemed no less an imperfection in man's utterance, to have 
 none use of figure at all, specially in our writing and speeches 
 public, making them but as our ordinary talk, than which nothing 
 can be more unsavory and far from all civility : — ' I remember/ 
 says he, ' in the first year of queen Mary's reign a knight of York- 
 shire was chosen speaker of the parliament, a good gentleman 
 and wise, in the affairs of his shire, and not unlearned in the 
 laws of the realm ; but as well for lack of some of his teeth as 
 for want of language, nothing well spoken, which at that time and 
 business was most behoveful for him to have been : this man, after 
 he had made his oration to the queen ; which ye know is of course 
 to be done at the first assembly of both houses ; a bencher of the 
 Temple, both well learned and very eloquent, returning from the 
 parliament house, asked another gentleman, his friend, how he 
 liked Mr Speaker's oration; 'Marry,' quoth the other, <me- 
 thinks I heard not a better alehouse tale told this seven years.' 
 And though grave and wise councillors in their consul- 
 tations do not use much superfluous eloquence, and also in their 
 judicial hearings do much mislike all scholastical rhetorics ; yet 
 in such a case .... if the lord chancellor of England or 
 archbishop of Canterbury himself were to speak, he ought to do 
 it cunningly and eloquently, which cannot be without the use of 
 figures: and nevertheless none impeachment or blemish to the 
 gravity of the persons or of the cause : wherein I report me to 
 them that knew Sir Nicholas Bacon lord keeper of the great seal, 
 or the now lord treasurer of England, and have been conversant 
 with their speeches made in the Parliament house and Star- 
 chamber. From whose lips I have seen to proceed more grave 
 and natural eloquence, than from all the orators of Oxford or 
 Cambridge ; but all is as it is handled, and maketh no matter 
 whether the same eloquence be natural to them or artificial 
 (though I rather think natural) ; yet were they known to be 
 learned and not unskilful of the art when they were younger 
 
 men I have come to the lord keeper sir Nicholas 
 
 Bacon, and found him sitting in his gallery alone with the 
 works of Quintilian before him ; indeed he was a most eloquent 
 man, and of rare learning and wisdom as ever I knew England 
 to breed ; and one that joyed as much in learned men and men 
 of good wits.'' He mentions being a by-stander when a doctor 
 
406 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 of civil law, " pleading in a litigious cause betwixt a man and 
 his wife, before a great magistrate, who (as they can tell that 
 knew him) was a man very well learned and grave, but some- 
 what sour and of no plausible utterance : the gentleman's chance 
 was to say : ' My lord, the simple woman is not so much to 
 blame as her leud abettors, who by violent persuasions have led 
 her into this wilfulness.' Quoth the Judge ; ' What need such 
 eloquent terms in this place ?' The gentleman replied, * Doth 
 your lordship mislike the term (violent) ? and methinks I speak 
 it to great purpose ; for I am sure she would never have done it, 
 but by force of persuasion,' " &c. 
 
 Pursuing the subject of language, which, he says, "in our 
 maker or poet must be heedily looked unto that it be natural, pure, 
 and the most usual of all his country," after some other rules or 
 cautions he adds ; " Our maker therefore at these days shall not 
 follow Piers Plowman, nor Gower, nor Lydgate, nor yet 
 Chaucer, for their language is now out of use with us ; neither 
 shall he take the terms of Northern men, such as they use in 
 daily talk, whether they be noblemen, or gentlemen, or of their 
 best clerks, all is a matter; nor in effect any speech used beyond 
 the river of Trent, though no man can deny but that theirs is 
 the purer English Saxon at this day, yet it is not so courtly nor 
 so current as our Southern English is ; no more is the far Wes- 
 tern man's speech : ye shall therefore take the usual speech 
 of the court, and that of London and the shires lying about 
 London within sixty miles and not much above. I say not this 
 but in every shire of England there be gentlemen and others that 
 speak, but specially write, as good Southern as we of Middlesex 
 or Surry do ; but not the common people of every shire, to whom 
 the gentlemen and also their learned clerks do for the most 
 part condescend ; but herein we are ruled by the English dic- 
 tionaries and other books written by learned men, and there- 
 fore it needeth none other direction in that behalf. Albeit 
 peradventure some small admonition be not impertinent, for 
 Ave find in our English writers many words and speeches 
 amendable, and ye shall see in some many inkhorn terms 
 so ill affected brought in by men of learning, as preachers 
 and schoolmasters ; and many strange terms of other languages 
 by secretaries and merchants and travellers, and many dark 
 words and not usual nor well sounding, though they be daily 
 spoken in court. Wherefore great heed must be taken by our 
 maker in this point that his choice be good." He modestly 
 expresses his apprehensions that in some of these respects he 
 may himself be accounted a transgressor, and he subjoins a list 
 of the new, foreign, or unusual words employed by him in this 
 tract, with his reasons for their adoption. Of this number are ; 
 scientific, conduict, "a French word, but well allowed of us, and 
 long since usual ; it sounds something more than this word 
 (leading) for it is applied only to the leading of a captain, and 
 not as a little boy should lead a blind man ;" idiom, from the 
 Greek; significative, " borrowed of the Latin and French, but 
 
QlJKKN KLIZATSKTH. 
 
 407 
 
 10 us brought in first by some noblemen's secretary, as i think, 
 pdi doth so well serve the turn as it could not now be spared; 
 and many more like usurped Latin and French words; as, 
 method, 'methodical, placation, junction, assubtiling, refining, 
 compendious, prolix, figurative, inveigle, a term borrowed of 
 our common lawyers: impression, also a new term, but well 
 expressing the matter, and more than our English word :" 
 penetrate, penetrable, indignity in the sense of unworthiness, and 
 a few more.* The whole enumeration is curious, and strikingly 
 exhibits the state of language at this epoch, when the rapid ad- 
 vancement of letters and of all the arts of social life was creating 
 a daily want of new terms, which writers in all classes and in- 
 dividuals in every walk of life regarded themselves as au- 
 thorised to supply at their own discretion, in any manner and 
 from any sources most accessible to them, whether pure or 
 corrupt, ancient or modern. The pedants of the universities, 
 and the travelled coxcombs of the court, had each a neoiogical 
 jargon of their own, unintelligible to each other and to the people 
 at large ; on the other hand, there were a few persons of grave 
 professions and austere characters, who, like Cato the Censor 
 during a similar period of accelerated progress in the Roman 
 state, prided themselves on preserving in all its unsophisticated 
 simplicity or primitive rudeness, the tongue of their forefathers. 
 The judicious Puttenham, uniting the accurac} r of scholastic 
 learning with the enlargement of mind acquired by long inter- 
 course among foreign nations, and with the polish of a courtier, 
 places himself between the contending parties, and with a manly 
 disdain of every species of affectation, but especially that of 
 rusticity and barbarism, avails himself, without scruple as without 
 excess, of the copiousness of other languages to supply the re- 
 maining deficiencies of his own. 
 
 Several chapters of the book " of Ornament" are devoted to 
 the discussion of the decent or seemly in words and actions, and 
 prove the author to have been a nice observer of manners, as well 
 as a refined critic of style. He severely censures a certain 
 translator of Virgil, who said " that iEneas was fain to trudge 
 out of Troy; which term better became to be spoken of a 
 beggar, or of a rogue, or of a lackey :" and another who calls 
 the same hero " by fate a fugitive and who inquires "What 
 moved Juno to tug so great a captain ;" a word " the most in- 
 decent in this case that could have been devised, since it is 
 derived from the cart, and signifies the draught or pull of 
 the horses." The phrase "a prince's pelf" is reprobated, be- 
 cause pelf means properly " the scraps or shreds of taylors and 
 of skinners." He gives strict rules for the decorous behaviour 
 of ambassadors and all who address themselves to princes, being 
 himself a courtier, and having probably exercised some diplo- 
 matic function. " I have seen," says he, " foreign ambassadors 
 in the queen's presence laugh so dissolutely at some rare pas- 
 time or sport that hath been made there, that nothing in the 
 
 * Art of English Poesy, book iii 
 
408 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 world could have worse becomen them." With respect to men 
 in other stations of life he is pleased to say, it is decent for a 
 priest "to be sober and sad "a judge to be incorrupted, so- 
 ltary, and unacquainted with courtiers or courtly entertain- 
 ments . . . without plait or wrinkle, sour in look and churlish 
 in speech ; contrariwise a courtly gentleman to be lofty and 
 curious in countenance, yet sometimes a creeper and curry 
 favell with his superiours.'* " And in a prince it is decent to 
 go slowly and to inarch with leisure and with a certain grandity 
 rather than gravity ; as our sovereign lady and mistress, the 
 very image of majesty and magnificence, is accustomed to do 
 generally, unless it be when she walketh apace for her pleasure, 
 or to catch her a heat in the cold mornings. Nevertheless it is 
 not so decent in a meaner person, as I have discerned in some 
 counterfeit ladies of the country, which use it much to their own 
 derision. This comeliness was wanting in queen Mary, other- 
 wise a very good and honourable princess. And was some ble- 
 mish to the emperor Ferdinaudo, a most noble-minded man, yet 
 so careless and forgetful of himself in that behalf, as I have seen 
 him run up a pair of stairs so swift and nimble a pace, as almost 
 had not become a very mean man, who had not gone in some 
 hasty business." 
 
 Respecting the poets mentioned by Puttenham whose names 
 have not already occurred in the present work it may be observed, 
 that excepting a few lines quoted by this critic, there is nothing 
 remaining of sir Edward Dyer's, except which is highly proba- 
 ble, he is to be reckoned among the anonymous contributors to 
 the popular collections of that day. Of Gascoigne, on the con- 
 trary, enough is left to exhaust the patience of any modern 
 reader. In his youth, neglecting the study of the law for poetry 
 and pleasure, he poured forth an abundance of amatory pieces ; 
 some of them sonnets closely imitating the Italian ones in style 
 as well as structure. Afterwards, during a five-years service in 
 the war of Flanders, he found leisure for much serious thought ; 
 and discarding the levities of his early years, he composed by 
 way of expiation a moral satire in blank verse called the steel 
 Glass, and several religious pieces. Notwithstanding however 
 this newly assumed seriousness, he attended her majesty in her 
 progress in the summer of 1575, and composed a large number 
 of courtly verses as a contribution to " the princely pleasures of 
 Kennelworth." Gascoigne died in October 1577. Of his minor 
 poems the following may be cited as a pleasing specimen. 
 
 THE LULLABY OF A LOVER. 
 
 Sing lullaby as women do, 
 
 Wherewith they bring their babes to rest. 
 
 And lullaby can I sing too 
 
 As womanly as can the best. 
 
 With lullaby they still the child ; 
 
 And if I be not much beguil'd. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 109 
 
 Kull many wanton babes have I, 
 Which must be still'd with lullaby. 
 
 First lullaby my youthful years, 
 
 It is now time to go to bed, 
 
 For crooked age and hoary years 
 
 Have won the haven within my head : 
 
 With lullaby then youth be still, 
 
 With lullaby content thy will, 
 
 Since courage quails and comes behind, 
 
 Go sleep and so beguile thy mind. 
 
 Next lullaby my gazing eyes, 
 W r hich wonted were to glaunce apace ; 
 For every glass may now suffice 
 To shew the furrows in my face. 
 With lullaby then wink awhile, 
 With lullaby your looks beguile : 
 Let no fair face or beauty bright, 
 Entice you eft with vain delight. 
 
 And lullaby my wanton will, 
 Let reason's rule now reign thy thought, 
 Since all too late I find by skill, 
 How dear I have thy fancies bought: 
 With lullaby now take thine ease, 
 With lullaby thy doubts appease : 
 For trust to this, if thou be still, 
 My body shall obey thy will. 
 
 Thus lullaby my youth, mine eyes, 
 My will, my ware, and all that was, 
 I can no mo delays devise, 
 But welcome pain, let pleasure pass : 
 With lullaby now take your leave, 
 With lullaby your dreams deceive, 
 And when you rise with waking eye, 
 Remember then this lullaby. 
 
 Respecting another poet of greater popularity than Gascoigne, 
 and of a more original turn of genius, Warner, the author of 
 Albion's England, Puttenhain has preserved a discreet silence ; 
 for his great work had been prohibited by the capricious tyranny, 
 or rigid decorum, of Archbishop W T hitgift, and seizure made in 
 1586 of the copies surreptitiously printed. This long and sin- 
 gular poem is a kind of metrical chronicle, containing the re- 
 markable events of English history from the flood, — the starting 
 point of all chroniclers, — to the reign of queen Elizabeth. It is 
 written in the common ballad measure, and in a style often 
 creeping and prosaic, sometimes quaint and affected ; but pas- 
 sages ot beautiful simplicity and strokes of genuine pathos fre- 
 
410 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 quently occur to redeem its faults, and the tediousness of the 
 historical narration is relieved by a large intermixture of inter- 
 esting and entertaining episodes. The ballads of Queen Eleanor 
 and fair Rosamond, Argentile and Curan, and the patient 
 Countess, selected by Dr. Percy in his Relics of Ancient Poe- 
 try, may be regarded by the poetical student of the present day 
 as sufficient specimen of the talents of Warner: but in his own 
 time he was complimented as the Homer or Virgil of the age ; 
 the persevering reader travelled, not only with patience but de- 
 light, through his seventy-seven long chapters ; and it is said 
 that the work became popular enough, notwithstanding its pro- 
 hibition by authority, to supersede in some degree its celebrated 
 predecessor the Mirror for Magistrates. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 from 1591 to 1593. 
 
 Naval war against Spain. — Death of sir Richard Grenville. — 
 Notice of Cavendish. — Establishment of the East India com- 
 pany. — Results of voyages of discovery. — Transactions between 
 Raleigh and the queen. — Anecdotes of Robert Cary — of the 
 Holies family. — Progress of the drama. — Dramatic poets be- 
 fore Shakespeare. — Notice of Shakespeare. — Proclamation re- 
 specting bear-baiting and acting of plays. — Censor hip of the 
 drama. — Anecdote of the queen and Tarleton. 
 
 The maratime war with Spain, notwithstanding the cautious 
 temper of the queen, was strenuously waged during the year 
 1591, and produced some striking indications of the rising spirit 
 of the English navy. 
 
 A squadron under lord Thomas Howard, which had been wait- 
 ing six months at the Azores to intercept the homeward bound 
 ships from Spanish America, was there surprised by a vastly 
 more numerous fleet of the enemy which had been sent out for 
 their convoy. The English admiral got to sea in all haste and 
 made good his retreat, followed by his whole squadron excepting 
 the Revenge, which was entangled in a narrow channel between 
 the port and an island. Sir Richard Grenville, her commander, 
 after a vain attempt to break through the Spanish line, determi- 
 ned, with a kind of heroic desperation, to sustain alone the con- 
 flict with a whole fleet of fifty-seven sail, and to confront all ex- 
 tremities rather than strike his colours. From three o'clock in 
 the afternoon till day -break he resisted, by almost incredible ef- 
 forts of valour, all the force which could be brought to bear 
 against him, and fifteen times beat back the boarding parties from 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 411 
 
 his dork. At length, when all his bravest had fallen, and he 
 himself was disabled by many wounds ; his powder also being 
 exhausted, his .small arms lost or broken, and his ship a perfect 
 wreck, he proposed to his gallant crew to sink her, that no tro- 
 phy might remain to the enemy- But this proposal, though ap- 
 plauded by several, w as overruled by the majority : the Revenge 
 struck to the Spaniards ; and two days after, her brave comman- 
 der died on board their admiral's ship of his glorious wounds, 
 " with a joyful and <juiet mind," as he expressed himself, and 
 admired by his enemies themselves for his high spirit and invin- 
 cible resolution. r i his was the first English ship of any consi- 
 derable size captured by the Spaniards during the whole war, 
 and it did them little good ; for, besides that the vessel had 
 been shattered to pieces, and sunk a few days after with two 
 hundred Spanish sailors on board, the example of heroic self- 
 devotion set by sir Richard Grenville long continued in the hour 
 of battle to strike awe and terror to their hearts. 
 
 Thomas Cavendish, elated by the splendid success of that 
 first expedition in which, with three slender barks of insignifi- 
 cant size carrying only one hundred and twenty-three persons 
 of every degree, he had plundered the whole coast of New Spain 
 and Peru, burned Paita and Acapulco, and captured a Spanish 
 admiral of seven hundred tons, besides many other vessels taken 
 or burned ; — then crossed the great South Sea, and circumnavi- 
 gated the globe in the shortest time in which that exploit had yet 
 been performed; set sail again in August 1591 on a second voyage. 
 But this time, when his far greater force and more adequate pre- 
 parations of every kind seemed to promise results still more pro- 
 fitable and glorious, scarce any thing but disasters awaited him, 
 He took indeed the town of Santos in Brazil, which was an ac- 
 quisition of some importance ; but delaying here too long, he 
 arrived at a wrong season in the Straits of Magellan, and was 
 compelle ,« to endure the winter of that inhospitable clime, where 
 seeing his numbers thinned by sickness and hardship, and his 
 plans baffled by dissentions and insubordination, he found it ne- 
 cessary to abandon his original design of crossing the South Sea, 
 and resolved to undertake the voyage to China by the Cape of 
 Good Hope. First, however, he was fatally prevailed upon to 
 return to the coast of Brazil, where he lost many men in rash 
 attempts against various towns, which expecting his attacks were 
 now armed for their defence, and a still greater number by de- 
 sertion. Baffled in all his designs, worn out with fatigue, anxie- 
 ties, and chagrin, this brave but unfortunate adventurer breathed 
 his last far from England on the wide ocean, and so obscurely 
 that even the date of his death is unknown. 
 
 At this period, a peculiar education was regarded as not more 
 necessary to enable a gentleman to assume the direction of a 
 naval expedition than the command of a troop of horse ; and it 
 is probable that even by Cavendish, whose exploits we read with 
 amazement, but a very slender stock of maritime experience 
 was possessed when he first embarked on board the vessel in 
 
412 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 which he had undertaken to circumnavigate the globe. He was 
 the third son of a Suffolk gentleman of large estate ; came early 
 to court ; and having there consumed his patrimony in the fash- 
 ionable magnificence of the time, suddenly discovered within 
 himself sufficient courage to attempt the reparation of his broken 
 fortunes by that favourite resource, the plunder of the Spanish 
 settlements. On his return from his first voyage he sailed up 
 the Thames in a kind of triumph, displaying a top-sail of cloth 
 of gold, and making ostentation of the profit rather than the glory 
 of the enterprise. He appears to have been equally deficient in 
 the enlightened pi udence which makes an essential feature of 
 the great commander, and in that lofty disinterestedness of mo- 
 tive which constitutes the hero ; but in the activity, the enter- 
 prise, the brilliant valour, which now form the spirit of the Eng- 
 lish navy, he had few equals and especially few predecessors ; 
 and amongst the founders of its glory the name of Cavendish is 
 therefore worthy of a conspicuous and enduring place. 
 
 By the failure of the late attempt to seat don Antonio on the 
 throne of Portugal, the sovereignty of Philip II. over that coun- 
 try and its dependencies had finally been established ; and in 
 consequence its trade and settlements in the East, offered a fair 
 and tempting prize to the ambition or cupidity of English adven 
 turers. 
 
 The passage by the Cape of Good Hope, repeatedly accom- 
 plished by circumnavigators of this nation, had now ceased t© 
 oppose any formidable obstacle to the spirit of maritime enter- 
 prise ; and the papal donation was a bulwark still less capable 
 of preserving inviolate to the sovereigns of Portugal their own 
 rich Indies. The first expedition ever fitted out from England 
 for those eastern regions, where it now possesses an extent of 
 territory in comparison of which itself is but a petty province, 
 consisted of three " tall ships," which sailed in this year under 
 the conduct of George Raymond and James Lancaster. After 
 doubling the Cape and refreshing themselves in Saldanha Bay, 
 which the Portuguese had named but not yet settled, the navi- 
 gators steered along the eastern coast of Africa, where the ship 
 commanded by Raymond was lost. With the other two how 
 ever, they proceeded still eastward; passed without impediment 
 all the stations of the Portuguese on the shores of the Indian 
 ocean, doubled Cape Comorin, and extended their voyage to the 
 Nicobar isles, and even to the peninsula of Malacca. They 
 landed in several parts, where they found means to open an ad 
 vantageous traffic with the natives ; and, after capturing many 
 Portuguese vessels laden with various kinds of merchandise, re- 
 passed the Cape in perfect safety with all their booty. In their 
 way home they visited the West Indies, where great disasters 
 overtook them ; for here their two revnaining ships were lost, and 
 Lancaster, with the slender remnant of their crews, was glad to 
 obtain a passage to Europe on board a French ship which hap- 
 pily arrived to their relief. But as far as respected the eastern 
 part of the expedition, their success had been such as strongly 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 413 
 
 to invite the attempts of future adventurers ; and nine years after 
 its sailing her majesty was prevailed upon to grant a charter of 
 incorporation with ample privileges to an East India company, 
 under whose auspices Lancaster consented to undertake a se- 
 cond voyage. Annual fleets were from this period fitted out by 
 these enterprising traders, and factories of their establishment 
 soon arose in Surat, in Masulipatam, in Bantam, in Siam, and 
 even in Japan. The history of their progress makes no part of 
 the subject of the present work ; but the foundation of a mer- 
 cantile company which has advanced itself to power and import- 
 ance absolutely unparalleled in the annals of the world, forms a 
 feature not to be overlooked in the glory of Elizabeth. 
 
 These long and hazardous voyages of discovery, of hostility, 
 or of commerce, began henceforth to afford one of the most ho- 
 nourable occupations to those among the youthful nobility or gen- 
 try of the country, whose active spirits disdained the luxurious 
 and servile idleness of the court: they also opened a welcome 
 resource to younger sons, and younger brothers, impatient to 
 emancipate themselves from the galling miseries of that neces- 
 sitous dependence on the head of their house to which the cus- 
 toms of the age and country relentlessly condemned them. 
 
 Thus Shakespeare in his Two Gentlemen of Verona, 
 
 "He wondered that your lordship 
 
 Would suffer him to spend his youth at home, 
 
 While other men of slender reputation 
 
 Put forth their sons to seek preferment out : 
 
 Some to the wars to try their fortune there ; 
 
 Some to discover islands far away ; 
 
 Some to the studious universities. 
 
 For any or for all these exercises, 
 
 He said, that Protheus your son was meet : 
 
 And did request me to importune you 
 
 To let him spend his time no more at home ; 
 
 Which would be great impeachment to his age, 
 
 In having known no travel in his youth." 
 
 But the advancement of the fortunes of individuals was by no 
 means the principal or most permanent good which accrued to 
 the nation by these enterprises. The period was still indeed far 
 distan' in which voyages of discovery were to be undertaken on 
 scientiric principles and with large views of general utility: but 
 new animals, new vegetables, natural productions or manufac- 
 tured articles before unknown to them, attracted the attention 
 even of these first unskilful explorers. Specimens in every kind 
 were brought home, and, recommended as they never failed to be 
 by fabulous or grossly exaggerated descriptions, in the first in- 
 stance only served to gratify and inflame the vulgar passion for 
 wonders. But the attention excited to these striking novelties 
 gradually became enlightened ; a more familiar acquaintance 
 
414 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 disclosed their genuine properties, and the purposes to which 
 they might be applied at home ; — Raleigh introduced the po- 
 tatoe on his Irish estates ; — a'n acceptable, however inelegant, 
 luxury was discovered in the use of tobacco ; and somewhat later, 
 the introduction of tea gradually brought sobriety and refine- 
 ment into the system of modern English manners. 
 
 Many allusions to the prevailing passion for beholding foreign, 
 or, as they were then accounted, monstrous animals, may be 
 found scattered over the works of Shakespeare and contempo- 
 rary dramatists. Trinculo says, speaking of Caliban, " Were 
 I but in England now .... and had but this fish painted, not a 
 holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver. There 
 would this monster make a man ; any strange beast there makes a 
 man : when they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they 
 will lay out ten to see a dead Indian." And again ; " Do you 
 put tricks upon's with savages and men of Inde ?" &c. The 
 whole play of the Tempest, exquisite as it is, must have derived 
 a still more poignant relish, to the taste of that age, from the ro- 
 mantic ideas of desert islands then floating in the imaginations 
 of men. 
 
 In the following year, 1592, Raleigh, weary of his Irish exile, 
 and anxious by some splendid exploit to revive the declining fa- 
 vour of the queen, projected a formidable attack on the Spanish 
 power in America, and engaged without difficulty in the enter- 
 prise a large number of volunteers. But unavoidable obstacles 
 arose, by which the fleet was detained till the proper season for 
 its sailing was past : Elizabeth recalled Raleigh to court ; and 
 the only fortunate result of the expedition, to the command 
 of which Martin Frobisher succeeded, was the capture of one 
 wealthy carrack and the destruction of another. 
 
 Raleigh, in the meantime, was amusing his involuntary idle- 
 ness by an intrigue with one of her majesty's maids of honour, a 
 daughter of the celebrated sir Nicholas Throgmorton. The 
 queen in the heat of her indignation at the scandal brought upon 
 her court by the consequences of this amour, resorted, as in a 
 thousand other cases, to a vigour beyond the laws ; and though 
 sir Walter offered immediately to make the lady the best repa- 
 ration in his power, by marrying her, which he afterwards per- 
 formed, Elizabeth unfeelingly published her shame to the whole 
 world by sending both culprits to the Tower. 
 
 Sir Walter remained a prisoner during several months. Mean- 
 while his ships returned from their cruise, and the profits from 
 the sale of the captured carrack were to be divided among the 
 queen, the admiral, the sailors, and the several contributors to 
 the outfit. Disputes arose ; her majesty was dissatisfied with 
 the share allotted her ; and taking advantage of the situation into 
 which her own despotic violence had thrown Raleigh, she ap- 
 pears to have compelled him to buy his liberty, and the un- 
 disturbed enjoyment of all that he held under her, by the sacri- 
 fice of no less than eighty thousand pounds due to him as admi- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 415 
 
 ral. Such was the disinterested purity of that zeal for morals 
 of which Elizabeth judged it incumbent on her to make pro- 
 fession ! 
 
 It may be curious to learn, from another incident which oc- 
 curred about the same time, at what rate her majesty caused her 
 forgiveness of law ful matrimony to be purchased. 
 
 Robert Cary, third son pf lord Hunsdon, created lord Lep- 
 pington by James L and earl of Monmouth by his successor, — 
 from whose memoirs of himself the following particulars are de- 
 rived, — was at this time a young man and an assiduous attendant 
 on the court of his illustrious kinswoman. Being a younger son, 
 he had no patrimony either in possession or reversion ; he re- 
 ceived from the exchequer only one hundred pounds per annum 
 during pleasure, and by the style of life which he found it ne- 
 cessary to support, had incurred a debt of a thousa id pounds. 
 In tins situation he married a widow possessed of five hundred 
 pounds per annum and some ready money. His father evinced 
 no displeasure on the occasion ; but his other friends, and espe- 
 cially the queen, were so much offended at the match, that he 
 took his wife to Carlisle and remained there without approaching 
 the court till the next year. Being then obliged to visit London 
 on business, his father suggested the expediency of his paying 
 the queen the compliment of appearing on her day. Accordingly, 
 he secretly prepared caparisons and a present for her majesty, 
 at the cost of more than four hundred pounds, and presented 
 himself in the tilt-yard in the character of " a forsaken knight 
 who had vowed solitariness." The festival over, he made him- 
 self known to his friends in court ; but the queen, though she 
 had received his gift, would not take notice of his presence. 
 
 It happened soon after, that the king of Scots sent to Cary's 
 elder brother, then marshal of Berwick, to beg that he would 
 wait upon him to receive a secret message which he wanted to 
 transmit to the queen. The marshal wrote to his father to in- 
 quire her majesty's pleasure in the matter She did not choose 
 that he should stir out of Berwick; but "knowing, though she 
 would not know it," that Robert Cary was in court, she said at 
 length to lord Hunsdon, " I hear your fine son that has married 
 lately so worthily is hereabouts ; send him if you will to know 
 the king's pleasure." His lordship answered, that he knew he 
 would be happy to obey her commands. " No," said she, "do 
 you bid him go, for i have nothing to do with him." Robert 
 Cary thought it hard to be sent off without first seeing the 
 queen ; " Sir," said he to His father, who urged his going, " if 
 she be on such hard terms with me, I had need be wary what I 
 do If I go to the king without her license, it were in her 
 power to hang me at my return, and that, for any thing I see, it 
 were ill trusting her." Lord Hunsdon " merrily" told the queen 
 what he said. " If the gentleman be so distrustful," she answer- 
 ed, " let the secretary make a safe-conduct to go and come, and^ 
 I will sign it." On his return with letters from James, Robert 
 Cary hastened to court, and entered the presence-chamber 
 
416 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 splashed and dirty as he was ; but not finding the queen there ; 
 lord Hunsdon went to her to announce his son's arrival. She 
 desired him to receive the letter, or message, and bring it to her. 
 But the young gentleman knew the court and the queen too well 
 to consent to give up his dispatches even to his father; he in- 
 sisted on delivering them himself, and at length, with much dif 
 ficulty gained admission. 
 
 The first encounter was, as he expresses it, " stormy and ter- 
 rible," which he passed over with silence ; but when the queen 
 had " said her pleasure" of himself and his wife, he made her a 
 courtly excuse ; with which she was so well appeased, that she 
 at length assured him all was forgiven and forgotten, and re- 
 ceived him into her wonted favour. After this happy conclusion 
 of an adventure so perilous to a courtier of Elizabeth, Cary re- 
 turned to Carlisle ; and his father's death soon occuring, he had 
 orders to take upon himself the government of Berwick till fur- 
 ther orders. In this situation he remained a year without salary ; 
 impairing much his small estate, and unable to obtain from court 
 either an allowance, or leave of absence to enable him to solicit 
 one in person. At length, necessity rendering him bold, he re- 
 solved to hazard the step of going up without permission. On 
 his arrival, however, neither secretary Cecil nor even his own 
 brother would venture to introduce him to the queen's presence, 
 but advised him to hasten back before his absence sliould be 
 known, for fear of her anger. At last, as he stood sorrowfully 
 pondering on his case, a gentleman of the chamber, touched with 
 pity, undertook to mention his arrival to her majesty in a way 
 which should not displease her : and he opened the case by tell- 
 ing her, that she was more beholden to the love and service of 
 one man than of many whom she favoured more. This excited 
 her curiosity ; and on her asking who this person might be, he 
 answered that it was Robert Cary, who, unable longer to bear 
 his absence from her sight, had posted up to kiss her hand and 
 instantly return. She sent for him directly, received him with 
 greater favour than ever, allowed him after the interview to 
 lead her out by the hand, which seamed to his brother and the 
 secretary nothing less than a miracle ; and what was more grant- 
 ed him five hundred pounds immediately, a patent of the ward- 
 enry of the east marches, and a renewal of his grant of Norham- 
 castle. It was this able courtier, rather than grateful kinsman, 
 who earned the good graces of king James by being the first to 
 bring him the welcome tidings of the decease of Elizabeth. 
 
 Incidental mention has already been made of sic William 
 Holies of Haughton in Nottinghanshire, the gentleman who re- 
 fused to marry his daughter to the earl of Cumberland, because 
 he did not choose " to stand cap in hand" to his son-in-law : 
 this worthy knight died at a great age in the year 1590 ; and a 
 few further particulars respecting him and his descendants may 
 deserve record, on account of the strong light which they reflect 
 on several points of manners. Sir William was distinguished, 
 perhaps beyond any other person of the same rank in the king- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 417 
 
 Join, tor boundless hospitality ami a magnificent style ofliving. 
 11 Me began l\is Christmas," says the historian of the family, "at 
 Ulhallowtide and continued it until Candlemas; during which 
 any man was permitted to stay three days, without being asked 
 whence he came or what he was." For each of the twelve days 
 of Christmas he allowed a fat ox and other provisions in propor- 
 tion. He would never dine till after one o'clock; and being 
 asked why he preferred so unusually late an hour, he answered, 
 that " for aught he kttew there might a friend come twenty 
 miles to dine with him, and he would be loth he should lose his 
 labour.'' 
 
 At the coronation of Edward VI. he appeared with fifty fol- 
 lowers in blue coats and badges, — then the ordinary costume of 
 retainers and serving men, — and he never went to the sessions 
 at Retford, though only four miles from his own mansion, with- 
 out thirty " proper fellows" at his heels. What was then rare 
 among the greatest subjects, he kept a company of actors, of his 
 own to perform plays and masques at festival times ; in summer 
 they travelled about the country. 
 
 This sir William was succeeded in his estates by sir John 
 Holies his grandson, who was one of the band of gentlemen pen- 
 sioners to Elizabeth, and in the reign of James I. purchased the 
 title of earl of Clare. His grandfather had engaged his hand to 
 a kinswoman of the earl of Shrewsbury ; but the young man de- 
 clining to complete this contract, and taking to wife a daughter 
 of sir Thomas Stanhope, the consequence was a long and in- 
 veterate feud between the houses of Holies and of Talbot, which 
 was productive of several remarkable incidents. Its first effect 
 was a duel between Orme, a servant of Holies, and Pudsey, mas- 
 ter of horse to the earl of Shrewsbury, in which the latter was 
 slain. The earl prosecuted Orme, and sought to take away his 
 life ; but sir John Holies in the first instance caused him to be 
 conveyed away to Ireland, and afterwards obtained his pardon 
 of the queen. For his conduct in this business, he was himself 
 challenged by Gervase Markham, champion and gallant to the 
 countess of Shrewsbury ; but he refused the duel, because the 
 unreasonable demand of Markham, that it should take place in a 
 park belonging to the earl his enemy, gave him just ground to 
 apprehend that some treachery was meditated. Anxious how- 
 ever to wipe a#ay the aspersions which his adversary had taken 
 occasion to cast upon his courage, he sought a renconter which 
 might wear the appearance of accident ; and soon after having 
 met Markham on the road, they immediately dismounted and 
 attacked each other with their rapiers ; Markham fell, severely 
 wounded, and the earl of Shrewsbury lost no time in raising his 
 servants and tenantry to the number of one hundred and twenty 
 in order to apprehend Holies in case Markham's hurt should 
 prove mortal. On the other side lord Sheffield, the kinsman of 
 Holies, joined him with sixty men. " I hear, cousin," said he on 
 his arrival, "that my lord of Shrewsbury is prepared to trouble 
 you ; but take my word, before he carry you it shall cost manv 
 
 3 G 
 
418 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 a broken pate ;" and he and his company remained at Haughtoii 
 till the wounded man was out of danger. Markham had vowed 
 never to eat supper or take the sacrament till he was revenged, 
 and in consequence found himself obliged to abstain from both 
 to the day of his death.* What appears the most extraordinary 
 part of the story is, that we do not find the queen and council 
 interfering to put a stop to this private war, worthy of the bar- 
 barism of the feudal ages. Gervase Markham, who was the por- 
 tionless younger son of a Nottinghamshire gentleman of ancient 
 family, became the most voluminous miscellaneous writer of his 
 age, using his pen apparently as his chief means of subsistence. 
 He wrote on a vast variety of subjects, and both in verse and 
 prriste; but his works on farriery and husbandry appear to have 
 been the most useful, and those on field sports the most enter- 
 taining of his performances. 
 
 The progress of the drama is a subject which claims in this 
 place some share of our attention, partly because it excited in a 
 variety of ways that of Elizabeth herself. By the appearance of 
 Ferrex and Porrex in 1561, and that of Gammer Gurton's Nee- 
 dle five years later, a new impulse had been given to English 
 gei ins ; and both tragedies and comedies approaching the regular 
 models, besides historical and pastoral dramas, allegorical pieces 
 resembling the old moralities, and translations from the ancients, 
 were from this time produced in abundance, and received by all 
 classes with avidity and delight. 
 
 About twenty dramatic poets flourished between 1561 and 
 1590; and an inspection of the titles alone of their numerous 
 productions would furnish evidence of an acquaintance with the 
 stores of history, mythology, classical fiction, and romance, 
 strikingly illustrative of the literary diligence and intellectual 
 activity of the age. 
 
 Richard hdwards produced a tragi-comedy on the affecting 
 ancient story of Damon and Pythias, besides his comedy of Pa- 
 lamon and Arcite, formerly noticed as having been performed 
 for the entertainment of her majesty at Oxford. In connexion 
 with this latter piece it may be remarked, that of the chival- 
 rous idea of Theseus in this celebrated tale, and in the Midsum- 
 mer Night's Dream, as well as of all the other gothicized repre- 
 sentations of ancient heroes, of which Shakespeare's Troilus and 
 Cressida, his Rape of Lucrece, and some passages of Spenser's 
 Faery Queen, afford further examples, Guido Colonna's Historia 
 Trojana, written in 1260, was the original : a work long and 
 widely popular, which had been translated, paraphrased and imi- 
 tated in French and English, and which the barbarism of its in- 
 congruities, however palpable, had not as yet consigned to ob- 
 livion or contempt. 
 
 George Gastoigne, besides his tragedy from Euripides, trans- 
 lated also a comedy from Ariosto, performed by the students of 
 Gray's Inn under the title of the Supposes ; which was the first: 
 
 * See Historical Collections, by Collins. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 419 
 
 pecimen in our language of a drama in prose. Italian literature 
 was ;>< this period cultivated amongst us with an assiduity un- 
 equalled either before or since, and it possessed few authors of 
 merit or celebrity whose works wpre not speedily familiarised to 
 the English public through the medium of translations. The 
 study of this enchanting language found however a vehement 
 opponent in Roger Ascham, who exclaims against .the "enchant- 
 ments of Circe, brought out of Italy to mar men's manners in 
 England ; much by examples of ill life, but more by precepts of 
 fond books, of late translated out of Italian into English, and 
 sold in every shop in London.'' He afterwards declares that 
 "there be mo of these ungracious books set out in print within 
 these few months than have been seen in England many years 
 before." To these strictures on the moral tendencies of the po- 
 pular writers of Italy some force must be allowed ; but it is ob- 
 vious to remark, that similar objections might be urged with at 
 least equal cogency against the favourite classics of Ascham ; and 
 that the use of so valuablean instrument of intellectual advance- 
 ment as the free introduction of the literature of a highly po- 
 lished nation into one comparatively rude, is not to be denied to 
 beings capable of moral discrimination, from the apprehension of 
 such partial and incidental injury as may arise out of its abuse. 
 Italy, in fact, was at once the plenteous storehouse whence the 
 English poets, dramatists, and romance writers of the latter half 
 of the sixteenth century drew their most precious materials ; the 
 school where they acquired taste and skill to adapt them to their 
 various purposes ; and the Parnassian mount on which they 
 caught the purest inspirations of the muse. 
 
 Elizabeth was a zealous patroness of these studies ; she spoke 
 the Italian language with fluency and elegance, and used it fre- 
 quently in her mottos and devices : by her encouragement, as 
 we shall see, Harrington was urged to complete his version of 
 the Orlando Furioso, and she willingly accepted in the year 
 1600 the dedication of Fairfax's admirable translation of the 
 great epic of Tasso. 
 
 But to return to our dramatic writers : . . . . Thomas Kyd 
 was the author of a tragedy entitled Jeronimo, which, for the 
 absurd horrors of its plot, and the mingled puerility and bombast 
 of its language, was a source of perpetual ridicule to rival poets, 
 while from a certain wild pathos combined with its imposing 
 grandiloquence it was long a favourite with the people. The 
 same person also translated a play by Garni er on the story of 
 Cornelia the wife of Pompey ; — a solitary instance apparently 
 of obligation to the French theatre on the part of these founders 
 of our national drama. 
 
 By Th;imas Hughes, the misfortunes of Arthur, son of Uther 
 Pendragon, were made the subject of a tragedy performed before 
 the queen. 
 
 Preston, to whom when a youth her majesty had granted a 
 pension of a shilling a day in consideration of his excellent acting 
 in the play of Palamon and Arcite, composed on the story of 
 
420 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 Cambyses king of Persia, " A lamentable tragedy mixed full of 
 pleasant mirth," which is now only remembered as having been 
 an object of ridicule to Shakespeare. 
 
 Lilly, the author of Euphues, composed six court comedies 
 and other pieces principally on classical subjects, but disfigured 
 by all the barbarous affectations of style which had marked hk 
 earlier production. 
 
 Christopher Marlow, unquestionably a man of genius, however 
 deficient in taste and judgment, astonished the world with his 
 Tamburlain the Great, which became in a manner proverbial for 
 its rant and extravagance : he also composed, but in a purer style, 
 and with a pathetic cast of sentiment, a d rama on the subject of 
 king Edward II., and ministered fuel to the ferocious prejudices 
 of the age by his fiend-like portraiture of Barabas in The rich 
 Jew of Malta. Marlow was also the author of a tragedy, in which 
 the sublime and the grotesque were extraordinarily mingled, 
 on the noted story of Dr. Faustus ; a tale of preternatural 
 horrors, which, after the lapse of two centuries, was again to 
 receive a similar distinction from the pen of one of the most 
 celebrated of German dr amatists : not the only example which 
 could be produced of a coincidence of taste between the early 
 tragedians of the two countries. 
 
 Of the works of these and other contemporary poets, the 
 fathers of the English Theatre, some are extant in print, others 
 have come down to us in manuscript, and of no inconsiderable 
 portion the titles alone survive. A few have acquired an inci- 
 dental value in the eyes of the curious, as having furnished the 
 groundwork of some of the dramas of our great poet; but not one 
 of the number can justly be said to make a part of the living 
 literature of the country. 
 
 It was reserved for the transcendant genius of Shakespeare 
 alone, in that infancy of our theatre when nothing proceeded 
 from the crowd of rival dramatists but rude and abortive efforts, 
 ridiculed by the learned and judicious of their own age and for- 
 gotten by posterity, to astonish and enchant the nation with 
 those inimitable works which form the perpetual boast and im- 
 mortal heritage of Englishmen. 
 
 By a strange kind of fatality, which excites at once our sur- 
 prise and our unavailing regrets, the domestic and the literary 
 history of this great luminary of his age are almost eq -lally en- 
 veloped in doubt and obscurity. Even of the few particulars of 
 his origin and early adventures which have reached us through 
 various channels, the greater number are either imperfectly at- 
 tested, or exposed to objections of different kinds which render 
 them of little value ; and respecting his theatrical life the most 
 important circumstances still remain matter of conjecture, or at 
 best of remote inference. 
 
 When Shakespeare first became a writer for the stage 
 what was his earliest production ; — whether all the pieces usually 
 ascribed to him be really his, and whether there be any others of 
 which he was in whole or in part the author;— what degree of 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 421 
 
 assistance he either received from other dramatic writers or lent 
 to (hem; — in what chronological order his acknowledged pieces 
 ought to be arranged, and what dates should be assigned to tbeir 
 first representation ; — are all questions on which the ingenuity 
 and indefatigable diligence of a crowd of editors, critics and 
 biographers have long been exerted, without producing any con- 
 siderable approximation to certainty or to general agreement. 
 
 On a subject so intricate, it will suffice for the purposes of 
 the present work to state a few of the leading facts which appear 
 to rest on the most satisfactory authorities. William Shake- 
 speare, who was born in 1564, settled in London about 1586 or 
 1587, and seems to have almost immediately adopted the profes- 
 sion of an actor. Yet his earliest eftbrt in composition was not 
 of the dramatic kind ; for in 1593 he dedicated to his great pa- 
 tron the earl of Southampton, as " the first heir of his invention,"' 
 his Venus and Adonis, a narrative poem of considerable length 
 in the six-line stanza then popular. In the subsequent year he 
 also inscribed to the same noble friend his Rape of Lucrece, 
 a still longer poem of similar form in the stanza of seven lines, 
 and containing passages of vivid description, of exquisite ima- 
 gery, and of sentimental excellence, which, had he written no- 
 thing more, would have entitled him to rank on a level with the 
 author of the Faery Queen, and far above all other contemporary 
 poets. He likewise employed his pen occasionally in the com- 
 position of sonnets, principally devoted to love and friendship, 
 and written perhaps in emulation of those of Spenser, who as one 
 of these sonnets testifies, was at this period the object of his ar- 
 dent admiration. 
 
 Before the publication however of any one of these poems he 
 must have attained considerable note as a dramatic writer, since 
 Robert Green, in a satirical piece printed in 1592, speaking of 
 theatrical concerns, stigmatises this " player" as " an absolute 
 Joannes Factotum," and one who was "in his own conceit the 
 only shake scene in a country." 
 
 The tragedy of Pericles, which was published in 1609 with the 
 name of Shakespeare in the title-page, and of which Dryden 
 says in one of his prologues to a first play, " Shakespeare's own 
 muse his Pericles first bore," was probably acted in 1590, and 
 appears to have been long popular. Romeo and Juliet was cer- 
 tainly an early production of his muse and one which excited 
 much interest, as may well be imagined, amongst the younger 
 portion of theatrical spectators. 
 
 There, is high satisfaction in observing, that the age showed 
 itself worthy of the immortal genius whom it had produced and 
 fostered. It is agreed on all hands that Shakespeare was be- 
 loved as a man, and admired and patronised as a poet. In the 
 profession of an actor, indeed, his success does not appear to 
 have been conspicuous; but the never failing attraction of his 
 pieces brought overflowing audiences to the Globe theatre in 
 Southwark, of which he was enabled to become a joint proprie- 
 tor. Lord Southampton is said to have once bestowed on him 
 
422 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 a munificent donation of a thousand pounds to enable him t» 
 complete a purchase ; and it is probable that this nobleman might 
 also introduce him to the notice of his beloved friend the earl 
 of Essex. Of any particular gratuities bestowed on him by her 
 majesty we are not informed ; but there is every reason to sup- 
 pose that he must have received from her on various occasions 
 both praises and remuneration ; for we are told that she caused 
 several of his pieces to be represented before her, and that the 
 Merry Wives of Windsor in particular owed its origin to her 
 desire of seeing Falstaff exhibited in love. 
 
 It remains to notice the principal legal enactment of Eliza- 
 beth respecting the conduct of the theatre, some of which are re- 
 markable. During the early part of her reign, Sunday being 
 still regarded principally in the light of a holiday, her majesty 
 not only selected that day, more frequently than any other, for 
 the representation of plays at court for her own amusement, but 
 by her license granted to Burbage in 1574 authorised the per- 
 formance of them at the public theatre, on Sundays only out of 
 the hours of prayer. Five years after, however, Gosson in his 
 School of Abuse complains that the players, " because they are 
 allowed to play every Sunday, make four or five Sundays at least 
 every week." To limit this abuse, an order was issued by the 
 privy-council in July 1591, purporting that no plays should be 
 publicly exhibited on Thursdays, because on that day bear-bait- 
 ing and similar pastimes had usually been practised ; and in an 
 injunction to the lord mayor four days after, the representation 
 of plays on Sunday (or the Sabbath as it now began to be called 
 among the stricter sort of people) was utterly condemned ; and 
 it was further complained, that on " all other days of the week 
 in divers places the players do use to recite their plays, to the 
 great hurt and destruction of the game of bear-baiting, and like 
 pastimes, which are maintained for her majesty's pleasure." 
 
 In the year 1589 her majesty thought proper to appoint com- 
 missioners to inspect all performances of writers for the stage, 
 with full powers to reject and obliterate whatever they might 
 esteem unmannerly, licentious, or irreverent: — a regulation 
 which might seem to claim the applause of every friend to public 
 decency, were not the state in which the dramas of this age 
 have come down to posterity sufficient evidence, that to render 
 these impressive appeals to the passions of assembled multitudes 
 politically and not morally inoffensive, was the genuine or prin- 
 cipal motive of this act of power. 
 
 In illustration of this remark, the following passage may be 
 quoted : " At supper" the queen "would divert herself with her 
 friends and attendants ; and if they made her no answer, she 
 would put them upon mirth and pleasant discourse with great 
 civility. She would then admit Tarleton, a famous comedian 
 and pleasant talker, and other such men, to divert her with 
 stones of the town, and the common jests and accidents. Tarle- 
 ton, who was then the best comedian in England, had made a 
 pleasant play; and when it was acting before the queen, he 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 423 
 
 pointed at Raleigh, and said * See the knave commands the 
 queen !' for which he was corrected by a frown from the queen: 
 vet he had the confidence to add, that he was of too much and 
 too intolerable a power; and going on with the same liberty, he 
 reflected on the too great power of the earl of Leicester; which 
 was so universally applauded by all present, that she thought fit 
 to bear these reflections with a seeming unconcernedness. But 
 yet she was so offended that she forbad Tarlton and all jesters 
 from coming near her table."* 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 from 1593 to 1597. 
 
 A parliament. — Haughty language of the queen. — Committal of 
 Wentworth and other members — of Morice. — His letter to lord 
 Burleigh. — Act to retain subjects in their due obedience. — De- 
 bates on the subsidy. — Free speeches of Francis Bacon and sir 
 E. Hobby. — Queen 9 s speech. — Notice of Francis Bacon — of An- 
 thony Bacon. — Connexion of the two Bacons with Essex.-^ 
 Francis disappointed of preferment. — Conduct of Burleigh to- 
 wards him. — Of Fulk Greville. — Reflections. — Conversion of 
 Henry IV. — Behaviour of Elizabeth: — War in Bretagne.—- 
 Anecdote of the queen and sir C. Blount. — Affair of Dr. Lopez. 
 — Squire' ] s attempt on the life of the queen. — Notice of Ferdi- 
 nando earl of Derby. — Letter of the queen to lord Willoughby. 
 — Particulars of sir Walter Raleigh. — His expedition to Gui- 
 ana. — Unfortunate enterprise of Drake and Hawkins. — Death 
 of Hawkins. — Death and character of Drake. — Letters of Row- 
 land Whyte. — Case of the earl of Hertford. — Anecdote of Essex. 
 — Queen at the lord keepers. — Anecdote of the queen and bishop 
 Rudd. — Case of sir T. Arundel. 
 
 Notwithstanding all the frugal arts of Elizabeth, the state 
 of her finances compelled her in the spring of 1593 to summon 
 a parliament. It was four entire years since this assembly had 
 last met: but her majesty took care to let the commons know, 
 that the causes of offence which had then occurred were still 
 fresh in her memory, and that her resolution to preserve her own 
 prerogative in its rigour, and the ecclesiastical commission in 
 all its terrors, was still inflexible. 
 
 * See Bohun's character of Queen Elizabeth. Among the various source 
 whence the preceding dramatic notices have b< en derived, it is proper to point out 
 Dr. Drake's Memoirs of Shakespeare and his Ajje, and Warton's History of Eng - 
 lish Poetry, 
 
424 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 It even appeared, that an apprehension lest her present ne 
 cessities might embolden the parliament to treat her despotic 
 mandates with a deference less profound than formerly, irritated 
 her temper, and prompted her to assume a more haughty and 
 menacing style than her habitual study of popularity had hitherto 
 permitted her to employ. In answer to the three customary re- 
 quests made by the speaker, for liberty of speech, freedom from 
 arrests, and access to her person, she replied by her lord keeper, 
 That, such liberty of speech as the commons were justly enti- 
 tled to, — liberty, namely, of aye and no, — she was willing to 
 grant ; but by no means a liberty for every one to speak what 
 he listed. And if any idle heads should be found careless enough 
 of their own safety to attempt innovations in the state, or re- 
 forms in the church, she laid her injunctions on the speaker to 
 refuse the bills offered for such purposes till they should have 
 been examined by those who were better qualified to judge of 
 these matters. She promised that she would not impeach the 
 liberty of their persons, provided they did not permit themselves 
 to imagine that any neglect of duty would be allowed to pass 
 unpunished under shelter of this privilege ; and she engaged 
 not to deny them access to her person on weighty affairs, and a1 
 convenient seasons, when she should have leisure from other 
 important business of state. 
 
 But threats alone were not found sufficient to restrain all at 
 tempts on the part of the commons to exercise their known 
 rights and fulfil their duty to the country. Peter Wentworth, 
 a member whose courageous and independent spirit had already 
 drawn upon him repeated manifestations of royal displeasure, 
 presented to the lord keeper a petition, praying that the upper 
 house would join with the lower in a supplication to the queen 
 for fixing the succession. Elizabeth, enraged at the bare men- 
 tion of a subject so offensive to her, instantly committed to the 
 Fleet prison Wentworth, sir Thomas Bromley who had seconded 
 him, and two other members to whom he had imparted the busi- 
 ness ; and when the house was preparing to petition her for 
 their release, some privy-councillors dissuaded the step, as one 
 which could only prove injurious to these gentlemen by giving 
 additional offence to her majesty. 
 
 Soon after, James Morice, an eminent lawyer, who was attor- 
 ney of the court of Wards and chancellor of the Duchy, made 
 a motion for redress of the abuses in the bishop's courts, and 
 especially of the monstrous ones committed under the High 
 Commission. Several members supported the motion : but the 
 queen, sending in wrath for the speaker, required him to deliver 
 up to her the bill ; reminded him of her strict injunctions at the 
 opening of the sessions, and testified her extreme indignation 
 and surprise at the boldness of the commons in intermeddling 
 with subjects which she had expressly forbidden them to discuss. 
 She informed him, that it lay in her power to summon parlia-. 
 ments and to dismiss them ; and to sanction or to reject any 
 determination of theirs ; that she had at present called them to- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 4<25 
 
 gether lor the twofold purpose, of enacting further laws for the 
 maintenance of religious conformity, and of providing for the 
 national defence against Spain ; and that these ought therefore 
 to be the objects of their deliberations. 
 
 As for Morice, he was seized by a serjeant at arms in the 
 house itself, stripped of his offices, rendered incapable of prac- 
 tising as a lawyer, and committed to prison, whence he soon 
 after addressed to Burleigh the following high-minded appeal: 
 
 " Right honourable my very good lord ; 
 
 " That I am no more hardly handled, I impute next unto God 
 to your honourable good will and favour ; for although I am as- 
 sured that the cause I took in hand is good and honest, yet I be- 
 lieve that, besides your lordship and that honourable person 
 your son, I have never an honourable friend. But no matter; 
 for the best causes seldom find the most friends, especially hav- 
 ing many, and those mighty, enemies. 
 
 " I see no cause in my conscience to repent me of that I have 
 done, nor to be dismayed, although grieved, by this my restraint 
 of liberty ; for I stand for the maintenance of the honour of God 
 and of my prince, and for the preservation of public justice and 
 the liberties of my country against wrong and oppression ; being 
 well content, at her majesty's good pleasure and commandment, 
 (whom I beseech God long to preserve in all princely felicity,) 
 to suffer and abide much more. But I had thought that the 
 judges ecclesiastical, being charged in the great council of the 
 realm to be dishonourers of God and of her majesty, perverters 
 of law and public justice, and wrong-doers unto the liberties and 
 freedoms of all her majesty's subjects, by their extorted oaths, 
 wrongful imprisonments, lawless subscription, and unjust abso- 
 lutions, would rather have sought means to be cleared of this 
 weighty accusation, than to shrowd themselves under the sup- 
 pressing of the complaint and shadow of mine imprisonment. 
 
 " There is fault found with me, that I, as a private person, 
 preferred not my complaint to her majesty Surely, my lord, 
 your wisdom can conceive what a proper piece of work I had 
 then made of that : The worst prison had been I think too good 
 for me, since now (sustaining the person of a public counsellor 
 of the realm speaking for her majesty's prerogatives, which by 
 oath I am bound to assist and maintain,) I cannot escape dis- 
 pleasure and restraint of liberty. Another fault, or error, is ob* 
 jected ; in that I preferred these causes before the matters de- 
 livered from her majesty were determined. My good lord to 
 have stayed so long, I verily think, had been to come too late. 
 Bills of assize of bread, shipping of fish, pleadings, and such 
 like, may be offered and received into the house, and no offence 
 to her majesty's royal commandment (being but as the tything 
 of mint;) but the great causes of the law and public justice may 
 not be touched without offence. Well, my good lord, be it so ; 
 yet I hope her majesty and you of her honourable privy-council 
 will at length thoroughly consider of these things, lest, as here- 
 
326 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 tofore we prayed, From the tyranny of the bishop of Rome, good 
 Lord deliver us, we be compelled to say, From the tyranny of 
 the clergy of England, good Lord deliver us. 
 
 " Pardon my plain speech, I humbly beseech your honour, for 
 it proceedeth from an upright heart and sound conscience, al- 
 though in a weak and sickly body ; and by God's grace, while 
 life doth last, which I hope now, after so many cracks and crazes, 
 will not be long, I will not be ashamed in good and lawful sort 
 to strive for the freedom of conscience, public justice, and the 
 liberty of my country. And you, my good lord, to whose hand 
 the stern of this commonwealth is chiefly committed, I humbly 
 beseech, (as I doubt not but you do,) graciously respect both me 
 and the causes I have preferred, and be a mean to pacify and 
 appease her majesty's displeasure conceived against me her poor, 
 yet faithful, servant and subject, &c."* 
 
 In October following, the earl of Essex ventured to mention 
 to her majesty this persecuted patriot amongst lawyers qualified 
 for the post of attorney-general, when "her majesty acknowledged 
 his gifts, but said his speaking against her in such manner as 
 he had done, should be a bar against any preferment at her 
 hands." He is said to have been kept for some years a prisoner 
 in Tilbury castle ; and whether he ever recovered his liberty 
 may seem doubtful, since he died in February 1596, aged 48. 
 
 The house of commons, unacquainted as yet with its own 
 strength, submitted without further question to regard as law 
 the will of an imperious mistress, and passed with little oppo- 
 sition " An act to retain her majesty's subjects in their due obe- 
 dience," which vied in cruelty with the noted Six Articles of 
 her tyrannical father. 
 
 By this law, any person above sixteen who should refuse dur- 
 ing a month to attend the established worship, was to be impri- 
 soned ; when, should he further persist in his refusal during 
 three months longer, he must abjure the realm ; but in case of 
 his rejecting this alternative, or returning from banishment, his 
 offence was declared felony without benefit of clergy. 
 
 The business of supplies was next taken into consideration, 
 and the commons voted two susidies and four fifteenths ; but this 
 not appearing to the ministry sufficient for the exigencies of the 
 state, the peers were induced to request a conference with the 
 lower house for the purpose of proposing the augmentation of 
 the grant to four subsidies and six fifteenths. The commons re- 
 sented at first this interference with their acknowledged privi- 
 lege of originating all money bills ; but dread of the well known 
 consequences of offending their superiors, prevailed at length 
 over their indignation ; and first the conference, then the addi- 
 tional supply, was acceded to. Some debate, however, arose on 
 the time to be allowed for the payment of so heavy an imposi- 
 tion ; and the illustrious Francis Bacon, then member for Mid- 
 dlesex, enlarged upon the distresses of the people, and the danger - 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 42r 
 
 lest the house, by this grant, should be establishing a precedent 
 against themselves and their posterity, in a speech, to which his 
 courtly kinsman sir Robert Cecil replied with much warmth, 
 and of which her majesty showed a resentful remembrance on his 
 appearing soon after as a candidate for the office of attorney ge- 
 neral. His cousin sir Edward Hobby also, whose speeches in 
 the former parliament had been ill-received by certain great per- 
 sons, took such a part in some of the questions now at issue be- 
 tween the crown and the commons, as procured him an impri- 
 sonment till the end of the sessions, when he was at length libe- 
 rated ; " but not," as Anthony Bacon wrote to his mother, " with- 
 out a notable public disgrace laid upon him by her majesty's 
 royal censure delivered amongst other things, by herself, after 
 my lord keeper's speech."* 
 
 In this parting harangue to her parliament, the queen, little 
 touched by the unprecedented liberality of the supplies which it 
 had granted her, and the passing of her favourite bill against the 
 schismatics and recusants, animadverted in severe terms on the 
 oppositionists, reiterated the lofty claims with which she had 
 opened the sessions, and pronounced an eulogium on the justice 
 and moderation of her own government. She also entered into 
 the grounds of her quarrel with the king of Spain; showed her- 
 self undismayed by the apprehension of any thing which his once 
 dreaded power could attempt against her ; and characteristi- 
 cally added, in adverting to the defeat of the armada, the fol- 
 lowing energetic warning : " I am informed, that when he at- 
 tempted this last invasion, some upon the sea coast forsook their 
 towns, fled up higher into the country, and left all naked and 
 exposed to his entrance. But I swear unto you by God, if I 
 knew those persons, or may know hereafter, I will make them 
 know what it is to be fearful in so urgent a cause/' 
 
 The appearance of Francis Bacon in the house of commons 
 affords a fit occasion of tracing the previous history of this won- 
 derful man, and of explaining his peculiar situation between the 
 two great factions of the court, and the influence exerted by this 
 circumstance on his character and after fortunes. That early 
 promise of his genius which in childhood attracted the admir- 
 ing observation of Elizabeth herself, had been confirmed by 
 every succeeding year. In the thirteenth of his age, an earlier 
 period than was even then customary, he was entered, together 
 with his elder brother Anthony, of Trinity college Cambridge. 
 At this seat of learning he remained three years, during which, 
 besides exhibiting his powers of memory and application by great 
 proficiency in the ordinary studies of the place, he evinced the 
 extraordinary precocity of his penetrating and original intellect, 
 by forming the first sketch of a new system of philosophy in op- 
 position to that of Aristotle. 
 
 His father designing him for public life, now sent him to com- 
 plete his education in the house of sir Amias Paulet, the queen's 
 
 * Birch's Memoirs, vol. i. p. 96. 
 
THE COURT OF 
 
 ambassador in France. He gained the confidence of this able 
 and honourable man to such a degree, as to be intrusted by him 
 with a mission to her majesty requiring secrecy and dispatch, 
 of which he acquitted himself with great applause. Returning 
 to France, he engaged in several excursions through its different 
 provinces, and diligently occupied himself in the collection of 
 facts and observations, which he afterwards threw together in a 
 " Brief View of the State of Europe;" a work, however juvenile, 
 which is said to exhibit much both of the peculiar spirit and of 
 the method of its illustrous author. But the death of his father, 
 in 1580, put an end to his travels, and cast a melancholy blight 
 upon his opening prospects. 
 
 For Anthony Bacon, the eldest of his sons by his second mar- 
 riage, the lord keeper had handsomely provided by the gift of his 
 manor of Gorhambury, and he had amassed a considerable sum 
 with which he was about to purchase another estate for the por- 
 tion of the younger, when death interrupted his design ; and only 
 one-fifth of this money falling to Francis under the provisions 
 of his father's will, he unexpectedly found himself compelled to 
 resort to the practice of some gainful profession for his support. 
 That of the law naturally engaged his preference. He entered 
 himself of Gray's Inn, and passed within its precincts several 
 studious years, during which he made himself master of the ge- 
 neral principles of jurisprudence, as well as of the rules of legal 
 practice in his own country ; and he also found leisure to trace the 
 outlines of his new philosophy in a work not now known to exist 
 in a separate state, but incorporated probably in one of his more 
 finished productions. In 1588 her majesty, desirous perhaps of 
 encouraging a more entire devotion of his talents to the study 
 of the law, distinguished him by the title of her counsel extraor- 
 dinary, — an office of little emolument, though valuable as an 
 introduction to practice. But the genius of Bacon disdained 
 to plod in the trammels of a laborious profession ; he felt that 
 it was given him for higher and larger purposes : yet perceiving, 
 at the same time, that the narrowness of his circumstances would 
 prove an insuperable bar to his ambition of becoming, as he once 
 beautifully expressed it, " the servant of posterity,'' he thus, in 
 1591, solicited the patronage of his uncle lord Burleigh: "Again, 
 the meanness of my estate doth somewhat move me : for though 
 I cannot accuse myself that I am either prodigal or slothful, yet 
 my health is not to spend, nor my course to get : Lastly, I con- 
 fess that I have as vast contemplative ends as I have moderate 
 civil ends ; fori have taken all knowledge to be my province ; 
 and if I could purge it of two sorts of rovers, whereof the one 
 with frivolous disputations, confutations and verbosities, the other 
 with blind experiments and auricular traditions and impostures, 
 hath committed so many spoils, I hope I should bring in indus- 
 trious observations, grounded conclusions, and profitable inven- 
 tions and discoveries, the best state of that province. This, 
 whether it be curiosity, or vain glory, or nature, or, if one take 
 it favourably, philanthropic!, is so fixed in my mind as it cannot 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 429 
 
 he removed. And I do easily see, that place of any reasonable 
 countenance doth bring commandment of more wits than a man's 
 own ; which is the thing I do greatly affect. 
 
 Burleigh was no philosopher, though a lover of learning, and it 
 could not perhaps be expected that he should at once perceive 
 how eminently worthy was this labourer of the hire which he 
 was reduced to solicit. He contented himself therefore with 
 procuring for his kinsman the reversion of the place of register 
 of the Starchamber, worth about sixteen hundred pounds per 
 annum. Of this office however, which might amply have satis- 
 lied the wants of a student, it was unfortunately near twenty 
 years before Bacon obtained possession ; and during this tedious 
 time of expectation, he was wont to say, "that it was like another 
 man's ground abutting upon his house, which might mend his pros- 
 pect, but it did not fill his barn." He made however a grateful re- 
 turn to the lord treasurer for this instance of patronage, by com- 
 posing an answer to a popish libel, entitled " A Declaration of 
 the true causes of the late Troubles," in which he warmly vin- 
 dicated the conduct of this minister, of his own father, and of 
 other members of the administration ; not forgetting to make a 
 high eulogium on the talents and dispositions of Robert Cecil, — 
 now the most powerful instrument at court to serve or to injure. 
 Unhappily for the fortunes of Bacon, and in some respects for 
 his moral character also, this selfish and perfidious statesman 
 was endowed with sufficient reach of intellect to form some esti- 
 mate of the transcendant abilities of his kinsman ; and struck 
 with dread or envy, he seems to have formed a systematic design 
 of impeding by every art his favour and advancement. Unmoved 
 by the eloquent adulation with which Bacon sought to propitiate 
 his regard, he took all occasions to represent him to the queen, 
 and with some degree of justice though more of malice, as a man 
 of too speculative a turn to apply in earnest to the practical de- 
 tails of business ; one moreover whose head was so filled with 
 abstract and philosophical notions, that he would not fail to 
 perplex any public affairs in which he might be permitted to take 
 a lead. The effect of these suggestions on the mind of Eliza- 
 beth was greatly aggravated by the conduct of Bacon in the 
 parliament of 1593, in consequence of which her majesty for a 
 considerable time denied him that access to her person with 
 which he had hitherto been freely and graciously indulged. 
 
 Some years before this period, Francis Bacon had become 
 known to the earl of Essex, whose genuine love of merit induced 
 him to offer him his friendship and protection. The eagerness 
 with which these were accepted had deeply offended the Cecils ; 
 and their displeasure was about this time increased, on seeing 
 Anthony Bacon, by his brother's persuasion, enlist himself under 
 the banner of the same political leader. 
 
 Anthony, whose singular history is on many accounts worthy 
 of notice, was a man of an inquisitive and crafty turn of mind, 
 and seemingly born for a politician. He, like his brother, had 
 "been induced to pay a visit to France, as the completion of a 
 
430 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 liberal education ; and not finding himself involved in the same 
 pecuniary difficulties, he had been enabled to make his abode in 
 that country of much longer duration. From Paris, which he 
 first visited in 1579, he proceeded to Bourges, Geneva, Mont- 
 pelier, Marseilles, Montauban and Bordeaux, in each of which 
 cities he resided for a considerable length of time. At the latter 
 place he rendered some services to the protestant inhabitants 
 at great personal hazard. In 1584 he visited Henry IV. then, 
 king of Navarre, at Beam, and in 1586 he contracted at Mon- 
 tauban an intimacy with the celebrated Hugonot leader, du 
 Plessis de Mornay. As Anthony Bacon was invested with no 
 public character, his continued and voluntary abode in a catho- 
 lic country began at length to excite a suspicion in the mind of 
 his mother, his friends, and the queen herself, that his conduct 
 was influenced by some secret bias towards the Romish faith 
 an impression which received confirmation from the intimacies 
 which he cultivated with several English exiles and pensioners 
 of the king of Spain. This idea appears, however, to have been 
 unfounded. It was often by the express, though secret, request 
 of Burleigh that he formed these connexions ; and he had fre- 
 quently supplied this minister with important articles of intelli- 
 gence procured from such persons, with whom it was by no 
 means unusual to perform the office of spy to England and to 
 Spain alternately, or even to both at the same time. At length, 
 the urgency of his friends and the clamours of his mother, whose 
 protestant zeal, setting a sharper edge on a temper naturally 
 keen, prompted her to employ expressions of great violence, 
 compelled him, after many delays, to quit the continent ; and in 
 the beginning of 1592 he returned to his native country. His 
 miserable state of health, from the gout and other disorders 
 which rendered him a cripple for life, prevented his encountering 
 the fatigues of the usual court attendance : yet he lost no time 
 in procuring a seat in parliament ; and his close connexion with 
 the Cecils, joined to the opinion entertained of his political 
 talents, seems to have excited a general expectation of his rising 
 to high importance in the state. But he was not long in disco- 
 vering, that for some unknown reason the lord treasurer was 
 little his friend ; and offended at the coolness with which his 
 secret intelligence from numerous foreign correspondents was 
 received by this minister and his son, in their joint capacity of 
 secretaries of state, he was easily prevailed upon to address him- 
 self to Essex. 
 
 The earl had by this time learned, that there was no surer 
 mode of recommending himself to her majesty, and persuading 
 her of his extraordinary zeal for her service, than to provide her 
 with a constant supply of authentic and early intelligence from 
 the various countries of Europe, on which she kept a vigilant 
 and jealous eye. He was accordingly occupied in establishing 
 news-agents in every quarter, and the opportune offers of An- 
 thony Bacon were accepted by him with the utmost eagerness. 
 A connexion was immediately established between them, which 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 45i 
 
 ripened with time into so confidential an intimacy, that in 1595 
 the earl prevailed on Mr. Bacon to accept of apartments in 
 Essex-house, which he continued to occupy till commanded by 
 her majesty to quit them on the breaking out of the last rash 
 enterprise of his patron. 
 
 Struck with the boundless affection manifested by Anthony 
 towards his brother, with whom he had established an entire 
 community of interests, Essex now espoused with more warmth 
 than ever the cause of Francis. He strained every nerve to gain 
 for him, in 1592, the situation of attorney -general : but Burleigh 
 opposed the appointment; Robert Cecil openly expressed to the 
 earl his surprise that he should seek to procure it for " a raw 
 youth and her majesty declared that, after the manner in 
 which Francis Bacon had stood up against her in parliament, 
 admission to her presence was the only favour to which he ought 
 to aspire. She added, that in her father's time such conduct 
 would have been sufficient to banish a man the court for life. 
 Lowering his tone, Essex afterwards sought for his friend the 
 office of solicitor-general ; but the same prejudices and antipa- 
 thies still thwarted him : and finding all his efforts vain to esta- 
 blish him in any public station of honour or emolument, he nobly 
 compensated his disappointment and relieved his necessities by 
 the gift of an estate. 
 
 The spirit of Bacon was neither a courageous nor a lofty one. 
 He too soon repented of his generous exertions in the popular 
 cause, and sought to atone for them by so entire a submission of 
 himself to her majesty, accompanied with such eloquent profes- 
 sions of duty, humility, and profound respect, that we can 
 scarcely doubt that a word of solicitation from the lips of Bur« 
 leigh might have gained him an easy pardon. It is painful to 
 think that any party jealousies, or any compliance with the ma- 
 lignant passions of his son, should so have poisoned the naturally 
 friendly and benevolent disposition of this aged minister, that 
 he could bear to withhold the offices of kindness from the 
 nephew of his late beloved wife, and the son of one of his nearest 
 friends and most cordial coadjutors in public life. But accord- 
 ing to the maxims of court factions, hisdesertion of the Bacons 
 might be amply justified ; — they had made their election, and it 
 was the patronage of Essex which they preferred. Experience 
 taught them too late, that for their own interests they had 
 chosen wrong. Since the death of Leicester, the Cecils had pos- 
 sessed all the real power at the court of Elizabeth : they and 
 they only could advance their adherents. Essex, it is true, 
 through the influence which he exerted over the imagination or 
 the affections of the queen, could frequently obtain grants to 
 himself of real importance and great pecuniary value. But her 
 majesty's singular caprice of temper rendered her jealous of 
 every mark of favour extorted from the tender weakness of her 
 heart ; and she appears to have almost made it a rule to com 
 pensate every act of bounty towards himself by some sensible 
 mortification which she made him suffer in the person of a friend 
 
432 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 So little was his patronage the road to advancement, that sir 
 Thomas Smith, clerk of the council, is recorded as the solitary 
 instance of a man preferred out of his household to the service 
 of her majesty ; and Bacon himself somewhere says, speaking of 
 the queen, " Against me she is never positive but to my lord of 
 Essex." 
 
 Fulk Greville was one of the few who did honour to themselves 
 by becoming at this time the advocate of Francis Bacon with the 
 queen ; and his solicitations were heard by her with such ap- 
 parent complacency, that he wrote to Bacon, that he would 
 wager two to one on his chance of becoming attorney, or at least 
 solicitor-general. But Essex was to be mortified, and the in- 
 fluence of this generous Maecenas was exerted finally in vain. 
 To his unfortunate choice of a patron then, joined to the indis- 
 creet zeal with which that patron pleaded his cause " in season, 
 and out of season," we are to ascribe in part the neglect expe- 
 rienced by Bacon during the reign of Elizabeth. But other 
 causes concurred, which it may be interesting to trace, and 
 which it would be injustice both to the queen and to Burleigh 
 to pass over in silence. 
 
 At the period when Bacon first appealed to the friendship of 
 the lord treasurer in the letter above cited, he was already in the 
 thirtieth year of his age, and had borne for two years the cha- 
 racter of queen's counsel extraordinary ; but to the courts of 
 law he was so entire a stranger, that it was not till one or two 
 years afterwards that we find him pleading his first cause. It 
 was pretty evident therefore in 1592, when he sought the office 
 of attorney general, that necessity alone had made it the object 
 of his wishes ; and his known inexperience in the practice of the 
 law might reasonably justify in the queen and her ministers 
 some scruple of placing him in so responsible a post. As a phi- 
 losopher indeed, no encouragement could exceed his deserts ; 
 but this was a character which very few even of the learned of 
 that day were capable of appreciating. Physical science, dis- 
 graced by its alliance with the " blind experiments" of alchemy 
 and the deluding dreams of judicial astrology, was in possession 
 of few titles to the respect of mankind ; and its professors, — 
 credulous enthusiasts, for the most part, or designing impostors, 
 — usually ended by bringing shame and loss on such persons as 
 greedy hopes or vain curiosity bribed to become their patrons. 
 
 That general " Installation" of the sciences which the mighty 
 genius of Bacon had projected, was a scheme too vast and too 
 profound to be comprehended by the minds of Elizabeth and her 
 statesmen; and as it was not of a nature to address itself to their 
 passions and interests, we must not wonder if they should have 
 regarded it with indifference. At this period, too, it existed 
 only in embryo ; and so little was the public intellect prepared 
 to seize the first hints thrown out by its illustrious author, that 
 even many years afterwards, when his system had been produced 
 to the world nearly in a state of maturity, the general sentiment 
 seems pretty much to have corresponded with the judgment of 
 
, QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 km"; James, "that the philosophy of Bacon was like the peace 
 of God, which passeth all understanding." 
 
 All these considerations, however, are scarcely sufficient to 
 vindicate the boasted discernment of Elizabeth from disgrace, in 
 having suffered the most illustrious sage of her reign and country 
 who was at the same time its brightest wit and most accom- 
 plished orator, known to her from his birch, and the son of a 
 wise and faithful servant whose memory she held in honour — to 
 languish in poverty and discouragement ; useless to herself and 
 to the public affairs, and a burthen to his own thoughts. 
 
 The king of France found it expedient about this time to de- 
 clare himself a convert to the church of Rome. For this change 
 of religion, whether sincere or otherwise, he might plead, not 
 only the personal motive of gaining possession of the throne of 
 his inheritance, which seemed to be denied to him on other terms, 
 but the patriotic one of rescuing his exhausted country from the 
 miseries of a protracted civil war ; and whatever might be the 
 decision of a scrupulous moralist on the case, it is certain that 
 Elizabeth at least had small title to reprobate a compliance, of 
 which, under the reign of her sister, she had herself set the ex- 
 ample. But the character of the protestant heroine with which 
 circumstances had invested her, obliged her to overlook this in- 
 consistency ; and as demonstrations cost her little, she not only 
 indicted on the occasion a solemn letter of reproof to her ally, 
 but actually professed herself so deeply wounded by his dere- 
 liction of principle, that it was necessary for her to tranquillise 
 her mind by the perusal of many pious works, and the study of 
 Boethius on consolation, which she even undertook the task of 
 translating. Essex, whom she honoured with a sight of her per- 
 formance, was adroit enough to suggest to the royal author, as a 
 principal motive of his urgency with her to restore Francis Bacon 
 to her favour, the earnest desire which he felt that her majesty's 
 excellent translations should be viewed by those most capable 
 of appreciating their merits. 
 
 The indignation of Elizabeth against Henry's apostacy was 
 not however so violent as to exclude the politic consideration, 
 that it was still her interest to support the king of France against 
 the king of Spain ; and besides continuing her wonted supplies, 
 she soon after entered with him into a new engagement, pur- 
 porting that they should never make peace but by mutual 
 consent. 
 
 Bretagne was still the scene of action to the English aux- 
 iliaries. Under sir John Norris, their able commander, they 
 shared in the service of wresting from the Spaniards, by whom 
 they had been garrisoned, the towns of Morlaix, Quimperco- 
 rentin, and Brest ; their valour was every where conspicuous ; 
 and the eagerness of the young courtiers of Elizabeth, to share 
 in the glory of these enterprises rose to a passion, which she 
 sometimes thought it necessary to repress with a show of seve- 
 rity ; as in the following instance related by Naunton : 
 
 Sir Charles Blount, afterwards lord Mountjoy, " having twice 
 
 3 I 
 
434 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 or thrice stolen away into Bretagne, (where under sir John 
 Norris he had then a company,) without the queen's leave and 
 privity, she sent a messenger unto him, with a strict charge to 
 the general to see him sent home. When he came into the 
 queen's presence, she fell into a kind of reviling, demanding 
 how he durst go over without her leave ? « Serve me so, quoth 
 she, ' once more, and I will lay you fast enough for running ; 
 you will never leave it until you are knocked on the head, as 
 that inconsiderate fellow Sidney was. You shall go when I send 
 you, and in the meantime see that you lodge in the court,' 
 (which was then at Whitehall) * where you may follow your 
 book, read, and discourse of the wars.' " 
 
 Philip II., unable to win glory or advantage against Elizabeth 
 in open and honourable warfare, sought a base revenge upon her 
 by proposing through secret agents vast rewards to any who 
 could be brought to attempt her destruction. It was no easy 
 task to discover persons sufficiently rash, as well as wicked, to 
 undertake from motives purely mercenary a villainy of which 
 the peril was so appalling ; but at length Fuentes and Ibarra, 
 joint governors of the Netherlands, succeeded in bribing Dr. 
 Lopez, domestic physician to the queen, to mix poison in her 
 medicine. Essex, whose watchfulness over the life of his sove- 
 reign was remarkable, whilst his intelligences were comparable 
 in extent and accuracy to those ofWalsingham himself, was the 
 first to give notice of this atrocious plot. At his instance Lopez 
 was apprehended, examined before himself, the treasurer, the lord 
 admiral, and Robert Cecil, and committed to custody in the earl's 
 house. But nothing decisive appearing on his first examination, 
 Robert Cecil took occasion to represent the charge as groundless; 
 and her majesty, sending in heat for Essex, called him " rash and 
 temerarious youth," and reproached him for bringing on slight 
 grounds so heinous a suspicion upon an innocent man. The 
 earl, incensed to find his diligent service thus repaid, through 
 the successful artifice of his enemy, quitted the presence in a 
 paroxysm of rage, and, according to his practice on similar oc- 
 casions, shut himself up in his chamber, which he refused to 
 quit till the queen herself two or three days afterwards sent the 
 lord admiral to mediate a reconciliation. 
 
 Further interrogatories, mingled probably with menaces of 
 the torture, brought Lopez to confess the fact of his having re- 
 ceived the king of Spain's bribe ; but he persisted in denying 
 that it was ever in his thoughts to perpetrate the crime. This 
 subterfuge did not, however, save him from an ignominious death, 
 which he shared with two other persons whom Fuentes and 
 Ibarra had hired for a similar undertaking. 
 
 The Spanish court disdained to return any satisfactory answer 
 to the complaints of Elizabeth respecting these designs against 
 her life ; but either shame, or more likely the fear of reprisals, 
 seems to have deterred it from any repetition of experiments so. 
 perilous. 
 
 About two years afterwards, however, an English Jesuit named 
 Walpole, who was settled in Spain, and intimately connected 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 435 
 
 with the noted father Parsons, instigated an attempt worthy of 
 record, partly as a curious instance of the exaggerated ideas then 
 prevajent of the force of poisons. In the last voyage of Drake to 
 the West Indies, a small vessel of his was captured and carried 
 into a port of Spain, on board of which was one Squire, formerly 
 a purveyor for the queen's stables. With this prisoner Walpole, 
 as a diligent servant of his Church, undertook to make himself 
 acquainted ; and finding him a resolute fellow, and of capacity 
 and education above his rank, he spared no pains to convert him 
 to popery. This step gained, he diligently plied him with his 
 Jesuitical arguments, and so thoroughly persuaded him of the 
 duty and merit of promoting by any kind of means the overthrow 
 of heresy, that Squire at length consented to bind himself by a 
 solemn vow to make an attempt against the life of Elizabeth in 
 the mode which should be pointed out to him : — an enterprise, 
 as he was assured, which would be attended with little personal 
 danger, and, in case of the worst, would assuredly be recom- 
 pensed by an immediate admission into the joys of heaven. 
 
 Finally, the worthy father presented to his disciple a packet 
 of some poisonous preparation, which he enjoined him to take an 
 opportunity of spreading on the pommel of the queen's saddle. 
 The queen in mounting would transfer the ointment to her hand ; 
 with her hand she was likely to touch her mouth or nostrils ; and 
 such, as he averred, was the virulence of the poison that certain 
 death must follow r . 
 
 Squire returned to England, enlisted for the Cadiz expedition, 
 and on the eve of its sailing took tjie preparation and disposed 
 of it as directed. Desirous of adding to his merits, he found 
 means during the voyage to anoint in like manner the arms of 
 the earl of Essex's chair. The failure of the application in both 
 instances greatly surprised him. To the Jesuit it appeared so 
 unaccountable, that he was persuaded Squire had deceived him; 
 and actuated at once by the desire of punishing his defection, 
 and the fear of his betraying such secrets of the party as had been 
 confided to him, he consummated his villainy by artfully con- 
 veying to the English government an intimation of the plot. 
 Squire was apprehended, and at first denied all : " but by good 
 counsel, and the truth working withal," according to Speed's 
 expression, was brought to confess what could not otherwise 
 have been proved against him, and suffered penitently for his 
 offence. Our chronicler admires the providence which inter- 
 fered for the protection of her majesty in this great peril, and 
 compares it to the miraculous preservation of St. Paul from the 
 bite of the viper. / 
 
 The Jesuits are supposed to have employed more efficacious 
 instruments for the destruction of Ferdinando earl of Derby, 
 who died in April 1594. This nobleman had the misfortune to 
 be grandson of Eleanor countess of Cumberland, the younger 
 daughter of Mary queen dowager of France, and sister of Henry 
 VIII. by her second husband Charles Brandon, duke of Suffolk ; 
 and although the children of lady Catherine Grey, countess of 
 
436 THE COURT OF 
 
 V 
 
 Hertford, obviously stood before him in this line of succession; 
 occasion was taken by the Romish party from this descent to 
 urge him to assume the title of king of England. One Hesket, 
 a zealous agent of the Jesuits and popish fugitives, was em- 
 ployed to tamper with the earl, who on one hand undertook that 
 his claim should be supported by powerful succours from abroad, 
 and on the other menaced him with certain and speedy death in 
 case of his rejecting the proposal or betraying its authors. But 
 the earl was too loyal to hesitate a moment. He revealed the 
 whole plot to government, and Hesket on his information was 
 convicted of treason and suffered death. Not long after, the 
 earl was suddenly seized with a violent disorder of the bowels, 
 which in a few days carried him off ; and on the first day of his 
 illness, his gentleman of the horse took his lord's best saddle- 
 horse and fled. These circumstances might be thought pretty 
 clearly to indicate poison as the means of his untimely end ; but 
 although a suspicion of its employment was entertained by some, 
 the melancholy event appears to have been more generally as- 
 cribed to witchcraft. An examination being instituted, a waxen 
 image was discovered in his chamber with a hair of the colour of 
 the earl's drawn through the body ; also, an old woman in the 
 neighbourhood, a reputed witch, being required to recite after a 
 prompter the Lord's Prayer in Latin, was observed to blunder 
 repeatedly in the same words. But these circumstances, how- 
 ever strong, not being deemed absolutely conclusive, the poor 
 old woman was apparently suffered to escape : — after the gen- 
 tleman of the horse, or his instigators, we do not find that any 
 search was made. 
 
 The mother of this earl of Derby died two years after. At 
 one period of her life we find her much in favour with the queen, 
 whom she was accustomed to attend in quality of first lady of 
 the blood royal; but she had subsequently excited her majesty's 
 suspicions by her imprudent consultations of fortune-tellers and 
 diviners, on the delicate subject, doubtless, of succession to the 
 crown. 
 
 The animosity between Elizabeth and her savage adversary 
 the king of Spain, was continually becoming more fierce and 
 more inveterate. Undeterred by former failures, Philip was 
 thought to meditate a fresh invasion either of England or of Ire- 
 land,- which latter country was besides in so turbulent a state 
 from the insurrections of native chieftans, that it had been found 
 necessary to send over sir John Norris, as general of Ulster, 
 with a strong reinforcement of veterans from the Low Coun- 
 tries. The queen, on her part, was well prepared to resist and 
 retaliate all attacks. The spirit of the nation was thoroughly 
 roused ; gallant troops and able officers formed in the Flemish 
 school of glory, or under the banners of the Bourbon hero, burn- 
 ed with impatience for the signal to revenge the wrongs of their 
 queen and country, on their capital and most detested enemy. 
 Still the conflict threatened to be an arduous one: Elizabeth 
 felt all its difficulties; and loth to lose the support of one of her 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 437 
 
 bravest and most popular captains, she addressed the following 
 letter of recall to lord Willoughby, who had repaired to Spa 
 ostensibly for the recovery of his health ; really, perhaps, in re- 
 sentment of some injury inflicted by a venal and treacherous 
 court, of which his noble nature scorned alike the intrigues and 
 the servility. 
 
 " Good Peregrine, 
 " We are not a little glad that by your journey you have 
 received such good fruit of amendment, especially when we con- 
 sider how great a vexation it is to a mind devoted to actions of 
 honour, to be restrained by any indisposition of body from fol- 
 lowing those courses which, to your own reputation and our 
 great satisfaction, you have formerly performed. And therefore 
 we must now (out of our desire of your well-doing) chiefly en- 
 join you to an especial care to encrease and continue your health, 
 which must give life to all your best endeavours; so we next as 
 seriously recommend to you this consideration, that in these 
 times, when there is such an appearance that we shall have the 
 trial of our best and noble subjects, you seem not to affect the 
 satisfaction of your own private contentation, beyond the at- 
 tending on that which nature and duty challengeth from all per- 
 sons of your quality and profession. For if unnecessarily, your 
 health of body being recovered, you should eloign yourself by 
 residence there from those employments whereof we shall have 
 too good store, you shall not so much amend the state of your 
 body, as haply you shall call in question the reputation of your 
 mind and judgment, even in the opinion of those that love you, 
 and are best acquainted with your disposition and discretion." 
 
 " Interpret this our plainness, we pray you, to an extraordi- 
 nary estimation of you, for it is not common with us to deal so 
 freely with many; and believe that you shall ever find us both 
 ready and willing, on all occasions, to yield you the fruits of 
 that interest which your endeavours have purchased for you in 
 our opinion and estimation. Not doubting but when you have 
 with moderation made trial of the successes of these your sun 
 dry peregrinations, you will find aa great comfort to spend your 
 days at home as heretofore you have done; of which we do wish 
 you full measure, howsoever you shall have cause of abode or 
 return. Given under our signet at our manor of Nonesuch, the 
 7th of October 1594, in the 37th year of our reign. 
 
 " Your most loving sovereign, 
 
 " E. R." 
 
 We do not perceive the effects of this letter in the employ 
 ment of lord Willoughby in any of the expeditions against 
 Spain which ensued ; but he was afterwards appointed gover- 
 nor of Berwick, and held that situation till his death in 1601. 
 
 Sir Walter Raleigh, that splendid genius with a sordid soul, 
 whom a romantic spirit of adventure and a devouring thirst of 
 gain equally stimulated to activity, had unexpectedly found his 
 
438 
 
 TftE COURT OF 
 
 advancement at court impeded, after the first steps, usually ac- 
 counted the most difficult, had been speedily and fortunately 
 surmounted. Several conspiring causes might however be as- 
 signed for this check in his career of fortune. His high preten- 
 sions to the favour of the queen, joined to his open adherence to 
 the party of sir Robert Cecil, had provoked the hostility of Es- 
 sex ; who, in defiance of him, at one of the ostentatious tourna- 
 ments of the day, is said to have " filled the tilt-yard with two 
 thousand orange-tawny Feathers," the distinction doubtless of 
 his followers and retainers. He had incurred the resentment of 
 more than one of the order of bishops, by his ceaseless and 
 shameless solicitations of grants and leases out of the property 
 of the Church. In Ireland, he had rendered Sir William Rus- 
 sell the lord deputy, his enemy, by various demonstrations of 
 opposition and rivalry ; at court, his abilities and his first rapid 
 successes with her majesty, had stirred up against him the envy 
 of a whole host of competitors. Elizabeth, who for the best rea- 
 sons, had an extreme dislike to any manifestations of a mercenary 
 disposition in her servants, had been disgusted by the frequency 
 and earnestness of his petitions for pecuniary favours. " When, 
 sir Walter," she had once exclaimed, " will you cease to be a 
 beggar?" He replied, "When your gracious majesty ceases to 
 be a benefactor." So dexterous an answer appeased her for a 
 time; and the profusion of eloquent adulation with which he 
 never failed to soothe her ear, engaged her self-love strongly in 
 his behalf. But to complete the ill-fortune of Raleigh, father 
 Parsons, provoked by the earnestness with which he had urged 
 in parliament the granting of supplies for a war offensive and 
 defensive against Spain, had published a pamphlet charging him 
 with atheism and impiety, which had not only found welcome 
 reception with his enemies, but with the people, to whom he 
 was ever obnoxious, and had even raised a prejudice against 
 him in the mind of his sovereign. On this subject, a writer con- 
 temporary with the later years of Raleigh, thus expresses him- 
 self: 
 
 " Sir Walter Raleigh was the first, as I have heard, that ven- 
 tured to tack about and sail aloof from the beaten track of the 
 schools ; who, upon the discovery of so apparent an error as a 
 torrid zone, intended to proceed in an inquisition after more 
 solid truths ; till the mediation of some whose livelihood lay in 
 hammering shrines for this superannuated study, possessed 
 queen Elizabeth that such doctrine was against God no less 
 than her father's honour ; whose faith, if he owed any, was 
 grounded upon school divinity. Whereupon she chid him, who 
 was, by his own confession, ever after branded with the name of 
 an atheist, though a known assertor of God and providence."* 
 
 The business of Mrs. Throgmorton, and the disputes arising 
 out of the sale of the captured carrack, succeeded, to inflame 
 still more the ill-humour of the queen; and Raleigh, finding 
 
 * Osborne's '* Introduction" to his Essays. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 439 
 
 every thing adverse to him at court, resolved to quit the scene 
 for a time, in the hope of returning with better omens, when ab- 
 sence and dangers should again have endeared him to his of- 
 fended mistress, and when the splendour of his foreign successes 
 might enable him to impose silence on the clamours of malignity 
 at home. 
 
 The interior of the patldess wilds of Guiana had been report 
 ed to abound in those exhaustless mines of the precious metals 
 which filled the imaginations of the earliest explorers of the 
 New World, and, to their ignorant cupidity, appeared the only 
 important object of research and acquisition in regions where the 
 eye of political wisdom would have discerned so many superior 
 inducements to colonization or to conquest. The fabulous city 
 of El Dorado, — which became for some time proverbial in our 
 language to express the utmost profusion and magnificence of 
 wealth, — was placed by the romautic narrations of voyagers 
 somewhere in the centre of this vast country, and nothing could 
 be more flattering to the mania of the age, than the project of 
 exploring its hidden treasures. Raleigh conceived this idea; 
 the court and the city vied in eagerness to share the profits of 
 the enterprise; a squadron was speedily fitted out, though at 
 great expense; and in February 1595, the ardent leader weigh- 
 ed anchor from the English shore. Proceeding first to Trinidad, 
 he possessed himself of the town of St. Joseph ; then, with the 
 numerous pinnaces of his fleet, he entered the mouth of the 
 great river Oronoco, and sailing upwards, penetrated far into 
 the* bosom of the country. But the intense heat of the climate, 
 and the difficulties of this unknown navigation, compelled him 
 to return without any more valuable result of his enterprise than 
 that of taking formal possession of the land in her majesty's 
 name. Raleigh however, unwilling to acknowledge a failure, 
 published on his return an account of Guiana, filled with the 
 most disgraceful and extravagant falsehood^; — falsehoods to 
 which he himself became eventually the victim, when, on the sole 
 credit of his assurances, king James released him from a tedious 
 imprisonment to head a second band of adventurers to this dis- 
 astrous shore. 
 
 A still more unfortunate result awaited an expedition of greater 
 consequence, which sailed during the same year, under Hawkins 
 and Drake, against the settlements of Spanish America. Re- 
 peated attacks had at length taught the Spaniards to stand on 
 their defence; and the English were first repulsed from Porto 
 Rico, and afterwards obliged to relinquish the attempt of march- 
 ing across the isthmus of Darien to Panama. But the great and 
 irreparable misfortune of the enterprise was the loss, first of the 
 gallant sir John Hawkins, the kinsman and early patron of Drake, 
 and afterwards of that great navigator himself, who fell a victim 
 to the torrid climate, and to fatigue and mortification which 
 conspired to render it fatal. A person of such eminence, and 
 whose great actions reflect back^o bright a lustre on the reign 
 which had furnished to him the most glorious occasions of dis~ 
 
440 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 tinguishing himself in the service of his country, must not be 
 dismissed from the scene in silence. 
 
 • The character of Francis Drake was remarkable not alone for 
 those constitutional qualities of valour, industry, capacity and 
 enterprise, which the history of his exploits would necessarily 
 lead us to infer, but for virtues founded on principle and reflec- 
 tion which render it in a high degree the object of respect and 
 moral approbation. It is true that his aggressions on the Span- 
 ish settlements were originally founded on a vague notion of re- 
 prisals, equally irreconcilable to public law and private equity. 
 But with the exception of this error, — which may find consider- 
 able palliation in the deficient education of the man, the preva- 
 lent opinions of the day, and the peculiar animosity against 
 Philip II. cherished in the bosom of every protestant English- 
 man, — the conduct of Drake appears to demand almost unquali- 
 fied commendation. It was by sobriety, by diligence in the con- 
 cerns of his employers, and by a tried integrity, that he early 
 raised himself from the humble station of an ordinary seaman 
 to the command of a vessel. When placed in authority over 
 x>thers, he showed himself humane and considerate ; his treat- 
 ment of his prisoners was exemplary, his veracity unimpeached, 
 his private life religiously pure and spotless. In the division 
 of the rich booty which often rewarded his valour and his toils, 
 he was liberal towards his crews, and scrupulously just to the 
 owners of his vessels ; and in the appropriation of his own share 
 of wealth, he displayed that munificence towards the public of 
 which, since the days of Roman glory, history has recorded so 
 few examples. 
 
 With the profits of one of his earliest voyages, in which he 
 captured the town of Venta Cruz and made a prize of a string 
 of fifty mules laden with silver, he fitted out three stout frigates 
 and sailed with them to Ireland, where he served as a volunteer 
 under Walter eaqfc of Essex, and performed many brilliant ac- 
 tions. After the capture of a rich Spanish carrack at the Ter- 
 ceras in 1587, he undertook at his own expense to bring to the 
 town of Plymouth, which he represented in parliament, a supply 
 of spring water, of which necessary article it suffered a great 
 deficiency; this he accomplished by means of a canal or aque- 
 duct above twenty miles in length. 
 
 Drake incurred some blame in the expedition to Portugal for 
 failing to bring his ships up the river to Lisbon, according to his 
 promise to sir John Norris, the general ; but on explaining the 
 case before the privy-council on his return, he was entirely ac- 
 quitted by them : having made it appear that, under all the cir- 
 cumstances, to have carried the fleet up the Tagus would have 
 been to expose it to damage without the possibility of any bene- 
 fit to* the service. By his enemies, this great man was stigma- 
 tised as vain and boastful ; a slight infirmity in one who had 
 achieved so much by his own unassisted genius, and which the 
 great flow of natural eloquence \*hich he possessed, may at once 
 have produced and rendered excusable. One trait appears to 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 441 
 
 inliralc that he was ambitious of a species of distinction whicli 
 he might have regarded himself as entitled to despise. He had 
 thought j roper to assume, apparently without due authority, the 
 armorial coat of sir Bernard Drake, also a seaman and a native 
 of Devonshire ; sir Bernard, from a false pride of family, highly 
 resented this unwarrantable intrusion, as he regarded it, and in 
 a dispute on the subject gave sir Francis a box on the ear. The 
 queen now deemed it necessary to interfere, and she granted to 
 the illustrious navigator the following arms of her own device. 
 Sable, a fess wavy between two pole stars argent, and for crest, 
 a ship on a globe under ruff, with a cable held by a hand coming- 
 out of the clouds ; the motto Jluxilio divino, and beneath, Sic 
 parvis magna; in the rigging of the ship a wivern gules, the 
 arms, of sir Bernard Drake, hung up by the heels. 
 
 Sir John Baskerville,-who succeeded by the death of Drake to 
 the command of the unfortunate expedition to which he had 
 fallen a sacrifice, encountered the Spanish fleet off Cuba in an 
 action, which, though less decisive on the English side than might 
 have been hoped, left at least no ground of triumph to the enemy. 
 Meantime the court was by no means barren of incident : and 
 we are fortunpte in possessing a minute and authentic journal 
 of its transactions in a serious of letters addressed to sir Robert 
 Sidney governor of Flushing, by several of his friends, but chiefly 
 by Rowland Whyte, a gentleman to whom, during his absence, 
 he had recommended the care of his interests, and the task of 
 transmitting to him whatever intelligence might appear either 
 useful or entertaining.* 
 
 In October 1595, Mr. Whyte mentions the following abomina- 
 ble instance of tyranny. That the earl of Hertford had been 
 sent for by a messenger and committed to custody in his own 
 house, because it had appeared by a case found among the papers 
 of a Dr. Aubrey, that he had formerly taken the opinions of 
 civilians on the validity of his first marriage, and caused a re- 
 cord of it to be secretly put into the court of Arches. Whyte 
 adds significantly, that the earl w r as accounted one of the wealthi- 
 est subjects in England. Soon after, his lordship was com- 
 mitted to the Tower ; and it was said that orders were given 
 that his son, who, since the establishment of the marriage had 
 borne the title of lord Beauchamp, should henceforth be again 
 called Mr. Seymour. Several lawyers and other persons were 
 also imprisoned for a short time about this matter, under what 
 law, or pretext of law, it would be vain to inquire. Lady Hert- 
 ford, though a sister of the lord admiral and nearly related to 
 the queen, was for some time an unsuccessful suitor at court for 
 the liberty of her lord. Her majesty however was graciously 
 pleased to declare that " neither his life nor living should be 
 called in question — as if both had been at her mercy : and 
 though she would not consent to see the countess, she regularly 
 sent her broths m a morning, and, at meals, meat from her own 
 
 See Sidney's Papers, passim. 
 3K 
 
442 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 trencher ; — affecting, it should seem, in these trifles, to acquit 
 herself of the promises of her special favour, with which she had 
 a few years before repaid the splendid hospitality of this noble 
 pair. We do not learn how long the durance of the earl con- 
 tinued ; but it is highly probable that he was once more com- 
 pelled to purchase his liberty. 
 
 Great uneasiness was given about this time to the earl of Es- 
 sex by a book written in defence of the king of Spain's title to 
 the English crown, which contained " dangerous praises of his 
 valour and worthiness," inserted for the express purpose of ex- 
 citing the jealousy of the queen and bringing him into disgrace. 
 
 The work was shown him by Elizabeth herself. On coming 
 from her presence he was observed to look "pale and wan," and 
 going home he reported himself sick ; — an expedient for working 
 on the feelings of his sovereign, to which notwithstanding the 
 truth and honour popularly regarded as his characteristics, Es- 
 sex is known to have frequently condescended. On this, as on 
 most occasions, he found it successful: her majesty soon made 
 him a consolatory visit ; and in spite of the strenuous efforts of 
 his enemies, this attempt to injure him only served to augment 
 her affection and root him more firmly in her confidence. 
 
 "Her majesty," says Whyte soon after, "is in very good 
 health, and comes much abroad ; upon Thursday she dined at 
 Kew, at my lord keepers house, (who lately obtained of her ma- 
 jesty his suit for one hundred pounds a year in fee-farm,) her 
 entertainment for that meal was great and ^exceeding costly. 
 At her first 'lighting she had a fine fan garnished with diamonds, 
 valued at four hundred pounds at least. After dinner, in her 
 privy chamber he gave her a fair pair of virginals. In her bed- 
 chamber, he presented her with a fine gown and a juppin, which 
 things were pleasing to her highness ; and to grace his lordship 
 the more, she of herself took from him a fork, a spoon, and a 
 salt of fair agate." It must be confessed that this was a mode 
 of "gracing" a courtier peculiarly consonant to the disposition 
 of her majesty. 
 
 The further Elizabeth descended into the vale of years, the 
 stronger were her efforts to make ostentation of a youthful 
 gaiety of spirits and an unfailing alacrity in the pursuit of plea- 
 sure ; though avarice, the vice of age, mingled strangely with 
 these her juvenile affectations. To remark to her the progress 
 of time, was to wound her in the tenderest part, and not even 
 from her ghostly counsellors w r ould she endure a topic so offen- 
 sive as the mention of her age : an anecdote to this effect belongs 
 to the year 1596, and is found in the account of Rudd bishop 
 of St. Davids, given in Harrington's Brief View of the Church. 
 
 "There is almost none that waited in queen Elizabeth's 
 court and observed any thing, but can tell that it pleased her 
 very much to seem to be thought, and to be told that she looked 
 young. The majesty and gravity of a sceptre borne forty -four 
 years could not alter that nature of a woman in her: This not- 
 withstanding, this good bishop being appointed to preach before 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 443 
 
 her in the Lent of the year 1596 . . . wishing in a godly zeal, 
 as well became him, that she should think sometime of mor- 
 tality,'' took a text fit for the purpose, on which he treated for 
 a time " well," " learnedly," and "respectively." "But when 
 he had spoken awhile of some sacred and mystical numbers, as 
 three for the Trinity, three for the heavenly Hierarchy, seven 
 for the Sabbath, and seven times seven for a Jubilee ; and 
 lastly,— seven times nine for the grand climacterical year; she, 
 perceiving whereto it tended, began to be troubled with it. The 
 bishop discovering that all was not well, for the pulpit stands 
 there vis a vis to the closet, he fell to treat of some more plausible 
 numbers, as of the number 666, making Latinus, with which he 
 said he could prove the pope to be Antichrist ; also of the fatal 
 number of 88, — so long before spoken of for a dangerous year, 
 .... but withal interlarding it with some passages of Scrip- 
 ture that touch the infirmities of age .... he concluded his 
 sermon. The queen, as the manner was, opened the window ; 
 but she was so far from giving him thanks or good countenance, 
 that she said plainly he should have kept his arithmetic for him- 
 self. 'But I see,' said she, 'the greatest clerks are not the 
 wisest men :' and so went away for the time discontented. 
 
 "The lord keeper Puckering, though reverencing the man 
 much in his particular, yet for the present, to assuage the 
 queen's displeasure, commanded him to keep his house for a time, 
 which he did. But of a truth her majesty showed no ill nature 
 in this, for within three days she was not only displeased at his 
 restraint, but in my hearing rebuked a lady yet living for speak- 
 ing scornfully of him and his sermon. Only to show how the 
 good bishop was deceived in supposing she was so decayed in her 
 limbs and senses as himself perhaps and others of that age were 
 wont to be ; she said she thanked God that neither her stomach 
 nor strength, nor her voice for singing, nor fingering instru- 
 ments, nor lastly her sight, was any whit decayed ; and to prove 
 the last before us all, she produced a little jewel that had an in- 
 scription of very small letters, and offered it first to my lord of 
 Worcester, and then to sir James Crofts to read, and both pro- 
 tested bona fide that they could not ; yet the queen herself did 
 find out the poesy, and made herself merry with the standers by 
 ipon it." 
 
 A point of some importance to the peers of England was about 
 this time brought to a final decision by the following circum- 
 stance Sir Thomas, son and heir of sir Matthew Arundel of 
 Wardour-castle, a young man of a courageous and enterprising 
 disposition, going over to Germany, had been induced to engage 
 as a volunteer in the wars of the emperor against the Turks ; 
 and in the assault of the city of Gran in Hungary had taken 
 with his own hand a Turkish banner. For this and other good 
 service, Rodolph the Second had been pleased to confer upon 
 him the honour of count of the holy Roman empire, extending 
 also, as usual, the title of counts and countesses to all his de- 
 scendants for ever. On his return to England in the year 
 
444 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 following, the question arose whether this dignity, conferred by 
 a foreign prince without the previous consent of his own sove- 
 reign should entitle the bearer to rank, precedence, or any other 
 privilege in this country. 
 
 The peers naturally opposed a concession which tended to 
 lessen the value of their privileges by rendering them accessible 
 through foreign channels ; and her majesty being called upon to 
 settle the debate, pronounced the following judgment. That 
 the closest tie of affection subsisted between sovereigns and 
 their subjects: that as chaste wives should fix their eyes upon 
 their husbands alone, in like manner faithful subjects should 
 only direct theirs towards the prince whom it had pleased God 
 to set over them. And that she would not allow her sheep to 
 be branded With the mark of a stranger, or to be taught to follow 
 the whistle of a foreign shepherd. And to this effect she wrote 
 to the emperor, who by a special letter had recommended sir 
 Thomas Arundel to her favour. The decision appears to have 
 been reasonable and politic, and would at the time be regarded 
 as peculiarly so in the instance of honours conferred on a ca- 
 tholic gentleman by a catholic prince. King James, however, 
 created sir Thomas, lord Arundel of Wardour ; and he seems 
 to have borne in common speech the title of count.* 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 1595 to 1598. 
 
 Essex and Cecil factions. — Expedition to Cadiz. — Robert Cecil 
 appointed secretary. — Notice of sir T. Bodley. — Critical situ- 
 ation of Essex. — Francis Bacon addresses to him a letter of 
 advice — composes speeches for him. — Notice of Toby Mattheiv. 
 — Outrages in London repressed by martial law. — Death of 
 lord Hunsdon — of the earl of Huntingdon — of Bishop Fletcher. 
 — Anecdote of bishop Vaughan. — Book on the queen's touching 
 for the evil. 
 
 From this period nearly of the reign of Elizabeth, her 
 court exhibited a scene of perpetual contest between the faction 
 of the earl of Essex and that of lord Burleigh, or rather of Ro- 
 bert Cecil ; and so widely did the effects of this intestine division 
 extend, that there was perhaps scarcely a single court attendant 
 or public functionary whose interests did not become in some 
 
 * Camden's Annals. Peerage by sir E. Brydgea. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 445 
 
 moile or other involved in the debate. Yet the quarrel itself 
 may justly be regarded as base and contemptible : no public 
 principle was here at stake; whether religious, as in the 
 struggles between papists and protestants which often rent the 
 cabinet of Henry VIlLj or civil, as in those of whigs and tories 
 by which the administrations of later times have been divided 
 and overthrown. It was simply and without disguise a strife 
 between individuals, for the exclusive possession of that political 
 power and court influence of which each might without distur- 
 bance have enjoyed a share capable of contenting an ordinary 
 ambition. 
 
 In religion, there was apparently no shade of difference be- 
 tween the hostile leaders ; neither of them had studied with so 
 little diligence the inclinations of the queen, as to persist at this 
 time in the patronage of the puritans, though the early impres- 
 sions, certainly of Essex, and probably of sir Robert Cecil also, 
 must have been considerably in favour of this persecuted sect. 
 Still less would either venture to stand forth the advocate of the 
 catholics; though it was among the most daring and desperate 
 of this body that Essex was compelled at length to seek adhe- 
 rents, when the total ruin of his interest with his sovereign fa- 
 tally compelled him to exchange the character of head of a court 
 party for that of a conspirator and a rebel. Of the title of the 
 king of Scots both were steady supporters ; and first Essex, and 
 afterwards Cecil, maintained a secret correspondence with 
 James, who flattered each in his turn with assurances of present 
 friendship and future favour. 
 
 On one public question alone of any considerable magnitude 
 do the rivals appear to have been at issue ; — that of the prose- 
 cution of an offensive war against Spain. 
 
 The age and the wisdom of lord Burleigh alike inclined him to 
 a pacific policy ; and though Robert Cecil, for the purpose of 
 strengthening himself and weakening his opponent, would fre- 
 quently act the patron towards particular officers, — those es- 
 pecially of whom he observed the earl to entertain a jealousy, 
 — it is certain that warlike ardour made no part of his natural 
 composition. Essex on the contrary was all on fire for military 
 glory ; and at this time he was urging the queen with unceasing 
 importunities to make a fresh attack upon her capital enemy in 
 the heart of his European dominions. In this favourite object, 
 after encountering considerable opposition from her habits of 
 procrastination and from some remaining fears and scruples, he 
 succeeded ; and the zeal of the people hastening to give full 
 effect to the designs of her majesty, a formidable armament was 
 fitted out in all diligence, which in June 1596 set sail for Cadiz. 
 
 Lord Howard of Effingham, as lord admiral, commanded the 
 fleet ; Essex himself received with transport the appointment of 
 general of all the land-forces, and spared neither pains nor cost 
 in his preparations for the enterprise. Besides his constant ea- 
 gerness for action, his spirit was on this occasion inflamed by an 
 indignation against the tyrant Philip, " which rose," according 
 
446 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 to the happy expression of one of his biographers, "to the dig- 
 nity of a personal aversion."* In his letters he was wont to 
 employ the expression, " I will make that proud king know," 
 &c. : a phrase, it seems, which gave high offence to Elizabeth, 
 who could not tolerate what she regarded as arrogance against 
 a crowned head, though her bitterest foe. 
 
 Subordinate commands were given to Lord Thomas Howard, 
 second son of the late duke of Norfolk, who was at this time in- 
 clined to the party of Essex ; to Raleigh, who now affected an 
 extraordinary deference for the earl, his secret enemy and rival; 
 to that very able officer sir Francis Vere of the family of the 
 earls of Oxford, who had highly distinguished himself during 
 several years in the wars of the Low Countries ; to sir George 
 Carew, an intimate friend of sir Robert Cecil ; and to some 
 others, who formed together a council of war. 
 
 The queen herself composed on this occasion a prayer for the 
 use of the fleet, and she sent to her land and her sea commander 
 jointly " a letter of license to depart ; besides comfortable en- 
 couragement." "But ours in particular," adds a follower of 
 Essex, " had one fraught with all kind of promises and loving 
 offers, as the like, since he was a favourite he never had." 
 
 Enterprise was certainly not the characteristic of the lord ad- 
 miral as a commander ; and when on the arrival of the arma- 
 ment off Cadiz, it was proposed that an attack should be made 
 by the fleet on the ships in the harbour, he remonstrated against 
 the rashness of such an attempt, and prevailed on several mem- 
 bers of the council of war to concur in his objections. In the 
 end, however, the arguments or importuuities of the more daring 
 party prevailed ; and Essex threw his hat into the sea in a wild 
 transport of joy on learning that the admiral consented to make 
 the attack. He was now acquainted by the admiral with the 
 queen's secret order, dictated by her tender care for the safety 
 of her young favourite, — that he should by no means be allowed 
 to lead the assault ; — and he promised an exact obedience to the 
 mortifying prohibition. But, once in presence of the enemy, 
 his impetuosity would brook no control. He broke from the 
 station of inglorious security which had been assigned him, and 
 rushed into the heat of the action. 
 
 The Spanish fleet was speedily driven up the harbour, under 
 the guns of the fort of Puntal, where the admiral's ship and ano- 
 ther first-rate were set on fire by their own crews, and the rest 
 run aground. Uf these, two fine ships fell into the hands of the 
 English ; and the lord admiral haviug refused to accept of any 
 ransom for the remainder, saying that he came to consume and 
 not to compound, they were all, to the number of fifty, burned 
 by the Spanish admiral. 
 
 Meantime, Essex landed his men and marched them to the 
 assault of Cadiz. The town was on this side well fortified, and 
 Ike defenders, having also the advantage of the ground, receiv 
 
 " See a Catalogue of Royal and Noble authors, by Lord Orford. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 447 
 
 oil the invaders so warmly, 1hat they were on the point of being 
 repulsed from the gate against which they had directed their at- 
 tack: but Essex, just at the critical moment, rushed forward, 
 seized his own colours and threw them over the wall ; "giving 
 withal a most hot assault unto the gate, where, to save the 
 honour of their ensign, happy was he that could first leap down 
 from the wall, and with shot and sword make way through the 
 thickest press of the enemy." 
 
 The town being thus stormed, was of course given up to plun- 
 der ; but Essex, whose humanity was not less conspicuous than 
 his courage, put an immediate stop to the carnage by a vigorous 
 exertion of his authority; protected in person the women, chil- 
 dren, and religious, whom he caused to retire to a place of 
 safety; caused the prisoners to be treated with the utmost ten- 
 derness; and allowed all the citizens to withdraw, on payment 
 of a ransom, before the place with its fortifications was commit- 
 ted to the flames. It was indeed the wish and intention of Es- 
 sex to have kept possession of Cadiz; which he confidently en- 
 gaged to the council of war to hold out against the Spaniards, 
 with a force of no more than three or four thousand men, till 
 succours could be sent from England ; and with this view lie had 
 in the first instance sedulously preserved the buildings from all 
 injury. But among his brother officers few were found prepared 
 to second his zeal : the expedition was in great measure an ad- 
 venture undertaken at the expense of private persons, who en- 
 gaged in it with the hope of gain rather than glory ; and as these 
 men probably attributed the success which had hitherto crowned 
 their arms in great measure to the surprise of the Spaniards, 
 they were unwilling to risk in a more deliberate contest the rich 
 rewards of valour of which they had possessed themselves. 
 
 The subsequent proposals of Essex for the annoyance of the 
 enemy, either by an attack on Corunna, or on St. Sebastian and 
 St. Andero, or by sailing to the Azores in quest of the home- 
 ward-bound carracks, all experienced the same mortifying nega- 
 tive from the members of the council of war, of whom lord 
 Thomas Howard alone supported his opinions. But undeterred 
 by this systematic opposition, he persevered in urging, that 
 more might and more ought to be performed by so considerable 
 an armament; and the lord admiral, weary of contesting the 
 matter, sailed away at length and left him on the Spanish coast 
 with the few ships and the handful of men which still adhered 
 to him. Want of provisions compelled him in a short time to 
 abandon an enterprise now desperate; and he returned full of 
 indignation to England, where fresh struggles and new mortifi- 
 cations awaited him. The appointment during his absence of 
 Robert Cecil to the office of secretary of state, instead of Tho- 
 mas Bodley, afterwards the founder of the library which pre- 
 serves his name, — for whom, since he had found the restoration 
 of Davison hopeless, Essex had been straining everv nerve to 
 procure it, — gave him ample warning of all the counteraction on 
 other points which he wa9 doomed to experience ; and was in 
 
448 
 
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 fact the circumstance which finally established the ascendency 
 of his adversaries : yet to an impartial eye, many considerations 
 may appear to have entirely justified on the part of the queen 
 this preference. Where, it might be asked, could a fitter suc- 
 cessor be found to lord Burleigh in the post which he had so 
 long filled to the satisfaction of his sovereign and the benefit of 
 his country, than in the son who certainly inherited all his abi- 
 lity ; — though not, as was afterwards seen, his principles or his 
 virtues ; — and who had been trained to business as the assistant 
 of his father and under his immediate inspection? Why should 
 the earl of Essex interfere with an order of things so natural? 
 On what pretext should the queen be induced to disappoint the 
 hopes of her old and faithful servant, and to cast a stigma upon 
 a young man of the most premising talents, who was unwearied 
 in his efforts to establish himself in her favour ? 
 
 By the queen and the people, Essex, their common favourite, 
 was welcomed, on his safe return from an expedition to himself 
 so glorious, with every demonstration of joy and affection, and 
 no one appeared to sympathise more cordially than her majesty 
 in his indignation that nothing had been attempted against the 
 Spanish treasure -sir ps. On the other hand, no pains were 
 spared by his adversaries to lessen in public estimation the glory 
 of his exploits, by ascribing to the naval commanders a princi- 
 pal share in the success at Cadiz, which he accounted all his 
 own. An anonymous narrative of the expedition which he had 
 prepared, was suppressed by means of a general prohibition to 
 the printers of publishing any thing whatsoever relating to that 
 business; and no other resource was left him than the imperfect 
 one of dispersing copies in manuscript. It was suggested to the 
 queen by some about her, that though the treasure-ships had es- 
 caped her, she might at least reimburse herself for the expenses 
 incurred out of the rich spoils taken at Cadiz; and no sooner 
 had this project gained possession of her mind, than she began 
 to quarrel with Essex for his lavish distribution of prize money. 
 She insisted that the commanders should resign to her a large 
 share of their gains ; and she had even the meanness to cause 
 the private soldiers and sailors to be searched before they 
 quitted the ships, that the value of the money or other booty 
 of which they had possessed themselves might be deducted 
 from their pay. Her first feelings of displeasure and disap- 
 pointment over, the rank and reputation of the officers concern- 
 ed, and especially the brilliancy of the actual success, were al- 
 lowed to cover all faults. The influence of her kinsman the 
 lord admiral, over the mind of the queen, was one which daily 
 increased in strength with her advance in age, — according to a 
 common remark respecting family attachments ; and it will ap- 
 pear that he finally triumphed so completely over the accusa- 
 tions of his youthful adversary, as to ground on this very expe- 
 dition his claim of advancement to a higher title. 
 
 It was the darling hope of Essex that he might be authorised 
 to lead without delay, his flourishing and victorious army to the 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 440 
 
 recovery of Calais, now held by a Spanish garrison ; and he 
 look some secret steps with the French ambassador, in order to 
 procure a request to this effect from Henry IV. to Elizabeth. 
 But this king absolutely refused to allow the town to be recap- 
 tured by his ally, on the required condition of her retaining it 
 at the peace as an ancient possession of the English crown ; the 
 Cecil party also opposed the design ; and the disappointed 
 general saw himself compelled to pause in the career of glory. 
 
 It was not in the disposition of Essex to support these morti- 
 fications with the calmness which policy appeared to dictate ; 
 and Francis Bacon, alarmed at the courses which he saw the 
 earl pursuing, and already foreboding his eventual loss of the 
 queen's favour, and the ruin of those, himself included, who 
 had placed their dependence on him, addressed to him a very 
 remarkable letter of caution and remonstrance, not less charac- 
 teristic of his own peculiar mind, than illustrative of the critical 
 situation of him to whom it was written. 
 
 After appealing to the earl himself for the advantage which 
 he had lately received by following his own well-meant advice, 
 in renewing with the queen " a treaty of obsequious kindness,'* 
 which " did much attemper a cold malignant humour then grow- 
 ing upon her majesty towards him," he repeats his counsel that 
 he should " win the queen ;'' adding, " if this be not the begin- 
 ning of any other course, I see no end. And I will not now 
 speak of favour or affection, but of other correspondence and 
 agreeableness, which, when it shall be conjoined with the other 
 of affection, I durst wager my life .... that in you she will come 
 to question of Quid Jiet homini quern rex vult honor are? But 
 how is it now ? A man of a nature not to be ruled ; that hath 
 the advantage of my affection and knoweth it ; of an estate not 
 grounded to his greatness ; of a popular reputation ; of a mili- 
 tary dependence. I demand whether there can be a more dan- 
 ous image than this represented to any monarch living, much 
 more to a lady, and of her majesty's apprehension ? And is it 
 not more evident than demonstration itself, that whilst this im- 
 pression continueth in her majesty's breast, you can find no 
 other condition than inventions to keep your estate bare and low; 
 crossing and disgracing your actions ; extenuating and blasting 
 of your merit; carping with contempt at your nature and fashions; 
 breeding, nourishing and fortifying such instruments as are most 
 factious against you ; repulses and scorns of your friends and 
 dependents that are true and steadfast; winning and inveigling 
 away from you such as are flexible and wavering ; thrusting you 
 into odious employments and offices to supplant your reputation, 
 abusing you and feeding you with dalliances and demonstrations 
 to divert you from descending into the serious consideration of 
 your own case ; yea and percase venturing you in perilous and 
 desperate enterprises ?" 
 
 With his usual exactness of method, he then proceeds to of- 
 fer remedies for the five grounds of offence to her majesty here 
 
 3 li 
 
450 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 pointed out; amongst which the following are the most observe 
 able : That he ought to ascribe any former and irrevocable in- 
 stance of an ungovernable humour in him to dissatisfaction, and 
 not to his natural temper ; — That though he sought to shun, and 
 in some respects rightly, any imitation of Hatton or Leicester, 
 he should yet allege them on occasion to the queen as authors 
 and patterns, because there was no readier means to make her 
 think him in the right course : — That when his lordship hap- 
 pened in speeches to do her majesty right, " for there is no such 
 matter as flattery amongst you all," he had rather the air of pay- 
 ing fine compliments than of speaking what he really thought ; 
 " so that," adds he, " a man may read your formality in your 
 countenance," whereas it ought to be done familiarly and with 
 an air of earnest. " That he should never be without some par- 
 ticulars on foot which he should seem to pursue with earnest- 
 ness and affection, and then let them fall upon taking knowledge 
 of her majesty's opposition and dislike Of which kind the 
 weighti est might be, if he offered to labour, in the behalf of some 
 whom he favoured, for some of the places then void, choosing 
 such a subject as he thought her majesty likely to oppose . . . . 
 A less weighty sort of particulars might be the pretence of some 
 journeys, which at her majesty's request his lordship might re- 
 linquish ; as if he should pretend a journey to see his estate 
 towards Wales, or the like. . . . And the lightest sort of par- 
 ticulars, which yet were not to be neglected, were in his habits, 
 apparel, wearings, gestures, and the like." 
 
 With respect to a " military dependence," which the writer 
 regards as the most injurious impression respecting him of all, 
 he declares that he could not enough wonder that his lordship 
 should say the wars were his occupation, and go on in that course. 
 He greatly rejoiced indeed, now it was over, in his expedition to 
 Cadiz, on account of the large share of honour which he had 
 acquired, and which would place him for many years beyond the 
 reach of military competition. Besides that the disposal of 
 places and other matters relating to the wars, would of them- 
 selves flow in to him as he increased in other greatness, and 
 preserve to him that dependence entire. It was indeed a thing 
 which, considering the times and the necessity of the service, he 
 ought above all to retain ; but while he kept it in substance, he 
 should abolish it in shows to the queen, who loved peace, and did 
 not love cost. And on this account he could not so well approve 
 of his affecting the place of earl marcshal or master of the ord- 
 nance, on account of their affinity to a military greatness, and 
 rather recommended to his seeking the peaceful, profitable and 
 courtly office of lord privy seal. In the same manner, with re- 
 spect to the reputation of popularity, which was a good thing in 
 itself, and one of the best flowers of his greatness both present 
 and future, the only way was to quench it verbis, non rebus ; to 
 take all occasions to declaim against popularity and popular 
 courses to the queen, and to tax them in all others, yet for him- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 451 
 
 self, to go on as before in all his honourable commonwealth 
 courses. " And therefore," says he, " 1 will not advise to cure 
 this by dealing in monopolies or any oppressions." 
 
 The last and most curious article of all, respects his quality 
 of a favourite. As, separated from all the other matters, it could 
 not hurt, so, joined with them, he observes that it made her ma- 
 jesty more fearful and captious, as not knowing her own strength. 
 Fortius, the only remedy was to give place to any other favour- 
 ite to whom he should find her majesty incline, " so as the sub- 
 ject had no ill or dangerous aspect" towards himself. " For 
 otherwise," adds this politic adviser, " whoever shall tell me 
 that you may not have singular use of a favourite at your devo- 
 tion, I will say he understandeth not the queen's affection, nor 
 your lordship's condition." 
 
 These crafty counsels, which steadily pursued would have 
 laid the army, the court, and the people, and in effect the queen 
 herself, at the feet of a private nobleman, seem to have made 
 considerable impression for the time on the mind of Essex; 
 though the impetuosity of his temper, joined to a spirit of sin- 
 cerity, honour and generosity, which not even the pursuits of 
 ambition and the occupations of a courtier could entirely quench, 
 soon caused him to break loose from their intolerable restraint. 
 
 Francis Bacon, in furtherance of the plan which he had sug- 
 gested to his patron of appearing to sink all other characters in 
 that of a devoted servant of her majesty, likewise condescended 
 to employ his genius upon a device which was exhibited by the earl 
 on the ensuing anniversary of her accession, with great applause. 
 
 First, his page, entering the tilt-yard, accosted her majesty in 
 a fit speech, and she in return graciously pulled off her glove 
 and gave it to him. Some time after appeared the earl himself, 
 who was met by an ancient hermit, a secretary of state, and a 
 soldier ; each of whom presented him with a book recommending 
 his own course of life, and, after a little pageantry and dumb 
 show to relieve the solemnity of the main design, pronounced a 
 long and well-penned speech to the same effect. All were an- 
 swered by an esquire, or follower of the earl, who pointed out the 
 evils attached to each pursuit, and concluded, says our reporter, 
 " with an excellent but too plain English, that this knight would 
 never forsake his mistress' love, whose virtue made all his 
 thoughts divine, whose wisdom taught him all true policy, whose 
 beauty and worth made him at all times fit to command armies. 
 He showed all the defects and imperfections of their times, and 
 therefore thought his own course of life to be best in serving his 
 mistress. . . . The queen said that if she had thought there had 
 been so much said of her, she would not have been there that 
 night ; and so went to bed." These speeches may still be read, 
 with mingled admiration and regret, amongst the immortal works 
 of Francis Bacon. In majesty of diction and splendour of allu- 
 sion they are excelled by none of his more celebrated pieces ; 
 and with such a weight of meaning are they fraught, that they 
 who are ignorant of the serious purpose which he had in view 
 
452 
 
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 might wonder at the prodigality of the author in employing 
 massy gold and real gems on an occasion which deserved nothing 
 better than tinsel and false brilliants. That full justice might 
 be done to the eloquence of the composition, the favourite part 
 of the esquire was supported by Toby Matthew, whose father was 
 afterwards archbishop of York ; a man of a singular and wayward 
 disposition, whose prospects in life were totally destroyed by his 
 subsequent conversion to popery ; but whose talents and learn- 
 ing were held in such esteem by Bacon, that he eagerly engaged 
 his pen in the task of translating into Latin some of the most 
 important of his own philosophical works. Such were the " wits, 
 besides his own," of which the munificent patronage of Essex 
 had given him " the command !" 
 
 A few miscellaneous occurrences of the years 1595 and 1596 
 remain to be noticed. 
 
 The size of London, notwithstanding many proclamations and 
 acts of parliament prohibiting the erection of any new buildings 
 except on the site of old ones, had greatly increased during the 
 reign of Elizabeth ; and one of the first effects of its rapid growth 
 was to render its streets less orderly and peaceful. The small 
 houses newly erected in the suburbs being crowded with poor, 
 assembled from all quarters, thefts became frequent ; and a bad 
 harvest having plunged the lower classes into deeper distress, 
 tumults and outrages ensued. In June 1595, great disorders were 
 committed on Tower-hill ; and the multitude having insulted 
 the lord mayor who went out to quell them, Elizabeth took the 
 violent and arbitrary step of causing martial law to be proclaim- 
 ed in her capital. Sir Thomas Wilford, appointed provost-mar- 
 shal for the occasion, paraded the streets daily with a body of 
 armed men ready to hang all rioters in the most summary man- 
 ner ; and five of these offenders suffered for high treason on 
 Tower-hill, without resistance on the part of the people, or re- 
 monstrance on that of the parliament, against so flagrant a vio- 
 lation of the dearest rights of Englishmen. 
 
 Lord Hunsdon, the nearest kinsman of the queen, whose cha- 
 racter has been already touched upon, died in 1596. It is re- 
 lated that Elizabeth, on hearing of his illness, finally resolved 
 to confer upon him the title of earl of Wiltshire, to which he 
 had some claim as nephew and heir male to sir Thomas Boleyn, 
 her majesty's grandfather, who had borne that dignity. She ac- 
 cordingly made him a gracious visit, and caused the patent and 
 the robes of an earl to be brought and laid upon his bed ; but 
 the old man, preserving to the last the blunt honesty of his cha- 
 racter, declared, that if her majesty had accounted him unwor- 
 thy of that honour while living, he accounted himself unworthy 
 of it now that he was dying; and with this refusal he expired. 
 Lord Willoughby succeeded him in the office of governor of 
 Berwick, and lord Cobham, a wealthy, but insignificant person of 
 the party opposed to Essex, in that of lord chamberlain. 
 
 Henry third earl of Huntingdon, of the family of Hastings, 
 died about the same time. By his mother, eldest daughter and 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 453 
 
 coheiress of Henry Pole lord Montacute, he was the representa- 
 tive of the Clarence branch of the family of Plantagenet ; but no 
 pretensions of his had ever awakened anxiety in the house of 
 Tudor. He was a person of mild disposition, greatly attached 
 to the puritan party, which, bound together by a secret compact, 
 now formed a church within the church; he is said to have im- 
 paired his fortune by his bounty to the more zealous preachers; 
 and he largely contributed by his will to the endowment of 
 Emanuel college, the puritanical character of which was now 
 well known. 
 
 Richard Fletcher bishop of Loudon, " a comely and courtly 
 prelate," who departed this life in the same year, affords a sub- 
 ject for a few remarks. It was a practice of the more powerful 
 courtiers of that day, when the lands of a vacant see had excited, 
 as they seldom failed to do, their cupidity, to "find out some 
 men that had great minds and small means or merits, that would 
 be glad to leave a small deanery to make a poor bishopric, by 
 new leasing lands that were almost out of lease ;"* and on these 
 terms, which the more conscientious churchmen disdained, 
 Fletcher had taken the bishopric of Oxford, and had in due time 
 been rewarded for his compliance by translation first to Wor- 
 cester and afterwards to London. His talents and deportment 
 pleased the queen ; and it is mentioned, as an indication of her 
 special favour, that she once quarrelled with him for wearing 
 too short a beard. But he afterwards gave her more serious dis- 
 pleasure by taking a wife ; a gay and fair court lady of good 
 quality; and he had scarcely pacified her majesty by the pro- 
 pitiatory offering of a great entertainment at his house in Chel- 
 sea, when he was carried off by a sudden death ; ascribed by 
 his contemporaries to his immoderate use of the new luxury of 
 smoking tobacco. This prelate was the father of Fletcher the 
 dramatic poet. 
 
 Bishop Vaughan succeeded him ; of whom Harrington gives 
 the following trait : " He was an enemy to all supposed mira- 
 cles, insomuch as one arguing with him in the closet at Green- 
 wich in defence of them, and alleging the queen's healing of 
 the evil for an instance, asking him what he could say against 
 it ; he answered, that he was loth to answer arguments taken 
 from the topic-place of the cloth of estate ; but if they would 
 urge him to answer, he said his opinion was, she did it by virtue 
 of some precious stone in possession of the crown of England 
 that had such a natural quality. But had queen Elizabeth been 
 told that he ascribed more virtue to her jewels (though she loved 
 them well) than to her person, she would never have made him 
 bishop of Chester." 
 
 Of the justice of the last remark there can be little question. 
 In this reign, the royal pretension referred to, was asserted 
 with unusual earnestness, and for good reasons, as we learn from 
 a different authority. In 1597 a quarto book appeared, written 
 
 * Harrington's Brief View. 
 
454 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 in Latin and dedicated to her majesty by one of her chaplains, 
 which contained a relation of the cures thus performed by her ; 
 in which it is related, that a catholic having been so healed went 
 away persuaded that the pope's excommunication of her majesty 
 was of no effect : " For if she had not by right obtained the 
 sceptre of the kingdom, and her throne established by the autho- 
 rity and appointment of God, what she attempted could not have 
 succeeded, Because the rule is, that God is not any where wit- 
 ness to a lie."* Such were the reasonings of that age. 
 
 It is probably to bishop Vaughan also that sir John Harrington 
 refers in the following article of his Brief Notes. 
 
 One Sunday (April last) my lord of London preached to the 
 queen's majesty, and seemed to touch on the vanity of decking 
 the body too finely. Her majesty told the ladies, that if the 
 bishop held more discourse on such matters, she would fit him 
 for heaven, but he should walk thither without a staff, and leave 
 his mantle behind him. Perchance the bishop hath never sought 
 ber highness' wardrobe, or he would have chosen another text."t 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 FROM 1597 AND 1598. 
 
 Fresh expedition against Spain proposed. — Extractsfrom Whyte's 
 letters. — Raleigh reconciles Essex and R. Cecil. — Essex master 
 of the ordnance. — Anecdote of the queen and Mrs. Bridges. — 
 Preparations for the expedition. — Notice of lord Southampton. 
 — /// success of the voyage. — Quarrel of Essex and Raleigh. — 
 Displeasure of the queen. — Lord admiral made earl of Notting- 
 ham. — Anger of Essex. — He is declared hereditary earl mar- 
 shal. — Reply of the queen to a Polish ambassador — to a propo- 
 sition of the king of Denmark. — State of Ireland. — Treaty of 
 Vervins. — Agreement between Cecil and Essex. — Anecdotes of 
 Essex and the queen. — Their quarrel. — Letter of Essex to the 
 lord keeper. — Dispute betweeen Burleigh and Essex. — Agree- 
 ment ivith the Dutch. — Death and character of Burleigh. — 
 Transactions between the queen and the king of Scots, and an 
 extract from their correspondence. — Anecdote of sir Roger 
 Aston and the queen. — Anecdote of archbishop Hutton. — Death 
 of Spenser. — HalPs satires. — Notice of sir John Harrington. 
 — Extracts from his note-book. 
 
 A fresh expedition against the Spaniards was in agitation 
 from the beginning of this year, which occasioned many move- 
 
 * Strype's Annals. 
 
 f Nugse Antiquse. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 455 
 
 ments at court, and, as usual, disturbed the mind of the queen 
 with various perplexities. Her captious favour towards Essex, 
 and the arts employed by him to gain his will on every contest- 
 ed point, are well illustrated in the letters of Rowland Whyte, 
 to winch we must again recur. 
 
 On February twenty-second he writes : " My lord of Essex kept 
 his bed the most part of all yesterday ; yet did one of his chamber 
 tell me, he could not weep for it, for he knew his lord was not 
 sick. There is not a day passes that the queen sends not often 
 to see him, and himself every day goeth privately to her." Two 
 days after, he reports that. " my lord of Essex comes out of his 
 chamber in his gown and night cap. . . . Full fourteen days his 
 lordship kept in ; her majesty, as I heard, resolved to break him 
 of his will and to pull down his great heart who found it a thing 
 impossible, and says he holds it from the mother's side ; but all 
 is well again, and no doubt he will grow a mighty man in our 
 state." 
 
 The earl of Cumberland made " some doubt of his going to 
 sea," because lord Thomas Howard and Raleigh were to be 
 joined with him in equal authority ; the queen mentioned the 
 subject to him, and on his repeating to herself his refusal, he 
 was "well chidden." 
 
 In March, Raleigh was busied in mediating a reconciliation 
 between Essex and Robert Cecil, in which he was so far suc- 
 cessful that a kind of compromise took place ; and henceforth 
 court favours were shared without any open quarrels between 
 their respective adherents. The motives urged by Raleigh for 
 this agreement were, that it would benefit the country ; that the 
 queen's "continual unquietness" would turn to contentment, 
 and that public business would go on to the hurt of the common 
 enemy. 
 
 Essex however was malcontent at heart ; he began to frequent 
 certain meetings held in Blackfriars at the house of lady 
 Russel, a busy puritan, who was one of the learned daughters of 
 sir Anthony Cook. " Wearied," says Whyte, " with not know- 
 ing how to please, he is not unwilling to listen to those motions 
 made him for the public good." He was soon after so much of- 
 fended with her majesty for giving the office of warden of the 
 cinque ports to his enemy lord Cobham, after he had asked it for 
 himself, that he was about to quit the court; but the queen sent 
 for him, and, to pacify him, made him master of the ordnance. 
 
 It is mentioned about this time, that the queen had of late 
 "used the fair Mrs. Bridges with words and blows of anger." 
 This young lady was one of the maids of honour, and the same 
 referred to in a subsequent letter, where it is said, "it is spied 
 out by envy that the earl of Essex is again fallen in love with his 
 fairest B." On which Whyte observes, " It cannot choose but 
 come to the queen's ears ; and then is he undone, and all that 
 depend upon his favour." A striking indication of the nature 
 of the sentiment which the aged sovereign cherished for her 
 youthful favourite ! 
 
456 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 Tn May our intelligencer writes thus : " Here hath been much 
 ado between the queen and the lords about the preparation to 
 sea ; some of them urging the necessity of setting it forward for 
 her safety ; but she opposing it by no danger appearing towards 
 her any where ; and that she will not make wars but arm for 
 defence; understanding how much of her treasure was already 
 spent in victual, both for ships and soldiers at land. She was 
 extremely angry with them that made such haste in it, and 
 at Burleigh for suffering it, seeing no greater occasion. No 
 reason nor persuasion by some of the lords could prevail, but 
 that her majesty hath commanded order to be given to stay all 
 proceeding, and sent my lord Thomas (Howard) word that he 
 should not go to sea. How her majesty may be wrought to 
 fulfil the most earnest desire of some to have it go forward, 
 time must make it known." 
 
 But the reconciliation, whether sincere or otherwise, brought 
 about by Raleigh between Essex and the Cecils, rendered at 
 this time the war-party so strong, that the scruples of the queen 
 were at length overruled, and a formidable armament was sent 
 to sea, with the double object of destroying the Spanish ships in 
 their harbours and intercepting their homeward bound West 
 India fleet. Essex was commander in chief by sea and land ; 
 lord Thomas Howard and Raleigh vice and rear admirals ; lord 
 Mountjoy was lieutenant general; sir Francis Vere, marshal. 
 Several young noblemen attached to Essex joined the expedition 
 as volunteers ; as lord Rich his brother-in-law, the earl of Rut- 
 land, afterwards married to the daughter of the countess of 
 Essex by sir Philip Sidney ; lord Cromwell ; and the earl of 
 Southampton. The last, whose friendship for Essex afterwards 
 hurried him into an enterprise still more perilous, appears to 
 have been attracted to him by an extraordinary conformity of 
 tastes and temper. Like Essex, he was brave and generous, but im- 
 petuous and somewhat inclined to arrogance : — like him, a muni- 
 ficent patron of the genius which he loved. Like his friend again, 
 he received from her majesty tokens of peculiar favour, which 
 she occasionally suspended on his giving indications of an ungo- 
 vernable temper or too lofty spirit, and which she finally 
 withdrew, on his presuming to marry without that consent 
 which to certain persons she could never have been induced to ac- 
 cord. This earl of Southampton was grandson of that ambitious 
 and assuming but able and diligent statesman, lord chancellor 
 Wriothesley, appointed by Henry VIII. one of his executors ; he 
 was father of the virtuous Southampton lord treasurer, and by 
 him, grandfather of the heroical and ever-memorable Rachel 
 lady Russel., 
 
 A storm drove the ill-fated armament back to Plymouth, 
 where it remained wind-bound for a month, and Essex and Ra- 
 leigh posted together up to court for fresh instructions. Having 
 concerted their measures, they made sail for the Azores, and Ra- 
 leigh with his division arriving first, attacked and captured the 
 isle of Fayal without waiting for his admiral. Essex was in- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 457 
 
 censed ; and there were not wanting those about him who ap- 
 plied themselves to fan the flame, and even urged him to bring 
 sir Walter to a court-martial : but he refused ; and his anger 
 soon evaporating, lord Thomas Howard was enabled to accommo- 
 date the difference, and the rivals returned to the appearance of 
 friendship. Essex was destitute of the naval skill requisite for 
 the prosperous conduct of such an enterprise : owing partly to 
 his mistakes, and partly to several thwarting circumstances, the 
 West India fleet escaped him, and three rich Havannah ships, 
 which served to defray most of the expenses, were the only 
 trophies of his " Island Voyage," from which himself and the 
 nation had anticipated results so glorious. 
 
 The queen received him with manifest dissatisfaction ; his se- 
 verity towards Raleigh was blamed, and it was evident that 
 matters tended to involve him in fresh differences with Robert 
 Cecil. During his absence, the lord admiral had been advanced 
 to the dignity of earl of Nottingham, and he now discovered that 
 by a clause in the patent this honour was declared to be con- 
 ferred upon him in consideration of his good service at the taking 
 of Cadiz, an action of which Essex claimed to himself the whole 
 merit. To make the injury greater, this title, conjoined to the 
 office of lord high admiral, gave the new earl precedency of all 
 others of the same rank, Essex amongst the rest. To such com- 
 plicated mortifications his proud spirit disdained to submit; 
 and after challenging without effect to single combat the lord 
 admiral himself or any of his sons who would take up the quar- 
 rel, the indignant favourite retired a sullen malcontent to Wan- 
 stead-house, feigning himself sick. This expedient acted on the 
 heart of the queen with all its wonted force ; — she showed the 
 utmost concern for his situation, chid the Cecils for wronging 
 him, and soon after made him compensation for the act which 
 had wounded him, by admitting his claim to the hereditary office 
 of earl marshal, with which he was solemnly invested in Decem- 
 ber 1597; and in right of it once more took place above the lord 
 admiral. 
 
 It was during this summer that the arrogant deportment of a 
 Polish ambassador, sent to complain of an invasion of neutral 
 rights in the interruption given by the English navy to the trade 
 of his master's subjects with Spain, gave occasion to a celebrated 
 display of the spirit and the erudition of the queen of England. 
 Speed, the ablest of our chroniclers, gives at length her extem- 
 poral Latin reply to his harangue ; adding in his quaint but ex- 
 pressive phrase, that she, "thus lion like rising, daunted the 
 malapert orator no less with her stately port and majestical de- 
 porture, than with the tartness of her princely checks : and 
 turning to the train of her attendants thus said, ' God's death, 
 my lords,' (for tjiat was her oath ever in anger,)* I have been 
 inforced this day to scour up my old Latin, that hath lain long 
 in rusting.' " The same author mentions, that the king of Den- 
 mark having by his ambassador offered to mediate between 
 England and Spain, the queen declined the overture, adding, " I 
 
 3 M 
 
458 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 would have the king of Denmark and all princes Christian and 
 Heathen to know, that England hath no need to crave peace ; 
 nor myself indured one hour's fear since I attained the crown 
 thereof, being guarded with so valiant and faithful subjects." 
 Such was the lofty tone which Elizabeth, to the end of her days, 
 maintained towards foreign powers ; none of whom had she 
 cause to dread or motive to court. Yet her cheerfulness and 
 fortitude were at the same time on the point of sinking under 
 the harassing disquietudes of a petty war supported against her 
 by an Irish chief of rebels. 
 
 The head of the sept O'Neal, whom she had in vain endea- 
 voured to attach permanently to her interests by conferring upon 
 him the dignity of earl of Tyrone, had now for some years per- 
 severed in a resistance to her authority, which the most stre- 
 nuous efforts of the civil and military governors of this turbu- 
 lent and miserable island had proved inadequate to overcome. 
 That brave officer sir John Norris, then general of Ulster, had 
 found it necessary to grant terms to the rebel whom he would 
 gladly have brought in bonds to the feet of his sovereign. But 
 the treaty thus made, this perfidious barbarian, according to his 
 custom, observed only till the English forces were withdrawn, 
 and he saw the occasion favourable to rise again in arms. Lord 
 Borough, whom the queen had appointed deputy in 1598,— -on 
 which sir John Norris, appointed to act under him, died, as it is 
 thought, of chagrin, — began his career with a vigorous attack, 
 by which he carried, though not without considerable loss, the 
 fort of Blackwater, the only place of strength possessed by the 
 rebels ; but before he was able to pursue farther his success, 
 death overtook him, and the government was committed for a 
 time to the earl of Ormond. Tyrone, nothing daunted, laid siege 
 in his turn to Blackwater ; and sir Henry Bagnal, with the flower 
 of the English army, being sent to relieve it, sustained the most 
 signal defeat ever experienced by an English force in Ireland. 
 The commander himself, several captains of distinction, and fif- 
 teen hundred men, were left on the field ; and the fort imme- 
 diately surrendered to the rebel chief, who now vauntingly de- 
 clared, that he would accept of no terms from the queen of 
 England, being resolved to remain in arms, till the king of Spain 
 should send forces to his assistance. 
 
 Such was the alarming position of affairs in this island, at the 
 conclusion of the year 1598. At home, several incidents had 
 intervened to claim attention. 
 
 The king of France had received from Spain proposals for a 
 peace, which the exhausted state of his country would not per- 
 mit him to neglect: and he had used his utmost endeavours to 
 persuade his allies, the queen of England and the United Pro- 
 vinces, to enter into the negotiations for a general pacification. 
 But Philip II. still refused to acknowledge -the independence of 
 his revolted subjects, the only basis on which the new republic, 
 would condescend to treat. Elizabeth, besides that she dis- 
 dained to desert those whom she had so long and so zealously 
 
t 
 
 QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 459 
 
 supported, was in no haste to terminate a war from which she 
 and her subjects anticipated honour with little peril, and plunder 
 which would more than repay its expenses ; and both from Eng- 
 land and Holland agents were sent to remonstrate with Henry 
 against the breach of treaty which he was about to commit by 
 the conclusion of a separate peace. Elizabeth wrote to admon- 
 ish him that the true sin against the Holy Ghost was ingratitude, 
 of which she had so much right to accuse him; that fidelity to 
 engagements was the first of duties and of virtues : and that 
 union, according to the ancient apologue of the bundle of rods, 
 was the source of strength. But to all her eloquence and all 
 her invectives Henry had to oppose the necessity of his affairs, 
 and the treaty of Vervins was concluded ; but not without some 
 previous stipulations on the part of the French king which sof- 
 tened considerably the resentment of his ally. Of the com- 
 missioners named by Elizabeth to arrange this business with 
 Henry, Robert Cecil was the chief; who held before his depar- 
 ture many private conferences with Essex, and would not move 
 from court till he had bound him by favours and promises to do 
 him no injury by promoting his enemies in his absence. The 
 earl of Southampton having given some offence to her majesty for 
 which she had ordered him to absent himself awhile from court, 
 took the opportunity to obtain license to travel, and attended 
 the secretary to France, perhaps in the character of a spy upon 
 his motions on behalf of Essex, who seems to have prepared him 
 for the service by much private instruction. 
 
 " I acquainted you,'"' says Rowland Whyte to his correspon- 
 dent, " with the care had to bring my lady of Leicester to the 
 queen's presence. It was often granted, and she brought to the 
 privy galleries, but the queen found some occasion not to come. 
 Upon Shrove Monday the queen was persuaded to go to Mr. 
 Comptroller's at the tilt end, and there was my lady of Leices- 
 ter with a fair jewel of three hundred pounds. A great dinner 
 was prepared by my lady Chandos ; the queen's coach ready, 
 and all the world expecting her majesty's coming ; when, upon 
 a sudden, she resolved not to go, and so sent word. My lord 
 of Essex, that had kept his chamber all the day before, in his 
 night-gown went up to the queen the privy way ; but all would 
 not prevail, and as yet my lady Leicester hath not seen the 
 queen. It had been better not moved, for my lord of Essex, by 
 importuning the queen in these unpleasing matters, loses the op- 
 portunity he might take to do good unto his ancient friends," 
 But on March 2d he adds ; " My lady Leicester was at court, 
 kissed the queen's hand and her breast, and did embrace her, 
 and the queen kissed her. My lord of Essex is in exceeding 
 favour here. Lady Leicester departed from court exceedingly 
 contented, but being desirous again to come to kiss the queen's 
 hand, it was denied, and, as I heard, some wonted unkind words 
 given out against her." 
 
 This extraordinary height of royal favour was not merely the 
 precursor, but, by the arrogant presumption with which it in- 
 
460 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 spired him, a principal cause of Essex's decline, which was now 
 fast approaching. Confident in the affections of Elizabeth, he 
 suffered himself to forget that she was still his queen and still 
 a Tudor ; he often neglected the attentions which would have 
 gratified her ; on any occasional cause of ill-humour he would 
 drop slighting expressions respecting her age and person which, 
 if they reached her ear, could never be forgiven ; on one memo- 
 rable instance, he treated her with indignity openly and in her 
 presence. A dispute had arisen between them in presence of 
 the admiral, the secretary, and the clerk of the signet, respect- 
 ing the choice of a commander for Ireland ; the queen resolving 
 to send sir William Knolles, the uncle of Essex, while he vehe- 
 mently supported sir George Carew, because this person, who 
 was haughty and boastful, had given him some offence, and he 
 wanted to remove him out of his way. Unable either by argu- 
 ment or persuasion to prevail over the resolute will of her ma- 
 jesty, the favourite at last forgot himself so far as to turn his 
 back upon her with a laugh of contempt; an outrage which she 
 revenged after her own manner, by boxing his ears and bidding 
 him " Go and be hanged." This retort so inflamed the blood of 
 Essex that he clapped his hand on his sword, and while the lord 
 admiral hastened to throw himself between them, he swore that 
 not from Henry VIII. himself would he have endured such 
 an indignity, and foaming with rage he rushed out of the palace. 
 His sincere friend the lord keeper immediately addressed to him 
 a prudential letter, urging him to lose no time in seeking with 
 humble submissions the forgiveness of his offended mistress : 
 but Essex replied to these well intended admonitions by a letter 
 which, amid all the choler that it betrays, must still be applauded 
 both for its eloquence and for a manliness of sentiment of which 
 few other public characters of the age appear to have been ca- 
 pable. The lord keeper in his letter had strongly urged the re- 
 ligious duty of absolute submission on the part of a subject to 
 every thing that his sovereign, justly or unjustly, should be 
 pleased to lay upon him ; to which the earl thus replies : " But, 
 say you, I must yield and submit. I can neither yield myself 
 to be guilty, or this imputation laid upon me to be just. I owe 
 so much to the author of all truth, as I can never yield falsehood 
 to be truth, or truth to be falsehood. Have I given cause, ask 
 you, and take scandal when I have done r No ; I gave no cause 
 to take so much as Fimbria's complaint against me, for I did 
 totum telmn corpore recipere. I patiently bear all, and sensibly 
 feel all, that 1 then received, when this scandal was given me. 
 Nay more, when the vilest of all indignities are done unto me, 
 doth religion enforce me to sue ? or doth God require it ? is it 
 impiety not to do it? What, cannot princes err ? cannot sub- 
 jects receive wrong? Is an earthly power or authority infinite r 
 Pardon me, pardon me, my good lord, I can never subscribe to 
 these principles. Let Solomon's fool laugh when he is stricken ? 
 let those that mean to make their profit of princes, show to have 
 no sense of princes' injuries ; let them acknowledge an infinite 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 461 
 
 absoluteness on earth, that do not believe in an absolute infinite- 
 ness in heaven. As for me, I have received wrong, and feel it. 
 My cause is good; I know it; and whatsoever come, all the 
 powers on earth can never show more strength and constancy 
 in oppressing, than I can show in suffering whatsoever can or 
 shall be imposed upon me," &c. 
 
 Several other friends of Essex, his mother, his sister, and the 
 earl of Northumberland her husband, urged him in like manner 
 to return to his attendance at court and seek her majesty's for- 
 giveness ; while she, on her part, secretly uneasy at his absence, 
 permitted certain persons to go to him, as from themselves, and 
 suggest terms of accommodation. Sir George Carew was made 
 lord president of Munster; and sir William Knolles, who per- 
 haps had not desired the appointment, assured his nephew of his 
 earnest wish to serve him. Finally, this great quarrel was made 
 up, we scarcely know how, and Essex appeared as powerful at 
 court as ever; though some have believed, and with apparent 
 reason, that from this time the sentiments of the queen for her 
 once cherished favourite, partook more of fear than of love ; and 
 that confidence was never re-established between them. 
 
 This celebrated dispute appears to have been in some manner 
 mingled or connected with the important question of peace or 
 war with Spain, which had previously been debated with ex- 
 treme earnestness between Essex and Burleigh. The former, 
 who still thirsted for military distinction, contended with the 
 utmost vehemence of invective for the maintenance of perpetual 
 hostility against the power of Philip ; while the latter urged, 
 that he was now sufficiently humbled to render an accommoda- 
 tion both safe and honourable. Wearied and disgusted at length 
 with the violence of his young antagonist, the hoary minister, in 
 whom 
 
 " Old experience did attain 
 
 To something like prophetic strain," 
 
 drew forth a Prayer-book, and with awful significance pointed 
 to the text, " Men of blood shall not live out half their days." 
 But the clamour for war prevailed over the pleadings of huma- 
 nity and prudence, and it was left for the unworthy succes- 
 sor of Elizabeth to patch up in haste an inconsiderate and igno 
 ble peace, in place of the solid and advantageous one which the 
 wisdom of Elizabeth and her better counsellor might at this time 
 with ease have concluded. 
 
 The lord treasurer enjoyed however the satisfaction of com- 
 pleting for his mistress an agreement with the states of Holland, 
 which provided in a satisfactory manner for the re-payment of 
 the sums which she had advanced to them, and exonerated her 
 from a considerable portion of the annual expense which she had 
 hitherto incurred in their defence. This was the last act of lord 
 Burleigh's life, which terminated by a long and gradual decay 
 on August 4th 1598, in the 78th year of his age, 
 
 I • 
 
462 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 On the character of this great minister, identified as it is with 
 that of the government of Elizabeth during a period of no less 
 than forty years, a few additional remarks may here suffice. — 
 Good sense was the leading feature of his intellect ; moderation 
 of his temper. His nalive quickness of apprehension was sup- 
 ported by a wonderful force and steadiness of application, and 
 by an exemplary spirit of order. His morals were regular ; his 
 sense of religion habitual, profound, and operative. In his de- 
 clining age, harassed by diseases and cares, and saddened by the 
 loss of a beloved wife, the worthy sharer of his inmost counsels, 
 he became peevish and irascible ; but his heart was good ; in all 
 the domestic relations he was indulgent and affectionate ; in his 
 friendships tender and faithful, nor could he be accused of pride, 
 of treachery, or of vindictiveness. Rising, as he did, by the 
 strength of his own merits, unaided by birth or connexions, he 
 seemed to have early formed the resolution, more prudent indeed 
 than generous, of attaching himself to no political leader so 
 closely as to be entangled in his fall. Thus he deserted his 
 earliest patron, Protector Somerset, on a change of fortune, and 
 is even said to have drawn the articles of impeachment against 
 him. 
 
 He extricated himself with adroitness from the ruin of Nor- 
 thumberland, by whom he had been much employed and trust- 
 ed ; and at some expense of protestant consistency contrived to 
 escape persecution, though not to hold office, under the rule of 
 Mary. Towards the queen his mistress, his demeanour was 
 obsequious to the brink of servility ; he seems on no occasron to 
 have hesitated on the execution of any of her commands ; and 
 the kind of tacit compromise by which he and Leicester, in 
 spite of their mutual animosity, were enabled for so long a 
 course of years to hold divided empire in the cabinet, could not 
 hav e been maintained without a general acquiescence on the 
 part of Burleigh in the various malversations and oppressions of 
 that guilty minion. 
 
 Another accusation brought against him is, that of taking 
 money for ecclesiastical preferments. Of the truth of this 
 charge, sufficient evidence might be brought from original docu- 
 ments; but an apologist would urge with justice that his royal 
 mistress, who virtually delegated to him the most laborious du- 
 ties of the office of head of the church, both expected and desir- 
 ed that emolument should thence accrue to him and to the per- 
 sons under him. Thus we find it stated that bishop Fletcher had 
 " bestowed in allowances and gratifications to divers attendants 
 about her majesty, since his preferment to the see of London, 
 the sum of thirty one hundred pounds or there abouts ; which 
 money was given by him, for the most part of it, by her majes- 
 ty's direction and special appointment."* 
 
 The ministers of a sovereign, who scrupled not to accept of 
 bribes from parties engaged in law-suits for the exertion of her 
 
 * Bitch's Memoirs. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 463 
 
 own interest with her judges, could scarcely be expected to ex- 
 hibil much delicacy on this head. In fact, the venality of the 
 court of Elizabeth was so gross, that no public character appears 
 even to have professed a disdain of the influence of gifts and 
 bribes; and we find lord Burleigh inserting the following among 
 roll's moral and prudential drawn up for the use of his son 
 Robert when young: " Be sure to keep some great man thy 
 friend. Hut trouble him not for trifles. Compliment him often. 
 Present him with many yet small gifts, and of little charge. 
 And if thou have cause to bestow any great gratuity, let it be 
 some such thing as may be daily in his sight. Otherwise, in 
 this ambitious age, thou shalt remain as a hop without a pole ; 
 live in obscurity, and be made a football for every insulting 
 companion."* 
 
 In his oflice of lord treasurer, this minister is allowed to have 
 behaved with perfect integrity, and to have permitted no oppres- 
 sion on the subject; wisely and honourably maintaining that 
 nothing could be for the advantage of a sovereign which in any 
 way injured his reputation. His conduct in this high post, added 
 to a general opinion of his prudence and virtue, caused his 
 death to be sincerely deplored, and his memory to be constantly 
 held in higher esteem by the people than that of any former 
 minister of any English prince. 
 
 Elizabeth was deeply sensible that to her the loss of such a 
 servant, counsellor, and friend was indeed irreparable. Con- 
 trary to her custom, she wept much; and retired for a time from 
 all company ; and it is said that to the end of her life she could 
 never hear or pronounce his name without tears. Although she 
 was not sufficiently mistress of herself in those fits of rage to 
 which she was occasionally liable, to refrain from treating him 
 with a harshness and contempt which sometimes moved the old 
 man even to weeping, her behaviour towards him satisfactorily 
 evinced on the whole her deep sense of his fidelity and various 
 merits as a minister, and her affection for him as a man. He 
 
 * In connexion with this subject the following letter appears worthy of notice. 
 
 Mutton , Archbishop of York, to the lord treasurer: — 
 I am bold at ibis time to inform your lordship, what ill success I had in a suit for 
 a pardon for Miles Dawson, seminary priest, whom I converted wholly the last 
 summer from popery. Upon hiscoming to church, receiving the holy communion 
 and taking the oath of supremacy, I and the council here, about Michaelmas last, 
 joined in petition to her majesty for her gracious pardon, and commended the mat- 
 ter to one of the master s of requests, and writ also to Mr. Secretary to further it if 
 need were, which he willingly promised to do. In Michaelmas term nothing was 
 done. And therefore in Hilary term, I being put in mind that all was not done in 
 that court for God's sake only, sent up twenty French crowns of mine own purse, 
 as a small remembrance for a poor man's pardon, which was thankfully accepted of. 
 
 Some say that Mr. TopclifFe did hinder his pardon ; who protesteth that he 
 knoweth no cause to stay it. There is some fault somewhere. I know it is not 
 in her majesty. Of whom I will say, as the prophet David speaketh of God, M Hath 
 queen Elizabeth forgotten to be gracious ? And is her mercy come to an end for 
 evermore?" Absit. The whole world knoweth the contrary. Your lordsbip may 
 do very well in mine opinion to move Mr. Secretary Cecil to deal often in these 
 works of mercy. It will make him beloved of God and man. 
 (Dated York, May 1597.) 
 
464 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 was perhaps the only person of humble birth whom she conde- 
 scended to honour with the garter: she constantly made him sit 
 in her presence, on account of his being troubled with the gout, 
 and would pleasantly tell him, " My lord, we make much of 
 you, not for your bad legs, but your good head."* In his occa- 
 sional fits of melancholy and retirement, she would woo him 
 back to her presence by kind and playful letters, and she abso- 
 lutely refused to accept of the resignation which his bodily infir- 
 mities led him to tender two or three years before his death. 
 She constantly visited him when confined by sickness : — on one 
 of these occasions, being admonished by his attendant to stoop 
 as she entered at his chamber-door, she replied, " For your 
 master's sake I will, though not for the king of Spain." His 
 lady was much in her majesty's favour and frequently in at- 
 tendance on her; and it has been surmised that her husband 
 found her an important auxiliary in maintaining his influence. 
 
 Elizabeth had the weakness, frequent among princes and not 
 unusual with private individuals, of hating her heir ; a senti- 
 ment which gained ground upon her daily in proportion as the 
 infirmities of age admonished her of her approach towards the 
 destined limit of her long and splendid course. Notwithstand- 
 ing the respectful observances by which James exerted himself 
 to disguise his impatience for her death, particular incidents 
 occurred from time to time to aggravate her suspicion and exas- 
 perate her animosity ; and the present year was productive of 
 some remarkable circumstances of this nature. The queen had 
 long been displeased at the indulgence exercised by the king of 
 of Scots towards certain catholic noblemen by whom a treason- 
 able correspondence had been carried on with Spain, and a very 
 dangerous conspiracy formed against his person and govern- 
 ment. Such misplaced lenity, combined with certain negotia- 
 tions which he carried on with the catholic princes of Europe, 
 she regarded as evincing a purpose to secure to himself an in- 
 terest with the popish party in England as well as Scotland, 
 which she could not view without anxiety : And her worst ap- 
 prehensions were now confirmed by the information which 
 reached her from two different quarters, that James, in a very 
 respectful letter to the pope, had given*him assurance under his 
 own hand of his resolution to treat his catholic subjects with in- 
 dulgence, at the same time requesting that his holiness would 
 give a cardinal's hat to Drummond bishop of Vaison. Almost 
 at the same time, one Valentine Thomas, apprehended in Lon- 
 don for a theft, accused the king of Scots of some evil designs 
 against herself. Explanations however being demanded, James 
 solemnly disavowed the letter to the pope, which he treated as a 
 forgery and imposture ; though circumstances which came out 
 several years afterwards rendered the king's veracity in this 
 point very questionable. 
 
 To the charge brought by Thomas, he returned a denial, pro- 
 
 Fuller. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 463 
 
 bably better founded ; and required that the accuser should be 
 arraigned in presence of some commissioner whom he should 
 send: but Elizabeth, less jealous of his dealings with the papal 
 party now that she no longer dreaded a Spanish invasion, judged 
 jit more prudent to bury the whole matter in silence, and re- 
 sumed, in the tone of friendship, the correspondence which she 
 regularly maintained with her kinsman. 
 
 This Correspondence, which still exists in MS. in the Salisbury 
 collection, is rendered obscure and sometimes unintelligible by 
 its reference to verbal messages, which the bearers of the letters 
 were commissioned to deliver : but several of those of Elizabeth 
 afford a rich display of character. She sometimes assures James 
 of the tenderness of her affection and her disinterested zeal for 
 his welfare, in that tone of hypocrisy which was too congenial 
 to her disposition ; at other times she breaks forth into vehe- 
 ment invective against the weakness and mutability of his coun- 
 sels, and offers him excellent instructions in the art of reigning; 
 but clouded by her usual uncouth and obscure phraseology, and 
 rendered offensive by their harsh and dictatorial style. When 
 she regards herself as personally injured by any part of his con- 
 duct, her complaints are seasoned with an equal portion of me- 
 nace and contempt ; as in the following specimen; 
 
 Queen Elizabeth to the king of Scots s 
 
 " When the first blast of a strange, unused, and seld heard of 
 sound had pierced my ears, I supposed that flying fame, who, 
 with swift quills oft paceth with the worst, had brought report 
 of some untruth, but when, too, too many records in your open 
 parliament were witnesses of such pronounced words, not more 
 to my disgrace than to your dishonour, who did forget that 
 (above all other regard) a prince's word ought utter nought of any, 
 much less of a king, than such as to which truth might say Amen: 
 But you, neglecting all care of yourself, what danger of reproach, 
 besides somewhat else, might light upon you, have chosen so un- 
 seemly a theme to charge your only careful friend withal, of 
 such matter as (were you not amazed in all senses) could not 
 have been expected at your hands; of such imagined untruths 
 as were never thought of in our time ; and do wonder what evil 
 spirits have possessed you, to set forth so infamous devices void of 
 any show of truth. I am sorry that you have so wilfully fallen 
 from your best stay, and will needs throw yourself into the hurl- 
 pool of bottomless discredit. Was the haste so great to hie to 
 such opprobry, as that you would pronounce a never thought of 
 action afore you had but asked the question of her that best could 
 tell it ? I see well we two be of very different natures, for I 
 vow to God I would not corrupt my tongue with an unknown 
 report of the greatest foe I have ; much less could I detract my 
 best deserving friend with a spot so foul as scarcely may be ever 
 outrazed. Could you root the desire of gifts of your subjects 
 upon no better ground than this quagmire, which to pass you* 
 
 3N 
 
466 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 scarcely may without the slip of your own disgrace ? Shall am- 
 bassage be sent to foreign princes laden with instructions of 
 your rash advised charge ? .... I never yet loved you so little 
 as not to mourn your infamous dealings, which you are in mind, 
 we see, that myself shall possess more princes witness of my 
 causeless injuries, which I should have wished had passed no 
 seas to testify such memorials of your wrongs. Bethink you of 
 such dealings, and set your labour upon such mends as best may, 
 though not right, yet salve some piece of this overslip ; and be 
 assured that you deal with such a king as will bear no wrongs 
 and endure infamy; the examples have been so lately seen as 
 they can hardly be forgotten of a far mightier and potenter prince 
 than any Europe hath. Look you not therefore that without 
 large amends, I may or will slupper up such indignities. We have 
 sent this bearer Bowes, whom you may safely credit, to signify 
 such particularities as fits not a letter's talk. And so I recom- 
 mend you to a better mind and more advised conclusions." 
 Dated January 4th, 1597-1598.* 
 
 From another of these letters we learn that James had ad- 
 dressed a love-sonnet to the queen, and complained of her hav- 
 ing taken no notice of it ; reminding her that Cupid was a God 
 of a most impatient disposition. 
 
 An author has the following notice respecting sir Roger Aston, 
 frequently the bearer of these curious epistles. " He was an 
 Englishman born, but had his breeding wholly in Scotland, and 
 had served the king many years as his barber ; an honest and 
 free-hearted man, and of an ancient family in Cheshire, but of 
 no breeding answerable to his birth. Yet was he the only man 
 ever employed as a messenger from the king to queen Elizabeth, 
 as a letter-carrier only, which expressed their own intentions 
 without any help from him, besides the delivery ; but even in 
 that capacity was in very good esteem with her majesty, and 
 received very royal rewards, which did enrich him, and gave 
 him a better revenue than most gentlemen in Scotland. For 
 the queen did find him as faithful to her as to his master, in 
 which he showed much wisdom, though of no breeding. In this 
 his employment I must not pass over one pretty passage I have 
 heard himself relate. That he did never come to deliver any 
 letters from his master, but ever he was placed in the lobby ; the 
 hangings being turned towards him, where he might see the 
 queen dancing to a little fiddle ; which was to no other end than 
 that he should tell his master, by her youthful disposition, how 
 likely he was to come to the possession of the crown he so much 
 thirsted after : for you must understand, the wisest in that king- 
 dom did believe the king should never enjoy this crown, as long 
 as there was an old wife in England, which they did believe we 
 ever set up as the other was dead. ,J t 
 
 * M.S. in Di*. Nnynes's extracts from the Salisbury collection. — I am unahle to- 
 (Jiscovm- to what particular circumstance this angry letter refers, 
 j* Weklon's Court of King James. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 467 
 
 Though in her own letters to James, Elizabeth made no scru- 
 pie of treating him as the destined heir to her throne, she still 
 resisted with as much pertinacity as ever, all the proposals made 
 her for publicly declaring a successor ; and on this subject, a 
 lively anecdote is related by sir John Harrington in his account 
 of liutton archbishop of York, which must belong to the year 
 1595 or 1596. 
 
 " I no sooner," says he, " remember this famous and worthy 
 prelate, but methinks J see him in the chapel at Whitehall, 
 queen Elizabeth at the window in the closet ; all the lords of 
 the parliament spiritual and temporal about them, and then, after 
 his three curtsies that I hear him out of the pulpit thundering 
 this text, « The kingdoms of the earth are mine, and I do give 
 them to whom I will, and I have given them to Nebuchodonosor 
 and his son, and his son's son :' which text when he had thus 
 produced, taking the sense rather than words of the prophet, 
 there followed first so general a murmur of one friend whisper- 
 ing to another, then such an erected countenance in those that 
 had none to speak to, lastly, so quiet a silence and attention in 
 expectance of some strange doctrine, where text itself gave 
 away kingdoms and sceptres, as I have never observed before 
 or since. 
 
 " But he .... showed how there were two special causes of 
 translating of kingdoms, the fullness of time and the ripeness 
 of sin ... . Then coming nearer home, he showed how oft our 
 nation had been a prey to foreigners ; as first when we were all 
 Britons subdued by these Romans ; then, when the fullness of 
 time and ripeness of our sin required it, subdued by the Saxons ; 
 after this a long time prosecuted and spoiled by the Danes, 
 finally conquered and reduced to perfect subjection by the Nor- 
 mans, whose posterity continued in great prosperity to the days 
 of her majesty, who for peace, for plenty, for glory, for continu- 
 ance, had exceeded them all ; that had lived to change all her 
 councillors but one ; all officers twice or thrice ; some bishops 
 four times : only the uncertainty of succession gave hopes to 
 foreigners to attempt fresh invasions and breed fears in many 
 of her subjects of a new conquest. The only way then, said he, 
 that is in policy left to quail those hopes and to assuage those 
 
 fears, were to establish the succession at last, insinuating 
 
 as far as he durst the nearness of blood of our present sovereign, 
 he said plainly, that the expectations and presages of all writers 
 went northward, naming without any circumlocution Scotland ; 
 which, said he, if it prove an error, yet will it be found a learn- 
 ed error. 
 
 " When he had finished this sermon, there was no man that 
 knew queen Elizabeth's disposition, but imagined that such a 
 speech was as welcome as salt to the eyes, or, to use her own 
 word, to pin up her winding sheet before her face, so to point out 
 her successor and urge her to declare him ; wherefore we all 
 expected that she would not only have been highly offended, but 
 
468 THE COURT OF 
 
 in some present speech have showed her displeasure. It is a 
 principle not to be despised, Qui nescit dissimulare nescit reg~ 
 nave; she considered perhaps the extraordinary auditory, she 
 supposed many of them were of his opinion, she might suspect 
 some of them had persuaded him to this notion ; finally she as- 
 cribed so much to his years, to his place, to his learning, that 
 when she opened the window we found ourselves all deceived ; 
 for very kindly and calmly, without shew of offence (as if she 
 had but waked out of some sleep) she gave him thanks for his 
 very learned sermon. Yet when she had better considered the 
 matter, and recollected herself in private, she sent two council- 
 lors to him with a sharp message, to which he was glad to give 
 a patient answer.'' 
 
 The premature death of Edmund Spenser, under circumstan- 
 ces of severe distress, now called forth the universal commisera- 
 tion and regret of the friends and patrons of English genius. 
 After witnessing the plunder of his house and the destruction 
 of his whole property by the Irish rebels, the unfortunate poet 
 had fled to England for shelter, — the annuity of fifty pounds 
 which he enjoyed as poet-laureat to her majesty apparently his 
 sole resource ; and having taken up his melancholy abode in an 
 obscure lodging in London, he pined away under the pressure 
 of penury and despondence. 
 
 The genius of this great poet, formed on the most approved 
 models of the time, and exercised upon themes peculiarly con- 
 genial to its taste, received in all its plentitude that homage of 
 contemporary applause which has sometimes failed to reward 
 the efforts of the noblest masters of the lyre. The adventures 
 of chivalry, and the dim shadowings of moral allegory, were 
 almost equally the delight of a romantic, a serious, and a learned 
 age It was also a point of loyalty to admire in Gloriana queen 
 of Faery, or in the empress Mercilla, the avowed types of the 
 graces and virtues of her majesty ; and she herself had discern- 
 ment sufficient to distinguish between the brazen trump of vulgar 
 flattery with which her ear was sated, and the pastoral reed of 
 antique frame tuned sweetly to her praise by Colin Clout. Spen- 
 ser was interred with great solemnity in Westminster abbey by 
 the side of Chaucer ; the generous Essex defraying the cost of 
 the funeral and walking himself as a mourner. That ostentatious 
 but munificent woman, Anne countess of Dorset, Pembroke, and 
 Montgomery, erected a handsome monument to his memory seve- 
 ral years afterwards ; the brother-poets who attended his obse- 
 quies threw elegies and sonnets into the grave ; and of the more 
 distinguished votaries of the muse in that day, there is scarcely 
 one who has withheld his tribute to the fame and merit of this 
 delightful author. Shakespeare m one of his sonnets had already 
 testified his high delight in his works ; Joseph Hall, afterwards 
 eminent as a bishop, a preacher, and polemic, but at this time a 
 young student of Emanuel college, has more than one compli- 
 mentary allusion to the poems of Spenser in his " Toothless Sa- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 469 
 
 tires" printed in 1597. Thus, in the invocation to his first satire, 
 referring to Spenser's description of the marriage of the Thame* 
 and Medway, he inquires, 
 
 " what baser Muse can bide 
 
 To sit and sing by Granta's naked side ? 
 They haunt the tided Thames and salt Medway, 
 E'er since the fame of their late bridal day. 
 Nought have we here but willow-shaded shore. 
 To tell our Grant his banks are left forlore." 
 
 And again, in ridiculing the imitation of some of the more 
 rxtiavagant fictions of the Orlando Furioso, he thus suddenly 
 checks himself : 
 
 " But let no rebel satyr dare traduce 
 Th* eternal legends of thy faery muse, 
 Renowned Spenser ! whom no earthly wight 
 Dares once to emulate, much less dares despight. 
 Salust of France* and Tuscan Ariost, 
 Yield up the laurel garland ye have lost." 
 
 These pieces of Hall, reprinted in 1599, with three additional 
 books under the uncouth title of " Virgidemiarum" (a harvest of 
 rods,) present the earliest example in our language of regular 
 satire on the ancient model, and have gained from an excellent 
 poetical critic the following high eulogium: "These satires are 
 marked with a classical precision, to which English poetry had 
 yet rarely attained; They are replete with animation of style 
 and sentiment. The indignation of the satirist is always the 
 result of good sense. Nor are the thorns of severe invective 
 unmixed with the flowers of pure poetry. The characters arc 
 delineated in strong and lively colouring, and their discrimina- 
 tions are touched with the masterly traces of genuine humour. 
 The versification is equally energetic and elegant, and the fabric 
 of the couplets approaches to the modern standard."t 
 
 A few of his allusions to reigning follies may here be quoted. 
 Contrasting the customs of our barbarous ancestors with those 
 of his own times, he says : 
 
 ". They naked went, or clad in ruder hide, 
 Or homespun russet void of foreign pride. 
 But thou can'st mask in garish gaudery, 
 To suit a fool's far fetched livery. 
 A French head joined to neck Italian, 
 Thy thighs from Germany, and breast from Spain. 
 
 * Du Bartas, ihen an admired writer in England as well as France 
 \ Warton's History of English Poetry, vol. iv. 
 
470 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 An Englishman in none, a fool in all, 
 Many in one, and one in several." 
 
 Shakespeare makes Portia satirise the same affectation in her 
 English admirer ; — " How oddly he is suited ! I think he bought 
 his doublet in Italy, his round hose in France, his bonnet in 
 Germany, and his behaviour every where." 
 
 Other contemporary writers have similar allusions, and it 
 may be concluded, that the passion for travelling then, and ever 
 since, so prevalent amongst the English youth, was fast eradi- 
 cating all traces of a national costume by rendering fashionable 
 the introduction of novel garments, capriciously adopted by 
 turns from every country of Europe. 
 
 " Cadiz spoil" is more than once referred to by Hall ; and 
 amongst expedients for raising a fortune, he enumerates, with a 
 satirical glance at sir Walter Raleigh, the trading to Guiana for 
 gold ; as also the search of the philosopher's stone. He likewise 
 ridicules the costly mineral elixirs of marvellous virtues vended 
 by alchemical quacks ; and with sounder sense in this point than 
 usually belonged to his age mocks at the predictions of judicial 
 astrology. 
 
 In several passages he reprehends the new luxuries of the 
 time, among which coaches are not forgotten. 
 
 It should appear that the increasing conveniences and plea- 
 sures of a London life had already begun to occasion the deser- 
 tion of rural mansions, and the decay of that boundless hospi- 
 tality which the former possessors had made their boast ; for thus 
 feelingly and beautifully does the poet describe the desolation of 
 one of these seats of antiquated magnificence : 
 
 " Beat the broad gates, a goodly hollow sound 
 With double echoes doth again rebound ; 
 But not a dog doth bark to welcome thee, 
 Nor churlish porter can'st thou chafing see ; 
 All dumb and silent like the dead of night, 
 Or dwelling of some sleepy Sybarite I 
 The marble pavement hid with desert weed, 
 With houseleek, thistle, dock, and hemlock seed.— 
 Look to the towered chimnies which should be 
 The windpipes of good hospitality : — 
 Lo there the unthankful swallow takes her rest, 
 And fills the tunnel with her circled nest.'' 
 
 The translation of the Orlando Furioso through which that 
 singular work of genius had just become known to the English 
 reader, was executed by sir John Harrington, the same who 
 afterwards composed for Henry prince of Wales the Brief View 
 of the English Church, the godson of Elizabeth, and the child 
 of her faithful servants James Harrington and Isabella Markham- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 471 
 
 After the usual course of school and college education, young 
 Harrington, who was born in 15G1, presented himself at court, 
 where his wit and learning soon procured him a kind of distinc- 
 tion, which was not however unattended with danger. A satirical 
 piece was traced to him as its author, containing certain allusions 
 to living characters, which gave so much offence to the courtiers, 
 that he was threatened with the animadversions of the star- 
 chamber ; but the secret favour of Elizabeth towards a godson 
 whom she loved and who amused her, saved him from this very 
 serious kind of retaliation. A tale which he some time after 
 translated out of Ariosto proved very entertaining to the court 
 ladies, and soon met the eyes of the queen ; who, in affected dis- 
 pleasure at certain indelicate passages, ordered him to appear 
 no more at court — till he had translated the whole poem. The 
 command was obeyed with alacrity ; and he speedily committed 
 his Orlando to the press, with a dedication to her majesty. Be- 
 fore this time our sprightly poet had found means to dissipate a 
 considerable portion of the large estate to which he was born ; 
 and being well inclined to listen to the friendly counsels of 
 Essex, who bade him "lay good hold on her majesty's bounty 
 and ask freely," he dexterously opened his case by the following 
 lines slipped behind her cushion: 
 
 " For ever dear, for ever dreaded prince, 
 You read a verse of mine a little since, 
 And so pronounced each word and every letter, 
 Your gracious reading graced my verse the better : 
 Sith then your highness doth by gift exceeding 
 Make what you read the better for your reading ; 
 Let my poor muse your pains thus far importune, 
 Like as you read my verse, so — read my fortune." 
 
 From your Highness* saucy Godson" 
 
 Of the further progress of his suit and the various little arts 
 of pleasing to which Harrington now applied himself, some 
 amusing hints may be gathered out of the following extracts 
 taken from a note-book kept by himself.* 
 
 . . . . " 1 am to send good store of news from the country 
 
 for her highness' entertainment Her highness loveth 
 
 merry tales." 
 
 " The queen stood up and bade me reach forth my arm to rest 
 her thereon. O ! what sweet burthen to my next song. Petrarch 
 shall eke out good matter for this business " 
 
 " The queen loveth to see me in my new frize jerkin, and 
 saith it is well enough cut. I will have another made liken to 
 it. I do remember she spit on sir Matthew's fringed cloth, and 
 said the fool's wit was gone to rags. — Heaven spare me from 
 such gibing !" 
 
 * See Nugsc Antique, 
 
472 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 " I must turn my poor wits towards my suit for the lands iu 
 
 the north I must go in an early hour, before her highness 
 
 jg» hath special matters brought up to counsel on. — I must go before 
 the breakfast covers are placed, and stand uncovered as her 
 highness cometh forth her chamber ; then kneel and say, God 
 save your majesty, I crave your ear at what hour may suit for 
 your servant to meet your blessed countenance. Thus will I 
 gain her favour to follow to the auditory, 
 
 " Trust not a friend to do or say, 
 In that yourself can sue or pray." 
 
 The lands alluded to in the last extract formed a large estate 
 in the north of England, which an ancestor of Harrington had 
 forfeited by his adherence to the house of York during the civil 
 wars, and which he was now endeavouring to recover. This 
 further mention of the business occurs in one of his letters. 
 
 " Yet I will adventure to give her majesty five hundred pounds 
 in money, and some pretty jewel or garment, as you shall advise, 
 only praying her majesty to further my suit with some of her 
 learned counsel ; which I pray you to find some proper time to 
 move in; this some hold as a dangerous adventure, but five and 
 twenty manors do well justify my trying it." 
 
 How notorious must have been the avarice and venality of a 
 sovereign, before such a mode of insuring success in a law-suit 
 could have entered into the imagination of a courtier ! 
 
 But the fortunes of Harrington, as of persons of more impor- 
 tance, now become involved in the state of Irish affairs, to which 
 the attention of the reader must immediately be directed. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 1599 to 1603. 
 
 Irish affairs. — Essex appointed lord deputy. — His letter to the 
 queen. — Letter of Markham to Harrington. — Departure of Es- 
 sex and proceedings in Ireland. — His letter to the privy coun- 
 cil, — conferences with Tyrone, — unexpected arrival at court. — 
 Behaviour of the queen. — State of parties. — Letters of sir J. 
 Harrington, — Further particulars respecting Essex. — His letter 
 of submission. — Relentlessness of the queen. — Sir John Hay- 
 ward's history. — Second letter of Essex. — Censure passed upon 
 him in council. — Anecdote of the queen. — Essex liberated. — Re- 
 ception of a Flemish ambassador. — Discontent of Raleigh. — 
 Traits of the queen. — Letter of sir Robert Sidney to sir John 
 Harrington. — Crisis of the fortune of Essex. — Conduct of lord 
 Montjoy. — Proceedings at Essex house. — Revolt of Essex. — 
 He defends his house. — Is taken and committed to the Tower. 
 — His trial and that of lord Southampton. — Conduct of Bacon. 
 — Confessions oj Essex. — Behaviour of the queen. — Death of 
 Essex. — Fate of his adherents. — Reception of the Scotch am- 
 bassadors. — Interview of the queen and Sully. — Irish affairs. — 
 Letter of sir John Harrington. — A parliament summoned. — 
 Affair of monopolies. — Quarrel between the Jesuits and secular 
 priests. — Conversation of the queen respecting Essex. — Letter 
 of sir J. Harrington. — Submission of Tyrone. — Melancholy of 
 Elizabeth. — Story of the ring. — Her death. — Additional traits 
 of her character. — Her eulogy by bishop Hall. 
 
 The death in September 1598, of Philip II., and the succes- 
 sion of the feeble Philip III., under whom the Spanish monarchy 
 advanced with accelerated steps towards its decline, had finally 
 released the queen from all apprehensions of foreign invasion, 
 and left her at liberty to turn her whole attention to the pacifi- 
 cation of Ireland. The state of that island was in every respect 
 deplorable: — the whole province of Ulster in open rebellion 
 under Tyrone ; — the rest of the country only waiting for the 
 succours from the pope and the king of Spain, which the cre- 
 dulous natives were still taught to expect, to join openly in the 
 revolt ; and in the meantime reduced to such a state of despair 
 by innumerable oppressions and by the rumour of further severi- 
 ties meditated by the queen of England, that it seemed prepared 
 to oppose the most obstinate resistance to every measure of 
 government. In what manner and by whom, this wretched pro- 
 vince should be brought back to its allegiance, had been the 
 subject of frequent and earnest debates in the privy-council ; in c 
 
474 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 which Essex had vehemently reprobated the conduct of former 
 governors in wasting time on inferior objects, instead of first un- 
 dertaking the reduction of Tyrone, and appears to have spared no 
 pains to impress the queen with an opinion of the superior just- 
 ness of his own views of the subject. Elizabeth believed, and 
 with reason, that she discovered in lord Montjoy, talents not 
 unequal to the arduous office of lord deputy at so critical a 
 juncture ; but when the greater part of her council appeared to 
 concur in the choice, Essex insinuated a variety of objections ; 
 — that the experience of Montjoy in military matters was small ; 
 — that neither in the Low Countries nor in Bretagne, where he 
 had served, had he attained to any principal or independent com- 
 mand ; — that his retainers were few or none; his purse inade- 
 quately furnished for the first expenses of so high an appoint- 
 ment ; and that he was too much addicted to a sedentary and 
 studious life. By this artful enumeration of the deficiencies of 
 Montjoy, he was clearly understood to intimate his own supe- 
 rior fitness for the office. The queen, notwithstanding certain 
 suspicions which had been infused into her of danger in com- 
 mitting to Essex the command of an army, and notwithstanding 
 the unwillingness which she still felt to deprive herself of his pre- 
 sence, appears to have adopted with eagerness this suggestion 
 of her favourite ; — for she heid in high estimation both his talents 
 and his good fortune. Montjoy promptly retired from a compe- 
 tition in which he must be unsuccessful; the adherents of the 
 earl, except a few of the more sagacious, eagerly forwarded his 
 appointment with imprudent eulogiums of his valour and his 
 genius, and still more imprudent anticipations of his certain and 
 complete success. His enemies, desirous of his absence and 
 hopeful of his failure, concurred with no less zeal in the pro- 
 motion of his wishes; and he soon found himself importuned on 
 every side to accept the command. But it now became his part 
 to make objections ; — perhaps he began to open his eyes to the 
 difficulties to be confronted in Ireland ; — perhaps he penetrated 
 too late the designs and expectations of his adversaries at home; 
 —perhaps, for his character was not free from artifice, he chose 
 by a display of reluctance to enhance in the eyes of his sove- 
 reign the merit of his final acquiescence. However this might 
 be, the difficulties which he raised kept the business for some 
 time in suspense. Secretary Cecil observed, in a letter of De- 
 cember 4th, 1598, that " the opinion of the earl's going to Ire- 
 land had some stop, by reason of his lordship's indisposition to 
 it* except with some such conditions as were disagreeable to her 
 majesty's mind ;" " although," he added, " the cup will hardly 
 pass from him in regard of his worth and fortune: but if it do, 
 my lord Montjoy is named."* 
 
 It was in the midst of the debates and contentions on this 
 matter that Essex endeavoured to work upon the feelings of 
 Elizabeth by the following romantic but eloquent address. 
 
 Birch. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 475 
 
 " To the Queen. 
 " From a mind delighting in sorrow, from spirits wasted with 
 passion, from a heart lorn in pieces with care, grief and travel, 
 from a man that hateth himself and all things else that keep him 
 alive, what service can jour majesty expect; since any service 
 past deserves no more than banishment and proscription to the 
 oursedest of all islands ? It is your rebels' pride, and succession 
 must give me leave to ransom myself out of this hateful prison, 
 out of my loathed body; which, if it happeneth so, your majesty 
 shall have no cause to mislike the fashion of my death, since the 
 course of my life could never please you. 
 
 Happy could he finish forth his fate 
 
 In some unhaunted desert most obscure 
 From all society, from love and hate 
 
 Of worldly folk; then should he sleep secure. 
 Then wake again, and yield God ever praise, 
 
 Content with hips and haws and brambleberry ; 
 In contemplation passing out his days, 
 
 And change of holy thoughts to make him merry. 
 Who when he dies, his tomb may be a bush, 
 
 Where harmless robin dwells with gentle thrush." 
 
 " Your majesty's exiled servant, 
 " Robert Essex." 
 
 It seems also to have been at this juncture that on some pub- 
 lic occasion he bore a plain mourning shield, with the words, 
 " Par nulla figura dolori " 
 
 A very sensible and friendly letter addressed to Harrington, 
 by his relation Robert Markham, may serve to throw additional 
 light on the situation and sentiments of Essex, and on the state 
 of court parties. 
 
 Mr. Robert Markham to John Harrington, Esquire. 
 
 " Notwithstanding the perilous state of our times, I shall 
 not fail to give you such intelligence and advices of our mat- 
 ters here as may tend to your use and benefit. We have gotten 
 good account of some matters, and as I shall find some safe con- 
 duct for bearing them to you, it may from time to time happen 
 that I send tidings of our courtly concerns. 
 
 " Since your departure from hence, you have been spoken of, 
 and with no ill will, both by the nobles and the queen herself. 
 Your book is almost forgiven, and I may say forgotten ; but not 
 for its lack of wit or satire. Those whom you feared most are 
 now bosoming themselves in the queen's grace ; and though her 
 highness signified displeasure in outward sort, yet did she like 
 the marrow of your book. Your great enemy, sir James, did 
 once mention the star-chamber, but your good esteem in better 
 minds outdid his endeavours, and all is silent again. The queen 
 
476 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 is minded to take you to her favour, but she sweareth that she 
 beliexes you will make epigrams and write misacmos again on 
 her and all the court. She hath been heard to say, * that merry 
 poet, her godson, must not come to Greenwich till he hath grown 
 sober and leaveth the ladies' sports and frolics.' She did con- 
 ceive much disquiet on being told you had aimed a shaft at Lei- 
 cester ; T wish you knew the author of that ill deed ; I would 
 not be in his best jerkin for a thousand marks. You yet stand 
 well in her highness' love, and I hear you are to go to Ireland 
 with the lieutenant Essex ; if so, mark my counsel in this matter. 
 I doubt not your valour nor your labour, but thatd e unco- 
 vered honesty will mar your fortunes. Observe the man who 
 commandeth, and yet is commanded himself; he goethnot forth 
 to serve the queen's realm, but to humour his own revenge. Be 
 heedful of your bearings, speak not your mind to all you meet. 
 I tell you I have ground for my caution : Essex hath enemies ; 
 he hath friends too. Now there are two or three of Montjoy's 
 kindred sent out in your army ; they are to report all your con- 
 duct to us at home. As you love yourself, the queen and me, 
 discover not these matters ; if I did not love you, they had never 
 been told. High concerns deserve high attention ; you are to 
 take account of all that passes in your expedition, and keep 
 journal thereof, unknown to any in the company ; this will be 
 expected of you ; I have reasons to give for this order. 
 
 " If the lord deputy performs in the fie|xl what he hath pro- 
 mised in the council, all will be well ; but though the queen hath 
 granted forgiveness for his late demeanour in her presence; we 
 know not what to think hereof. She hath, in all outward sem- 
 blance, placed confidence in the man who so lately sought other 
 treatment at her hands ; we do sometime think one way, and 
 sometime another : what betideth the lord deputy is known to 
 him only who knoweth all ; but when a man hath so many show- 
 ing friends, and so many unshowing enemies, who learneth his 
 end here below ? I say, do not you meddle in any sort, nor 
 give your jestir.g too freely among those you know not : obey 
 the lord deputy in all things, but give not your opinion ; it may 
 be heard in England. Though you obey, yet seem not to advise in 
 any one point ; your obeysance may be, and must be construed 
 well ; but your counsel may be ill thought of if any bad business 
 follow. 
 
 " You have now a secret from one that wishes you all welfare 
 and honour; I know there are overlookers set on you all, so 
 God direct your discretion. Sir William Knolles is not well 
 pleased, the queen is not well pleased, the lord deputy may be 
 pleased now, but T sore fear what may happen hereafter. The 
 heart of man lieth close hid oft time, men do not carry it in 
 their hand, nor should they do so that wish to thrive, in these 
 times and in these places ; I say this that your own honesty 
 may not show itself too much, and turn to your own ill favour. 
 Stifle your understanding as much as may be ; mind your books 
 and make your jests, but take heed who they light on. My love 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 477 
 
 hath overcome almost my confidence and trust, which my truth 
 aiul place demandeth. I have said too much for one in my de- 
 pendent occupation, and yet too little for a friend and kinsman, 
 who putteth himself to this hard trial for your advantage. You 
 have difficult matters to encounter beside Tyrone and the rebels ; 
 there is little heed to be had to show of affection in state busi- 
 ness ; 1 find this by those I discourse with daily, and those too 
 of the wiser sort. If my lord treasurer had lived longer, mat- 
 ters would go on surer. He was our great pilot, on whom all 
 cast their eyes, and sought their safety. The queen's highness 
 dotli often speak of him in tears, and turn aside when he is 
 discoursed of; nay, even forbiddeth any mention to be made of 
 his name in the council. This I learn by some friends who are 
 in good liking with my lord Buckhurst.* 
 
 " My sister beareth this to you, but doth not know what it 
 containeth, nor would I disclose my dealings to any woman in 
 this sort ; for danger goeth abroad, aud silence is the safest 
 armour,"&c.t 
 
 Such were the bodings of distant evil with which the more dis- 
 cerning contemplated the new and arduous enterprise in which 
 the ambition of Essex had engaged him ! in the meantime, all 
 things conspired to delude him into a false security and to aug- 
 ment that presumption which formed the most dangerous defect 
 of his character. All the obstacles which had delayed his ap- 
 pointment were gradually smoothed away ; the queen consented 
 to invest him with powers far more ample than had ever been 
 conferred on a lord deputy before ; all his requisitions of men 
 and other supplies were complied with ; and an army of 20,000 
 foot and 1,300 horse, afterwards increased to 2,000, — afar larger 
 force than Ireland had yet beheld, — was placed at his disposal. 
 
 At parting, the tenderness of the queen revived in full force ; 
 and she dismissed him with expressions of regret and affection 
 which, as he afterwards professed to her, had " pierced his very 
 souh" The people followed him with acclamations and blessings ; 
 and the flower of the nobility now, as in the Cadiz expedition, 
 attended him with alacrity as volunteers. 
 
 It was in the end of March 1599 that he embarked; and land- 
 ing after a dangerous passage at Dublin, his first act was the ap- 
 pointment of his dear friend the earl of Southampton to the 
 office of general of the horse ; — a step which he afterwards found 
 abundant cause to repent. 
 
 An error, of which the consequences were much more per- 
 nicious to himself, and fatal to the success of his undertaking, 
 was his abandoning his original resolution of marching imme- 
 diately against Tyrone, and spending his first efforts in the sup- 
 pression of a minor revolt in Munster : — an attempt in which he 
 encountered a resistance so much more formidable than he had an - 
 
 * Lord Buckhurst had succeeded to the office of lord treasurer on the death of 
 Burleigh, 
 f Nugw Antiquse. 
 
THE COURT OF 
 
 ticipated, and found himself so ill supported by his troops, whom 
 the nature of the service speedily disheartened, that its results 
 were by no means so brilliant as to strike terror into Tyrone or 
 the other insurgents. What was still worse, almost four months 
 were occupied in this service, and the forces returned sick, 
 weaned, and incredibly reduced in number by various accidents. 
 
 Learning that the queen was much displeased at this expedi- 
 tion into Munster, Essex addressed a letter to the privy-council, 
 in which, after affirming that he had performed his part to the 
 best of his abilities and judgment, he thus proceeded : " But as 
 I said, and ever must say, I provided for this service a breast- 
 plate, and not a cuirass ; that is, I am armed on the breast, but 
 not on the back. I armed myself with confidence that rebels in 
 so unjust a quarrel could not fight so well as we could in a good. 
 Howbeit if the rebels shall but once come to know that I am 
 wounded on the back, not slightly, but to the heart, as I fear me 
 they have too true and too apparent advertisement of this kind; 
 then what will be their pride and the state's hazard, your lord- 
 ships in your wisdoms may easily discern." 
 
 In a subsequent letter, the warmth of his friendship for South- 
 ampton breaks out in the following eloquent and forcible appeal. 
 — " But to leave this, and come to that which I never looked I 
 should have come to, I mean your lordships' letter touching the 
 displacing of the earl of Southampton ; your lordships say, that 
 her majesty thinketh it strange, and taketh it offensively, that I 
 should appoint him general of the horse, seeing not only her ma- 
 jesty denied it when I moved it, but gave an express prohibition 
 to any such choice. Surely, my lord, it shall be far from me to 
 contest with your lordships, much less with her majesty. How- 
 beit, God and my own soul are my witnesses, that I had not in 
 this nomination any disobedient or irreverent thought; that I 
 never moved her majesty for the placing of any officer, my com- 
 mission fully enabling me to make free choice of all officers and 
 commanders of the army. I remember, that her majesty in her 
 privy-chamber at Richmond, I only being with her, showed a 
 dislike of his having any office ; but my answer was, that if her 
 majesty would revoke my commission, I would cast both it and 
 myself at her majesty's feet. But if it pleased her majesty that 
 I should execute it, I must work with my own instruments. And 
 from this profession and protestation I never varied ; whereas 
 if I had held myself barred from giving my lord of Southampton 
 place and reputation some way answerable to his degree and 
 expense, there is no one, I think, doth imagine, that I loved him 
 so ill as to have brought him over. Therefore if her majesty 
 punish me with her displeasure for this choice, poena dolenda 
 venit. And now, my lords, were now, as then it was, that I 
 were to choose, or were there nothing in a new choice but my 
 lord of Southampton's disgrace and my discomfort, 1 should 
 easily be induced to displace him, and to part with him. But 
 when, in obeying this command, 1 must discourage all my friends, 
 who now, seeing the days of my suffering draw near, follow me 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 479 
 
 afar off, and arc some of them tempted to renounce me ; when 
 I must dismay the army, which already looks sadly, as pitying 
 both me and itself in this comfortless action ; when I must en 
 courage the rebels, who doubtless will think it time to hew upon 
 a withering tree, whose leaves they see beaten down, and the 
 branches in part cut off; when I must disable myself for ever in 
 the course of this service, the world now perceiving that I want 
 either reason to judge of merit, or freedom to right it, disgraces 
 being there heaped where, in my opinion, rewards are due ; give 
 just grief leave once to complain. O ! miserable employment, 
 and more miserable destiny of mine, that makes it impossible 
 for me to please and serve her majesty at once ! Was it treason 
 in my lord of Southampton to marry my poor kinswoman, that 
 neither long imprisonment, nor any punishment besides that hath 
 been usual in like cases, can satisfy and appease ? Or will no 
 kind of punishment be fit for him, but that which punisheth, not 
 him, but ine, this army, and this poor country of Ireland ? Shall 
 I keep the country when the army breaks ? Or shall the army 
 stand when all the volunteers leave it ? Or will any voluntaries 
 stay when those that have will and cause to follow are thus 
 handled r No, my lords, they already ask passports, and that 
 daily," &c. 
 
 In spite of all this earnestness, in spite of the remaining af- 
 fection of the queen for her favourite, she still persisted in re- 
 quiring that he should displace his friend, and even chid him 
 severely for having waited the result of his further representa- 
 tions and entreaties, after once learning her pleasure on the 
 point. Success in the main object of his expedition might still 
 have procured him a triumph over his court enemies and a sweet 
 reconciliation with his offended sovereign, but fortune had no 
 such favour in store for Essex. The necessity of quelling some 
 rebels in Leinster again impeded his inarch into Ulster ; for 
 which expedition he was obliged to solicit a further supply from 
 England of two thousand foot, which was immediately forwarded 
 to him, as if with the design of leaving him without excuse should 
 he fail to reduce Tyrone. But by this time the season was so 
 far advanced, and the army so sickly, that both the earl and the 
 Irish council were of opinion that nothing effectual could be done ; 
 and at the first notice of his intended march great part of his 
 forces deserted. He nevertheless proceeded, and in a few days 
 during which a little skirmishing took place, came in sight of 
 the rebels' main army, considerably more numerous than his 
 own ; Tyrone however would not venture to give him battle, 
 but sent to request a parley. This, after some delay, the lord 
 deputy granted ; and a conference was held between them, Essex 
 standing on the bank of a stream which separated the two hosts, 
 while the rebel sat on his horse in the middle of the water. A. 
 truce was concluded, to be renewed from six weeks to six weeks, 
 till terms of peace should be agreed on ; those proposed by 
 Tyrone containing several arrogant and unreasonable articles. 
 At a second meeting with the Irish chieC Essex was attended 
 
480 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 by some of his principal officers ; but it was afterwards proved 
 that previously to the first conference, he had opened a very un- 
 warrantable correspondence with this enemy of his queen and 
 country, who took upon himself to promise that if Essex would 
 come into his measures he would make him the greatest man in 
 England. During the whole of this time, sharp letters were 
 passing between Elizabeth and her privy-council and the earl; 
 and it is hard to say on which side the heaviest list of griev- 
 ances was produced. The queen remonstrated against his con- 
 temptuous disobedience of her orders, and the waste in frivolous 
 enterprises of the vast supplies of men and money which she had 
 intrusted to her deputy for a specific and momentous object; — 
 the earl, in addition to his usual murmurings against the sinister 
 suggestions of his enemies, amongst whom he singled out by 
 name Raleigh and lord Cobham, found further grounds of com- 
 plaint and alarm in the circumstance of her majesty's having 
 caused some troops to be called out under the lord admiral, on 
 pretext of fears from the Spaniard, but really with a view of pro- 
 tecting her against certain designs imputed to himself : and in 
 her having granted to secretary Cecil during his absence the 
 office of master of the wards for which he was himself a suitor. 
 
 Apprehensive, lest by his longer delay her affections should be 
 irrecoverably alienated from him by the discovery of his traito- 
 rous correspondence with Tyrone, he rashly resolved to risk yet 
 another act of disobedience : — that of deserting without license, 
 and under its present accumulated circumstances of danger, his 
 important charge, and hastening to throw himself at the feet of 
 an exasperated, but he flattered himself, not inexorable mistress. 
 At one time he had even entertained the desperate and criminal 
 design of carrying over with him a large part of his army, for the 
 purpose of intimidating his adversaries ; but being diverted from 
 this scheme by the earl of Southampton and sir Christopher 
 Blount his step-father, he embarked with the attendance only of 
 most of his household and a number of his favourite officers, and 
 arrived at the court, which was then at Nonsuch, on Michaelmas 
 eve in the morning. 
 
 On alighting at the gate, covered with mire and stained with 
 travel as he was, he hastened up stairs, passed through the pre- 
 sence and the privy chambers, and never stopped till he reached 
 the queen's bedchamber, where he found her newly risen with 
 her hair about her face. He kneeled and kissed her hands, and 
 she, in the agreeable surprise of beholding at her feet one whom 
 she still loved, received him with so kind an aspect, and listened 
 with such favour to his excuses, that on leaving her, after a pri- 
 vate conference of some duration, he appeared in high spirits, 
 and thanked God, that though he had suffered many storms 
 abroad, he found a sweet calm at home. He waited on her again 
 as soon as he had changed his dress ; and after a second long and 
 gracious conference, was freely visited by all the lords, ladies, * 
 and gentlemen at court, excepting the secretary and his party, 
 who appeared somewhat shy of him. But all these fair appear- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 481 
 
 r\nees quickly vanished. On revisiting the queen in the evening, 
 he found her much changed towards him; she began to call hint 
 to account for his unauthorised return and the hazard to which 
 lie had committed all things in Ireland ; and four privy-coun- 
 cillors were appointed by her to examine him that night and 
 hear his answers: but by them nothing was concluded, and the 
 matter was referred to a full council summoned for the following 
 day, the earl being in the meantime commanded to keep his 
 chamber. Notwithstanding the natural impetuosity of his tem- 
 per, Essex now armed himself with patience and moderation, 
 and answered with great gravity and discretion to the charges 
 brought against him, which resolved themselves into the follow- 
 ing articles. " His contemptuous disobedience of her majesty's 
 letters and will in returning: his presumptuous letters written 
 from time to time : his proceedings in Ireland contrary to the 
 points resolved upon in England, ere. he went: his rash manner 
 of coming away from Ireland: his overbold going the day before 
 to her majesty's presence to her bedchamber : and his making 
 of so many idle knights.''* The council, after hearing his de- 
 fence, remained awhile in consultation, and then made their re- 
 port to her majesty, who said she should take time to consider 
 of his answers : meanwhile the proceedings were kept very pri- 
 vate, and the earl continued a prisoner in his own apartment. 
 An open division now took place between the two great factions 
 which had long divided the court in secret.' The earls of 
 Shrewsbury and Nottingham, lords Thomas Howard, Cobham, 
 and Grey, sir Walter Raleigh, and sir George Carew attended 
 on the secretary ; while Essex was followed by the earls of 
 Worcester and Rutland, lords Montjoy, Rich, Lumley, and 
 Henry Howard ; the last of whom however was already sus- 
 pected to be the traitor which he afterwards proved to the 
 patron whom he professed to love, to honour, and almost to 
 worship. Sir William Knolles also joined the party of his ne- 
 phew, with many other knights and gentlemen, and lord Effing- 
 ham, though son to the earl of Nottingham, was often with him, 
 and "protested all service" to him. "It is a world to be here," 
 adds Whyte, " and see the humours of the place." On October 
 the second, Essex was "commanded from court," and committed 
 to the lord keeper with whom he remained at York house. At 
 his departure from court few or none of his friends accompanied 
 him. 
 
 " His lordship's sudden return out of Ireland," says Whyte, 
 "brings all sorts of knights, captains, officers, and soldiers, away 
 from thence, that this town is full of them, to the great discon- 
 tentment of her majesty, that they are suffered to leave their 
 charge. But the most part of the gallants have quitted their 
 commands, places, and companies, not willing to stay there after 
 him : so that the disorder seems to be greater there than stands 
 with the safety of that service." Harrington, the wit and poet. 
 
 ■ Rowland Whyte in Sidnev Papers. 
 3 P 
 
482 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 had the misfortune to be one of the threescore " idle knights,** 
 dubbed by the lord deputy during his short and inglorious reign, 
 and likewise one of the officers whom he selected to accompany 
 him in his return ; and we may learn from two of his own letters, 
 written several years subsequently, after what manner he was 
 welcomed on his arrival by his royal godmother. 
 
 " Sir John Harrington to Dr. Still, the bishop of Bath and Wells. 
 
 1603. 
 
 " My worthy lord, 
 
 " 1 have lived to see that d e rebel Tyrone brought to 
 
 England, courteously favoured, honoured, and well-liked. 0 ! my 
 lord, what is there which doth not prove the inconstancy of 
 worldly matters ! How did I labour after that knave's destruc- 
 tion ! I was called from my home by her majesty's command, 
 adventured perils by sea and land ; endured toil, was near 
 starving, ate horse-flesh at Munster; and all to quell that man, 
 avIio now smileth in peace at those that did hazard their lives to 
 destroy him. Essex took me to Ireland, I had scant time to put 
 on my boots ; I followed with good will, and did return with the 
 lord-lieutenant to meet ill-will; I did bear the frowns of her that 
 sent me ; and were it not for her good liking, rather than my 
 good deservings, I had been sore discountenanced indeed. 1 
 .obeyed in going with the earl to Ireland, and I obeyed in com- 
 ing with him to England. But what did I encounter thereon ? 
 Not his wrath, but my gracious sovereign's ill humour. What 
 did I advantage ? Why truly a knighthood ; which had been 
 better bestowed by her that sent me, and better spared by him 
 that gave it. I shall never put out of memory her majesty's- 
 displeasure ; I entered her chamber, but she frowned and said. 
 ■ What, did the fool bring you too ? Go back to your business.' 
 In sooth these words did sore hurt him that never heard such 
 before ; but Heaven gave me more comfort in a day or two after. 
 Her majesty did please to ask me concerning our northern jour- 
 neys, and I did so well quit me of the account, that she favoured 
 me with such discourse that the earl himself had been well glad 
 of. And now doth Tyrone dare us old commanders with his 
 presence and protection," &c* 
 
 " Sir John Harrington to Mr. Robert Markham, 1 606. 
 
 " My good cousin, 
 "Herewith you will have my journal, with our history during 
 our march against the Irish rebels. I did not intend any eyes 
 should have seen this discourse but my own children's ; yet alas ! 
 i r happened otherwise ; for the queen did so ask, and I may say, 
 demand my account, that I could not withhold showing it ; and 
 I, even now, almost tremble to rehearse her highness' displeasure 
 
 * Nngse.. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 488 
 
 herekt. She swore by God's son, we were all idle knaves, and 
 the lord deputy worse, for wasting our time and her commands 
 in such-wise as my journal doth write of. 
 
 I could have told her highness of such difficulties, straits, and 
 annoyance, as did not appear therein to her eyes, nor, 1 found, 
 could be brought to her ear ; for her choler did outrun all reason, 
 though I did meet it at a second hand. For what show she gave 
 at first to my lord deputy at his return, was far more grievous, 
 as will appear in good time. 
 
 " I marvel to. think what strange humours do conspire to patch 
 up the natures of some minds. The elements do seem to strive 
 which shall conquer and rise above the other. In good sooth 
 our late queen did infold them all together. 1 bless her memory 
 for all her goodness to me and my family : and now will I show 
 you what strange temperament she did sometimes put forth. Her 
 mind was oftimes like the gentle air that cometh from the west- 
 erly point in a summer's morn ; 'twas sweet and refreshing to 
 all around her. Her speech did win all affections, and her sub- 
 jects did try to shew all love to her commands ; for she would 
 say, her state did require her to command what she knew her 
 people would willingly do from their own love to her. Herein 
 did she show her wisdom fully ; for who did choose to lose her 
 confidence ; or who would withhold a show of love and obedi- 
 ence, when their sovereign said it was their own choice, and not 
 her compulsion? Surely she did play well her tables to gain 
 obedience thus without constraint; again could she put forth 
 such alterations, when obedience was lacking, as left no doubt - 
 ings whose daughter she was. I say this was plain on the lord 
 deputy's coming home, when I did come into her presence. She 
 chafed much, walked fastly to and fro, looked with discomposure 
 in her visage ; and I remember, she catched my girdle when I 
 kneeled to her, and swore, * By God's son I am no queen, that 
 man is above me ; — who gave him command to come here so 
 soon ? I did send him on other business.' It was long before 
 more gracious discourse did fall to my hearing ; but I was then 
 put out of my trouble, and bid go home. I did not stay to be 
 bidden twice ; if all the Irish rebels had been at my heels, I 
 should not have made better speed, for I did now flee from one 
 whom I both loved and feared too."* 
 
 The fate of Essex remained long in suspense; while several 
 little circumstances seemed to indicate the strength of her ma- 
 jesty's resentment against him ; especially her denying, to the 
 personal request of lady Walsingham, permission for the earl to 
 write to his countess, her daughter, who was in childbed and 
 exceedingly troubled that she neither saw nor heard from her 
 husband ; and afterwards her refusing to allow his family physi- 
 cian access to him, though he was now so ill as to be attended 
 by several other physicians, with whom however Dr. Brown was 
 permitted to consult. At the same time it was given out that if 
 
 Nugce. 
 
484 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 he would beg his liberty for the purpose of going back to Ireland, 
 it would be granted him ; — but he appeared resolute never to 
 return thither, and professed a determination of leading hence- 
 forth a retired life in the country, free from all participation in 
 public affairs. 
 
 Pamphlets were written on his case, but immediately sup- 
 pressed by authority, and perhaps at-the request of the earl him- 
 self, whose behaviour at this time exhibited nothing but duty 
 and submission. His sister lady Rich, and lady Southampton, 
 quitted Essex house and went into the country, because the re- 
 sort of company to them had given offence. He himself neither 
 saw nor desired to see any one. His very servants were afraid 
 to meet in any place to make merry lest it might be ill taken. 
 "At the court," says Whyte, "lady Scrope is only noted to 
 stand firm to him, for she endures much at her majesty's hands 
 because she daily does all kind offices of love to the queen in his 
 behalf. She wears all black; she mourns and is pensive, and 
 joys in nothing but in a solitary being alone. And 'tis thought 
 she says much that few would venture to say but herself." This 
 generous woman was daughter to the first lord Hunsdon, and 
 nearly related both to the queen and to Essex. She was sister 
 to the countess of Nottingham, who is believed to have acted so 
 opposite a part. 
 
 About the middle of October strong hopes were entertained 
 of the earl's enlargement ; but it was said that " he stood to have 
 his liberty by the like warrant he was committed." The secre- 
 tary was pleased to express to him the satisfaction that he felt 
 in seeing her majesty so well appeased by his demeanour, and 
 his own wish to promote his good and contentment. The rea- 
 sons which he had assigned for his conduct in Ireland appeared 
 to have satisfied the privy -council and mollified the queen. But 
 her majesty characteristically declared, that she would not bear 
 the blame of his imprisonment ; and before she and her council 
 could settle amongst them on whom it should be made to rest, 
 a new cause of exasperation arose. Tyrone, in a letter to Essex 
 which was intercepted, declared that he found it impossible to 
 prevail on his confederates to observe the conditions of truce 
 agreed upon between them; and the queen relapsing into anger, 
 triumphantly asked if there did not now appear good cause for 
 the earls committal? She immediately made known to lord 
 Montjoy her wish that he should undertake the government of 
 Ireland ; but the friendship of this nobleman to Essex, joined 
 with a hope that the queen might be induced to liberate him by 
 a necessity of again employing his talents in that country, in- 
 duced Montjoy to excuse himself. The council unanimously 
 recommended to her majesty the enlargement of the prisoner; 
 but she angrily replied, that such contempts as he had been 
 guilty of ought to be openly punished. They answered, that by 
 her sovereign power and the rigour of law, such punishment might 
 indeed be inflicted, but that it would be inconsistent with her 
 clemency and her honour ; she however caused heads of accusa- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 485 
 
 tion to bo drawn up against him. All this time Essex continued 
 very sick ; and his high spirit condescended to supplications like 
 the follow ins;. 
 
 " When the creature entereth into account with the Creator, 
 it can never number in how many things it needs mercy, or in 
 how many it receives it. But he that is best stored, must still 
 say, da nobis hodie; and he that hath showed most thankfulness., 
 must ask again, Quid retribuamtis ? And I can no sooner finish 
 this my first audit, most dear and most admired sovereign, but I 
 come to consider how large a measure of his grace, and how 
 great a resemblance of his power, God hath given you upon earth ; 
 and how many ways he giveth occasion to you to exercise these 
 divine offices upon us, that are your vassals. This confession 
 best fitteth me of all men; and this confession is most joyfully 
 and most humbly now made by me of all times. I acknowledge 
 upon the knees of my heart you majesty's infinite goodness in 
 granting my humble petition. God, who seeth all, is witness, 
 how faithfully I do vow to dedicate the rest of my life, next after 
 my highest duty, in obedience faith and zeal to your majesty, 
 without admitting any other worldly care ; and whatsoever your 
 majesty resolveth to do with me, I shall live and die 
 
 " Your majesty's humblest vassal, 
 
 " ESSEX/' 
 
 The earl abased himself in vain ; those courtiers who had 
 formerly witnessed her majesty's tenderness and indulgence 
 towards him, now wondered at the violence of her resentment ; 
 and somewhat of mystery still involves the motives of her con- 
 duct. At one time she deferred his liberation "because she 
 heard that some of his friends and followers should say he was 
 wrongfully imprisoned :" and the French ambassador who spoke 
 for him, found her very short and bitter on that point. Soon 
 after, however, on hearing that he continued very sick and was 
 making his will, she was surprised into some signs of pity, and 
 gave orders that a few of his friends should be admitted to visit 
 him, and that he should be allowed the liberty of the garden. 
 Alarmed at these relentings, Raleigh, to whose nature the basest 
 court arts were not repugnant, thought proper tQ fall sick in his 
 turn, and was healed in like manner by a gracious message from 
 the queen. The countess of Essex was indefatigable in her ap- 
 plications to persons in power, but with little avail ; all that was 
 gained for the dejected prisoner was effected by the intercession 
 of some of the queen's favourite ladies, who obtained leave for 
 his two sisters to come to court and solicit for him. Soon after, 
 the storm seemed to gather strength again ; — a warrant was 
 made out for the earl's committal to the Tower, and though it 
 was not carried into force, " the hopes of liberty grew cold." 
 About the middle of November lord Montjoy received orders 
 to prepare for Ireland. 
 
 The appearance of the first part of a history in Latin of the 
 life and reign of Henry IV. by sir John Hayward, dedicated to 
 
486 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 the earl of Essex, was the unfortunate occasion of fresh offence te 
 the queen? the subject, as containing the deposition of a lawful 
 prince, was in itself unpalatable ; but what gave the work in her 
 jealous eyes a peculiar and sinister meaning was an expression 
 addressed to the earl which may be thus rendered : " You are 
 great both in present judgment and future expectation." 
 
 Hayward was detained a considerable time in prison ; and the 
 queen, from an idle suspicion that the piece was in fact the pro- 
 duction of some more dangerous character, declared that she 
 would have him racked to discover the secret. " Nay, Madam," 
 answered Francis Bacon, "he is a Doctor jjnever rack his per- 
 son, but rack his style. Let him have pen, ink, and paper, and 
 help of books, and be enjoined to continue the story where it 
 breaketh off; and I will undertake, by collating the styles, to 
 judge whether he were the author or no." And thus her mind 
 was diverted from this atrocious purpose ! 
 
 Measures had now been carried too far against the earl to 
 admit of his speedy restoration to favour, whatever might be the 
 secret sentiments of her majesty in his behalf ; and her conduct 
 respecting him preserved a vacillating and undecided character 
 which marks the miserable perplexity of her mind, no longer 
 enlightened by the clear and dispassionate judgment of Bur- 
 leigh. 
 
 On one occasion she spoke of the earl with such favour as 
 greatly troubled the opposite party. Soon after, on his sending 
 to her his patents of master of the horse and master of the ord- 
 nance, she immediately returned them to him ; and at the same 
 time his lady had leave to visit him. Two days after, the queen 
 ordered a consultation of eight physicians upon his case, who 
 gave little hope of his life, but earnestly recommended that his 
 mind should be quieted ; on which, unable longer to conceal her 
 feelings, she sent Dr. James to him with some broth and the 
 message, that he should comfort himself, and that if she might 
 consistently with her honour she would visit him ; and it was 
 noted that she had tears in her eyes as she spoke. But it was 
 soon after hinted to her, that though divines watched by the bed 
 of the earl and publicly prayed for him in their pulpits, some of 
 them "with speeches tending to sedition," his life was in no real 
 danger. On this, she refused his sisters, his son, and his mother- 
 in-law permission to visit him, and ceased to make inquiries 
 after his health, which was in no long time restored. A rich 
 new year's gift, which was sent " as it were in a cloud, no man 
 knew how," but thought to come from the earl, was left for some 
 time in the hands of sir William Knolles, as neither accepted 
 nor refused, but finally rejected with disdain on some new ac- 
 cession of anger. Yet the letters of lady Rich in his behalf 
 were read, and her many presents received, as well as one from 
 the countess of Leicester. 
 
 Lady Essex was now restrained for a time from making her ' 
 daily visits to her husband, and the queen declared her intention 
 of bringing him before the Star-chamber ; but on his writing a 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 487 
 
 very submissive letter, which was delivered by the secretary, 
 the design was dropped ; and the secretary, who had been ear- 
 nest in his intercession with her majesty to spare this infliction, 
 gained in c onsequence much credit with the public. About the 
 middle of March the earl was suffered to remove, under the su- 
 perintendance of a keeper to his own house; for which lie re 
 turned thanks to her majesty in very grateful terms, saying thai 
 " this further degree of her goodness sounded in his ears as if 
 she had said, * Die not, Essex ; for though I punish thine offence, 
 and humble thee for thy good, yet will I one day be served 
 again by thee. 1 " " And my prostrate soul," he adds, " makes 
 this answer, 'I hope for that blessed day.'" Two months af- 
 terwards, however, perceiving no immediate prospect of his re- 
 turn to favour or to liberty, he addressed her in a more expos- 
 tulating style, tkus : 
 
 "Before all letters written with this hand be banished, or he 
 that sends this enjoin himself eternal silence, be pleased, I 
 humbly beseech your majesty, to read over these few lines. At 
 sundry times and by several messengers, I received these words 
 as your majesty's own ; that you meant to correct but not to ruin. 
 Since which time, when I languished in four months' sickness; 
 forfeited almost all that I was able to engage ; felt the very pangs 
 of death upon me ; and saw that poor reputation, whatsoever it 
 was, that I had hitherto enjo} r ed, not suffered to die with me, but 
 buried, and I alive ; I yet kissed your majesty's fair correcting 
 hand, and was confident in your royal words. For I said unto 
 myself, Between my ruin and my sovereign's favour there is no 
 mean ; and if she bestow favour again, she gives with it all 
 things that in this world I either need or desire. But now, the 
 length of troubles, and the continuance, or rather the increase, 
 of your majesty's indignation hath made all men so afraid of 
 me, as mine own state is not only ruined, but my kind friends 
 and faithful servants are like to die in prison because I cannot 
 help myself with mine own. Now I do not only feel the in- 
 tolerable weight of your majesty's indignation, and am subject 
 to their wicked information that first envied me for my happiness 
 in your favour and now hate me out of custom ; but, as if I were 
 thrown into a corner like a dead carcase, I am gnawed on and 
 torn by the vilest and basest creatures upon earth. The tavern - 
 haunter speaks of me what he lists. Already they print me and 
 make me speak to the world, and shortly they will play me in 
 what forms they list upon the stage. The least of these is a 
 thousand times worse than death. But this is not the worst of 
 my destiny ; for your majesty, that hath mercy for all the world 
 but me, that hath protected from scorn and infamy all, to whom 
 you once vowed favour but Essex, and never repented you of 
 any gracious assurance you had given till now; your majesty, I 
 say, hath now, in this eighth month of my close imprisonment 
 (as if you thought my infirmities, beggary, and infamy, too little 
 punishment for me,) rejected my letters, refused to hear of me, 
 which to traitors you never did. What therefore remaineth for 
 
488 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 me ? Only this, to beseech your majesty on the knees of my 
 heart, to conclude my punishment, my misery, and my life to- 
 gether ; that I may go to my Saviour, who hath paid himself a 
 ransom for me, and whom, methinks, I still hear calling me out 
 of this unkind world, in which I have lived too long, and once 
 thought myself too happy. 
 
 " From your majesty's humble servant, 
 
 "Essex." 
 
 At length the queen prepared to make an end of this lingering 
 business ; the earl's entreaties that it might not be made a Star- 
 chamber matter were listened to, and eighteen commissioners 
 were selected out of the privy-council, to discuss his conduct, hear 
 his accusation and defence, and finally pronounce upon him such 
 a censure, for it was not to be called a sentence, as they should 
 see fit. The crown lawyers, — amongst whom Francis Bacon 
 chose to take his place, though the queen had offered to excuse 
 his attendance on account of the ties of gratitude which ought 
 to have attached him to Essex, — spoke one after another in ag- 
 gravation of his offence ; and some of them, as the attorney- 
 general (Coke,) with great virulence of language. Next came 
 the prisoner's defence, which he pronounced kneeling ; — an 
 attitude in which he was suffered to remain during a great part 
 of the proceedings. He began with a humble avowal of his er- 
 rors, and many expressions of penitence and humility towards 
 her majesty ; a temperate apology for particular parts of his con- 
 duct followed ; but as he was proceeding to reflect in some 
 points on the conduct of the Irish council, and to refute the 
 exaggerated charges of his enemies, he was interrupted by the 
 lord keeper, who reminded him that this was not a course likely 
 to do him good. The earl explained that he had no wish but to 
 clear himself of disloyalty ; it was answered, that with this he 
 never had been charged. The pathetic eloquence of the noble 
 prisoner moved many of the council to tears, and was not with- 
 out its effect on his enemies themselves. The secretary, who was 
 the first to rise in reply, even in refuting a part of his excuses, 
 did him justice in other points, and treated him on the whole 
 with great courtesy. Finally, it was the unanimous censure of 
 the council, that the earl should abstain from exercising the 
 functions of privy-councillor, earl marshal, or master of the ord- 
 nance ; that he should return to his own house, and there remain 
 a prisoner as before, till it should please her majesty to remit 
 both this and all the other parts of the sentence. 
 
 By this solemn hearing, the mind of the queen was much tran- 
 quillised; because her grave councillors and learned judges in 
 their speeches, "amplifying her majesty's clemency and the 
 earl's offences, according to the manner in the Star-chamber," 
 had held him worthy of much more punishment than he had yet 
 received. A few days after her majesty repaired to lady Rus- 
 sel's house in Blackfriars to grace the nuptials of her daughter, 
 a maid of honour, with lord Herbert, son of the earl of Wor- 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 439 
 
 tester: — on which occasion it may be mentioned, that she was 
 conveyed from the water-side in a lectica, or half-litter, borne 
 by six knights. After dining with the wedding company, she 
 passed to the neighbouring house of lord Cobham to sup. Here 
 she was entertained with a mask of eight ladies, who, after per- 
 forming their appointed part, chose out eight ladies more to 
 dance the measure, when Mrs. Fitton, the principal masker, came 
 and " wooed" the queen also to dance. Her majesty inquired 
 who she was ? " Affection," she replied. " Affection^ said the 
 queen, " is false yet she rose and danced. 
 
 Elizabeth was now possessed with a strange fancy of unmaking 
 the knights made by Essex ; being flattered in this folly by 
 Bacon, who assured her, certainly in contradiction to all the laws 
 
 after a prohibition laid upon him by her majesty. She was re- 
 solved to command at least that no ancient gentleman should 
 give place to these new knights ; and she had actually signed 
 the warrant for a proclamation to this effect, when the timely 
 interference of the secretary saved her from thus exposing herself. 
 
 Late in August 1600, the earl was acquainted in form by the 
 privy-council that his liberty was restored, but that he was still 
 prohibited from appearing at court. He answered, that it was 
 his design to lead a retired life at his uncle's in Oxfordshire, 
 yet he begged their intercession that he might be admitted to 
 kiss the queen's hand before his departure. But this was still 
 too great a favour to be accorded, and he was informed, that 
 though free from restraint, he was still to regard himself as un- 
 der indignation ; a distinction which served to deter all but his 
 nearest relations from resorting to him. 
 
 In the spring of this year, Vereiken, an ambassador from 
 Flanders, was very honourably received by the queen, whose 
 counsels had assumed a more pacific aspect since the disgrace of 
 Essex. 
 
 Whyte informs us, with his usual minuteness, that the am- 
 bassador was lodged with alderman Baning in Dowgate ; and 
 that he was fetched to court in great state, the whole liousehold 
 being drawn up in the hall ; the great ladies and fair maids ap- 
 pearing " excellently brave" in the rooms through which he 
 passed ; and the queen, very richly dressed and surrounded by 
 her council, extending to him a most gracious reception. He 
 solemnly congratulated himself on the happiness of beholding 
 her majesty, " who for beauty and wisdom did excel all other 
 princes of the earth ;" and she, in requittal, promised to con- 
 sider of his proposals. The negotiation proved in the end abor- 
 tive ; but great offence was taken at the publication in this junc- 
 ture of a letter by the earl of Essex against a peace with Spain. 
 
 Raleigh was at this time leaving London in discontent because 
 nothing was done for him ; — it does not appear what was now 
 the particular object of his solicitation ; but a writer has record- 
 ed it as an instance of the prudent reserve of Elizabeth in the 
 
 of chivalry, that her general 
 
 3Q 
 
490 
 
 THE COURX OF 
 
 advancement of her courtiers, that she would never admit th6 
 eloquent and ambitious Raleigh to a seat at her council-board.* 
 In the midst of her extreme anxiety for the fate of Ireland, 
 —where Tyrone for the present carried all things at his will, 
 boasting himself the champion of the Romish cause, and pro- 
 claiming his expectation of Spanish aid ; and of her more inti- 
 mate and home-felt uneasiness respecting the effect of her 
 measures of chastisement on the haughty mind of Essex, — we 
 find Elizabeth promoting with some affectation the amusements 
 of her court. " This day," says Whyte, " she appoints to see 
 a Frenchman do feats upon a cord in the conduit court. To- 
 morrow she hath commanded the bears, the bull and the ape to 
 be baited in the tilt-yard ; upon Wednesday she will have solemn 
 dancing." 
 
 A letter from sir Robert Sidney to sir John Harrington, writ- 
 ten some time in this year, affords some not uninteresting traits 
 of her behaviour, mixed with other matters : 
 
 " Worthy Knight ; 
 " Your present to the queen was well accepted of ; she did 
 much commend your verse, nor did she less praise your prose 
 . . . . The queen hath tasted your dainties, and saith you have 
 marvellous skill in the cooking of good fruits. If I can serve 
 you in your northern suit, you may command me ... . Our law- 
 
 strict law doth not countenance your recovering those lands of 
 your ancestors .... Visit your friends often, and please the 
 queen by all you can, for all the great lawyers do much fear her 
 
 displeasure I do see the queen often, she doth wax weak 
 
 since the late troubles, and Burleigh's death doth often draw 
 tears from her goodly cheeks ; she walketh out but little, medi- 
 tates much alone, and sometimes writes in private to her best 
 Friends. The Scottish matters do cause much discourse, but we 
 know not the true grounds of state business, nor venture further 
 on such ticklish points.* Her highness hath done honour to my 
 poor house by visiting me, and seemed much pleased at what 
 we did to please her. My son made her a fair speech, to which 
 she did give most gracious reply. The women did dance before 
 her, whilst the cornets did salute from the gallery ; and she did 
 vouchsafe to eat two morsels of rich comfit cake, and drank a 
 small cordial out of a golden cup. She had a marvellous suit 
 of velvet, borne by four of her first women-attendants in rich 
 apparel ; two ushers did go before ; and at going up stairs she 
 called for a staff, and was much wearied in walking about the 
 house, and said she wished to come another day. Six drums 
 and six trumpets waited in the court, and sounded at her ap- 
 proach and departure. My wife did bear herself in wonderous 
 good liking, and was attired in a purple kirtle fringed with gold; 
 and myself in a rich band and collar of needlework, and did- 
 
 grounded in conscience, but that 
 
 * Bohun's Memoirs. 
 
 f The mysterious affair of the Cowrie conspiracy is probably here alluded to. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 49J 
 
 wear a goodly stuff of the bravest cut and fashion, with an un- 
 der bodv of silver and loops. The queen was much in commen- 
 dation of our appearances, and smiled at the ladies who in their 
 dances often came up to the step on which the seat was fixed to 
 make their obeisance, and so fell back into their order again. 
 The younger Markham did several gallant feats on a horse be- 
 fore the gate, leaping down and kissing his sword, then mount- 
 ing swiftly on the saddle, and passing a lance with much skill. 
 The day well nigh spent, the queen went and tasted a small 
 beverage that was set out in divers rooms where she might pass, 
 and then in much order was attended to her palace ; the cornets 
 and trumpets sounding through the streets," &c. 
 
 The fate of Essex was now drawing to a crisis. The mixture 
 of severity and indulgence with which he had been treated ; — 
 her majesty's perseverance in refusing to re-admit him to her 
 presence, though all other liberty was restored to him ; — her re- 
 peated assurances that she meant only to chastise, not to ruin 
 him, contrasted with the tedious duration of her anger and the 
 utter uncertainty when, or by what means, it was to be brought 
 to an end ; — had long detained him in the mazes of a torment- 
 ing uncertainty : but he at length saw the moment when her 
 disposition towards him must be brought to a test which he se- 
 cretly assured his adherents that he should regard as decisive. 
 
 The term for which the earl had held the lucrative farm of 
 sweet wines would expire at Michaelmas ; he was soliciting its 
 renewal ; and on the doubtful balance of success or failure his 
 already wavering loyalty was suspended. He spared on this 
 occasion no expressions of humility and contrition which might 
 soften the heart of the queen : — He professed to kiss the hand 
 and the rod with which he had been corrected ; to look forward 
 to the beholding again those blessed eyes, so long his Cynosure, 
 as the only real happiness which he could ever enjoy ; and he 
 declared his intention with Nebuchodonosor, to make his habita - 
 tion with the beasts of the field, to eat hay like an ox, and to 
 be wet with the dews of heaven, until it should please the queen 
 to restore him. To lord Henry Howard, who was the bearer of 
 these dutiful phrases, Elizabeth expressed her unfeigned satis- 
 faction to find him in so proper a frame of mind ; she only wish- 
 ed, she said, that his deeds might answer to his words ; and as 
 he had long tried her patience, it was fit that she should make 
 some experiment of his humility. Her father would never have 
 endured such perversity ;•— but she would not now look back : 
 — All that glittered was not gold, but if such results came forth 
 from her furnace, she should ever after think the better of her 
 chemistry. Soon after, having detected the motive of immedi- 
 ate interest which had inspired such moving expressions of peni- 
 tence and devotion, her disgust against Essex was renewed ; 
 and in the end, she not only rejected his suit, but added the in- 
 sulting words, that an ungovernable beast must be stinted of his 
 provender, in order to bring him under management. 
 
 The spirit of Essex could* endure no more;-— rage took pos- 
 
492 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 session of his soul ; and equally desperate in fortune and uft 
 mind, he prepared to throw himself into any enterprise which 
 the rashness of the worst advisers could suggest. It was at this 
 time that he is reported, in speaking of the queen, to have used 
 the expression, maliciously repeated to her by certain court-la- 
 dies, — that through old age her mind was become as crooked as 
 her carcase : — words which might have sufficed to plunge him 
 at once from the height of favour into irretrievable ruin. 
 
 The doors of Essex-house, hitherto closed night and day since 
 the disgrace of the earl, were now thrown popularly open. Sir 
 Gilly Merrick, his steward, kept an open table for all military 
 adventurers, men of broken fortunes and malcontents of every 
 party. Sermons were delivered there daily by the most zealous 
 and popular of the puritan divines, to which the citizens ran in 
 crowds ; and lady Rich, who had lately been placed under re- 
 straint by the queen and was still in deep disgrace, on account 
 of her intermeddling in the affairs of her brother, and on the 
 further ground of her scandalous intrigue with lord Montjoy, 
 became a daily visitant. The earl himself, listening again to 
 the suggestions of his secretary Cuff, whom he had once dis- 
 missed on account of his violent and dangerous character, began 
 to meditate new counsels. 
 
 An eye-witness has thus impressively described the struggles 
 of his mind ?<t this juncture. "It resteth with me in opinion, 
 that ambition thwarted in its career doth speedily lead on to 
 madness : herein I am strengthened by what I learn in my lord of 
 Essex, who shifteth from sorrow and repentance to rage and re- 
 bellion so suddenly as well proveth him devoid of good reason 
 or right mind ; in my last discourse he uttered such strange 
 words, bordering on such strange designs, that made me hasten 
 forth, and leave his presence. Thank heaven I am safe at home, 
 and if I go in such troubles again, I deserve the gallows for a 
 meddling fool. His speeches of the queen becometh no man 
 who hath mens sana in corpore sano. He hath ill advisers, and 
 much evil hath sprung from this source. 
 
 " The queen well knoweth how to humble the haughty spirit, 
 the haughty spirit knoweth not how to yield, and the man's soul 
 seemeth tossed to and fro like the waves of a troubled sea."* 
 
 The affinity of Essex to the crown by his descent from Tho- 
 mas of Woodstock has been already adverted to ; — it seems 
 never to have awakened the slightest jealousy in the mind of 
 Elizabeth ; but the absurd vaunts of some of his followers, com- 
 mented upon by the malicious ingenuity of his enemies, had suf- 
 ficed to excite sinister suspicions in the bosom of the king of 
 Scots. For the purpose of counteracting these, lord Montjoy, 
 near the beginning of the earl's captivity, had sent Henry Leigh 
 into Scotland, to give the king assurance that Essex entertained 
 none of the ambitious views which had been imputed to him, but 
 was, on the contrary, firmly resolved to endure no succession 
 
 * Sir John Harrington in Jiugs;. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 499 
 
 but that of his majesty ; further hinting at some steps for caus- 
 ing his right to be recognised in the lifetime of the queen. From 
 this time a friendly correspondence had been maintained between 
 James and the Essex party ; and Montjoy, on being appointed 
 lord deputy of Ireland, had gone so far as to offer to the king to 
 bring over to England such part of his army as, acting in con- 
 cert with the force that the earl would be able to raise, might 
 compass by force the object which tb.ey had in view. By some 
 delay in the return of the messenger, added to the dilatoriness 
 or reluctance of James, this plan was frustrated ; but some time 
 after Essex, impatient alike of the disgrace and the inactivity 
 of his present restraint, urged Montjoy to bring over his forces, 
 without waiting for the tardy co-operation of the king of Scots. 
 The lord deputy replied, " that he thought it more lawful to 
 enter into such a course with one that had interest in the suc- 
 cession than otherwise ; and though he had been led before out 
 of the opinion he had to do his country good by the establishment 
 of the succession, and to deliver my lord of Essex out of the 
 danger he was in ; yet now his life appeared to be safe, to re- 
 store his fortune only, and to save himself from the danger which 
 hangs over him by discovery, and to satisfy my lord of Essex's 
 private ambition, he would not enter into any enterprise of that 
 kind."* 
 
 After this repulse, Essex as a last resource applied himself 
 once more to the court of Scotland, and, with the disingenuous- 
 ness inseparable from the conduct of political intrigue, exerted 
 all his efforts to deceive James into a belief that the party now 
 in power were pensioners of Spain, hired to the support of the 
 pretended title of the Infanta. He further alarmed the king by 
 representing that the places most proper for the reception of 
 Spanish forces were all in the hands of the creatures of Cecil ; — 
 Raleigh being governor of Jersey, lord Cobham warden of the 
 Cinque Ports, lord Burleigh president of the North, and sir 
 George Carew president of Munster. In consequence, he urged 
 James to lose no time in claiming by his ambassadors a solemn 
 acknowledgment of his title. These suggestions were listened to j 
 and Essex was animated to proceed in his perilous career by 
 hopes of the speedy arrival of the Scottish embassy. In the 
 meantime he formed a council of five of the friends most devoted 
 to his cause : — the earl of Southampton, sir Charles Davers, sir 
 Ferdinando Gorges, sir John Davis surveyor of the ordnance, 
 and John Littleton esquire, of Frankley. By this junto, which 
 met privately at Drury-house, the plot was matured. The earl 
 delivered in a list of one hundred and twenty nobles, knights 
 and gentlemen, on whose attachment he thought he could rely : 
 it was agreed that an attempt should be made to seize the palace, 
 and to persuade or compel the queen to remove from her coun- 
 cils the enemies of the earl, and to summon a new parliament ; 
 
 * Confession of sir Charles Davers, in Birch's Memoirs, 
 
494 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 and their respective parts were allotted to the intended actor? 
 in this scene of violence. 
 
 Meantime the extraordinary concourse to Essex-house had 
 fixed the attention of government, and measures were taken for 
 obtaining intelligence of all that passed within its walls. Lord 
 Henry Howard, who had made a timely secession from the 
 leader to whom, in terms of the grossest adulation, he had pro- 
 fessed everlasting and unlimited attachment, is believed to have 
 discovered some of his secret s; and a domestic educated with 
 the earl from childhood, and entirely trusted by him, had also the 
 baseness to reveal his counsels. On the 7th of February 1601. 
 the privy council, being fully informed of his proceedings, dis- 
 patched secretary Herbert to summon the earl to appear before 
 them. But apprehensive that he was betrayed, and conscious 
 that the steps which he had already taken were incapable of 
 being justified, the earl excused himself from attending the coun- 
 cil, and summoning around him the most confidential of his 
 friends, he represented to them that they were on the point of 
 being committed to prison, and bade them decide whether they 
 would quietly submit themselves to the disposal of their enemies, 
 or attempt thus prematurely to carry into effect the designs 
 which they had meditated. 
 
 During the debate which ensued, a person entered who pre- 
 tended to be deputed by the people of London to assure the earl 
 of their cordial co-operation in his cause. This decided the 
 question ; Essex, with a more cheerful countenance, began to 
 expatiate on the affection borne him by the city, and his expec- 
 tation of being joined by sheriff Smith with a thousand of the 
 trained bands whom he commanded. The following morning 
 was fixed for the insurrection ; and in the meantime emissaries 
 were dispatched, who ran about the town in all directions, to 
 spread among the friends of the earl the alarm of a design upon 
 his life by Cobham and Raleigh. 
 
 Early on the morrow the lord keeper, the lord chief justice, 
 and sir W. Knolles comptroller of the household, arrived at 
 Essex-house and demanded entrance on the part of the queen. 
 
 They themselves were with difficulty admitted through the 
 wicket of the gate, which was now kept shut and guarded ; but 
 all their servants, except the purse-bearer were excluded. They 
 beheld the court-yard filled with a confused multitude, in the 
 midst of which stood Essex, accompanied by the earls of South" 
 ampton and Rutland and many others. The lord keeper demand- 
 ed in the name of her majesty the cause of this unusual concourse; 
 adding an assurance that if any had injured his lordship, he 
 should find redress. Essex in a vehement manner complained 
 of letters counterfeited in his name, — of designs against his life, 
 — of perfidious dealings towards him : but the conference was 
 interrupted by the clamours of the crowd, some of whom threat- 
 ened violence against the court-emissaries. Without further 
 parley the earl conducted them into the house, where he ordered 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 495 
 
 them to be safely kept as hostages till his return from the city, 
 whither he was hastening to take measures with the lord -mayor 
 and sheriffs. 
 
 About ten o'clock he entered the city attended by the " chief 
 gallants'' of the time ; as the earls of Southampton and Rutland, 
 lords Sandys and Monteagle, sir Charles Davers, sir Christopher 
 Blount and many others. As they passed Fleet-street, they 
 cried, " For the queen, for the queen !" in other places they 
 gave out that Cobham and Raleigh would have murdered the 
 earl in his bed ; and the multitude, universally well affected to 
 Essex, eagerly reported that he and the queen were reconciled, 
 and that she had appointed him to ride in that triumphant man- 
 ner through the city to his house in Seething-lane. The lord- 
 mayor however received warning from the privy-council to look 
 well to his charge, and by eleven the gates were closed and 
 strongly guarded. The earl, though a good deal disconcerted 
 at observing no preparations for joining him, made his way to 
 the house of sheriff Smith ; but this officer slipped out at his 
 back door, and hastened to the lord-mayor for instructions. He 
 next proceeded to an armourer's and demanded ammunition, 
 which was refused ; and while he was hastening to and fro, 
 without aim or object as appears, lord Burleigh courageously en- 
 tered the city with a king-at-arms and half a score horsemen, and 
 in two places proclaimed the earl and all his adherents traitors. 
 A pistol was fired at him by one of the followers of Essex ; but 
 the multitude showed no disposition to molest him, and he has- 
 tened back to assure the queen that a popular commotion was 
 not at all to be apprehended. 
 
 The palace was now fortified and double-guarded ; the streets 
 were blocked up with carts and coaches; and the earl, after 
 wandering in vain about the town till two o'clock, finding him- 
 self joined by none of the citizens and deserted by a great por- 
 tion of his original followers, determined to make his way back 
 to Essex-house. At Ludgate he was opposed by some troops 
 posted there by order of the bishop; and, drawing his sword, he 
 directed sir Christopher Blount to attack them; "which he did 
 with great bravery, and killed Waite, a stout officer, who had 
 been formerly hired by the earl of Leicester to assassinate sir 
 Christopher, and who was now abandoned by his company."* 
 In the end, however, the earl was repulsed with the loss of one 
 young gentleman killed and sir Christopher Blount wounded 
 and taken prisoner ; and retreating with his diminished band to 
 the river side, he returned by water to his own house. 
 
 He was much disappointed to find that his three prisoners had 
 been libe'rated in his absence by sir Ferdinando Gorges ; but 
 sanguine to the last in his hopes of an insurrection of the citizens 
 in his favour, he proceeded to fortify his house in the best man- 
 ner that circumstances would admit. 
 
 It was soon invested by a considerable force under the lord 
 admiral, the earls of Cumberland and Lincoln, and other com- 
 
 * Birch's Memoirs. 
 
496 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 manders. Sir Robert Sidney was ordered to summon the little 
 garrison to surrender, when the eari of Southampton demanded 
 terms and hostages; but being answered that none would be 
 granted to rebels, except that the ladies within the house and 
 their women would be permitted to depart if they desired it, the 
 defenders declared their resolution to. hold out, and the assault 
 continued. 
 
 Lord Sandys, the oldest man in the party, encouraged the 
 earl in the resolution which he once appeared to have adopted, 
 of cutting a way through the assailants; observing, that the 
 boldest courses were the safest, and that at all events it was 
 more honourable for men of quality to die sword in hand than 
 by the axe of the executioner : — but Essex, who had not yet re- 
 signed the flattering hopes of life, was easily moved by the tears 
 and cries of the surrounding females to yield to less courageous, 
 not more prudent counsels. Captain Owen Salisbury, a brave 
 veteran, seeing that all was lost, planted himself at a window 
 bare-headed, for the purpose of being slain : on receiving from 
 one of the assailants a bullet on the side of his head, " O !" 
 cried he, "that thou hadst been so much my friend to have shot 
 but a little lower !'' Of this wound however he expired the next 
 morning. 
 
 About six in the evening the earl made known his willingness 
 to surrender, on receiving assurance, for himself and his friends, 
 of civil treatment and a legal trial ; and permission for a cler- 
 gyman named Aston to attend him in prison : — the lord admiral 
 answered that of the two first articles there could be no doubt, 
 and for the last he would intercede. The house was then 
 yielded with all that were in it. During that night the prin- 
 cipal offenders were lodged in Lambeth palace, the next day 
 they were conveyed to the Tower ; while the common prisons 
 received the accomplices of meaner rank. 
 
 On February 19th Essex and Southampton were brought to 
 their trial before the house of peers ; lord Buckhurst sitting as 
 lord high steward. Essex inquired whether peers might not be 
 challenged like common jurymen, but was answered in the ne- 
 gative. He pleaded Not guilty; professed his unspotted loyalty 
 to his queen and country, and earnestly laboured to give to his 
 attempt to raise the city the colour of a necessary act of self- 
 defence against the machinations of enemies from whom his life 
 was in danger. Had this interpretation of his conduct been ad- 
 mitted, possibly his offence might not have come within the limits 
 of treason : but it was held, that his refusal to attend the council ; 
 the imprisonment of the three great officers sent to him by the 
 queen ; and, above all, the consultations held at Drury-house for 
 bringing soldiers from Ireland, for surprising the Tower, for 
 seizing the palace, and for compelling the queen to remove cer- 
 tain persons from her counsels and to call a parliament, assigned 
 to his overt acts the character of designs against the state itself. 
 For the confessions of his accomplices, by which the secrets of 
 the Drury-house meetings were brought to light, he was evi^ 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 497 
 
 dently unprepared ; and the native violence of his temper broke 
 out in invectives against those associates, by whom, as he falsely 
 pretended, all these criminal designs had been originally sug- 
 gested to his mind. This evidence, he said, had been elicited by 
 the hope of pardon and reward; — let those who had given it 
 enjoy their lives with impunity ; — to him death was far more 
 welcome than life. Whatever interpretation lawyers might put 
 upon it, the necessity of self-defence against Cobham, Raleigh, 
 and Cecil, had impelled him to raise the city; and he was con- 
 soled by the testimony of a spotless conscience. Lord Cobham 
 here rose, and protested that he had never acted with malice 
 against the earl, although he had disapproved of his ambition. 
 " On my faith," replied the earl, " I would have given this right 
 hand to have removed from the queen such an informer and ca- 
 lumniator." 
 
 He afterwards proceeded to accuse sir Robert Cecil of having 
 affirmed that the title of Infanta was equally well founded with 
 that of any other claimant. But the secretary here stepped for- 
 ward to entreat that the prisoner might be obliged to bring proof 
 of his assertions ; and it thus became manifest, and in the end 
 was confessed with contrition by the earl himself, that he had 
 advanced this charge on false grounds. 
 
 It was with better reason that he reproached Francis Bacon, 
 who then stood against him as queen's counsel, with the glaring 
 inconsistency between his past professions and his present con- 
 duct. This cowardly desertion of his generous and affectionate 
 friend and patron, — or rather this open revolt from him, this 
 shameless attack upon him in the hour of his extreme distress 
 and total ruin, — forms indeed the foulest of the many blots which 
 stain the memory of this illustrious person : it may even be pro- 
 nounced, on a deliberate survey of all its circumstances, the 
 basest and most profligate act of that reign, which yet affords 
 examples, in the conduct of its public men, of almost every spe- 
 cies of profligacy and baseness. That it continued to be matter 
 of general reproach against him, clearly appears from the long 
 and laboured apology which Bacon thought it necessary, several 
 years afterwards, to address to lord Montjoy, then earl of De- 
 von ; — an apology which extenuates in no degree the turpi- 
 tude of the fact; but which may be consulted for a number of 
 highly curious, if authentic, particulars. 
 
 The earl of Southampton likewise pleaded, Not guilty, and 
 professed his inviolate fidelity towards her majesty : he excused 
 whatever criminality he might have fallen into, by the warmth 
 of his attachment for Essex, and behaved throughout with a m ad- 
 ness and an ingenuous modesty which moved all hearts in his 
 favour. After a trial of eleven hours, sentence of Guilty was 
 unanimously pronounced on both the prisoners Southampton, 
 in an affecting manner, imnlored all present to intercede for him 
 with her majesty, and Essex, with great earnestness, joined in 
 this petition of his unfortunate friend : as to himself, he said, he 
 was not anxious for life ; wishing for nothing more than to lay it 
 
 3R 
 
498 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 down with entire fidelity towards God and his prince. — Yet he 
 would have no one insinuate to the queen that he despised her 
 mercy, though he believed he should not too submissively im- 
 plore it : and he hoped all men would in their consciences acquit 
 him, though the law had pronounced him guilty. Such was the 
 lofty tone of self justification assumed by Essex on this memo- 
 rable occasion, when his pride was roused and his temper exas- 
 perated, by the open war of recrimination and reproaches into 
 which he had so unadvisedly plunged with his personal enemies ; 
 and by the cruel and insolent invectives of the crown lawyers. 
 But he was soon to undergo on this point a most remarkable and 
 total change. 
 
 The mind of the earl of Essex was deeply imbued with senti- 
 ments of religion : from early youth he had conversed much 
 with divines of the stricter class, whom he held in habitual reve- 
 rence ; and conscious in the conduct of his past life of many 
 deviations from the Gospel rule of right, he now, in the immedi- 
 ate prospect of its violent termination, surrendered himself into 
 the hands of these spiritual guides with extraordinary humility 
 and implicit submission. To the criminality of his late attempt, 
 his conscience was not however awakened ; he seems to have 
 believed, that in contriving the fall of his enemies, he was at the 
 same time deserving the thanks of his country, oppressed by 
 their mal -administration ; and he repelled all the efforts of Dr. 
 Dove, by whom he was first visited, to inspire him with a differ- 
 ent sense of this part of his conduct. But his favourite divine, 
 Mr. Aston, — who is described by a contemporary as " a man 
 base, fearful and mercenary/' in whom the earl was much de- 
 ceived, — practised with more success upon his mind. By an 
 artful pretext of believing him to have aimed at the crown, he 
 first drew him into a warm defence of his conduct on this point ; 
 then by degrees into a confession of all that he had really plot- 
 ted, and the concurrence which he had found from others. This 
 was the end aimed at by Aston, or by the government which 
 employed him : he professed that he could not reconcile it to his 
 conscience to conceal treasons so foul and dangerous ; alarmed 
 the earl with all the terrors of religion : and finally persuaded 
 him, that a full discovery of his accomplices was the only atone- 
 ment which he could make to heaven and earth. The humbled 
 Essex was brought to entreat that several privy-councillors, of 
 whom Cecil by name was one, should J^e sent to hear his con- 
 fessions ; and so strangely scrupulous did he show himself to 
 leave nothing untold, that he gave up even the letters of the 
 king of Scots, and betrayed every private friend whom attach- 
 ment to himself had ever seduced into acquiescence in his de- 
 signs, or a nice sense of honour withheld from betraying them. 
 
 Sir Henry Nevil, for having only concealed projects in which 
 he had absolutely refused to concur, was thus exposed to the 
 loss of his appointment of ambassador to France ; to imprison- 
 ment, and to a long persecution ; — and lord Montjoy might have 
 suffered even capitally, had not his good and acceptable service 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 499 
 
 hi Ireland induced the queen to wink at former offences. Cuff* 
 the secretary of the earl, whom he sent for to exhort him to imi- 
 tate his sincerity, sternly upbraided his master with his altered 
 mind, and his treachery towards those who had evinced the 
 strongest attachment to his service: but the earl remained un- 
 moved by his reproaches, and calmly prepared for death in the 
 full persuasion that he had now worked out his own salvation. 
 
 Elizabeth had behaved on occasion of the late insurrection 
 with all her wonted fortitude ; even at the time when Essex was 
 actually in the city and a false report was brought her of its revolt 
 to him, "she was never more amazed," says Cecil in a letter 
 to sir Grorge Carew, " than she would have been to have heard 
 of a fray in Fleet-street." But when, in the further progress 
 of the affair, she beheld her once loved Essex brought to the bar 
 for high treason and condemned by the unanimous verdict of his 
 peers ; when it rested solely with herself to take the forfeit of 
 his life or interfere by an act of special grace for his preserv- 
 ation, — her grief, her agitation, and her perplexity became ex- 
 treme. A sense of the many fine qualities and rare endowments 
 of her kinsman, — his courage, his eloquence, his generosity, 
 and the affectionate zeal with which he had served her ; — in- 
 dulgence for the youthful impetuosity which had carried him 
 out of the path of duty, not unmixed with compunction for that 
 severe and contemptuous treatment by which she had exaspe- 
 rated to rebellion the spirit which mildness might have softened 
 into penitence and submission ; — above all, the remaining af- 
 fection which still lurked at the bottom of her heart, pleaded 
 for mercy wich a force scarcely to be withstood. On the other 
 hand, the ingratitude, the neglect, the insolence with which he 
 had occasionally treated her, and the magnitude of his offences, 
 which daily grew upon her by his own confessions and those of 
 his accomplices, fatally united to confirm the natural bias of her 
 mind towards severity. 
 
 At this juncture, Thomas Leigh, one of the dark and desperate 
 characters whose service Essex had used in his criminal nego- 
 tiations with Tyrone, by an atrocious plot for entering the 
 palace, seizing the person of the queen and compelling her to 
 sign a warrant for the release of the two earls, renewed her fears 
 and gave fresh force to her anger. Irresolute for some days, she 
 once countermanded by a special messenger the order for the 
 death of Essex ; then, as repenting of her weakness, she signed 
 a second warrant, in obedience to which he was finally, on Fe- 
 bruary 25th, brought to the scaffold. 
 
 The last scene was performed in a manner correspondent in 
 all respects to the contrite and humiliated frame of mind to 
 which the noble culprit had been wrought. It was no longer the 
 brave, the gallant, the haughty earl of Essex, the favourite of the 
 queen, the admiration of the ladies, the darling of the soldiery, 
 the idol of the people ; — no longer even the undaunted prisoner, 
 pouring forth invectives against his enemies in answer to the 
 charges against himself ; loudly persisting in the innocence of 
 
500 
 
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 his intentions, instead of imploring mercy for Ins actions, and 
 defending his honour while he asserted a lofty indifference to 
 life ; — it was a meek and penitent offender, profoundly sensible 
 of all his past transgressions, but taught to expect their remission 
 in the world to which he was hastening, through the fevency of 
 his prayers and the plenitude of his confessions ; and prepared, 
 as his latest act, to perform in public a solemn religious service, 
 composed for his use by the assistant clergy, whose directions 
 he obeyed with the most scrupulous minuteness. Under a change 
 so entire, even his native eloquence had forsaken him. Sir 
 Robert Cecil, who seems to have been a cool and critical spec - 
 tator of the fatal scene, remarks to his correspondent that "the 
 conflict between the flesh and the soul did thus far appear, that 
 in his prayers he was fain to be helped ; otherwise no man living 
 could pray more christianly than he did. 
 
 Essex had requested of the queen that he might be put to 
 death in a private manner within the walls of the Tower, fear- 
 ing, as he told the divines who attended him, that " the acclama- 
 tions of the citizens should have hoven him up." His desire in 
 this point was willingly complied with ; but about a hundred 
 nobles, knights and gentlemen witnessed the transaction from 
 seats placed near the scaffold. Sir Walter Raleigh chose to 
 station himself at a window of the armoury whence he could see 
 all without being observed by the earl. This action, universally 
 imputed to a barbarous desire of glutting his eyes with the blood 
 of the man whom he hated and had pursued with a hostility 
 more unrelenting than that of Cecil himself, was never forgiven 
 by the people, who detested him no less than they loved and ad- 
 mired his unfortunate rival. Several years after, when Raleigh 
 in his turn was brought to the same end in the same place, he 
 professed however, and perhaps truly, that the sorrowful spec- 
 tacle had melted him to tears : meantime, he at least extracted 
 from the late events large gratification for another ruling pas- 
 sion of his breast, by setting to sale his interest in procuring 
 pardons to gentlemen concerned in the insurrection. Mr. Lyt- 
 tleton in particular is recorded to have paid him then thousand 
 pounds for his good offices, and Mr. Bainham a sum not speci- 
 fied. The life of the earl of Southampton was spared, at the 
 intercession chiefly of Cecil, but he was confined in the Tower 
 till the death of the queen : others escaped with short imprison- 
 ments and the imposition of fines, few of which were exacted ; 
 sir Fulk Greville having humanely made it his business to re- 
 present to the queen that no danger was to apprehended from a 
 faction which had lost its leader. Four only of the principal 
 conspirators suffered capitally; sir Christopher Blount and sir 
 Charles Davers, both catholics, sir Gilly Merrick and Henry 
 Cuff. 
 
 Those ambassadors from the king of Scots on whose co-opera- 
 tion Essex had placed his chief reliance, now arrived ; and find- 
 ing themselves too late for other purposes, they obeyed their 
 master's instructions in such a case by offering to the queen his 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 501 
 
 warmest congratulations on her escape from so foul and danger- 
 ous a conspiracy. They were further charged to make secret 
 inquiry whether James's correspondence with Essex and concur- 
 rence 'in the late conspiracy had come to her knowledge ; and 
 whether any measures were likely to be taken in consequence 
 for his exclusion from the succession. The confessions of Essex 
 to the privy-councillors had indeed rendered Elizabeth perfectly 
 acquainted with the machinations of James ; but resolute to re - 
 frain during the remnant of her days from all angry discussions 
 with the prince whom she sa w destined to succeed her, she 'had 
 caused the earl to be not only requested, but commanded, to for- 
 bear the repetition of this part of his acknowledgments on the 
 scaffold. She was thus left free to receive with all those demon- 
 strations of amity which cost her nothing, the compliments of 
 James ; and she remafhed deliberately ignorant of all that he 
 desired her not to know. The Scottish emissaries had the further 
 satisfaction of carrying back to their master assurances of the 
 general consent of Englishmen in his favour, and in particular a 
 pledge of the adherence of secretary Cecil, who immediately 
 opened a private correspondence with the king, of which lord 
 Henry Howard, who had formerly conducted that of Essex, be- 
 came the willing medium. 
 
 There is good evidence that the peace of Elizabeth received 
 an incurable wound by the loss of her unhappy favourite, whicli 
 she daily found additional cause to regret on perceiving how 
 completely it had delivered her over to the domination of his 
 adversaries ; but she still retained the resolution to pursue witk 
 unabated vigour the great objects on which she was sensible that 
 the mind of a sovereign ought to be with little remission em- 
 ployed. The memorable siege of Ostend, begun during this sum- 
 mer by the archduke Albert, fixed her attention and that of Eu- 
 rope. The defence was conducted by that able officer sir Fran- 
 cis Vere, at the head of a body of English auxiliaries, whom the 
 States had enlisted with the queen's permission, at their own 
 expense. Henry IV., as if for the purpose of observing more 
 nearly the event, had repaired to Calais. The queen of England, 
 earnestly desirous of a personal interview, wrote him two letters 
 on the subject; and Henry sent in return marshal Biron and two 
 other ambassadors of rank, with a train of three or four hundred 
 persons, whom the queen received with high honours, and caused 
 to accompany her in her progress. During her visit of thirteen 
 days to the marquis of Winchester at Basing, the French em- 
 bassy was lodged at the house of lord Sandys, which was furnish- 
 ed for the occasion with plate and hangings from Hampton-court; 
 the queen defraying all the charges, which were more than those 
 of her own court at Basing. She made it her boast that she had 
 in this progress entertained royally a royal ambassador at her 
 subjects' houses ; which she said no other prince could do. The 
 meeting of the two sovereigns, in hopes of which Elizabeth had 
 actually gone to Dover, could not for some unknown reason be 
 at last arranged ; but Henry, at the particular instance of his 
 
602 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 friend and ally, sent Sully over in disguise to confer confiden- 
 tially with her respecting an important political project which 
 she had announced. This was no less than a plan for humbling 
 the house of Austria, and establishing a more perfect balance of 
 power in Europe by uniting into one State the seventeen Flemish 
 provinces. It was an idea, as Sully declared to her, which had 
 reviously occurred to Henry himself ; and the coincidence was 
 attering to both ; but various obstacles were found likely to 
 retard its execution till a period to which Elizabeth could scarcely 
 loo'k forward. One advantage, however, was gained to the queen 
 of England by the interview ; — the testimony of this celebrated 
 statesman, recorded in his own memoirs, to the solidity of her judg- 
 ment and the enlargement of her views ; and his distinct avowal 
 that she was in all respects worthy of the high estimation which 
 she had for more than forty years enjoyed by common consent 
 of all the politicians of Europe. 
 
 Ireland was still a source to Elizabeth of anxiety and embar- 
 rassment. In order to sustain the expenses of the war, she suf- 
 fered herself to be prevailed on to issue base money for the pay 
 of the troops ; — a mortifying circumstance, after the high credit 
 which she had gained by that restoration of the coin to its ori- 
 ginal standard which was one of the first acts of her reign. 
 Montjoy in the meantime was struggling with vigour and pro- 
 gressive success against the disorders of the country. With the 
 assistance of sir George Carew, president of Munster, and other 
 able commanders, he was gradually reducing the inferior rebels 
 and cutting off the supplies of Tyrone himself : but the courage 
 of this insurgent was still supported by the hope of aids from 
 Spain ; and during this summer two bodies of Spanish troops, 
 one of four thousand, the other of two thousand men, made good 
 their landing. The larger number, under Aquila, took posses- 
 sion of Kinsale ; the smaller, under Ocampo, was joined by Ty- 
 rone and other rebels with all their forces. The appearance of 
 affairs was alarming, since the catholic Irish every where wel- 
 comed the Spaniards as deliverers and brethren : but Montjoy, 
 after blockading Aquila in Kinsale, marched boldly to attack 
 Ocampo and his Irish allies ; gave them a complete defeat, in 
 which the Spanish general was made prisoner and Tyrone com- 
 pelled to fly into Ulster ; and afterwards returning to the siege 
 of Kinsale, compelled Aquila to capitulate on condition of a safe 
 conveyance to their own country for himself and all the Spanish 
 troops in the island. 
 
 The state of the queen's mind, while the fate of Ireland 
 seemed to hang in the balance, and while the impression made 
 by the attempt of Essex was still recent, is depicted in the fol- 
 lowing letter by sir John Harrington with his usual minuteness 
 and vivacity. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 503 
 
 To Sir Hugh Portman, knight. (Dated October 9th 1601.) 
 
 « For six weeks I left my oxen arid sheep and ven- 
 tured to court Much was my comfort in being well re- 
 ceived, notwithstanding it is an ill hour for seeing the queen. 
 The madcaps are all in riot, and much evil threatened. In good 
 sooth I feared her majesty more than the rebel Tyrone, and 
 wished I had never received my lord of Essex's honour of 
 knighthood. She is quite disfavoured* and unattired, and these 
 troubles waste her much. She disregarded every costly cover 
 that cometh to the table, and taketh little but manchet and suc- 
 cory pottage. Every new message from the city doth disturb 
 her, and she frowns on all the ladies. I had a sharp message 
 from her, brought by my lord Buckhurst, namely thus. « Go tell 
 that witty fellow my godson to get home ; it is no season now to 
 fool it here.' I liked this as little as she doth my knighthood, so 
 took to my boots, and returned to the plough in bad weather. 
 I must not say much even by this trusty and sure messenger, but 
 the many evil plots and designs hath overcome all her highness' 
 sweet temper. She walks much in her privy chamber, and 
 stamps with her feet at ill news, and thrusts her rusty sword at 
 times into the an as in great rage. My lord Buckhurst is much 
 with her, and few else since the city business ; but the dangers 
 are over, and yet she always keeps a sword by her table. I ob- 
 tained a short audience at my first coming to court, when her 
 highness told me, if ill counsel had brought me so far from home, 
 she wished heaven might mar that fortune which she had mended. 
 I made my neace in this point, and will not leave my poor castle of 
 Kelston, for fear of finding a worse elsewhere as others have done. 
 I will eat Aldborne rabbits, and get fish as you recommend from 
 the man at Curry-Rival ; and get partridge and hares when I 
 can ; and my venison where I can ; and leave all great matters 
 to those that like them better than myself. .... I could not 
 move in any suit to serve your neighbour B., such was the face 
 of things : and so disordered is all order, that her highness hath 
 worn but one change of raiment for many days, and swears much 
 at those that cause her griefs in such wise, to the no small dis- 
 comfiture of all about her, more especially our sweet lady 
 Arundel, that Venus plus quam venusta." 
 
 In the month of October, 1601, the wants of her treasury com- 
 pelled the queen to call a parliament. Her procession to the 
 house had something gloomy and ominous ; the people still re- 
 senting the death of their favourite, whom they never could be 
 taught to regard as a traitor to his sovereign, refused to gratify 
 her ears as formerly with those affectionate acclamations on 
 which this wise and gracious princess had ever placed so high a 
 value. The house of commons however, in consideration of her 
 extraordinary expenses in the Irish wars, granted a supply large 
 
 * Changed in countenance. 
 
504 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 beyond example. Having thus deserved well of her majesty, 
 they ventured to revive the topic of monopolies, the crying 
 grievance of the age, against which the former parliament had 
 petitioned her, but without effect. It was universally allowed, 
 that the granting of exclusive privileges to trade in certain ar- 
 ticles was a prerogative inherent in the crown ; and though the 
 practice so lavishly adopted by Elizabeth of providing in this 
 manner for her courtiers without expense to herself, had render- 
 ed the evil almost intolerable, the ministerial members insisted 
 strongly that no right existed in the house to frame a bill for its 
 redress. It was maintained by them, that the dispensing power 
 possessed by the queen would enable her to set at nought any 
 statute which could be made in this matter ; — in short, that she 
 was an absolute prince ; and consequently that the mode of pe- 
 tition, of which the last parliament had proved the inefficacy. 
 was the only course of proceeding open to them. Other mem- 
 bers, in whose bosoms some sparks of liberty had now been 
 kindled, supported the bill which had been offered to the house : 
 the event was, that in the midst of the debate the queen sent for 
 the speaker to inform him that she would voluntarily cancel 
 some of the patents which had excited most discontent. 
 
 This concession, though extorted doubtless by necessity, was 
 yet made with so good a grace, that her faithful commons were, 
 filled with admiration and gratitude. One member pronounced 
 the message " a gospel of glad tidings ;" others employed phrases 
 of adulation equally profane ; — a committee was appointed to 
 return their acknowledgments to her majesty, who kneeled for 
 some time at her feet, while the speaker enlarged upon her 
 "preventing grace and all deserving goodness." She graciously 
 gave thanks to the commons for pointing out to her abuses which 
 might otherwise have escaped her notice ; since the truth, as she 
 observed, ; was too often disguised from princes by the persons 
 about them, through motives of private interest : and thus, with 
 the customary assurances of her loving care over her loyal sub- 
 jects, she skilfully accomplished her retreat from a contest in 
 which she judged perseverance to be dangerous and final success 
 at best uncertain. In her farewel speech, however, at the close 
 of the session, she could not refrain from observing, in reference 
 to this matter, that she perceived private respects to be masked 
 with them under public pretences. Such was the final parting 
 between Elizabeth and her last parliament ! 
 
 The year 1602 was not fertile of domestic incident. One of 
 the most remarkable circumstances was a violent quarrel be- 
 tween the Jesuits and the secular priests in England. The lat- 
 ter accused the former, and not without reason, of having been 
 the occasion, by their a ssassination -plots and conspiracies 
 against the queen and government, of all the severe enactments 
 under which the English catholics had groaned since the fulmi- 
 nation of the papal bull against her majesty. In the height ol 
 this dispute, intelligence was conveyed to the privy-council ot 
 some fresh plots on the part of the Jesuits and their adherents ; 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 505 
 
 on which a proclamation was immediately issued, banishing this 
 order the kingdom on pain of death ; and the same penalty was 
 declared againt all secular priests who should refuse to take the 
 oath of allegiance. 
 
 The queen continued to pursue from habit, and probably from 
 policy also, amusements for which all her relish was lost. She 
 went a-maying to Mr. Buckley's at Lewisham, and paid several 
 other visits in the course of the year ; — but her efforts were un- 
 availing ; the irrevocable past still hung upon her spirits. About 
 the beginning of June, in a conversation with M. de Beaumont 
 the French ambassador, she owned herself weary of life; then 
 sighing, whilst her eyes filled with tears, she advert d to the 
 death of Essex ; and mentioned, that being apprehensive, from his 
 ambition and the impetuosity of his temper, of his throwing him- 
 self into some rash design which would prove his ruin, she had 
 repeatedly counselled him, during the two last years, to content 
 himself with pleasing her, and forbear to treat her with the inso- 
 lent contempt which he had lately assumed ; above all, not to 
 touch her sceptre ; lest she should be compelled to punish him 
 by the laws of England, and not according to her own laws ; 
 which he had found too mild and favourable to give him any 
 cause of fear : but that her advice, however salutary and affec- 
 tionate, had proved ineffectual to prevent his ruin. 
 
 A letter from sir John Harrington to his lady, dated Decem- 
 ber 27th, 1602, gives the following melancholy picture of the 
 state of his sovereign and benefactress. 
 
 " Sweet Mall ; 
 
 " I herewith send thee what I would God none did know, 
 some ill-bodings of the realm and its welfare. Our dear queen, 
 may royal godmother and this state's natural mother, doth now 
 bear some show of human infirmity ; too fast, for that evil which 
 we shall get by her death, and too slow, for that good which she 
 shall get by her releasement from pains and misery. Dear Mall, 
 how shall I speak what I have seen or what I have felt ? thy 
 good silence in these matters emboldens my pen. For thanks 
 to the sweet God of silence, thy lips do not wonton out of dis- 
 cretion's path like the many gossiping dames we could name, 
 who lose their husbands' fast hold in good friends rather than 
 hold fast their own tongues. Now I will trust thee with great 
 assurance ; and whilst thou dost brood over thy young ones in 
 the chamber, thou shalt read the doings of thy grieving mate in 
 the court. I find some less mindful of what they are soon to 
 lose, than of what they may perchance hereafter get : Now, on 
 my own part, I cannot blot from my memory's table the good- 
 ness of our sovereign lady to me, even, I will say, before born. 
 Her affection to my mother, who waited in privy-chamber, her 
 bettering the state of my father's fortune (which I have, alas, so 
 much worsted,) her watchings over my youth, her liking to my 
 free speech and admiration of my little learning and poesy, 
 which I did so much cultivate on her command, have rooted 
 
 3S 
 
506 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 such love, such dutiful remembrance of her princely virtues, that 
 to turn askant from her condition with tearless eyes, would stain 
 and foul the spring and fount of gratitude. It was not many 
 days since I was bidden to her presence ; I blessed the happy 
 moment, and found her in most pitiable state ; she bade the arch- 
 bishop ask me if I had seen Tyrone ? I replied with reverence, 
 that I had seen him with the lord deputy ; she looked up with 
 much choler and grief in her countenance, and said : 0 ! now 
 it mindeth me that you was one who saw this man elsewhere,* 
 and hereat she dopped a tear and smote her bosom ; she held in 
 her hand a golden cup, which she often put to her lips ; but in 
 truth her heart seemeth too full to need more filling. This sight 
 moved me to think of what passed in Ireland, and I trust she did 
 not less think on some who were busier there than myself. She 
 gave me a message to the lord deputy, and bade me come to the 
 chamber at seven o'clock. Hereat some who were about her 
 did marvel, as I do not hold so high place as those she did not 
 
 choose to do her commands Her majesty inquired of 
 
 some matters which I had written ; and as she was pleased to 
 note my fanciful brain, 1 was not unheedful to feed her humour, 
 and read some verses, whereat she smiled once, and was pleased 
 to say ; ' When thou dost feel creeping time at thy gate, these 
 fooleries will please thee less ; I am past my relish for such 
 matters ; thou seest my bodily meat doth not suit me well ; I 
 have eaten but one ill-tasted cake since yesternight.' She rated 
 most grievously at noon at some one who minded not to bring 
 up certain matters of account : several men have been sent to, 
 and when ready at hand, her highness hath dismissed in anger; 
 but who, dearest Mall, shall say, that 'your highness hath for- 
 gotten r' " 
 
 During the campaign of 1602, lord Montjoy had been occu- 
 pied in Ireland in reducing the inferior rebels to submission ; 
 jn building forts and planting garrisons ; at the same time wast- 
 ing the country in every direction, for the purpose of straiten- 
 ing the quarters of Tyrone and cutting off his supplies. At 
 length, having collected all his forces, he purposed to hazard an 
 attack on the chieftain himself, in the midst of the desert fast- 
 nesses to which he had driven him ; but the difficulties which he 
 experienced from the impassable state of the roads, the treachery 
 of scouts and the inclemency of the season, compelled him to 
 defer this undertaking till the return of spring. Meantime, such 
 was the extremity of distress to which Tyrone had been reduced, 
 that numbers of his people had perished by hunger ; and perceiv- 
 ing the remnant fast diminishing by daily desertion, he renewed 
 the offer of surrender on certain conditions which he had pro- 
 pounded some months before. At that-stime, Cecil had once pre- 
 vailed upon her majesty, for the sake of avoiding the intolerable 
 expense of a further prosecution of the Irish war, to sign the 
 
 * Harrington had been at a conference held with him by Essex ; for which he 
 had been severely rated by the queen. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 507 
 
 rebel's pardon ; — but she had immediately retracted the conces- 
 sion, and all that he was able finally to gain of her, by the inter- 
 cession of the French ambassador, was a promise, that if Tyrone 
 were not taken by the lord deputy before winter, she would con- 
 sent to pardon him. About Christmas her council urged upon her 
 the fulfilment of this engagement; but she replied with warmth, 
 that she would not begin at herbage to treat with her subjects, 
 nor leave such an ill example after her decease.* 
 
 The importunities of her ministers, however, among whom 
 Tyrone is said to have made himself friends, finally overpow- 
 ered the reluctance of the queen ; and she authorised the deputy 
 to grant the rebel his life, with some part of the terms which he 
 asked ; but so extreme was her mortification in making this con- 
 cession, that many have regarded it as the origin of that deep 
 melancholy to which she soon after fell a victim. The council 
 apprehended, or affected to apprehend, that Tyrone would still 
 refuse to surrender on the hard conditions imposed by the queen ; 
 but so desperate was now his situation, that without even wait- 
 ing to receive them, he had thrown himself at the feet of the 
 deputy and submitted his lands and life to the queen's mercy. 
 Ministers more resolute, or more disinterested, might therefore 
 have spared her the degradation, as she regarded it, of treating 
 with a rebel. The news of his final submission, which occurred 
 four days only before her death, she never learned. 
 
 The closing scene of the long and eventful life of queen Eliza-* 
 beth is all that now remains to be described ; but that marked 
 peculiarity of character and of destiny which has attended her 
 from the cradle, pursues her to the grave, and forbids us to hurry 
 over as trivial and uninteresting the melancholy detail. 
 
 Notwithstanding the state of bodily and mental indisposition 
 in which she was beheld by Harrington at the close of the year 
 1602, the queen had persisted in taking her usual exercises of 
 riding and hunting, regardless of the inclemencies of the season. 
 One day in January she visited the lord admiral, probably at 
 Chelsea, and about the same time she removed to her palace of 
 Richmond. 
 
 In the beginning of March her illness suddenly increased ; 
 and it was about this time that her kinsman Robert Cary arrived 
 from Berwick to visit her. In his own memoirs he has thus re- 
 lated the circumstances which he witnessed on this occasion. 
 
 " When I came to court I found the queen ill-disposed, and 
 she kept her inner lodging ; yet she, hearing of my arrival, senk 
 for me. I found her in one of her withdrawing chambers, sitting; 
 low upon her cushions. She called me to her ; 1 kissed her 
 hand, and told her it was my chiefest happiness to see her in 
 safety and in health, which I wished might long continue. She 
 took me by the hand, and wrung it hard, and said, 1 No, Robin, 
 I am not well and then discoursed with me of her indisposition, 
 
 * Carte „ 
 
508 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 and that her heart had been sad and heavy for ten or twelve 
 days, and in her discourse she fetched not so few as forty or 
 fifty great sighs. I was grieved at the first to see her in this 
 plight ; for in all my lifetime I never knew her fetch a sigh, but 
 when the queen of Scots was beheaded. Then, upon my know- 
 ledge, she shed many tears and sighs, manifesting her innocence, 
 that she never gave consent to the death of that queen. 
 
 " I used the best words I could to persuade her from this 
 melancholy humour ; but I found by her it was too deep rooted 
 in her heart, and hardly to be removed. This was upon a Satur- 
 day night, and she gave command that the great closet should 
 be prepared for her to go to chapel the next morning. The next 
 day, all things being in readiness, we long expected her coming. 
 After eleven o'clock, one of the grooms came out and bade make 
 readv for the private closet, she would not go to the great. 
 There we stayed long for her coming, but at last she had cush- 
 ions laid for her in her privy-chamber hard by the closet door, 
 and there she heard service- 
 
 " From that day forward she grew worse and worse. She 
 remained upon her cushions four days and nights at the least. 
 All about her could not persuade her either to take any suste- 
 nance or go to bed The queen grew worse and 
 
 worse because she would be so, none about her being able to go 
 to bed. My lord-admiral was sent for, (who by reason of my 
 sister's death, that was his wife, had absented himself some fort- 
 night from court;) what by fair means what by force, he gat her 
 to bed. There was no hope of her recovery, because she refused 
 all remedies. 
 
 " On Wednesday the 23d of March she grew speechless. That 
 afternoon by signs she called for her council, and by putting her 
 hand to her head when the king of Scots was named to succeed 
 her, they all knew he was the man she desired should reign 
 after her. 
 
 " About six at night she made signs for the archbishop and her 
 chaplains to come to her, at which time I went in with them and 
 sat upon my knees full of tears to see that heavy sight. Her 
 majesty lay upon her back with one hand in the bed and the 
 other without. The bishop kneeled down by her and examined 
 her first of her faith ; and she so punctually answered all his 
 several questions, by lifting up her eyes and holding up her hand, 
 as it was a comfort to all the beholders .... After he had con- 
 tinued long in prayer, till the old man's knees were weary, he 
 blessed her ; and meant to rise and leave her. The queen made a 
 sign with her hand. My sister Scrope, knowing her meaning, told 
 the bishop the queen desired he would pray still. He did so for 
 a long half hour after, and then thought to leave her. The se- 
 cond time she made sign to have him continue in prayer. He 
 did so for half an hour more, with earnest cries to God for her 
 soul's health, which he uttered with that fervency of spirit, as 
 the queen to all our sight much rejoiced thereat, and gave testi- 
 mony to us all of her christian and comfortable end. By this 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 509 
 
 time it grew late, and every one departed, all but her women 
 
 that attended her Between one and two o'clock of the 
 
 Thursday morning, he that I left in the cofferer's chamber brought 
 me word that the queen was dead." 
 
 A Latin letter written the day after her death to Edmund 
 Lambert, whether by one of her physicians or not is uncertain, 
 gives an account of her sickness in no respect contradictory to 
 Robert Cary's. tfMP* 1 "*' ' 
 
 " It was after labour^' for nearly three weeks under a morbid 
 melancholy, which brought on stupor not unmixed with some in- 
 dications of a disordered fancy, that the queen expired. During 
 all this time she could neither by reasoning, entreaties, or arti- 
 fices be brought to make trial of any medical aid, and with diffi- 
 culty was persuaded to receive sufficient nourishment to sustain 
 nature ; taking also very little sleep, and that not in bed, but on 
 cushions, where she would sit whole days motionless and sleep- 
 less ; retaining however the vigour of her intellect to her last 
 breath, though deprived for three days before her death of the 
 power of speech." 
 
 Another contemporary writes to his friend thus . . . . " No 
 doubt you shall hear her majesty's sickness and manner of death 
 diversly reported ; for even here the papists do tell strange sto- 
 ries, as utterly void of truth as of all civil honesty or humanity 
 ... Here was some whispering that her brain was somewhat 
 distempered, but there was no such matter; only she held an 
 obstinate silence for the most part ; and, because she had a per- 
 suasion that if she once lay down she should never rise, could 
 not be got to go to bed in a whole week, till three days before 
 her death .... She made no will, neither gave any thing away; 
 so that they which come after shall find a well -furnished jewel- 
 house and a rich wardrobe of more than two thousand gowns, 
 with all things else answerable."* 
 
 That a profound melancholy was either the cause, or at least 
 a leading symptom, of the last illness of the queen so many con- 
 curring testimonies render indisputable ; but the origin of this 
 affection has been variously explained. Some, as we have seen, 
 ascribed it to her chagrin on being in a manner compelled to 
 grant the pardon of Tyrone ; — a cause disproportioned surely to 
 the effect. Others have imagined it to arise from grief and in- 
 dignation at the neglect which she began to experience from the 
 venal throng of courtiers, who were hastening to pay timely 
 homage to her successor. By others, again, her dejection has 
 been regarded as nothing more than a natural concomitant of 
 bodily decay ; a physical rather than a mental malady. But the 
 prevalent opinion, even at the time, appears to have been, that 
 the grief or compunction for the death of Essex, with which she 
 had long maintained a secret struggle, broke forth in the end 
 superior to control, and rapidly completed the overthrow of 
 powers which the advances of old age and an accumulation of 
 
 Printed iu Nichols's Progresses. 
 
THE COURT OF 
 
 cares and anxieties had already undermined. " Our queen,'* 
 writes an English correspondent to a Scotch nobleman in the 
 service of James, " is troubled with a rheum in her arm, which 
 vexeth her very much, besides the grief she hath conceived for 
 my lord of Essex's death. She sleepeth not so much by day as 
 she used, neither taketh rest by night. Her delight is to sit in 
 the dark, and sometimes, with shedding tears, to bewail Essex." 
 
 A remarkable anecdote first puplishedun Osborn's Traditional 
 Memoirs of Queen Elizabeth, and coiffirmed by M. Maurier's 
 Memoirs, — where it is given on the authority of sir Dudley 
 Carlton the English ambassador in Holland, who related it to 
 Prince Maurice, — offers the solution of these doubts. According 
 to this story, the countess of Nottingham, who was a relation, 
 but no friend, of the earl of Essex, being on her death-bed, en- 
 treated to see the queen ; declaring that she had something to 
 confess to her before she could die in peace. On her majesty's 
 arrival, the countess produced a ring, which she said the earl of 
 Essex had sent to her after his condemnation, with an earnest 
 request that she would deliver it to the queen, as the token by 
 which he implored her mercy ; but which, in obedience to her 
 husband, to whom she had communicated the circumstance, she 
 had hitherto withheld ; for which she entreated the queen's for- 
 giveness. On sight of the ring, Elizabeth instantly recognised 
 it as one which she had herself presented to her unhappy fa- 
 vourite on his departure for Cadiz, with the tender promise, that 
 of whatsoever crimes his enemies might have accused him, or 
 whatsoever offences he might actually have committed against 
 her, on his returning to her that pledge, she would either pardon 
 him, or admit him at least to justify himself in her presence. 
 Transported at once with grief and rage, on learning the barba- 
 rous infidelity of which the earl had been the victim and herself 
 the dupe, the queen shook in her bed the dying countess, and 
 vehemently exclaiming, that God might forgive her, but she never 
 could, flung out of the chamber. 
 
 Returning to her palace, she surrendered herself without re- 
 sistance to the despair which seized her heart on this fatal and 
 too late disclosure. — Hence her refusal of medicine and almost 
 of food ; — hence her obstinate silence interrupted only by sighs, 
 groans, and broken hints of a deep sorrow which she cared not 
 to reveal ; — hence the days and nights passed by her seated on 
 the floor, sleepless, her eyes fixed and her finger pressed upon 
 her mouth ; — hence, in shortfall those heart-rending symptoms 
 of incurable and mortal anguish which conducted her, in the 
 space of twenty days, to the lamentable termination of a long 
 life of power, prosperity and glory.* 
 
 * See the evidence for this extraordinary story fully stated in Birch's Negotia- 
 tions. On the whole, it appears sufficient to warrant our belief ; yet it should be 
 remarked that the accounts which have come down to us differ from each other in • 
 some important points, and are traceable to no original witness of the interview be- 
 tween the queen and the countess. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 511 
 
 The queen expired on March 24th, 1603. 
 
 After the minute and extended survey of the life and action* 
 of Elizabeth, which has made the principal business of these 
 pages, it would be a trespass alike on the patience and the judg- 
 ment of the reader to detain him with a formal review of her 
 character ; — let it suffice to complete the portrait by a few ad- 
 ditional touches. 
 
 The ceremonial of her court rivalled the servility »,f the East ; 
 no person of whatever rank ventured to address her otherwise 
 than kneeling ; and this attitude was preserved by all her minis- 
 ters during their audiences of business, with the exception of 
 Burleigh, in whose favour, when aged and infirm, she dispensed 
 with its observance. Hentzner, a German traveller who visited 
 England near the conclusion of her reign, relates, /that as she 
 passed through several apartments from the chapel to dinner, 
 wherever she turned her eyes he observed the spectators throw 
 themselves on their knees. The same traveller further relates, 
 that the officers and ladies, whose business it was to arrange the 
 dishes and give tastes of them to the yeomen of the guard by 
 v/hom they were brought in, did not presume to approach the 
 royal table, w ithout repeated prostrations and genuflexions and 
 every mark of reverence due to her majesty in person. 
 
 The appropriation of her time and the arrangements of her 
 domestic life present more favourable traits. 
 
 " First in the morning she spent some time at her devotions; 
 then she betook herself to the dispatch of her civil affairs, reacf- 
 ing letters, ordering answers, considering what should be brought 
 .before the council, and consulting with her ministers. When 
 she had thus wearied herself, she would walk in a shady garden 
 or pleasant gallery, without any other attendance than that of a 
 few learned men. Then she took her coach and passed in the 
 sight of her people to the neighbouring groves and fields, and 
 sometimes would hunt or hawk. There was scarce a day but 
 she employed some part of it in reading and study ; sometimes 
 before she entered upon her state affairs, sometimes after them."* 
 
 She slept little, seldom drank wine, was sparing in her diet, 
 and a religious observer of the fasts. She sometimes dined 
 alone, but more commonly had with her some of her friends. 
 " At supper she would divert herself with her friends and at- 
 tendants, and if they made her no answer, would put them upon 
 mirth and pleasant discourse with great civility. She would 
 then also admit Tarleton, a famous comedian and pleasant talker, 
 and other such men, to divert her with stories of the town and 
 the common jests and accidents." 
 
 " She would recreate herself with a game of chess, dancing 
 
 or singing She would often play at cards and tables, and 
 
 if at any time she happened to win, she would be sure to de» 
 
 * Bohun's character of queen Elizabeth. 
 
512 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 mand the money She was waited on in her bedchamber 
 
 by married ladies of the nobility; the marchioness of Winches- 
 ter, widow, lady Warwick, and lady Scrope : and here she would 
 seldom suffer any to wait upon her but Leicester, Hatton, Es- 
 sex, Nottingham, and Raleigh Some lady always slept 
 
 in her chamber ; and besides her guards, there was always a 
 gentleman of good quality and some others up in the next cham- 
 ber, to wake her if any thing extraordinary happened."* 
 
 " She loved a prudent and moderate habit in her private apart- 
 ment and conversation with her own servants ; but when she 
 appeared in public she was ever richly adorned with the most 
 valuable clothes ; setoff again with much gold and jewels of in- 
 estimable value ; and on such occasion she ever wore high shoes, 
 that she might seem taller than indeed she was. The first day 
 of the parliament she would appear in a robe embroidered with 
 pearls, the royal crown on her head, the golden ball in her left 
 hand and the sceptre in her right ; and as she never failed then 
 of the loud acclamations of her people, so she was ever pleased 
 with it, and went along in a kind of triumph with all the ensigns 
 of majesty. The royal name was ever venerable to the English 
 people ; but this queen's name was more sacred than any of her 
 
 ancestors In the furniture of her palaces she ever affected 
 
 magnificence and an extraordinary splendour. She adorned the 
 galleries with pictures by the best artists ; the walls she covered 
 with rich tapestries. She was a true lover of jewels, pearls, all 
 sorts of precious stones, gold and silver plate, rich beds, fine 
 couches and chariots, Persian and Indian carpets, statues, me- 
 dals, &c. which she would purchase at great prices. Hampton- 
 court was the most richly furnished of all her palaces : and here 
 she had caused her naval victories against the Spaniards to be 
 worked in fine tapestries and laid up among the richest pieces 
 
 of her wardrobe When she made any public feasts, her 
 
 tables were magnificently served and many side-tables adorned 
 with rich plate. At these times many of the nobility waited on 
 her at table. She made the greatest displays of her regal mag- 
 nificence when foreign ambassadors were present. At these 
 times she would also have vocal and instrumental music during 
 dinner ; and after dinner, dancing."t 
 
 The queen was laudably watchful over the morals of her court ; 
 and not content with dismissing from her service, or banishing 
 her presence, such of her female attendants as were found offend- 
 ing against the laws of chastity, she was equitable enough to 
 visit with marks of her displeasure the libertinism of the other 
 sex ; and in several instances she deferred the promotion of 
 otherwise deserving young men till she saw them reform their 
 manners in this respect. Europe had assuredly never beheld a 
 court so decent, so learned, or so accomplished as hers ; and it 
 will not be foreign from the purpose of illustrating more fully 
 
 Bohun's Character of Queen Elizabeth. 
 
 | Ibid. 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 513 
 
 the character of the sovereign, to borrow from a contemporary 
 writer a few particulars on this head. 
 
 V It was rare to find a courtier acquainted with no language 
 but his own. The ladies studied Latin, Greek, Spanish, Italian, 
 and French. The "more ancient" among them exercised them- 
 selves some with the needle, some with " caul work" (probably 
 netting) " divers in spinning silk, some in continual reading 
 either of the Scriptures or of histories oithex of their own or fo 
 reign countries ; divers in writing volumes of their own, or trans- 
 lating the works of others into Latin or English ;'' while the 
 younger ones in the mean time applied to their " lutes, citharnes, 
 pricksong and all kinds of music." Many of the elder sort 
 were also " skilful in surgery and distillation of waters, beside 
 sundry artificial practices pertaining to the ornature and com- 
 mendations of their bodies." " This," adds our author, " I 
 will generally say of them all ; that as each of them are cunning 
 in something; whereby they keep themselves occupied in the 
 court, there is in manner none of them but when they be at home 
 can help to supply the ordinary Want of the kitchen with a num- 
 ber of delicate dishes of their own devising, wherein the porthi- 
 gal is their chief counsellor, as some of them are most com- 
 monly with the clerk of the kitchen," &c. 
 
 " Every office," at court, had " either a Bible or the book of 
 the Acts and Monuments of the Church of England, or both, 
 besides some histories and chronicles lying therein, for the ex- 
 ercise of such as come into the same."* 
 
 Such was the scene over which Elizabeth presided ; — such the 
 companions whom she formed to herself, and in whom she de- 
 lighted ! The new men and new manners brought in by James 
 I. served more fully to instruct the nation in the value of all 
 that it had enjoyed under his illustrious predecessor, the vigour 
 which had rendered her government respectable abroad ; and the 
 wise and virtuous moderation which caused it to be loved at 
 home, were now recalled with that sense of irreparable loss which 
 exalts to enthusiasm the sentiment of veneration and the prin- 
 ciple of gratitude ; and almost in the same proportion as the 
 sanguinary bigotry of her predecessor had occasioned her acces- 
 sion to be desired, the despicable weakness of her successor 
 caused her decease to be regretted and deplored. 
 
 It was on the tenth anniversary of the proclamation of king 
 James that the eloquent Hall, in his sermon at Paul's Cross, 
 gave utterance to the general sentiment in the following ani- 
 mated apostrophe to the manes of the departed sovereign : 
 
 " 0 blessed queen ! the mother of this nation, the nurse of this 
 church, the glory of womanhood, the envy and example of fo- 
 reign nations, the wonder of times, how sweet and sacred shall 
 thy memory be to all posterity ! — How excellent were her mas- 
 culine graces of learning, valour and wisdom, by which she might 
 justly challenge to be the queen of men ! So learned was sne, 
 
 * Description of England prefixed to Holinshed's Chronicles. 
 3 T 
 
514 
 
 THE COURT OF 
 
 that she could give present answer to ambassadors in their own 
 tongues : so valiant, that like Zisca's drum made the proudest 
 Romanist to quake ; so wise, that whosoever fell out happily 
 against the common adversary in France, Netherland, Ireland, 
 it was by themselves ascribed to her policy. 
 
 " Why should I speak of her long and successful government, 
 of her miraculous preservations ; of her famous victories, wherein 
 the w aters, w ind, fire and earth fought for us, as if they had been 
 in pay under her ; of her excellent laws and careful execution ? 
 Many daughters have done worthily, but thou surmountedest 
 them all. Such was the sweetness of her government and such 
 the fear of misery in her loss, that many worthy christians de- 
 sired that their eyes might be closed before hers Every 
 
 one pointed to her white hairs, and said, with that peaceable 
 Leontius, " When this snow melteth there will be a flood." 
 
 In the progress of the preceding work, I have inserted some 
 incidental notices respecting the domestic architecture of the 
 reign of Elizabeth : but becoming gradually sensible of the in- 
 teresting details of which the subject was susceptible and en- 
 tirely aware of my own inability to do it justice, I solicited, and 
 esteem myself fortunate in having procured, the following re- 
 marks from the pen of a brother who makes this noble art at 
 once his profession aud his delight. 
 
ON THE 
 
 DOMESTIC ARCHITECTURE 
 
 OF 
 
 THE REIGN OF ELIZABETH. 
 
 During the period of English history included in our present 
 survey, the nobility continued for the most part to inhabit their 
 ancient castles ; edifices which, originally adapted by strength 
 of situation and construction merely to defence, were now in 
 many instances, by the alteration of the original buildings and 
 by the accession of additional ones, become splendid palaces. 
 Among these it may be sufficient to mention Kennelworth, re- 
 nowned for gorgeous festivities, where the earl of Leicester was 
 reported to nave expended 60,000 pounds in buildings. 
 
 Some curious notices of the habitations of the time are pre- 
 served in Leland's Itinerary, written about 1535, as in the fol- 
 lowing description of Wresehill -castle near Howden in York- 
 shire : — ( Most part of the base court is of timber. The castle is 
 moated about on three parts; the fourth part is dry, where the 
 entry is into the castle. Five towers, one at each corner ; the 
 gateway is the fifth, having five lodgings in height ; three of the 
 other towers have four lodgings in height ; the fourth containeth 
 the buttery, pantry, pastry, lardery, and kitchen. In one of the- 
 towers a study called Paradise, where was a closet in the mid- 
 dle of eight squares latticed ; about and at the top of every 
 square was a desk lodged to set books on, &c. The garde robe 
 in the castle was exceeding fair, and so were the gardens within 
 the mote, and the orchards without ; and in the orchards were 
 mounts opere topiario writhen about with degrees like turnings 
 of a cockle-shell, to come to top without pain.' 
 
 These castles, though converted into dwellings of some con- 
 venience and magnificence, still retained formidable strength, 
 which was proved in the following century, when so many of 
 them sustained sieges for the king or parliament and were finally 
 dilapidated. 
 
 Besides the regularly fortified castles, there were many man- 
 sion-houses of inferior importance, which, though not capable of 
 resisting a regular siege, were strengthened against a tumultu- 
 ous or hasty invasion. These houses generally formed a square 
 of building enclosing a court and surrounded by a moat. A draw- 
 bridge formed the only access, which was protected by an em- 
 battled gatehouse. One side of the square was principally occu- 
 pied by a great hall ; and the offices and lodgings were distri- 
 buted on the other sides. Oxburgh-hall in Norfolk and Layer 
 Marney in Essex are fine examples of these houses. They were 
 frequently*of timber, as Moreton-hall in Cheshire, Speke-hall 
 near Liverpool. Leland describes Morley-house near Manches- 
 ter as * builded, — saving the foundation of stone squared that 
 riseth within, a great mote a six foot above the water, — all of tim- 
 
516 
 
 ber, after the common sort of building of the gentlemen for most 
 of Lancashire.' Sometimes a strong tower was added at one 
 corner as a citadel, which might be maintained when the rest of 
 the house was destroyed. This is the case with the curious house 
 of Stoke Say in Shropshire, where the situation near the Welsh 
 border might render such an additional security desirable. 
 
 Thus the forms of ancient fortification were continued awhile 
 rather from habit or ostentation than from any more important 
 motives ; but in the new buildings erected during the reign of 
 Elizabeth and her successor the were finally laid aside. In some 
 stately houses, though the show of strength was discontinued, 
 the general form remained however the same. The circuit of 
 building was entire, and enclosed one or more courts ; a gateway 
 formed the entrance, and the great hall was placed at the oppo- 
 site side of the first court. Such was Audley End, in its original 
 state one of the largest and most sumptuous houses in the king- 
 dom. In other instances the house assumes the half H shape, 
 with the offices placed in the wings ; and the circuit is only 
 completed by terraces and low walls ; the gatehouse remains 
 as a detached lodge, or is entirely omitted : examples of this 
 form are numerous ; as Holland-house at Kensington, Oxnead 
 and Blickling halls in Norfolk, Beaudesert and Wimbledon - 
 house, built by sir Thomas Cecil in 1588, remarkable for a great 
 ascent of steps and terraces disposed in a manner resembling 
 some Italian villas. In others the offices are detached in sepa- 
 rate masses, or concealed, or placed in a basement story ; and 
 only the body of the house remains, either as a solid mass or 
 enclosing small courts : this disposition does not differ from the 
 most modern arrangements. Of these houses Longleat in Wilt- 
 shire and Wollaton near Nottingham are fine examples.* 
 
 The distribution of domestic buildings is well illustrated in 
 the survey of Theobald's taken by the Parliament's Commis- 
 sioners in 1650.t This mansion was built by lord Burleigh about 
 1560: it afterwards became a favourite residence of James I. 
 who received it from lord Salisbury in exchange for the manor 
 and palace of Hatfield. The survey contains a very minute and 
 accurate description of Theobald's palace, from which the fol- 
 lowing account is given partly in the words of the old surveyors. 
 — It consisted of two principal quadrangles besides the dial 
 court, the buttery court, and the dove-house court, in which the 
 offices were situated. The fountain court was" a square of 86 
 feet, on the east side of which, was a cloister of seven arches. 
 On the ground floor of this quadrangle was a spacious hall ; the 
 roof of which was arched with carved timber of curious work- 
 manship. On the same floor were the lord Holland's, the mar- 
 quis of Hamilton's, and lord Salisbury's apartments, the coun- 
 cil chamber and waiting room. On the second floor was the pre 
 sence chamber, finished with carved oak wainscoting and a ceil- 
 ing full of gilded pendants. Also the privy chamber^ the with- 
 drawing room, the king's bedchamber, and a gallery 123 feet 
 
 * Views of most of the buildings here mentioned may be found in Brilton's Aicht 
 sectoral Antiquities, vols. i. ii. and iv. 
 t L) son's Environs of London, vol. iv. 
 
517 
 
 loug, f. wainscoted with oak, and paintings over the same of divers 
 cities, rarely painted and set forth with a fret ceiling, with divers 
 pendants, roses and flower-de-luces ; also divers large stags 
 Leads, which were an excellent ornament to the same.' On the 
 upper floor, were the lord chamberlain's lodgings and several 
 other apartments, with terrace walks on the leads. At each 
 corner stood a high and fair tower, ami over the hall in the mid 
 die ' a large and fair turret in the fashion of a lantern, curiously 
 wrought with divers pinnacles at each corner, wherein hangeth 
 twelve bells for chiming and a clock with chimes and sundrj 
 work.' The middle court was a quadrangle ot 110 feet square, 
 on the south side of which were the queen's chapel, presence 
 chamber, and other apartments. The prince's lodgings were on 
 the north side ; on the east side was a cloister, over which was 
 the green gallery, 109 feet by 12 feet, * excellently well painted 
 with the several shires in England and the arms of the noblemen 
 and gentlemen in the same.' Over the gallery was a leaded 
 walk, on which were two lofty arches of brick, ' of no small orna- 
 ment to the house, and rendering it comely and pleasant to all 
 that passed by.' On the west side of the quadrangle was another 
 cloister, on five arches, over which were the duke's lodgings and 
 over them the queen's gallery. On the south side of the house 
 stood a large open cloister, built upon several large fair pillars, 
 arched over ' with a fair rail and ballustres ; well painted with 
 the kings and queens of England and the pedigree of the old 
 lord Burleigh and divers other ancient families ; with paintings' 
 of many castles and battles.' The gardens at Theobald's were 
 large, and ornamented with labyrinths, canals and fountains. 
 The great garden contained seven acres ; besides which there 
 were the pheasant garden, privy garden, and laundry garden. 
 In the former were nine knots artificially and exquisitely made, 
 one of which was set forth in likeness of the king's arms. This 
 description, and Bacon's idea of a palace in his 45th Essay, with 
 their numerous cloisters, galleries and turrets, are well illustra- 
 ted by the plan of Audley End, in its original state, given in 
 Britton's Architectural Antiquities, vol. ii. 
 
 The houses erected during the sixteenth and the early partoi 
 the seventeenth century were frequently of magnificent dimen- 
 sions, picturesque from the varied lines and projections of the 
 plan and elevation, and rich by the multiplicity of parts; but 
 they had lost all beauty of detail. The builders, having aban- 
 doned the familiar and long practised Gothic style, were now to 
 serve their apprenticeship in Grecian architecture : ' stately 
 Doricke and neat Ionicke work' were introduced as fashionable 
 novelties, employed first in the porches and frontispieces and 
 gradually extended over the whole fronts of buildings. Among 
 the Architects employed at this period, some foreign names oc- 
 cur. Holbein was much favoured by Henry VIII., and gave va- 
 rious designs for buildings at the old palaces of Whitehall and 
 St. James. John of Padua had a salary as deviser of his majes- 
 ty's buildings, and was employed to build the palace of the pro- 
 tector Somerset. Jerome de Trevisi is also mentioned ; and it 
 js said that the designs for Longleat and a model of Audley End 
 
518 
 
 were obtained from Italy. The last circumstance is altogether 
 extraordinary; this was the very best period of Italian architec- 
 ture, and it seems highly improbable that semi-barbarous designs 
 should proceed from the country of Palladio and Vignola. 
 Thorpe, Smithson, and other Englishmen, were also eminent 
 builders ; and probably these persons might have travelled, and 
 thus have gained the imperfect knowledge of Grecian architec- 
 ture which appears in their works. They were immediately 
 followed by Inigo Jones, who formed his style particularly on 
 the works of Palladio, and became the founder of classic archi- 
 tecture in this country. 
 
 There is a remarkable and beautiful analogy between the pro- 
 gress of Grecian and Gothic architecture, in both of which we 
 find, that while the powers of decoration were extended, the 
 process of construction was improved and simplified. Thus the 
 Doric, the primitive order, is full of difficulties in its arrange- 
 ment, which render it only applicable to simple plans and to 
 buildings where the internal distribution is of inferior conse- 
 quence. The Ionic, though more ornamental, is by the suppres- 
 sion of the divisions in the frieze so simplified as to be readily 
 applicable to more complicated arrangements : still the capital 
 presents difficulties from the dissimilarity of the front and sides; 
 which objection is finally obviated by the introduction of that 
 rich and exquisite composition, the Corinthian capital. Thus is 
 obtained an order of the most elegant and ornamental character, 
 but possessing a happy simplicity and regularity of composition 
 which renders it more easy of application than any other. In 
 like manner in the later, which has been called the florid style 
 of Gothic architecture, there are buildings astonishingly rich 
 and elaborate ; but we find this excess of ornament supported 
 and rendered practicable by a principle of simplicity in design 
 and construction. In the earlier and middle styles of Gothic 
 there are various difficulties of execution and some faults of 
 composition: such as the slender detached shafts, the richly 
 carved capitals, the flowing and varied tracery of windows, and 
 that profuse variety in detail which frequently causes all the 
 windows, capitals, buttresses and pinnacles of the same build- 
 ings to differ from one another. But the later style has more 
 uniformity in corresponding parts ; the capitals are very gene- 
 rally composed of plain mouldings, and the divisions of the 
 windows consist chiefly of horizontal and perpendicular lines, 
 with few of the beautiful and difficult combinations of curves 
 which are found in the preceding style. The general principle 
 of decoration is to leave no plain surface, but to divide the whole 
 into a series of pannelling; by which is produced an extraordi- 
 nary richness of effect, though the parts, when examined sepa- 
 rately, are generally of simple forms, and such as will admit of 
 an easy and mechanical execution. The introduction of the 
 four-centered arch enlarged the powers of design, enabled ar- 
 chitects in many instances to proportion better the vault to the 
 upright, and even to introduce vaults where they would have 
 been inapplicable in the former style, on account of the want of 
 elevation in rooms ; as in the divinity school at Oxford. With- 
 
519 
 
 out concurring in the ignorant wonder which has raised the 
 vaulted ceilings of this style to the rank of mysteries, we may 
 admire the ingenuity which has rendered real simplicity of con- 
 struction the foundation of beautiful forms and of the most ela- 
 borate decoration. The most celebrated examples of this style 
 are so highly finished, so exuberant in ornament, that the term 
 % /Jorid\ms been applied as a characteristic epithet for the style; 
 but there are many instances of very simple and unornamented 
 buildings of the same period agreeing in all the essential princi- 
 ples of construction and design ; and a late writer has with 
 more propriety adopted the term perpendicular for this mode of 
 architecture. This later Gothic, easy of construction and pos- 
 sessing a variety of character applicable to every kind of build- 
 ing, is well adapted for modern imitation. 
 
 But the power of mutability was at work, and Gothic archi- 
 tecture was doomed to fall. The first step towards its decline 
 was pursuing to excess the principle of simplification and re- 
 trenching the most essential ornaments. The large windows of 
 houses were merely divided by horizontal and upright bars, and, 
 deprived of tracery and feathering, were as void of beauty in the 
 details as in the general proportions; buttresses and battlements 
 were generally omitted. A great deterioration took place in the 
 decorative part; the ornamental pannels and friezes of the 
 Gothic style, consisting of geometrical combinations of circles 
 and straight lines, had always a distinct outline and a sharpness 
 of effect which contrasted agreeably with the foliage so often in- 
 termixed ; but these were succeeded by strange grotesque com- 
 binations, confused, and void of outline and regularity. The 
 source of ornament was now sought in the orders and members 
 of Grecian architecture ; but the eyes which had been accustom- 
 ed to the Gothic flutter of parts, were not prepared to relish the 
 simplicity of line which is essential to the beauty of the Greek 
 style. Columns of a small size, inaccurately and coarsely exe- 
 cuted, with arcades and grotesque caryatids, formed the orna- 
 ments of porches and frontispieces, — as at Browseholme-house 
 in Yorkshire, Wimbledon, and the Schools-tower at Oxford, — 
 or were spread over the whole front, and formed the cloisters 
 and galleries in which those ancient mansions abounded ; as at 
 Holland -house, Longleat, Wollaton, Audley End, Longford - 
 castle, &c. The roofs were either faced with notched and curved 
 gables, or screened by parapets of ballustres or latticed work, 
 and decorated with obelisks and columnar chimney shafts ; 
 while turrets and pavilions broke the line of elevation. The 
 windows were very large, and frequently bowed : thus Bacon 
 remarks, in the Essay before referred to, that f you shall have 
 sometimes fair houses so full of glass that one cannot tell where 
 to become to be out of the sun or cold.* In wooden houses, and 
 particularly town houses, the upper stories generally projected 
 beyond the lower, with windows extremely wide, so as to occupy 
 almost the whole line of front. The timbers were frequently 
 left bare, carved and disposed in forms of pannelling; while 
 the various projections were supported by grotesque figures. 
 Very curious houses of this character are still found in several 
 
520 
 
 old towns, a 3 Chester, Shrewsbury, Coventry, and the obscure 
 parts of London ; though natural decay, fire and modern im- 
 provements, are continually diminishing their number. Among 
 interior decorations, chimney-pieces were very conspicuous : 
 they were miniature frontispieces, consisting, like the porches 
 of the houses, of a mass of columns, arches, niches and carya 
 tids, piled up to the ceiling. Of these there is one at the old 
 Tabley-hall in Cheshire, singularly rude and grotesque, though 
 dated so late as 1619, containing a hunting piece and the figures 
 of Lucrece and Cleopatra. Another in queen Elizabeth's gallery 
 at Windsor castle is very rich, and comparatively pure and ele- 
 gant in design. The sepulchral monuments of this age are very 
 numerous, but only differ from those of an earlier date in the 
 substitution of the members of Grecian for those of Gothic ar- 
 chitecture, or rather in the confused mixture of both. 
 
 On the whole, this, though a glorious period for literature, was 
 lost for the fine arts. The incongruous mixture of the conflict- 
 ing principles of Grecian and Gothic architecture, produced 
 buildings more truly barbarous, more disgusting to a cultivated 
 taste, than the rudest Norman work. Together with the archi- 
 tectural orders, our artists had received models and authorities 
 for the grotesque style, which they were but too ready to follow. 
 This extraordinary style of ornament had prevailed in ancient 
 Rome early enough to be reprobated in the work of Vitruvius, 
 and lay unobserved among obscure and subterraneous ruins, till 
 the discovery of the Baths of Titus opened a rich magazine of 
 gay and capricious ornament. Raflfaelle, struck with these re- 
 mains of the antique art of painting, adopted the same style of 
 ornament in the galleries of the Vatican, enriching and enliven- 
 ing it with the stores of allegory and mythology furnished by his 
 poetical fancy. The example of such a man could not want 
 imitator s ; it influenced the whole architecture of France, — 
 which very early possessed artists of great merit, — and appeared 
 in this country with very inferior effect. It may well be ima- 
 gined that this style, naturally licentious and only rendered 
 tolerable by grace of composition and brilliancy of execution, 
 ■would become utterly contemptible when presenting only coarse- 
 ly executed and unmeaning extravagances. Such was the gene- 
 ral character of art. We may however make discriminations, 
 and admit comparative merit. Wimbledon-house, seated on 
 the side of a hill, was remarkable for a magnificent disposition 
 of steps and terraces worthy an Italian villa. Wollaton-hall is 
 admired by Mr. Price for the grandeur of its masses. Charlton- 
 iiouse has a very picturesque arrangement of heights in the ele- 
 vation ; Longleat, on the other hand, has much simplicity of 
 form. In its square projections and three orders of columns, or 
 pilasters, it bears no remote resemblance to the ancient part of 
 the Louvre built about thirty years previously, though without 
 the purity and delicacy of the details of the architecture and 
 sculpture which distinguish the French building. 
 
 EDMUND AIKIN. 
 
 Liverpool, February 10, 1818. 
 
A. 
 
 feUMgOtl, duke of, 264. 282. created 
 duke of Aujou, 289. visits the queen, 
 ib. His second visit, 302. et seq. Death, 
 305. 
 
 Anjou, duke of, 232. 258. See Alen- 
 §on. 
 
 Anne of Cleves, 25. 27, 28. 69. 
 Arragon, Catherine of, 1, 2. 9. 
 Arundel, sir Thomas, case of, 443. 
 Ascham, Roger, extracts from his Latin 
 
 letters, 48. et seq. 51, 52. et seq. 
 Ashley, Mrs. 101. 
 Aston, sir Roger, 466. 
 Aylmer or Elmer, (bishop,) on the dress 
 
 of Elizabeth, 51. 286. 
 
 B. 
 
 Babington, Anthony, 337 — 8. 
 
 Bacon, sir Nicholas, 134. Employed in 
 
 the settlement of religion, 166. In 
 
 disgrace, 190 294. et seq. 
 
 , Anthony, 297. 428. 
 
 , Francis, 295. 427 to 429. 431 to 
 
 433. His letter to the earl of Essex, 
 
 449. Speeches written by, 450. Base 
 
 conduct of, 497. 
 Beddingfield, sir H. 88. 90. 91, 92. 
 Bertie, Peregrine, lord Willoughby, 
 
 312. 314. Letter to, from the queen, 
 437. 
 
 Blount, sir Charles, lord Montioy, 366. 
 
 384. et seq. 433. 476. 484. 492, 493. 
 
 502. 506. 
 Boleyn, Thomas, earl of Wilts, 6. 
 
 , Anne, 1, 2. Conduct respecting 
 
 queen Catherine, 9. Disgrace, 9, 10. 
 
 Conduct as affecting her daughter, 11. 
 
 et seq. 
 
 Bonner, bishop, 77, 78. 95. 
 Bourchier family, 26. 
 
 - , Henry, earl of Essex, 4. 
 Brandon, Charles, duke of Suffolk, 5. 
 
 313. etseq. 
 
 — — — , Catherine, duchess dowager 
 
 of Suffolk, 313. 
 Brantome, M. de, description of the court 
 
 of Elizabeth, 174. 
 Browne, Anthony, viscount Montacute, 
 
 149. 
 
 Brown, Robert, 308. 
 Bryan, lady, her letter respecting Eliza- 
 beth, 12. 
 
 * C. 
 
 Cabot, Sebastian, 229. 
 
 Cambridge, the queen's visit to, 190. 
 
 Cary, Henry, lord Hutisdon, 127. 452. 
 
 , Robert, 415. 
 
 Casimir, duke, 194. 286. 
 
 Cavendish, Thomas, 411. 
 
 Cecil, Mildred, 50. 66. 
 
 , William, lord Burleigh, 50. 121. 
 
 Account of, 122 Employed in the set- 
 tlement of religion, 166. Takes pre- 
 caution against the poisoning of the 
 queen, 178. Draws a proclamation 
 respecting portraits of the queen, 187. 
 Directs her reception at Cambridge, 
 190. et seq. Letters of, to sir H. Nor- 
 ris, 215. 233- et seq. Attempt made 
 to ruin him, 239 to 241 . His advice 
 to the duke of Norfolk, 241. Created 
 lord Burleigh, 254. Letter to the earl 
 of Shrewsburry , 270. Character com- 
 pared with sir N. Bacon's, 294, 295. 
 Anecdote of, 297 Discussions with 
 Whitgifi, 310. et seq. Anger of the 
 queen against, 384. Restored to fa- 
 vour, 351. Warning to Essex, 460. 
 Death and character of, 461 to 464. 
 , sir Thomas, 365. 
 
 , sir Robert, 365. 399. 444. Ap- 
 pointed secretary, 447. 459. 480. 
 
 Chaloner, sir Thomas, 149. His letter 
 respecting the queenand lord R.Dud- 
 ley, 150. 
 
 Chancellor, Richard, 229, 230. 
 
 Charles IX. of France, a suitor to Eliza- 
 beth, 194, 196. 
 
 Cheke, sir John, 80. 116. 
 
 Classical literature, decline of, 102. 
 
 Clifford, George, earl of Cumberland. 
 362. 385. 
 
 Cook, sir Anthony, 80. 
 
 Courtney, W., marquis of Exeter, 4. 22, 
 23. 
 
 , Edward, earl of Devon, 69, 
 
 71. 84. 96 
 Cox, bishop, 80 187. 
 Cranmer, archbishop, 37. 11. 25. 29. 
 
 u 
 
522 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Cromwe ll, Thomas, earl of Essex, 25 
 to 27. 
 
 D. 
 
 Daere, Leonard, 243. 249, 250. 
 
 Daroley, lord, 199. 215. 
 
 Davison, secretar y, conduct of, respect- 
 ins the queen of Scots, 347. et seq. 
 348 to 351 . 
 
 Dee, Dr. 270. 
 
 Denmark, prince of, proposed in mar- 
 
 riage to Elizabeth, 60. 
 Desmond, eayl of, 315. 
 Devereux, Waller, earl of Essex, 275 
 
 to 279. 
 
 , Robert, earl of Essex, 279. 
 
 Appointed general of horse, 368. His 
 position at Court, 374, et seq. Expe- 
 dition to Portugal, 382. et seq. 383. 
 Duel with sir Charles Blount, 384. 
 Letters to Davison, 389. et seq. Mar- 
 riage 391. Campaign in France, 396. 
 Trait of, 442, Connexion with An. 
 thony and Francis Bacon, 431. Con- 
 duct respecting Lopez, 434. View of 
 his and the Cecil parties, 444. His 
 conduct at Cadiz, 446. et seq. Traits 
 of, 455. His Island voyage, 456. His 
 quarrel with the queen, 460. Con- 
 duct in Irish affairs, 474. Service in 
 Ireland, 477 to 481. Return to Eng- 
 land, 480. Disgrace, 483 to 488. Cen- 
 sure on, 489. Dangerous designs, 491. 
 Intrigues with the king of Scots, 493. 
 Insurrection, 494 to 496. Trial, after 
 conduct, and death, 496 to 500. Story^ 
 respecting his ring, 510. 
 
 Discovery, voyages of, 412. et seq. 
 
 Dorset, marchioness dowager, 5. 
 
 Douglas, iady Margaret, 14, 15. 31. See 
 Lenox countess of. 
 
 Drake, sir Francis, 295. 337. 354. 368. 
 382, 383. Death and character of, 440. 
 
 Drama, progress of the, 418. 
 
 Dudley, John, duke of Northumberland, 
 7. 26. 37. 57. 61, 62. 65, 66, 67. 
 
 Dudley, Ambrose, earl of Warwick, 
 186. 
 
 Dudley, Robert, earl of Leicester, 7. 78. 
 96. Appointed master of the horse, and 
 favoured by Elizabeth, 125. Knight 
 of the garter, !38. Suspected of pro- 
 em i' g the death of his wife, 151. His 
 rivalry with the earl of Arundel, 156. 
 Proposed as a husband to the q.'een 
 of Scots, 189. Created earl of Leices- 
 ter, 196. His declarations to Melvil, 
 199. Means taken by the queen to 
 humble him, 203. His conduct to the 
 duke of Norfolk, 303. Suspected of 
 poisoning sic N. Throgmorton, 260. 
 His connexion with lady Sheffield, 269. 
 Entertains El.zai elh at Kennel w orth, 
 275. Letter t»f the queen respecting 
 him, 280 Opposes t h<- French mar- 
 riage, 282. Marri< a the emintess of 
 Essex, 287. Imprisoned, 288. Sus- 
 
 pected of attempting the life of Simier 
 288. Instances of his oppressive con- 
 duct, 318, 319. Book written against 
 him, 322. et seq. Appointed com- 
 mander in Holland, 329. His letter 
 respecting sir P. Sidney, 334. Re- 
 turns from Holland, 337. Advises 
 the poisoning of the queen of Scots, 
 339. Consequences of his conduct in 
 Holland, 358, 359. Appointed com- 
 mander in chief, 368. Desires the 
 office of lieutenant in England and 
 Ireland, 370. His death and charac- 
 ter, 371 to 373. 
 Dyer, sir Edward, 408. 
 
 E. 
 
 Edward VI. 20. 31. Letters to him 
 
 from Elizabeth, 54, 55. 66. 
 Eric, king of Sweden offers marriage t» 
 
 Elizabeth, 113. 137. Expected in 
 
 England, 179. 
 Exeter marchioness, 5. 24. 78. 
 
 F. 
 
 Fence, schools of, regulated, 207. 
 Ferrers, George, master of the king's 
 
 pastimes, 63. et seq. 
 Fletcher, bishop, 453. 
 Fitzalan, Henry, earl of Arundel, 37, 
 
 38. 57, 58. 67. Entertains Elizabeth 
 
 at Nonsuch, 145. A suitor to her, 
 
 155. In disgrace, 203. 
 Fitzgerald, family of, 17. et seq. 
 , Gerald, adventures of, 17. et 
 
 seq. 
 
 Fortescue, sir John, 381. 
 
 G. 
 
 Gardiner, bishop, 25. 27. 77. et seq. 
 
 Brings in a bill against Elizabeth, fi7. 
 
 92. 95. Conduct towards Elizabeth 
 
 98, 99. Death, 102. 
 Gascoigne, George, 408. 
 Gresham, sir Thomas, 253. 
 Grenville, sir Richard, 410. 
 Greville, Fulk, 301. et seq. 432. 
 Grey, Arthur, lord, 315. 
 
 , lady Catherine, 65. 79. 181. 
 
 , Henry, marquis of Dorset, 4. 61 
 
 , lady Jane, 41. 50, 51. 65. 67. 83. 
 
 ■ , lord Leonard, 29. 
 
 , lady Mary, 208. 
 
 Grindal, archbishop, 169. 309. 
 
 H. 
 
 Hales, sir James, 79. 
 , John, 189. 
 
 Hall, reverend Joseph, and his satires 
 468, 469. Praise of Elizabeth, 518. 
 
 Harrington, sir John, the elder, 47. His 
 verses on the death of Admiral Sey- 
 mour, ib. — To bishop Gardiner, 93. 
 Gratitude of Elizabeth towards, 101. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Harrington, sir John, the younger, 442. 
 
 470. Letter to 475. Letters of, 482. 
 Hustings, Henry, earl, of Huntingdon, 
 
 452. 
 
 Hatton, sir Christopher, 257. 269. 357. 
 399. 
 
 Henry VIII. 1. 7, 8. IS, 14. 25 to 32. 
 
 36. 
 
 Herbert) William, earl of Pembroke, 
 139. 
 
 Holies, sir William, 416. 
 
 Hoisfeiu, duke of, suitor to Elizabeth, 
 
 137, 138. 
 Howard, Catherine, 28, 29. 
 , Henry, earl of Surry, 26. 33, 
 
 34, 35. et seq. 
 Howard, lord Henry, 319. 
 
 , lady Mary, 5. 
 , Philip, ea'rl of Arundel, 262. 
 
 3*7 376. 
 
 Howard, Thomas, third duke of Nor- 
 folk, 5. 16. 27. 33. 36. 75. 76. 
 
 , , fourth duke ofNorfolk, 
 
 76. 126. How regarded by the queen, 
 205. et seq. Conduct towards the 
 queen of Scots. 236 to 239. Towards 
 Cecil, 239 to 240. His intrigues, 239 
 to 241. Renewal of them, 259. Trial, 
 death and issue, 260 to 262. 
 
 Howard, lord Thomas, 7. 14. 410. 445. 
 
 , William, lord Effingham, 377. 
 
 , Charles, lord Effingham, 256. 
 
 367. 445. 
 
 Howard, lord William, 262. 319. 
 
 Humphrey's, Dr. Lawrence, 213. 
 
 I. 
 
 Impresses, 154. 
 
 Ivan Basilowitz, Czar, 229, 230. 
 J. 
 
 James VI. of Scotland, 211. 217. et seq. 
 Conduct by which he offends Eliza- 
 beth, 464. et seq. Her correspond- 
 ence with him, 465. Sermon respect- 
 ing him, 467. 
 
 Jewel, bishop, 147. 171. 
 
 K. 
 
 Knolles, sir Francis, 126. 132. 310. 
 L. 
 
 Lee, sir Henry, 257. 385. 
 
 Leicester, countess of, queen's behaviour 
 
 towards, 459. 
 Lenox, countess of, 200, 215. 272. 
 Lilly, John, 300. et seq. 
 
 M. 
 
 Manners, Henry, earl of Rutland, 138. 
 Markham, Gervassc, 417. 
 
 , Isabella, 101. 
 
 Mary, queen of England, 15. Perse- 
 
 cuted for religion, 58. et seq. Mounts 
 the throne, 68. Letter from her to 
 Elizabeth, 72. Marriage of, 94. Send* 
 an embassy to the pope, ib. Her in - 
 ception of Elizabeth 99. Letter oi 
 Elizabeth to, 111. Visits Elizabeth 
 at Hatfield, 112. Receives her ai 
 Richmond, 113. Establishes an ec- 
 clesiastical commission, 115. Her nv • 
 lancholy and death, 118. 
 
 Mary, queen of Scots, 30, 31. Becomes 
 a widow, 173. Quarrels with Eliza- 
 beth, 174. Returns to Scotland, ib. 
 Falls in love with Darnley, 200. Sus- 
 pected of his death, 215. Letter to, 
 from Elizabeth, 216. Married to Both- 
 well, ib. et seq. Defeated and impri- 
 soned, 217. Released, 225. Takes 
 refuge in England, ib. et seq. Writes 
 to Elizabetlij 226. Submits to her 
 judgment 228. Ret'-acts, ib. Is com- 
 mitted to Bolton-castle, 229. Con- 
 sents to send commissioners to York, 
 230. Signs the association, 324 Con- 
 duct of, ib. et seq. Concern in Bab- 
 bington's plot, 338. Consultations re- 
 specting, 339. Seizure of her papers, 
 ib. Her removal to Fotheringay, ib. 
 Trial, 340. et seq. Sentence, 342. 
 Death, 347. Remarks on her charac- 
 ter, 351. etseq. 
 
 Medici, Catherine, de, 231, 232. et seq. 
 250. 
 
 Melvil, sir James, 193. Sent to an- 
 nounce the birth of James of Scotland, 
 210. 
 
 Mildmay, sir Walter, 380. 
 
 Mirror for Magistrates, 64. 103. et seq. 
 
 Morice, James, 424. 
 
 Murray, earl of, regent of Scotland, 
 
 217/225. 235. et seq. 236, 237. His 
 
 assassination, 250. 
 
 N. 
 
 Newspapers, introduction of, 371. 
 Nevil, Charles, earl of Westmoreland, 
 
 245 to 247. 
 Nobility, great power of^6. 
 Norfolk, duchess dowagerof, 5. 
 Norris, Henry, 9. 
 
 , sir John, 382. 395. 434. 458. 
 
 Norton, family of, 247. 
 Nerwich, queen's entertainment at, 
 282, 283. 
 
 O. 
 
 Oxford, queen's visit to, 21 3 
 P. 
 
 Paget, lord, 98, 116. 
 
 Parker, archbishop. 8. 167, 168. 201 . 
 
 Parr, Catherine, 31 , 32. 40. 
 
 , marquis of Northampton, 138 
 
 Parry, Dr., 124, 125. 
 , sir Thomas, 121, 122. 
 
524 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Paulet, sir Amias, letter of the queen 
 to, 340. 
 
 Paulet, marquis of Winchester, 141. 
 Percy, Henry, earl of Northumberland, 
 11. 62. 
 
 Percy, Henry, earl of Northumberland, 
 245 to 247. 
 
 Percy, Thomas, earl of Northumber- 
 land, 319. 328. 
 
 Percy, Henry, earl of Northumberland, 
 365. 
 
 Pt -rrot, sir John, 316. 401. 
 
 Philip II. 94. 96. Conduct towards Eli- 
 zabeth, 96, 97, 98. 100, 101. Sends 
 the duchess, of Parma and Loraine to 
 her, 112. Offers her his hand, 135. 
 Becomes her enemy, 175. 132. 234. 
 434. 
 
 Pickering, sir William, a suitor of the 
 queen, 155. 
 
 Pilkington, bishop of Durham, curious 
 sermon by, 147. 
 
 Pole, Arthur and Edmund, plot of, 183. 
 
 , Geffrey, 21. 78. 
 
 — — , Henry, viscount Montacute, 23. 
 , Margaret, countess of Salisbury, 
 23. 24.27. 
 
 Pole. R-ginald, 21. 92. 103. 124. 
 
 Pope, sir Thomas, 70. 100, 101. Men- 
 tion of Elizabeth, 102. Gives enter- 
 tainments to her, 110, 1 12. Writes to 
 the queen respecting her, 114. 
 
 Puttenham's Art of Poesy, 403. 
 
 R. 
 
 Raleigh, sir Walter, 316. 318. 367. 384. 
 414. 438.445. 457. 
 
 Ratcliffe, Thomas, earl ot Sussex, 205. 
 Letters to the queen, 218, 219. To 
 C^cil, 240. Conduct as president of 
 the North, 248. Campaign in Scot- 
 land, 250. Behaviour respecting Lei- 
 cester, 288. Favours the French 
 match, 289, 290. Death of, 314. 
 
 Ratcliffe, Egremont, 248. 314. et seq. 
 
 Royal Progresses, 144. 
 
 Royal succession, vague ideas on, 13, 14. 
 
 Rudd, bishej^ sermon of, before the 
 queen, 442r 
 
 S. 
 
 Sackville, sir Richard, 126. 223. 
 
 — — , Thomas, lord Buckhurst, 103. 
 
 2^3. 358, 359. 
 
 Sampson, Dr. Thomas, offends the 
 queen, 176. 
 
 Savoy, duke of, offered to Elizabeth in 
 marriage, 89, 111. 
 
 Seymour, Edward, duke of Somerset, 
 20. 33. 37 to 39. 
 
 Seymour, Edward, second earl of Herts : 
 how treated for his marriage with lady 
 Catherine Grey, 182. et seq. Esta- 
 blishes the legitimacy of his sons, 190. 
 398.441. 
 
 Seymour, Jane, 9. 20. 
 
 — — — — , sir Thomas, lord admiral, 
 
 20. 34 to 40. Conduct to Elizabeth, 
 
 40 to 44. 
 Shakespeare, William, 420. 
 Sidney, sir Henry, 184. Letter of the 
 
 queen to, 209. Death and character, 
 
 of, 335. 
 
 Sidney, sir Philip, 266. 282. His oppo- 
 sition to the French match and letter 
 to the queen, 290. et seq. Appear- 
 ance at a triumph, 298. 301. Defence 
 of Leicester, 323. Death and charac- 
 ter, 330. et seq. 
 
 Sidney, sir Robert, letter of, 490. 
 
 Simier, Monsieur, 287, 288. 
 
 Sixtus V. pope. Extraordinary speeches 
 of, 343. 
 
 Smith, sir Thomas, 26.3. 273. 285. 
 Somerset, H. earl of Worcester, 7. 
 , duchess dowager of, 48 62. 
 
 78. 355. 
 Spenser, Edmund, 317. 468. 
 Stanley, Edward, earl of Derby, 6. 
 
 ■ , Ferdinando, earl of Derby, 435. 
 
 Stubbs, Mr. 293. et seq. 
 
 Suffolk, Francis, duchess dowager of, 
 
 146. 313. 
 
 Sully, duke of, conference with Eliza- 
 beth, 500. 
 
 T. 
 
 Talbot, Gilbert, lord, letters of, 268. 
 
 Throgmorton, sir John, 261. 
 
 , Francis, 320. 
 
 , sir Nicholas, 85, 86. 96. 
 
 201. 239. 320. 
 
 Tontall, bishop, 77. 
 
 Topcliffe, Richard, 283. et seq. 
 
 Torture defended, 320. et seq. 
 
 Tyrwhitt, sir Robert, his letters to the 
 Protector respecting Eiizabeth and 
 admiral Seymour, 44. et seq. 45, 46. 
 
 V. 
 
 Vaughan, bishop, anecdotes of, 453. 
 Vere, Edward, seventeenth earl of Ox- 
 ford, 254. 365. 
 Vere, sir Francis, 446. 
 
 W. 
 
 Walsingham, sir Francis, 263, 264. 302. 
 Sent into Scotland, 312. Conduct re- 
 specting queen of Scots, 351. Letter 
 of, to M. Critoy, S78. Death and cha- 
 racter, 388. 
 
 Whitgift, archbishop, 281, 309. note, et 
 seq. 
 
 Williams, lord, 88. 98, 99. 
 Willoughby, sir Hugh, 229. 
 Wriothesley, earl of Southampton, 456. 
 
 459. 493. 496, 497. 500. 
 Wyat, sir Thomas, 70. 72. 82. 85. 
 
5* A*