XIV. REIGN OF ELIZABETH (continued)…

XIV. REIGN OF ELIZABETH (continued)

Affairs of Ireland: Shane O'Neil's Rebellion--Plantation of Ulster--Spanish Descent on Ireland--Desmond's Rebellion--Religious Conformity--Campian and Parsons--The Anabaptists--Affairs of Scotland--Death of Morton--Success of the Catholics in Scotland--The Raid of Ruthven--Elizabeth's Position--Throgmorton's Plot--Association to Protect Elizabeth--Mary removed to Tutbury--Support of the Protestant Cause on the Continent--Leicester in the Netherlands--Babington's Plot--Trial of Mary--Her Condemnation--Hesitation of Elizabeth--Execution of Mary.

It is now necessary to trace the course of events in Ireland during the years we have just passed over. A great work had been going on in that country, the object of which was to reduce the turbulent native chiefs to obedience, and to establish English settlers in the lands of those who were driven out or exterminated.

The most distinguished of those chiefs was Shane O'Neil, the Earl of Tyrone. Henry VIII. had granted the succession to Matthew, an illegitimate son of the old earl's; but Shane, the eldest legitimate son, would not submit to this arrangement. He was supported in his claims by the people, and vindicated his rights. By the persuasion of the Earl of Sussex, at that time governor, he was induced to appear at the Court of Elizabeth in 1562. He laid his claims before her, and excited a great sensation by appearing in his native costume, attended by a guard armed with battle-axes, and clad in saffron-coloured vests. Elizabeth did not grant all his requests, but expressed herself highly pleased with his presence, and made him great promises. But Shane was too sensitive and independent in his feelings and ideas to be a very orderly subject. Frequently he did essential service as the ally of the English Government, but more frequently was compelled to seek vengeance for injuries and encroachments. In 1565, three years after his appearance at the English Court, he was driven into open rebellion; and after a severe struggle, was compelled to seek refuge in the wilds of Ulster amongst the Scots. There, at the instigation of Piers, an English officer, he was assassinated (1567), his estates were confiscated, with those of all his followers, comprising one-half of Ulster, and the name and dignity of O'Neil were abolished for ever.

That which was done in Ulster had to be done in every other province of Ireland. Whenever insurrection broke out and was suppressed, the lands were forfeited to the Crown. But so long as the Crown held nominally these lands, the natives continued to hold them really. To remedy this, and to ensure a certain forfeiture by the rebels, and a reward to the English conquerors, Sir Thomas Smith proposed that these lands should be granted in various portions to English settlers, who, in prosecution of their own claims, would drive out the rebel natives and cultivate the soil. It needs no reflection to perceive that this system must be fruitful beyond conception in crimes, murders, and miseries. Lands were granted to a bastard son of the projector's, and to numerous other adventurers. They drove out the Irish, and these came back in infuriated numbers, with fire and desolation. Under this frightful system the country soon became a desert. To put an end to these sanguinary scenes, Walter Devereux, Earl of Essex, represented that it needed only a sufficient force on the part of the English. He offered to bring under subjection, and to colonise, the district of Clandeboy in Ulster. His proposals were that the queen and himself should furnish equal shares of the charge, and the colony, being organised, should be divided equally between them. The courtiers who had envied him his favour with Elizabeth pretended to promote his design till he had embarked all his fortune in it, when they threw all possible obstacles in his way. Through these hindrances, it was late in the summer of 1573 before he arrived in Ireland, and then only to find that the Lord-deputy Fitzwilliam questioned his powers; and on proceeding to the lands of Clandeboy, Phelim O'Neil and his adherents contended with him for its possession fort by fort. He maintained his ground, however, through the winter, though grievously suffering from the bad quality of the provisions furnished by the queen's contractors, and from the ill-armed condition of his troops--for the evils which mowed down our army in the Crimea were among the most ancient evils of the English Government. Essex is said to have invited Phelim O'Neil to a banquet, and there assassinated him and his attendants; but this did not mend his position. The Lords Dacre and Rich, and many gentlemen, abandoned the enterprise and returned home. Though deserted and unable to conquer his own allotted territory, he assisted the Lord-Deputy to suppress the rebels in other parts of the island. He returned to England in 1575, and was appointed Earl Marshal of Ireland, but with no adequate force; and ultimately died, September 22nd, 1576, at Dublin.

After the death of Essex, the system of planting Ireland, as it was called, still went on. The destruction of the O'Neils all the other clans regarded as only preliminary to their own. They therefore appealed to the Kings of Spain and France for assistance; and on their declaring themselves unable, from their own dangers and insurrections at home, to assist them, they implored the protection of the Pope, Gregory XIII. His holiness launched a bull at the heretic queen, declaring Ireland forfeited, as previous bulls had declared England and Wales forfeited. Under his encouragement two adventurers, Thomas Stukely and James Fitzmaurice, set out to proclaim the bull, and to carry the arms of his holiness all over Ireland. Stukely, however, having obtained a ship of war, 600 soldiers, and 3,000 stand of arms, carried them to the service of the King of Portugal, and died fighting in his wars against the Moors. Fitzmaurice, a brother of the Earl of Desmond, and a deadly enemy of the English invaders, was more faithful; and after suffering shipwreck on the coast of Galicia, landed at Smerwick, in Kerry, in June, 1579. He had with him, however, only eighty Spanish soldiers, and a few Irish and English refugees; and his expedition proved an utter failure, for the inhabitants had no faith in so insignificant a knot of adventurers. Fitzmaurice being killed in a private quarrel, his followers fled into the territories of his brother, the Earl of Desmond.

The Earl of Desmond professed himself a loyal subject; but he was suspected of favouring the insurgents, and the English marched into his demesnes, and plundered them. Another detachment from the Pope, however, landed at Smerwick, the port which Fitzmaurice had made. It consisted of several hundred men, having a large sum of money, and 5,000 stand of arms, under the command of San Giuseppe, an Italian. Lord Grey de Wilton, the new Lord-Deputy, had recently suffered a defeat in the vale of Glandaclough; but he managed to besiege this foreign force in their newly-erected fort, while Admiral Winter blockaded them on the sea side. After three days' resistance, the handful of Italians and Spaniards put out a flag of truce, and offered to surrender on condition that their lives were spared. Foreign writers all assert that this was granted them; but Sir Richard Bingham, who was present, says that they surrendered one night at the pleasure of the Lord-Deputy, to have mercy or not, as he willed. Sir Walter Raleigh and Spenser, the poet, were in Grey's army, and their conduct reflects no honour upon them. Sir Walter entered the fort to receive their arms, and then ordered them all to be massacred (1580); and this proceeding Spenser endeavours to vindicate. He was Lord Grey's secretary; and while he styles him "a most gentle, affable, loving, and temperate lord," he gives this account of his act:--"The enemy begged that they might be allowed to depart with their lives and arms according to the law of nations. He asked to see their commission from the Pope or the King of Spain. They had none: they were the allies of the Irish. 'But the Irish,' replied Grey, 'are traitors, and you must suffer as traitors. I will make no terms with you; you may submit or not.' They yielded, craving only mercy, which it not being thought good to show them, for danger of them, if being saved, they should afterwards join the Irish, who were much emboldened by those foreign successes, and also put in hope of more ere long. There was no other way but to make that short end of them as was made."

This was a fatal precedent to the French and Spaniards, against whom our own countrymen were fighting in the very same manner by the orders of Elizabeth, in France, in the Netherlands, and in South America; and whilst we denounce the savage slaughter of English adventurers in the trans-Atlantic lands of Spain wherever they were found without mercy or quarter, we are bound to remember that we thus set the Spaniards the example, and furnished them with warrant.

After this butchery Grey and his myrmidons combined to chase Desmond from spot to spot in his mountain fastnesses. Three years later (1583) a party of the English, attracted by a light, entered a hut, where they found a venerable old man lying on the hearth before the fire, quite alone. On their demanding who he was, he replied, "The Earl of Desmond," when Kelly of Moriarty instantly struck off his head, which he sent as a grateful present to Elizabeth, by whom it was fixed on London Bridge. With Desmond fell for some time the resistance of the hunted natives in Ireland. From the forfeited lands of these immolated Irish, Sir Walter Raleigh received 42,000 acres, other gentlemen from 5,000 to 18,000, and Spenser the poet 3,000 and a castle of the unfortunate Desmond's--Kilcolman--which the exasperated natives burnt over his head, and with it one of his children. Spenser's concern in this bloody affair proved, in fact, his ruin.

Returning to England, we find that Elizabeth during this period had been persecuting every form of Christianity which did not agree with her own. There were three parties against whom she felt herself aggrieved--the Puritans, the Papists, and the Anabaptists; and she set to work resolutely to squeeze them into the mould of her orthodoxy, or to crush them. Many of the Puritans who had imbibed the sternest spirit of Geneva had got into the pulpits of the State Church and refused to wear the robes, to perform the rites, or to preach the exact doctrines as prescribed by law. If they did not accord with that Church, they certainly had no business there, and had no right to complain that Elizabeth turned them out. The time to complain was when she had expelled them, and they set up a Church of their own, which she would not allow. Their freedom was their birthright; but the queen would not suffer them to exercise it. She had but one word in her religious vocabulary--conform; and this rigid conformity was carried out ruthlessly by the very ministers and clergy who had so manfully complained of compulsion in the last reign. They purged one diocese after another by expelling Puritan clergy. These acts of arbitrary power were loudly denounced in the House of Commons, where there was a strong Puritan party, and numerous bills were brought in to advance the Reformation. Out of doors, Parker, the old Archbishop of Canterbury, faithfully executed the will of the sovereign; and opinion, suppressed in the Church and in Parliament, where the queen even sent personal and most dictatorial messages stopping all religious discussion, now burst forth through the press. Pamphlets of a most inflammatory nature and abusive style issued in shoals; and one Burchell, a student of the Middle Temple, became so inflamed by zeal that he murdered Hawkins, an officer, mistaking him for Hatton, the queen's new favourite. In prison he also killed his keeper under the delusion that he was Hatton; and though palpably insane, he was hanged for murder.

Parker died in 1575 and was succeeded by Grindal, who, Elizabeth soon discovered, was too much of a Puritan himself to persecute them severely, and she suspended him, and harassed him to such a degree that he died in 1583. To him succeeded Whitgift, a man after Elizabeth's own heart, who framed a test of orthodoxy, which he put to all clergymen or others whom he suspected, which consisted of these three notable dogmas--the queen's supremacy, the perfection of the Ordinal and Book of Common Prayer, and the complete accordance of the Thirty-nine Articles with the Scriptures. All those clergymen who refused to subscribe to this he expelled; and in defiance of clamour and intrigue in Council or Convocation, he held on his way immovably. Nor did the queen long satisfy herself with mere expulsion. Thacker and Copping, two Brownists, were indicted for objecting to the Book of Common Prayer, which was treated as an attack on the royal supremacy, and were put to death. The persecution of the Catholics was still more severe than that of the Puritans.

The fury of persecution in England stimulated the Roman Catholics abroad to a corresponding enthusiasm of martyrdom. Gregory XIII. followed the example of William Allen--who had founded an English seminary at Douay--and established a second English seminary in the hospital of Santo Spirito, in Rome, from which emissaries were despatched into the heretical kingdom. First and foremost the general of the Jesuits selected in 1580 two Englishmen of distinguished abilities, and sent them from this college. Robert Parsons and Edmund Campian arrived with a reputation, and with rumours of the dark conspiracy in which they were engaged, which roused all the alarm and the vigilance of the Government. Rewards were offered for their discovery, and menaces of punishment issued for remissness in tracing them out. The queen sent forth a proclamation, calling on every person who had children, wards, or relatives gone abroad for education to make a return of their names to the ordinary, and to recall them within three months; and all persons whatsoever who knew of any Jesuit or seminarist in the kingdom, and failed to give information, were to be punished as abettors of treason.

As soon as Parliament met in January of 1581, still more stringent laws were passed for the punishment of Roman Catholics. It was made high treason merely to possess the power of absolution, or to receive any person into the church of Rome. The fines for hearing or saying Mass were re-enacted. Absence from church was made punishable at the rate of twenty pounds per month, and, if prolonged to a whole year, besides the penalty, the offender must produce two securities for his good behaviour of £200 each. The concealment of Roman Catholic tutors, schoolmasters, or priests entailed a year's imprisonment, a priest or tutor being also amenable to the same punishment, and the employer of them to a fine of ten pounds per month. There was but one step possible beyond this outrageous despotism, and that was to the stake, as in Mary's time; but the very fury of legal punishment defeated its own object.

Parsons and Campian put into the hands of their friends written statements of their objects in coming into the country, which they declared to be solely to exercise their spiritual functions as priests, not to interfere with any worldly concerns or affairs of State; but they declared that all the Jesuits in the world had entered into a league to maintain the Catholic religion at the risk of imprisonment, torture, or death. This announcement excited the greatest alarm, and the most fiery persecution burst forth on the whole body of the Romanists, whilst every means was exerted to discover and secure these missionaries. The names of all the recusants in the kingdom, amounting to 50,000, were returned to Government, and no man included in that number had any longer the least security or privacy in his own house. The doors were broken open without notice given, and the pursuivants, rushing in, spread themselves all over the dwelling. Cabinets, cupboards, drawers, closets were forced and ransacked, beds torn open, tapestry or wainscot was dragged down, and every imaginable place explored, for the purpose of obtaining evidence by vessels, vestments, books, or crosses, of heretical worship. The inmates were put under strict watch, till they had been searched and interrogated; and many were driven nearly or wholly out of their senses by the rudeness and the insults which they received from brutal officers. Lady Neville was frightened to death in Holborn, and Mrs. Vavasour was deprived of her reason at York.

In July, Campian was taken at Lyfford, in Berkshire, and was committed to the Tower; and Parsons, seeing no prospect of long escaping pursuit, contrived to get over again to the Continent. Campian was repeatedly racked, and under the force of torture and the promises that no injury should be done to his entertainers, he related the whole course of his peregrinations in Yorkshire, Lancashire, Denbigh, Northampton, Warwick, Bedford, Buckingham, and elsewhere, and the names of those who had given him hospitality. No sooner, however, had the Council the names than they summoned all those who had harboured him, and fined some and imprisoned others.

In November, Campian and twelve other priests and a layman were put upon their trial, and were charged with a horrible conspiracy to murder the queen and to overturn Church and State. Rome and Rheims were declared to be the places where this direful plot had been hatched. The astonishment of the prisoners, several of whom had never been out of England, was extreme. Not an atom of evidence was produced to authenticate these charges, yet the whole were pronounced guilty. One of them was saved by an alibi established by Lancaster, a Protestant barrister; the rest were executed as traitors, except those who were still kept prisoners. On the scaffold (December 1, 1581), Campian lamented that the weakness of the flesh on the rack had forced him to disclose the names of some of his entertainers, by which they had been brought into trouble.

The Anabaptists, who had created great scandals and disturbance in Germany, made repeated visits to London under pretence of belonging to the Dutch Church. They denied the propriety of infant baptism; they also denied that Christ assumed the flesh of the Virgin; they believed it wrong to take an oath, or to accept the office of a magistrate. In some of these tenets they resembled the Society of Friends which afterwards rose, and their creed did not interfere with the quiet of the State; yet numbers of them were imprisoned, ten of them were sent out of the kingdom, and two, Peters and Turwert, were burnt in Smithfield in July, 1575. Again, in 1579, Matthew Hammond, a ploughman, was burnt at Norwich.

In no quarter had Elizabeth for a long time any security except in Scotland. There Morton was her faithful ally, inasmuch as she held fast the King of Scots, and so guaranteed the chief means of his own tranquil enjoyment of power. But Morton's rule was not such as any country would long tolerate. He was essentially a base and selfish man, and his severity and rapacity alienated the public from him more and more. He debased the coin, multiplied forfeitures to enrich himself, appropriated the estates of the Church, and at the same time was so subservient to Elizabeth, that the national pride resented it. In 1578, Athole and Argyll made their way to the presence of the young king, who was now approaching thirteen years of age, and assured him that it was now quite time that he freed himself from the tutelage of Morton and ruled the country himself. James readily listened to them, and sent Morton an order to resign, and to attend a council at Stirling, where the friends of Athole and Argyll were summoned.

Morton, though taken by surprise, appeared to obey with perfect acquiescence; but he lost no time in intriguing with the Erskines, and in three months had again possessed himself of the person of the king, and resumed his authority in the State. Athole and Argyll mustered their friends to force the reins from the hands of Morton, who boldly met them in the field, when the ambassador of England appeared as a mediator, and persuaded them to a reconciliation. But it was not in the nature of Morton to forget the opponents of his power, although they now appeared as nominal friends. He invited Athole, the chief actor in his late fall, to a banquet, from which he retired, as Mar had done, to die. Like Mar, he was poisoned. Secure as he now seemed, Morton let loose his vengeance on his enemies; and the Hamiltons, the friends of Mary, were compelled, in spite of the treaty of Perth, to fly to England for security; and being freed from their restraint he indulged freely his insatiable avarice at the expense of the country.

But justice reached this minister of evil when it was least expected. Esmé Stuart, the Lord of Aubigny, a son of the younger brother of the Earl of Lennox, who had become naturalised in France, returned to Scotland. With a handsome person and French accomplishments, he soon captivated the young monarch, who could not live at any period of his life without a favourite. He created Aubigny captain of the guard, first lord of the bed-chamber, and finally Duke of Lennox, being the nephew of the late earl, and cousin of Darnley. Associated with Lennox was another and far more deep and designing Stuart--James, commonly called Captain Stuart, the second son of Lord Ochiltree. He was also related to the king, and lent essential aid to Lennox, not only from his genius for intrigue, but because Lennox was suspected of being an emissary of the Duke of Guise. Lennox and his friend Stuart, who was now created by James Earl of Arran, instilled every possible suspicion into the king's mind against Morton, who, they averred, intended to convey him to England and give him up to Elizabeth. To seize Morton, and arraign him for the multitude of illegal acts which he had perpetrated in his position of Regent, might not succeed, for the wily offender had taken care to procure bills of indemnity for whatever he had done. They determined, therefore, to accuse him of Darnley's murder, of which he was notoriously guilty in common with others.

One morning, therefore, Captain Stuart, now Earl of Arran, fell on his knees in the Council, and charged Morton to the king with the murder of his (the king's) father. Morton, thunderstruck at this bold and sudden act, stoutly denied the charge, but he was ordered to be guarded in his own house, and soon after sent off to the Castle of Dumbarton. Morton despatched a messenger to his trusty friend the Queen of England, who forthwith despatched Randolph to intercede with the king, the Council, and the Parliament for the precious life of this vile murderer. Elizabeth, as she had not been ashamed to countenance and support him, so neither was she now ashamed to plead for him, and to beg that he might be set at liberty as a special favour to her, in recompence of the many services she had rendered Scotland. She accused Lennox of being in league with the French Government for the invasion of England, and Randolph produced documents to prove it. On examining these papers, the Council pronounced them forgeries, and the trial was ordered to proceed. On perceiving his failure with the king and Council, Randolph had recourse to his old arts of endeavouring to stir up sedition, and did his utmost to rouse Mar and the Earl of Angus to rise in arms for Morton's rescue. This becoming known, Randolph, who had been twice sent out of the country for his traitorous meddling, was now glad to flee for his life.

To save this execrable villain, but very useful tool, Elizabeth induced the Prince of Orange and the King of Navarre to support the exertions of her ambassador on his behalf, but all in vain. James was firm in following out the advice given him. Elizabeth ordered a body of troops to march to the Border, as if she were resolved to invade Scotland for the rescue of Morton; but James, far from being intimidated, called all his subjects to arms, ordered Angus to retire beyond the Spey, Mar to surrender the charge of Stirling Castle, and demanded of Elizabeth whether she meant peace or war.

This bold attitude put an end to her efforts. Randolph suddenly found out that Morton was accused of murder with a fair show of proof, and Elizabeth then pretended to think that if it were so it did not become her any longer to defend him. Deserted by his great patron Elizabeth, the hoary criminal was brought to trial, and charged not only with the murder of Darnley, but that of Athole. Besides verbal and personal evidence of his guilt, his bond of manrent, or guarantee of indemnity for the murder, given to Bothwell, was exhibited, together with a paper purporting to be a confession of Bothwell made on his death-bed in Denmark, in which he accused Morton as a principal contriver of the murder, and exonerated the Queen of Scots. Whether this paper were genuine or not, there was abundant proof without it; he was condemned by the unanimous verdict of the peers, and executed (June 3, 1581).

The fall of Morton and the display of independence in the young King James opened up the most extravagant hopes in the minds of the friends of Queen Mary, and of the Papists in general. They were ready to believe that James would soon show his regard for his mother, and a deep sense of her wrongs. Morton had been the stern adherent of Protestantism, scandalous as he was; but who should say that Aubigny, educated in France, and with many friends and relatives there, would not incline to favour the Papists, and that James, under his guidance, though educated by the disciples of Knox, might not, young as he was, return to the religion of his ancestors? Parsons, the Jesuit, was enthusiastic in this behalf, and he despatched Waytes, an English Popish clergyman, to Holyrood, and soon afterwards Creighton, a Scottish Jesuit. These emissaries returned with the most flattering accounts of their reception by James and his ministers. Probably, in prospect of no very friendly relations with Elizabeth, the advisers of James might adopt the policy of conciliating the Romanists, and thus securing the ancient support of France, and also of Spain. Be that as it may, James professed to feel deeply the wrongs of his mother, and to cherish great filial affection for her. He assured them that he would always receive with favour such persons as came with an introduction from her, and he consented to receive an Italian Catholic into his Court as his tutor in that language.

Elated by these tidings, Parsons and Creighton hastened to Paris in May of 1582. There happened to be present an extraordinary number of persons interested in the cause of Popery--the Duke of Guise; Castelli, the Papal nuncio; Tassis, the Spanish ambassador; Beaton, Archbishop of Glasgow; Matthieu, the Provincial of the French Jesuits; and Dr. Allen, the provost of the seminary of Douay. They all agreed that Mary ought to be restored without deposing James; that they should reign jointly; and Parsons was sent to Spain to solicit assistance, and Creighton to the Pope for the same object. Both missions were successful: Philip gave 12,000 crowns to relieve the necessities of James, and the Pope engaged to pay the expenses of his body-guard for twelve months. Both Mary and James assented to this proposal, Mary offering to leave all the exercise of power in James's hands.

Successful as this scheme appeared, every movement in it had been watched by the Court of England, and a counterplot of a most startling kind was set on foot. In August, 1581, the Earl of Gowrie, the son of the murderer Ruthven, was induced to invite the king to his castle of Ruthven, when he made him prisoner. The government was then seized by the Earl of Mar, the Master of Glamis, the Lord Oliphant, and others. Lennox, the king's chief minister, escaped to France, but died soon after, as was suspected, from poison. Arran, the successful destroyer of Morton, was thrown into prison. The pulpit was set to work to proclaim that there had been a plot to restore "the limb of Satan," the lewd Queen Mary, with all the ceremonial of the Mass; and that Lennox was at the bottom of it, though he died professing himself a staunch Protestant.

But the position of affairs in Scotland was calculated to excite the utmost vigilance of both France and England. Henry III. saw with terror the young King of Scotland in the hands of the English faction, and sent thither La Motte Fenelon and Maigneville to encourage James to call together the Estates, to insist by their means on his liberty, and on the liberation of his mother to govern with him. The English Court, on the other hand, instructed its agents, Bowes and Davidson, to demand the dismissal of the French envoys, and to show him the danger of the measures which they proposed. James appeared to listen to both parties; and ostensibly in order to consult on their advice, he summoned a council of the nobility to meet at the castle of St. Andrews. Once in their midst, James felt his freedom; and to prevent any contest on the question, published a pardon to all who had been concerned in the Raid of Ruthven, as it was called, or the conspiracy of Gowrie. This bold stroke of the young king so took the English Court by surprise that Walsingham was sent, notwithstanding his age and important duties at home, to the Scottish Court. Walsingham must have been amazed at the small success which attended his mission, for James received him with little consideration, appeared to regard his communications with indifference, and dismissed him with a paltry present on his departure. Elizabeth could not help complaining of the palpable slight to her ambassador, and the friends of Queen Mary drew fresh hope from the circumstance.

But little solid hope could be entertained of Mary's enfranchisement by any one who considered the real situation of affairs. The King of France was far from sincere in his wish for her release. So long as she was in the hands of Elizabeth, he was secure from any further meddling of Elizabeth in the internal affairs of France. At any moment he could alarm her by rumours of designs to set the Scottish queen free, at the same time that James, as a young man, was open to influence from France against England. For these reasons a fresh conference in Paris on Mary's behalf came to nothing. The Duke of Guise, Castelli, the Archbishop of Glasgow, and Matthieu met again, this time with the addition of Morgan, a Welsh gentleman, one of the commissioners of her dower in France. They proposed that Guise should land in the south of England with an army, while James should simultaneously enter it at the north. James at once assented to the project; but Mary, who knew very well that her life would be sacrificed at once if there were a formidable attempt at her rescue, resorted to the hopeless course of endeavouring to persuade Elizabeth to treat with France for her release on safe terms. Elizabeth appeared to listen; but the rumours of the invasion speedily caused her to abandon any such negotiation, on the plea that, once at liberty, Mary could not be trusted. Revenge might induce her to ally herself with France and Spain, to the great peril of England.

No situation in the world could be conceived more miserable than that of Elizabeth. The captive queen had become to her a source of perpetual alarms--alarm of invasion from France and from Scotland--alarm at insurrections among the Papists, whom persecutions kept in a state of the deepest disaffection. For two years the prisons had been crowded with Catholics, and the scaffolds drenched with their blood. They had been persecuted and insulted till they must have been more than mortal to have felt no desire for revenge. Therefore the country swarmed with spies and informers; and Walsingham, as a skilful unraveller of plots, was kept hard at work to trace, by his secret emissaries, every concealed movement of sedition. Both at home and abroad he had a host of agents under a multitude of disguises. The Jesuits never had a more expert and fearless general, nor a more varied army of informers. They presented themselves in the shape of travelling noblemen, of physicians, of students in Popish seminaries. They swarmed in sea-ports lying between England and the different Continental routes. There was scarcely a Roman Catholic gentleman or nobleman into whose house they had not found their way. To those whom they suspected of a leaning towards the Queen of Scots they professed to be confidential agents of her or of her adherents, and presented forged letters by which they might entrap the unwary into compromising answers.

At length the chief of the conspirators was brought to justice in the person of Thomas Throgmorton, the son of Sir John Throgmorton, Chief Justice of Chester. Walsingham intercepted letters, and by his spies made his way into every abode and company. He received from his trusty emissaries the information that Charles Paget, one of the commissioners of the Queen of Scots' dower--Morgan, just mentioned, being the other--had landed on the coast of Sussex under the name of Mope. A letter of Morgan's was also intercepted, and from something in its contents the two sons of Sir John Throgmorton, Thomas and George, were immediately arrested and committed to the Tower. The Earl of Northumberland, with his son the Earl of Arundel, his countess, uncle, and brothers, were summoned before the Privy Council and repeatedly questioned. The Lord Paget, brother of Charles Paget, and Charles Arundel, escaped to the Continent, but sent a declaration that they had fled, not from any sense of guilt, but from the utter hopelessness of acquittal where Leicester had any influence. Northumberland and Lord Arundel, with their wives and relatives, stoutly denied all concern with plots or any species of disloyalty, and no proof could be brought against them. Meanwhile it was asserted that the Duke of Guise was proceeding with his scheme of invasion, and that many English noblemen and gentlemen were co-operating in it; that a letter had been intercepted from the Scottish Court to Mary, informing her that James was quite ready to perform his part of the scheme by invading the kingdom from the north, having had the promise of 20,000 crowns; but that he was desirous to know who were the influential persons in England that might be calculated upon for support. All this was soon wonderfully corroborated by the confession of Thomas Throgmorton, in whose trunks were found two catalogues, one of the chief ports, and the other of the principal Romanists in the kingdom. He admitted that these were for the use of Mendoza, the Spanish minister, and that he had devised a plan with that ambassador to raise troops in the name of the queen through the Catholics, who were then to call on her to tolerate Catholicism, or to depose her. This was a strong case indeed against the prisoners and the fugitives; and Burleigh, with Throgmorton's confession in his hand, charged the Spanish ambassador with his breach of all the laws of nations and of his office. Mendoza had the impudence to deny the charges; but he was ordered to withdraw from England, and Throgmorton was hanged (1583). From that hour war with Spain was inevitable.

The patriotism of England was now awake. An association was formed, under the influence of the Government, by which all the members bound themselves to pursue and kill every person who should attempt the life of the queen, and every person for whose advantage it should be attempted. This palpably pointed at the Scottish Queen. The bond of association was shown to Mary as a means of intimidating her. At the first glance she perceived that it was aimed at her life; but, after a moment of astonishment, she proposed to sign the bond herself so far as she was concerned, which, of course, was not permitted, as it would have neutralised the whole intention, but it was industriously circulated for signature amongst those who dared not well do otherwise.

The same object was pursued in the Parliament, which met on the 23rd of November. After the clergy had granted an aid of six shillings in the pound to be paid in three years, and the Commons a subsidy and two-fifteenths, an Act was passed condemning as traitors any one who had been declared by a court of twenty-four commissioners cognisant of any treasonable designs against the queen; and Mary and her issue were excluded from the succession in case of the queen coming to a violent death. The Roman Catholics were also treated with increased severity, in consequence of the alleged plots. No Popish clergyman was to be allowed to remain in the kingdom; if found there after forty days he was pronounced guilty of high treason; any one knowing of his being in the country, and not giving information within twelve days, was to be fined and imprisoned during the queen's pleasure; and any one receiving or relieving him was guilty of felony. All students in Popish seminaries were called on to return to their native country within six months after proclamation; parents sending their children to such seminaries without licence were to forfeit for every such offence a hundred pounds; and the students themselves forfeited all right to the property of their parents.

To avoid, if possible, the fate which the bill of this Session prepared for them, the Roman Catholics drew up an earnest and loyal memorial to the queen, declaring it as their settled and solemn conviction that she was their sovereign de jure and de facto; that neither Pope nor priest had power to license any one to lift their hand against her, nor to absolve them were such a crime committed, and that they renounced and abominated any one who held a contrary doctrine.

All these transactions only tended to aggravate the situation of the Queen of Scots. She was now taken out of the hands of the Earl of Shrewsbury, and consigned to the custody of Sir Amyas Paulet, a dependent of Leicester's, a man of a rigid, gaoler-like disposition, but not destitute of honour. She was removed from Sheffield Park to the ruinous stronghold of Tutbury. Finding that all appeals to Elizabeth and all protestations of her innocence of any participation in, and even ignorance of, the plots charged on different persons were alike disregarded, she turned to her son, but only to receive from that quarter a disregard still harder to bear. James coldly announced to her that he had nothing to do with her concerns, nor she with his: he was now, in fact, in the pay of Elizabeth. He bade her remember that she was only the queen-mother, and enjoyed no authority in Scotland, though she bore the empty title of queen. Abandoning all hope of assistance from him, Mary now demanded of Elizabeth to liberate her on any conditions she pleased--she asked only liberty and life. But her requests were unheeded.

Meanwhile Elizabeth was supporting Protestantism abroad. Henry of Navarre had become the next in succession to the crown of France, by the death of the Duke of Anjou in 1584. Being well known as a Protestant, the Roman Catholics in France, with the Duke of Guise at their head, reorganised their league, and compelled the French King to subscribe to it. The King of Spain, a member of the league, promised it all his support. On the other hand, Elizabeth, anxious to see a Protestant prince on the throne of France, sent Henry large remittances, and invited him to make England his home in case his enemies should compel him to retreat for a time, when he could wait the turn of events. In all this there was nothing to complain of. Henry had a clear right to the throne of France, and justice as well as the Reformed faith called upon her to support it; but not so honourable were her proceedings in the Netherlands. There she secretly urged to insurrection the subjects of a power with whom she was at peace, and maintained them by repeated supplies of money.

Sympathising as she did with the oppressed Protestants of the Netherlands, her course was quite obvious. She could call on Philip to give to them free exercise of their religion, and if he refused, she had a fair plea to break with him and to support the cause of the common religion. But Elizabeth had too much politic regard for the rights of kings openly to support against them the rights of the people; and, what was still more embarrassing, she was practising the very intolerance and persecution against her Roman Catholic subjects that Philip was against his Protestant ones.

The Primate, when appealed to, stated broadly this fact, and declared that Philip had as much right to send forces to aid the English Roman Catholics as Elizabeth had to support the Belgian Protestants. When, therefore, in June of 1585 the deputies of the revolted provinces of the Netherlands besought Elizabeth to annex them to her own dominions, she declined; but in September she signed a treaty with them, engaging to send them 6,000 men, and received in pledge of their payment the towns of Brielle and Flushing, and the strong fortress of Rammekens. This was making war on Philip without any declaration of it; but she still persisted that she was not assisting the Flemings to throw off their allegiance to their lawful prince, but was only helping them to recover undoubted privileges of which they had been deprived.

But the fact was, that Elizabeth had long been warring on Spain, and it was the fault of Spain that it had not declared open war in return. In 1570 she had sent out the celebrated Admiral Drake, to scour the coasts of the West Indies and South America, on the plea that Spain had no right to shut up the ports of those countries, and to exclude all other flags from those seas. Under her commission, Drake and other captains had ravaged the settlements of Spain in the New World, had plundered Carthagena, St. Iago, and St. Domingo, and almost every town on the coasts of Chili and Peru. They had intercepted the Spanish galleons, or treasure vessels, and carried off immense booty of silver and other precious articles. But as Drake had received special marks of royal favour--the queen had dined on board his vessel, the Golden Hind, when it lay at Deptford, and had knighted him (1581) for his services,--and as there was no declaration of war, all these were clear cases of piracy; but Philip was too much engaged at home to defend these trans-Atlantic possessions from the daring sea captains of Elizabeth, and if he did declare war he at once sanctioned her interference both in the Spanish seas and in the Netherlands.

To conduct her campaign in the Netherlands, Elizabeth had appointed the Earl of Leicester. The way in which he conducted himself there was not calculated to increase his reputation for honesty or military talent. No sooner did he arrive, than, without consulting the queen, he induced the States to nominate him governor-general of the United Provinces, with the title of Excellency, and with supreme power over the army, the State, and the executive. In fact, his ambition rested with nothing short of being a king: with nothing but possessing all the title and authority enjoyed by the Duke of Anjou. When this news reached Elizabeth she flew into a terrible rage, charged him with presumption and vanity, with contempt of her authority, and "swore great oaths that she would have no more Courts under her abeyance than one;" desired him to remember the dust from which she had raised him, and let him know if he were not obedient to her every word, she would beat him to the ground as quickly as she had raised him.

The unfortunate States, who thought they were gratifying the Queen of England when they were honouring her favourite, were confounded at this discovery; but Leicester, as if he really thought that he could render himself independent of his royal patroness, remained lofty, insolent, and silent. Trusting to the position into which he had thus stepped, he left it to the ministers at home to pacify the queen. He had so long ruled her that he appeared to think he could still do as he pleased. The great Burleigh and the cunning Walsingham were at their wits' end to satisfy Elizabeth: the only letter which they got from Leicester being one to Hatton, so insolent and arrogant that they dared not present it till they had remodelled it. Meanwhile, Elizabeth continued to write to the new captain-general the most bitter reproaches and menaces, and to heap upon his friends fierce epithets which could not reach him and produced no effect on him. With all the airs of a great monarch, Leicester progressed from one city to another, receiving solemn deputations, and giving grand entertainments in return.

In the field his conduct was as contemptible as in the government. He had an accomplished general, Alexander Farnese, the Prince of Parma, to contend with, and never did an English general present so pitiable a spectacle in a campaign as did Leicester. His great object appeared to be to avoid a battle, and the only conflict which he engaged in, which has left a name, is the attack upon Zutphen, on September 22, 1586, because there fell the gallant and gifted Sir Philip Sidney, in the thirty-second year of his age.

As autumn approached Leicester marched back his forces to the Hague, and was greatly disgusted and astonished to be called to account by what he pleased to name an assembly of shopkeepers and artisans. Not the less loudly, however, did the merchants and shopkeepers of the Netherlands upbraid him with the utter failure of the campaign, with the waste of their money, the violation of their privileges, the ruin of their trade, and the extorting of the people's money in a manner equally arbitrary and irritating. In a fit of ineffable disgust he broke up the assembly: the assembly continued to sit. He next resorted to entreaties and promises; it regarded these as little. He announced his intention of returning to England, and in his absence nominated one of his staff to exercise the supreme government. The assembly insisted on his resigning that charge to them; he complied, yet, by a private deed, reserved it to himself; and thus did this proud, empty, inefficient upstart dishonour the queen who had raised him, the country which had tolerated him, and which had long impatiently witnessed his arrogance, and his abuse of the queen's favour. At length, on the approach of winter, he obeyed the call of his sovereign and returned home. Scarcely had he quitted the Netherlands when the officers whom he had left in command surrendered the places of strength to the Prince of Parma, and went over to the Spaniards. The campaign was, from first to last, a scandal and a disgrace to the English name and government.

Mary had now been removed, in the early part of this year, to Chartley Castle, in Staffordshire, under the care of Sir Amyas Paulet; and the gentlemen in England whom the foreign adherents of the Queen of Scots had pitched upon to carry out their plan, were a young enthusiastic Papist--Anthony Babington, of Dethick, near Matlock, in Derbyshire--and his friends and companions, all men of fortune, family, and education. Babington had long been an ardent admirer of the Queen of Scots, had corresponded with her whilst she was at Sheffield Park, and was ready to devote himself to the death in her cause. At the same time he had such an idea of the peril of meddling with the government of Elizabeth, that he despaired of accomplishing Mary's enfranchisement during Elizabeth's life. Ballard, a Jesuit, assured him that Elizabeth would be taken off, by command of the Pope; that Savage, an officer who had served in Flanders, and was exasperated at the death of Throgmorton, had determined to do it; and that the Prince of Parma would land simultaneously with that event, and set Mary at liberty. The plan was made known to Mary, and received her sanction. "When all is ready," she wrote, "the six gentlemen must be set to work."

Walsingham, who had long been on the watch, was now in possession of all the evidence that he was likely to get, for Babington soon discovered that he had been betrayed by somebody, whom he could not tell; and though he remained in London as though there were no danger, he made preparations for the escape of Ballard to the Continent, by procuring him a passport under a feigned name. Every moment might throw fresh light on the deception, and allow the escape of the victims. On the 4th of August, therefore, Babington found his house entered by the pursuivants of Walsingham, and Ballard, who had not got off, was there seized. Babington escaped for the moment, but was arrested on the 7th, and was taken to the country house of Walsingham, but escaped from the servants into whose charge he was given. With his friends and accomplices, Gage, Charnock, Barnewell, and Donne, he concealed himself in St. John's Wood, till they were compelled by hunger to make their way to the house of their common friend Bellamy, at Harrow, who concealed them in his outhouses and gardens. But the cunning Walsingham had his agents on their trail the whole time, and on the 15th they walked into the premises of Bellamy, secured the concealed conspirators, together with their host, his wife and brother, and conveyed them, amid the shouts and execrations of the populace, and the universal ringing of bells, to the Tower, whither also were soon brought Abingdon, Tichbourne, Tilney, Travers; the only one of the friends of Babington that escaped being Edward Windsor, the brother of Lord Windsor.

On the 13th of September, Babington, Ballard, Savage, Donne, Barnewell, and Tichbourne were put upon their trial, charged with a conspiracy to murder Elizabeth, and raise a rebellion in favour of the Queen of Scots. They pleaded guilty to one or other of the charges, and seven others pleaded not guilty; but all were alike convicted, and condemned to the death of traitors. The greater part of them appear to have taken no part in the blacker part of the conspiracy, the design to murder Elizabeth; and some of them, as Tichbourne and Jones, declared that they had taken no part whatever, but merely kept the secret for the sake of their friends. Bellamy was condemned for affording them an asylum; his wife escaped through a flaw in the indictment. Pooley, the decoy, was imprisoned as a blind, and then liberated; and Gifford was already in prison in Paris, where, three years later, he died. On the 20th and 21st of September, 1586, they were executed in Lincoln's Inn Fields, because they used there to hold their meetings.

Though no mention was made on the trial of any participation of the Queen of Scots in this conspiracy, nothing was farther from the intention of Elizabeth and her ministers than her escape. They had already prepared for her death by the bill passed empowering twenty-four or more of the Lords of the Council and other peers to sit in judgment on any one concerned in attempts to raise rebellion, or to injure the queen's person. To procure every possible evidence for this end the following stratagem was used:--The Queen of Scots was kept in total ignorance of the seizure of the conspirators, and on the copy of her letter to Babington being laid before the Council, an order was sent down to Sir Amyas Paulet to seize all her papers and keep her in more rigorous confinement. Accordingly, one morning, Mary took a drive in her carriage, accompanied, as was her custom, by Paulet, but with a larger attendance. When Mary desired to return, Paulet told her that he had orders to convey her to Tixall, a house belonging to Sir Walter Aston, about three miles distant. Astonished and alarmed, Mary refused to go, and declared that if they took her there it should be by force. She must have suspected the design of searching her cabinets during her absence; but, in spite of her protestations and her tears, she was compelled to proceed. There she was confined to two rooms only, was guarded in the strictest manner, and debarred the use of pen, ink, and paper. Meanwhile Sir William Wade arrived at Chartley, and proceeded to break open the cabinets and take possession of all her letters and papers, as well as those of her secretaries. A large chest was filled with these papers, amongst which were Mary's own minute of the answer to Babington, and other damning proofs. It was determined to bring her to a public trial.

Mary was now removed to Fotheringay Castle in Northamptonshire, in preparation for her trial. It was first proposed to convey her to the Tower, but they feared her friends in the City; then the castle of Hertford was suggested, but that also was thought too near the capital; and Grafton, Woodstock, Coventry, Northampton, and Huntingdon were all proposed and rejected, showing that her enemies were well aware of the seriousness of the business they contemplated.

On the 5th of October a commission was issued to forty-six persons, peers, privy councillors, and judges, constituting a court competent to inquire into and determine all offences committed against the statute of the 27th of the Queen, either by Mary, daughter and heiress of James V., late of Scotland, or by any other person whomsoever. The moment this was known, Chasteauneuf, the French ambassador, demanded in the name of his sovereign that Mary should be allowed counsel, according to the universal practice of civilised nations. But Elizabeth sent him a message by Hatton, that "she did not require the advice or schooling of foreign powers to instruct her how she ought to act."

On the 12th the commissioners arrived at the castle. They were the Lord Chancellor Bromley, the Lord Treasurer Burleigh, and many other magnates.

On the 14th the Court assembled in the great hall of Fotheringay, at the upper end of which was placed a chair of State with a canopy, as for the queen of England; and below it, at some distance, a chair without a canopy, for the Queen of Scots. The Chancellor, Bromley, opened the Court by informing Mary that the Queen of England, having heard that she had conspired against her state and person, had deputed them to inquire into the fact. Upon this Mary, who had at first refused to plead at all, entered her solemn protest against their authority, declaring that she had come as a friendly sovereign to seek aid from her cousin, the Queen of England, and had been unjustly detained by her as a prisoner; on that ground she denied their authority to try her. It was permitted to record her protest, together with the Chancellor's reply.

The charges against her were two: first, that she had conspired with traitors and foreigners to invade the realm, and secondly, to compass the death of the queen. As to the first charge Mary pleaded guilty to it, and justified it. They grounded this charge on a host of letters intercepted or found in her cabinets, to and from Mendoza, Paget, Morgan, and others. From these it appeared that she had sanctioned an invasion on her behalf, had offered to raise her friends to support it, and had requested that those in Scotland should make themselves master of the person of her son, and prevent any aid from being sent to the Government of England. When they came to the second charge, the conspiracy to murder Elizabeth, she denied any participation in it totally, indignantly, and with tears. She called God to witness the truth of her assertion, and prayed Him, if she were guilty of such a crime, to grant her no mercy. The proofs produced to establish her approval of this design were--first, the copy of the letter of Babington, in which was this passage:--"For the dispatch of the usurper, from the obedience of whom, by the excommunication of her, we are made free, there be six noble gentlemen, all my private friends, who, for the zeal they bear to the Catholic cause and your majesty's service, will undertake the tragical execution." Next there was a copy of seven points, which were professedly derived from her answer to Babington, the sixth of which was, "By what means do the six gentlemen deliberate to proceed?" After these came the confessions of Mary's secretaries, and, finally, reported admissions in her letters to her foreign correspondents of having received these intimations of their intention to assassinate the queen, and of having given them cautions and instructions on this point.

Mary at first denied any correspondence with Babington, but she soon saw enough to convince her that they had the correspondence in their possession, and admitted having written the note of the 18th, but not any such answer to Babington on the 17th of July, as they asserted. She demanded the production of the original letters, and the production of her secretaries Nau and Curle face to face with her, for that Nau was timid and simple, and Curle so accustomed to obey Nau, that he would not do otherwise; but she was sure that in her presence they would not venture to speak falsely. But neither of these things, no doubt for the strongest of reasons, was consented to. As to her letters, she said it was not the first time that they had been garbled and interpolated. It was easy for one man to imitate the writing and ciphers of another; and she greatly feared that Walsingham had done it in this instance, to practise against the lives of both herself and her son. In fact, her defence was most ingenious but quite unconvincing.

On this the commissioners adjourned their sitting to the 15th of October, and from Fotheringay to the Star Chamber at Westminster. There the secretaries were re-examined, and finally the commissioners unanimously signed Mary's condemnation, the sentence running as follows:--"For that since the conclusion of the session of Parliament, namely, since the first day of June, in the twenty-seventh year of her Majesty's reign and before the date of the commission, divers matters have been compassed and imagined within this realm of England by Anthony Babington and others, with the privity of the said Mary, pretending a title to the Crown of this realm of England, tending to the hurt, death, and destruction of the royal person of our lady the queen; and also for that the aforesaid Mary, pretending a title to the Crown, hath herself compassed and imagined within this realm divers matters tending to the hurt, death, and destruction to the royal person of our sovereign lady the queen, contrary to the form of the statute in the commission aforesaid specified." Nau and Curle were declared abettors, so that it was a sentence of death to all the three. To this a provision was added that the sentence should in no way derogate from the right or dignity of her son, James King of Scotland.

On the 29th of October--that is, four days after the passing of this sentence--Elizabeth assembled her Parliament. She had summoned it for the 15th, anticipating quicker work at Fotheringay, but prorogued it to this date. The proceedings of the trial were laid before each house, and both Lords and Commons petitioned Elizabeth to enforce the execution of the Queen of Scots without delay. Serjeant Puckering, the Speaker of the Commons, in communicating the prayer of the House, reminded Elizabeth of the wrath of God against persons who neglected to execute His judgments, as in the case of Saul, who had spared Agag, and Ahab, who had spared Benhadad. Elizabeth replied with perfect serenity that she was unwilling to shed the blood of that wicked woman, the Queen of Scots, though she had so often sought her life, for the preservation of which she expressed her deep gratitude to Almighty God. She wished that she and Mary were two milkmaids, with pails upon their arms, and then she would forgive her all her wrongs. As for her own life, she had no desire on her own account to preserve it; she had nothing left worth living for; but for her people she could endure much. Still, the call of her Council, her Parliament, and her people to execute justice on her own kinswoman, had brought her into a great strait and struggle of mind. But then, she said, she would confide to them a secret: that certain persons had sworn an oath within these few days to take her life or be hanged themselves. She had written proof of this, and she must, therefore, remind them of their own oath of association for the defence of her person. "She thought it requisite," she said, "with earnest prayer to beseech the Divine Majesty so to illuminate her understanding, and to inspire her with His grace, that she might see clearly to do and determine that which would serve to the establishment of His Church, the preservation of their estates, and the prosperity of the commonwealth."

She sent a message to the two Houses, expressing the great conflict which she had had in her own mind, and begging to know whether they could not devise some means of sparing the life of her relative. Both Houses, on the 25th, returned answer that this was impossible. To this declaration of Parliament she returned to them one of her enigmatical answers, "If I should say that I meant not to grant your petition, by my faith, I should say unto you more perhaps than I mean. And if I should say that I mean to grant it, I should tell you more than it is fit for you to know. Thus I must deliver to you an answer answerless."

On the 6th of December proclamation of the judgment of the commissioners against the Queen of Scots was made through London by sound of trumpet, whereupon the populace made great rejoicings, kindled large bonfires, and rang the bells all day as if some joyful event had occurred. They were so fully persuaded that the Queen of Scots was at the bottom of all the alleged and real plots for the overturn of the Government, the bringing in of the King of Spain, and the Roman Catholic religion, that their exultation was boundless.

Meanwhile, in spite of the eagerness of the nation, Elizabeth hesitated to put Mary to death. Her conduct was tortuous, for she was devising to escape the opprobrium. At length Lord Howard of Effingham persuaded her that she could delay no longer. She went about continually muttering to herself, "Aut fer aut feri: ne feriare feri" ("Either endure or strike: strike lest thou be stricken"). Instead of proceeding to sign the death-warrant and let the execution take its course, she had it again debated in the Council whether it were not better to take her off by poison. Walsingham, who saw that the responsibility would be certainly thrown on somebody near the queen, got away from Court; and the warrant, drawn up by Burleigh, was handed by him to Davison, the queen's secretary, to get it engrossed and presented to the queen for signature. When he did this, she bade him keep it awhile, and it lay in his hands for five or six weeks. But both Leicester and Burleigh were impatient for its execution; and directly after the departure of James's ambassadors in February, he was ordered to present it; and then Elizabeth signed it, bidding him take it to the Great Seal, "and trouble her no more with it." Then, as if suddenly recollecting herself, she said, "Surely Paulet and Drury might ease me of this burden. Do you and Walsingham sound their dispositions." Burleigh and Leicester, to whom Davison showed the warrant, urged him to send it to Fotheringay without a moment's delay; but Davison had a feeling that he certainly should get into trouble if he did so. He therefore went on to Walsingham, and after showing him the warrant, they then and there made a rough draft of a letter to Sir Amyas Paulet and Sir Drew Drury, Mary's additional keeper, proposing that they should act on their own authority, as the queen requested. While Walsingham made a fair copy, Davison went to the Lord Chancellor and got the great seal affixed to the warrant. Davison the next day had confirmation doubly strong that Elizabeth was watching to entrap him in the matter. She asked him if the warrant had passed the Great Seal. He said it had; on which she immediately said, "Why such haste?" He inquired whether, then, she did not wish the affair to proceed. She replied, certainly; but that she thought it might be better managed, as the execution of the warrant threw the whole burden upon her. Davison said he did not know who else could bear it, as her laws made it murder to destroy the meanest subject without her warrant. At this her patience appeared exhausted, and she uttered a wish that she had but two such subjects as Morton and Archibald Douglas.

Davison was terrified at the gulf on the edge of which he saw himself standing, with the queen ready and longing to drag him in. He went to Hatton, and told him that though he had her orders to send off the warrant to Fotheringay at once, he would not do it of himself. They therefore went together to Burleigh, who coincided with them in the demand for caution. He therefore summoned the Council the next morning, and it was there unanimously agreed, as the queen had discharged her duty, to do theirs, and to proceed on joint responsibility. The warrant was therefore issued.

On the 7th of February the order for Mary's death reached Fotheringay. The Earl of Shrewsbury, who had guarded her so many years, as Earl Marshal, had now the painful office of carrying into effect her execution. There had been for some time a growing feeling at Fotheringay that the last day of Mary was at hand, for there had been a remarkable coming and going of strangers. When Shrewsbury was announced, his office proclaimed the fatal secret. The Scottish queen rose from her bed, and was dressed to receive him, having seated herself at a small table with her servants disposed around her. The Earl of Shrewsbury entered, followed by the Earls of Kent, Cumberland, and Derby, as well as by the sheriff and several gentlemen of the county. Beale, the clerk of the Council, read the order for the execution, to which Mary listened with the utmost apparent equanimity. When it was finished she crossed herself, bade them welcome, and assured them that she had long waited for the day which had now arrived; that twenty years of miserable imprisonment had made her a burden to herself and useless to others; and that she could conceive no close of life so happy or so honourable as that of shedding her blood for her religion. She recited her injuries and the frauds and perjuries of her enemies, and then laying her hand on the Testament upon her table, called God to witness that she had never imagined, much less attempted, anything against the life of the Queen of England. A long conversation followed, and Mary asked whether the foreign powers had made no efforts in her behalf, and whether her only son had forgotten her; and finally, when she was to suffer. The Earl of Shrewsbury replied with much emotion, "To-morrow morning, at eight o'clock." Mary received this announcement with a calm dignity which awed and even affected the beholders. And on the scaffold, which was erected in the hall of Fotheringay, she played her part with the same perfection of acting, posing as a religious martyr and wholly ignoring the political crimes of which she had been guilty (February 8, 1587).

The Earl of Shrewsbury sent his son with the intelligence of the execution of Mary, which reached Court the next day. Burleigh, who received the letter, immediately sent for Davison and several of the Privy Council, and it was resolved to keep the fact from the queen for a short time. But such a fact, though it might be officially, could not be otherwise concealed. The news flew abroad, and the Protestant population gave the reins to their joy by the ringing of bells and kindling of bonfires. Elizabeth neither could nor did remain ignorant of the cause of this noisy exultation. She inquired why the bells rang so merrily, and was told, says Davison, "for the execution of the Queen of Scots;" but she took no notice of it, having not been officially informed. Far from displaying any emotion of any kind, she took her usual airing, and on her return appeared to be enjoying herself in the company of Don Antonio, the pretender to the Crown of Portugal. But in the morning, being then officially informed, she flew into very well-acted paroxysms of rage and grief. She declared that she had never contemplated or sanctioned such a thing; that Davison had betrayed her, whom she had charged not to let the warrant go out of his hands; and that the whole Privy Council had acted most unjustifiably.

Davison, who fondly hoped that he had secured himself under the shield of the Privy Council, made his appearance at Court; but the councillors, who saw there must be a victim, advised him to keep out of sight for a few days; and the consequence was, that his amiable friends of the Council most likely made him their scapegoat, for he was immediately arrested and committed to the Tower. But the ministers themselves did not escape their share of the storm. For four days the matter was before the Council, and they received the severest and most unmeasured upbraidings from their royal mistress, the burden being naturally thrown on poor Davison, who was actually dismissed from the public service and condemned to pay a large fine.

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XV. REIGN OF ELIZABETH (concluded)

State of Europe on the Death of Mary--Preparations of Philip of Spain--Exploits of English Sailors--Drake Singes the King of Spain's Beard--Preparations against the Armada--Loyalty of the Roman Catholics--Arrival of the Armada in the Channel--Its Disastrous Course and Complete Destruction--Elizabeth at Tilbury--Death of Leicester--Persecution of the Puritans and Catholics--Renewed Expeditions against Spain--Accession of Henry of Navarre to the French Throne--He is helped by Elizabeth--Essex takes Cadiz--His Quarrels with the Cecils--His Second Expedition and Rupture with the Queen--Troubles in Ireland--Essex appointed Lord-Deputy--His Failure--The Essex Rising--Execution of Essex--Mountjoy in Ireland--The Debate on Monopolies--Victory of Mountjoy--Weakness of Elizabeth--Her last illness and Death.

Among all these equivocations Elizabeth displayed her usual ability, and prevented the only thing which she feared--a coalition between Scotland, France, and Spain, to avenge the death of the Scottish queen. James of Scotland was readily checked, being of a pusillanimous character, and fonder of money than of the life and honour of his mother. Henry III. of France, as Elizabeth well knew, was too much beset by difficulties to be formidable. His course was now fast running to a close. Civil war was raging in his kingdom; and we may here anticipate a little to take a view of his end. His feud with the Guises grew to such a pitch, that, to rid himself of them, he determined to assassinate their leaders, the duke and cardinal, the cousins of the late Queen of Scots. For this purpose, near the close of 1588, he assembled a body of assassins in the Castle of Blois, where he privately distributed daggers to forty-five of them. The Duke of Guise was invited to the fatal feast, and murdered at the very door of the king's chamber (December 23). The next day his brother, the cardinal, was also slain. But this infamous action only procured the destruction of Henry himself. The Papists, exasperated by the murder of their chiefs, were infuriated. The Pope excommunicated the king, and the clergy absolved the people from their oath of allegiance; and on August 2, 1589, Henry was assassinated by a fanatic monk of the name of Jacques Clement, whilst besieging his own capital.

But not so readily was Philip of Spain disposed of. He was crafty and powerful, and remembered the conduct of Elizabeth, who, from the very commencement of her reign, while professing friendship and high regard for him, had done all in her power to strip him of the Netherlands. She had supported his insurgent subjects with both money and troops; and at this time her favourite, Leicester, at the head of an army, was enjoying the rule of the revolted territory called the United Provinces, as governor-general. Not only in Europe, but in the new regions of South America, she carried on the same system of invasion and plunder by some of the greatest naval captains of the age--all still without any declaration of war. Besides, Mary had left to him her claim on the English throne, and Philip had accepted it, thereby alienating the King of Scotland. Philip did not hesitate to denounce Elizabeth as a murderer, and excited amongst his subjects a most intense hatred of her, both as a heretic and a woman oppressive and unjust, and stained with kindred and regal blood. In vain did she attempt to mollify his resentment by recalling Leicester from the Netherlands, and alluring a native prince, the Prince of Orange, to take his place. She opened, through Burleigh, negotiations with Spain, and sent a private mission to the Prince of Parma, in the Netherlands. There was a great suspicion in the minds of the Dutch and Flemings that she meant to give up the cause of Protestantism there, and to sell the cautionary towns which she held to Spain. But fortunately for them, Philip was too much incensed to listen to her overtures, and had now made up his mind to the daring project of invading England. News of actual preparations for this purpose on a vast scale convinced Elizabeth that pacification was hopeless, and she resumed her predatory measures against Spain and its colonies.

To obtain a clear idea of the causes which, independent of the continual attempts of Elizabeth to break the yoke of Spain in the Low Countries, had so exasperated Philip, we must refer to the marauding expeditions of Hawkins, Cavendish, and Drake--men whose names have descended to our day as types of all that is enterprising, daring, and successful in the naval heroes of England. They were men who, like most of the prominent persons of that time, had no very nice ideas of international justice or honesty, but had courage which shrank from no attempt, however arduous, and ability to achieve what even now are regarded as little short of miracles. Whilst in Europe they were Royal commanders, in the distant seas of America they were, to all intents and purposes, pirates and buccaneers.

Sir John Hawkins has the gloomy fame of being the originator of the African slave trade (1562). He made three voyages to the African coast, where he bartered his goods for cargoes of negroes, which he carried to the Spanish settlements in America, and sold them for hides, sugar, ginger, and pearls. This traffic, which afterwards increased to such terrific and detestable dimensions, was so extremely profitable that Elizabeth fitted out two ships and sent them under his command. On this his third voyage, however, Hawkins was surprised by the Spanish admiral in the Bay of St. Juan de Ulloa. A desperate engagement took place, and Hawkins's fleet, with all his treasure, was captured or destroyed except two, one of which afterwards went down at sea, the only one returning home being a little bark of fifty tons, called Judith, and commanded by one Francis Drake. Elizabeth, of course, lost her whole venture in the slave trade.

But this Francis Drake, destined to win a great name, could not rest under the defeat in the bay of Ulloa and the loss of his booty. He obtained interest enough to fit out a little fleet, and also made three voyages, like Hawkins, to the Spanish American settlements. In the logic of that age, it was quite right to plunder any people of a particular nation in return for a loss by aggrieved persons of another nation; and Drake felt himself authorised to seize Spanish property wherever he could find it. In his first two voyages he was not eminently successful; but the third, in 1572, made him ample amends. He took and plundered the town of Nombre de Dios, captured about 100 little vessels in the Gulf of Mexico, and made an expedition inland, where, ascending a mountain in Darien, he caught sight of the Pacific, and became inflamed with a desire to sail into that sea and plunder the Spanish settlements there. He captured in March of 1573 a convoy of mules laden with gold and silver, and in October reached England with his plunder.

This success awoke the cupidity of his countrymen. Elizabeth embarked 1,000 crowns in a fresh expedition, which was supported by Walsingham, Hatton, and others of her ministers. In 1577 Drake set out for the Spanish Main with five ships and 160 men. In this voyage he pursued steadily his great idea of adventures in the Pacific, coasted the Brazils, passed the straits of Magellan, and reached Santiago, from which place to Lima he found the coast unprotected, and took the vessels and plundered the towns at will. Among his prizes was a Spanish merchantman of great value, which he captured in the spring of 1579. By this time, however, the Spaniards had sent out a squadron to meet and intercept him at the straits; and Drake, becoming aware of it, took the daring resolution of sailing to the Moluccas, and so home by the Cape of Good Hope. The hardihood of this determination we can scarcely at this day realise, for it implied the circumnavigation of the globe, which had never yet been accomplished, Magellan himself having perished on his voyage at the Philippines. Drake, however, reached Plymouth safely, on the 3rd of November, 1580, after a voyage of three years. The dangers and hardships which he had endured in this unprecedented exploit may be conceived from the fact that only one of his five vessels reached home with him; but that vessel contained a treasure of £800,000.

Elizabeth was in a great strait. The wealth which Drake had brought, and of which she expected an ample share, was too agreeable a thing to allow her to quarrel with the acquirer; but the ravages which he had committed on a Power not openly at war with her, were too flagrant to be acknowledged. For four months, therefore, Drake remained without any public acknowledgment of his services, further than his ship being placed in the dock at Plymouth, as a trophy of his bold circumnavigation of the globe. At length the queen consented to be present at a banquet which Drake gave on board, and she there broke from her duplicity by knighting him on the spot (1581). A tithe of the enormous amount of money was distributed as prize among the officers and men; the Spanish ambassador, who had laid claim to the whole as stolen property, was appeased by a considerable sum; and the huge remainder was shared by the queen, her favourites, and the fortunate commander.

It was not long before Sir Francis Drake was placed in commission and sent out as the queen's own admiral against Spain. In 1585 he sailed for the West Indies with a fleet of twenty-one ships, where he burnt down the town of St. Iago, ravaged Carthagena and St. Domingo, and committed other mischief. The following year Thomas Cavendish followed in Drake's track, with three ships which he had built out of the wreck of his fortune, and reaching the Spanish Main, committed many depredations. In 1587 he secured the freight of gold and silver of a large Manila merchantman, and returned home by the new route which Drake had pointed out.

These terrible chastisements of the Spanish colonies had embittered the mind of Philip and his subjects even beyond the warfare of the Netherlands; and he was now steadily preparing that mighty force and that host of vessels by which he vowed to prostrate the power of the heretic queen, and reduce the British Islands to the Spanish yoke and to the yoke of the Papal Church. Elizabeth, having endeavoured in vain to arrange a peace, buckled on the armour of her spirit, and determined to meet the danger with a fearless front. She despatched Drake with a fleet of thirty vessels to examine the Spanish harbours where these means of invasion were preparing, and to destroy all that he could come at. No task could have delighted him more. On the 18th of April, 1587, he entered the roads of Cadiz, and discovering upwards of eighty vessels, attacked, sank, and destroyed them all. He then sailed out again, and running along the coast as far as Cape St. Vincent, demolished above a hundred vessels, and, besides other injuries, battered down four forts. This Drake called "singeing the King of Spain's beard." In the Tagus he encountered the Grand Admiral of Spain, Santa Cruz, but could not bring him to an engagement, owing to the orders which the admiral had received; but he captured, in his very teeth, the St. Philip, one of the finest ships of Spain, and laden with the richest merchandise. Santa Cruz took it so much to heart that he was not permitted to engage Drake, that he is said to have died shortly afterwards of sheer mortification.

When Drake returned from this expedition he was received by the public with acclamation; but Elizabeth was perfectly frightened by the extent of the calamities inflicted, believing that they would only rouse Philip to more inveterate hostility--and in that she was right. She actually made an apology to the Prince of Parma, Philip's general in the Netherlands, for the deeds of Drake, assuring him that she had sent him out only to guard against any attacks on herself. Farnese replied that he could well believe anything of a man bred as Drake had been in piracy, and professed still to be ready to make peace. But Philip was in no pacific mood. He was now eagerly employed in forwarding his huge preparations; and the name of the Spanish Armada began to sound familiarly in England. He prevailed on the Pope to issue a new bull of excommunication against Elizabeth, and to advance him large sums of money for this holy enterprise, which was to restore these rich but recreant islands to the Holy See. He collected his best vessels into the Spanish ports, and went on industriously building others in all the ports of Spain, Portugal, and those portions of the Netherlands now belonging to him. He collected all the vessels that his Sicilian and Neapolitan subjects could furnish, and hired others from Genoa and Venice. In Flanders he prepared an immense shoal of flat-bottomed boats to carry over an army of 30,000 men to the coasts of England, under the command of the Prince of Parma.

The time appeared to have arrived which was to avenge all the injuries and insults which, during twenty years, the English queen had heaped upon him. She had, in the first place, refused his hand; she had year after year incited and encouraged his subjects in the Netherlands to rebel against his rule; she had supplied them first secretly, then openly, with money; she had hired mercenary troops against him; and, finally, sent the Earl of Leicester to assume the position of a viceroy for herself. While this state of intolerable interference on land had been growing, she had sent out men to attack and plunder his colonies, intercept his treasure ships, and chase from the high seas the merchant vessels of his nation. All this time she had been with an iron hand crushing the Church which he believed the only true one, and had ended by putting to death a queen who was regarded as the champion of that Church in Britain. We are apt, in thinking of the Spanish Armada and the attempt of Philip to invade this kingdom, to overlook these provocations, which were certainly sufficient to rouse any monarch to such an enterprise.

While carrying matters with so high a hand, Elizabeth's parsimony had prevented her from making those preparations for defence which such an enemy dictated. In November, 1587, the danger had grown so palpable that a great council of war was summoned to take into consideration the grand plan of defence, and the mode of mustering an adequate force both at land and at sea. It was well known that the dockyards of Antwerp, Newport, Gravelines, and Dunkirk had long been alive with the building of boats, and that the forest of Waes had been felled to supply material. Farnese, reputed one of the ablest generals in Europe, had at his command, besides the forces necessary to garrison the Spanish Netherlands, 30,000 infantry and 1,800 cavalry; whilst the Spanish fleet consisted of 135 men-of-war, prepared to carry over 8,000 seamen, and 19,000 soldiers. Both in Spain and in the Netherlands the enthusiasm of volunteers for the service had been wonderful; not only the members of the noblest families had enrolled themselves, but the fame of this expedition, which was to be a second conquest of England, yielding far more riches and glory than that of William of Normandy, had drawn adventurers from every corner of Europe.

What had England to oppose to all this force and animating spirit of anticipation? It was discovered that the whole navy of England amounted to only thirty-six sail. As to the army, it did not amount to 20,000 men, and those chiefly raw recruits, the order for the muster of the main body of the forces even having been issued only in June. Courage Elizabeth undoubtedly possessed in an eminent degree; but such was her parsimony, that though the army which was to serve under Leicester was ordered to assemble in June, that which, under Lord Hunsdon, was to follow particularly the movements of the queen, did not receive orders for enrolment till August. What was to be done with such raw recruits against the disciplined and tried troops of Parma, and his military experience? It was the same as regarded the sailors to man the fleet. In the autumn of 1586 she ordered a levy of 5,000 seamen; but in January she thought more of the expense than the danger, and insisted on 2,000 of them being disbanded. The rumours of growing danger, however, enabled the Council to dissuade her from this impolitic measure, and even obtain an increase to 7,000.

In the war council held in November, 1587, Sir Walter Raleigh earnestly advocated what his quick genius had seen at a glance--that the defence of the country must depend on the navy. The enemy must not be suffered to land. At sea, even then, England was a match for almost any amount of force; and never did she possess admirals who had more of that daring and indomitable character which has for ages distinguished the seamen of Great Britain. Sir Walter Raleigh prevailed: and at once was seen that burst of enthusiasm which, on all occasions when Britain has been menaced with invasion, has flamed from end to end of the country. Merchantmen offered their vessels, the people fitted them out at their own expense, and very soon, instead of thirty-six ships of war, there were 191, of various sizes and characters, with not 7,000, but 17,400 sailors on board of them. To the thirty-six Government ships of war were added 18 volunteer vessels of heavy burden, forty-three hired vessels, and fifty-three coasters. The Triumph was a ship of 1,100 tons; there was another of 1,000, one of 900, two of 800 each, three of 600, five of 500, five of 400, six of 300, six of 250, twenty of 200, besides numbers of smaller size, the total amount of tonnage being 31,985.

But the main strength, after all, was in the character of the men who commanded and animated this fleet. Supreme in command was the Lord Admiral, Howard of Effingham, a man of undaunted courage, of firm and independent resolution, and very popular with the sailors. Under him served the Earl of Cumberland and the Lords Henry Seymour, Thomas Howard, and Edmund Sheffield, as volunteers; and the want of experience in these aristocrats was amply overbalanced by the staunch men whose fame was world-wide--Drake, who was lieutenant of the fleet, Hawkins, Frobisher, and others of those marine heroes who had made themselves a terror to the remotest shores of the earth.

The neighbouring Protestant States, who were naturally called on to aid in this struggle, which was not so much for the conquest of England as for the annihilation of the Reformed Church, were Scotland and the Netherlands. But James of Scotland was the worst possible subject to depend on in such an emergency, and no assistance could be secured from him. Very different was the conduct of the Dutch. Though Leicester had wasted their wealth in useless campaigns, abused their confidence, abridged their privileges, encumbered their trade, and insulted their honour; though Elizabeth had appeared quite ready to sell them to Spain, and in their distress had called upon them to raise £100,000 to pay for fresh soldiers, or declared she would abandon them;--yet knowing that it was not Elizabeth or the worthless Leicester they had to support, but the very existence of that faith for which they had fought so long and so bravely, and for their country, which, if England fell, must fall inevitably too, they at once "came roundly in," says Stowe, "with threescore sail, brave ships of war, firm and full of spleen, not so much in England's aid as in just occasion for their own defence, foreseeing the greatness of the danger that must ensue if the Spaniards should chance to win the day and get the mastery over them." They engaged to block up the mouth of the Scheldt with ten ships of war, and sent the others to unite with the English fleet. That fleet was dispersed to watch as much as possible all points of approach, for rumours confounded the people by naming a variety of places on which the descent was to be made. Lord Howard put the division of the fleet immediately under his command in three squadrons on the western coast; Drake was stationed in the direction of Ushant; Hawkins, a regular adventurer, who had not long ago offered his services to Philip and had been rejected, now thirsting for revenge on him, cruised between the Land's End and the Scilly Isles; Lord Henry Seymour scoured the coast of Flanders, blockading the Spanish ports to prevent the passage of the Prince of Parma's army; and other commanders sailed to and fro in the Channel.

On land there was at first a haunting fear of the Roman Catholics. Their oppression had been of a character which was not thought likely to nourish patriotism; and the very invasion was professedly for their relief and revenge. But the moment that the common country was menaced with danger, they forgot all but the common interest. There was no class which displayed more zeal for the national defence. Yet to the very last moment their loyalty was tried to the utmost. Few could believe that they would not seize this opportunity to retaliate those severities which had been practised upon them; and there were those who even advised an English St. Bartholomew, or at least the putting to death of the leading Roman Catholics. This bloody project Elizabeth rejected; but they were, nevertheless, subjected to the most cruel treatment out of fear. A return was ordered of those suspected of this religion in London, who were found to amount to 17,000. All such as were convicted of recusancy were put in prison. Throughout the land the old domiciliary searches were made, and thousands of every rank and class, men and women, were dragged off to gaol to keep them safe, while the Protestant clergy inveighed in awful terms against the designs of the Pope and the terrible intentions of the Papists. All commands, with few exceptions, amongst which were those entrusted to the Lord Admiral Howard and his family, were placed in the hands of Protestants; yet this did not prevent the Papists from offering their services, and gentlemen of family and fortune from serving in the ranks, or as sailors at sea. The peers armed their tenants and servants, and placed them at the disposal of the queen; and gentlemen fitted out vessels and put Protestants into command of them. The ministers themselves, in the famous "Letter to Mendoza," which they published in almost every language of Europe, confessed that they could see no difference between the Romanists and the Protestants in their enthusiasm for the defence of the country. They mention the Viscount Montague, his son, and grandson, appearing before the queen with 200 horse which they had raised to defend her person, and add that the very prisoners for their religion in Ely signed a memorial to her, declaring that they were ready to fight to the death for her against all her enemies, whether they were Pope, priests, kings, or any power whatever.

Meanwhile the muster throughout the kingdom had brought together 130,000 men. True, the greater part of them were raw recruits without discipline and experience, and could not have stood for a moment before the veterans of Parma, had he landed; but they were instructed to lay waste the country before him, to harass his march day and night by hanging on his skirts, and obstructing his way; and as not a town would have surrendered without a violent struggle, the event, with the dogged courage and perseverance of an English population, could only have been one of destruction to the invaders. This great but irregular force was dispersed in a number of camps on the east, west, and southern coasts. At Milford Haven were stationed 2,200 horse; 5,000 men of Cornwall and Devon defended Plymouth; the men of Dorset and Wiltshire garrisoned Portland; the Isle of Wight swarmed with soldiers, and was fortified at all points. The banks of the Thames were fortified under the direction of a celebrated Italian engineer, Federico Giambelli, who had deserted from the Spaniards. Gravesend was not only fortified, but was defended by a vast assemblage of boats, and had a bridge of them, which at once cut off the passage of the river, and opened a constant passage for troops between Essex and Kent. At Tilbury, opposite to Gravesend, there was a camp for 22,000 foot and 2,000 horse, under the command of the Earl of Leicester, and Lord Hunsdon defended the capital with an army of 28,000 men, supported by 10,000 Londoners.

Such were the preparations for the vaunted Invincible Armada. With all the courage of Elizabeth, however, she continued to negotiate anxiously for peace to the very last minute, and to the great chagrin of Leicester and Walsingham, who assured her that such a proceeding was calculated to encourage her enemies and depress her own subjects. Burleigh, with his more cautious nature, supported her, and even so late as February, 1588, she sent commissioners to Bourbourg, near Calais, to meet the commissioners of Philip, and they vainly continued their negotiations for peace till the Armada appeared in the Channel.

And now the time for the sailing of this dread fleet had arrived. The King of Spain, tired of delays, ordered its advance. It was in vain that the wisdom of further postponement seemed to be suggested by the sudden death of his experienced Admiral Santa Cruz, and his excellent Vice-Admiral the Duke of Paliano; he immediately gave the command to the Duke of Medina Sidonia, a man wholly without such experience, and the second command to Martinez de Ricaldez, a good seaman. In vain the Prince of Parma entreated that he might reduce Flushing before he carried such a force out of the country, and Sir William Stanley, who had deserted to Spain from the Netherlands army, recommended the occupation of Ireland before the descent on England. The Pope had delivered his bull for the deposition of Elizabeth, had collected the money which he promised to advance, had made Dr. Allen a cardinal, and appointed his legate in England to confer on Philip the investiture of the kingdom; the fleet was at anchor in the Tagus, and he commanded it to put forth.

This famous Armada consisted of 130 vessels of different sizes. There were forty-five galleons and larger vessels of from 500 to 1,000 tons each; twenty-five were pink-built ships, and thirteen were frigates. It carried 2,680 pieces of artillery, and 19,295 troops, exclusive of the crews which worked the vessels, of whom 2,000 were volunteers of the highest families in Spain. The English fleet outnumbered the Armada by about sixty vessels, but its entire tonnage did not amount to half that of the Armada.

On May the 30th, 1588, this formidable and long-prepared fleet issued from the Tagus. The spectacle was of such grandeur, that no one could behold it without the strongest emotions and the most flattering expectations of success. But these were of very brief duration: one of those tempests which in every age, since the Norman Conquest, as if indicating the steady purpose of Providence, have assailed and scattered the fleets of England's enemies, burst on the Armada off Cape Finisterre, scattered its vessels along the coast of Galicia, ran three large ships aground, dismasted and shattered eight others, and compelled the proud fleet to seek shelter in Corunna, and other ports along the coast. The damage to the ships was so considerable, that it occasioned the admiral a delay of three weeks at Corunna.

No sooner was this news announced in London, than Elizabeth, amid her most warlike movements never forgetting the expense, immediately ordered the Lord Admiral to dismantle four of his largest ships, as if the danger were over. Lord Howard had the wise boldness to refuse, declaring that he would rather take the risk of his sovereign's displeasure, and keep the vessels afloat at his own cost, than endanger the country. To show that all his vessels were needed, he called a council of war, and proposed that they should sail for the Spanish coast, and fall on the fleet whilst it was thus disordered. At sea they saw and gave chase to fourteen Spanish ships. The wind veered and became at once favourable to his return, and also to the sailing of the Armada. He turned back to Plymouth, lest some of the Spanish vessels should have reached his unprotected station before him.

The event proved that his caution was not vain. He had scarcely regained Plymouth and moored his fleet, when a Scottish privateer, named Fleming sailed in after him and informed him he had discovered the Armada off the Lizard. Most of the officers were at the moment playing at bowls on the Hoe, and Drake, who was one of them, bade them not hurry themselves, but play out the game and then go and beat the Spaniards. The wind, too, was blowing right into harbour, but having with great labour warped out their ships they stood off, and the next day, being the 20th of July, they saw the Spanish fleet bearing down full upon them. It was drawn up in the form of a crescent, the horns of which were seven miles apart, and a nobler or more imposing sight was never seen on the ocean. Lord Howard deemed it hazardous to measure strength with ships of such superior size and weight of metal, and he was soon relieved from the necessity, for the Duke of Medina, on perceiving the English fleet, called a council of his officers--who were impatient to attack and destroy the enemy at once--and showed them his instructions, which bound them strictly to avoid all chance of damage to his vessels by a conflict before he had effected the main object of seeing the Flemish army landed on the English coast. The Grand Armada, therefore, swept on in stately magnificence up the Channel, the great galeasses, with their huge hulks, their lofty prows, and their slow imposing motion, making a brave show. To the experienced eyes of the English sailors, however, this immediately communicated encouragement, for they saw at once that they were not calculated, like their own nimbler vessels, to tack and obey the helm promptly.

And now began, as it were, a strange chase of the mighty Armada by the lesser fleet. The Duke of Medina pressed on with all sail to reach Dunkirk, and make a junction with the fleet of flat-bottomed boats of the Prince of Parma, which were to carry over the army; but some of his vessels soon fell behind, and in spite of his signalling for them to come up, they could not do so before the nimbler English vessels were upon them, and fired into them with right good will. The Disdain, a pinnace commanded by Jonas Bradbury, was the first to engage, and was speedily seconded by the Lord Admiral himself, who attacked a great galleon, and Drake in the Revenge, Hawkins in the Victory, and Frobisher in the Triumph, closed in with the others. Ricaldez, the Rear Admiral, was in this affray, and encouraged his men bravely, but it was soon found that the Spaniards, though so much more gigantic in size, had no chance with the more manageable English ships. Their heavy artillery, from their uncommon height, fired over the enemies' heads, and did little mischief, whilst the undaunted English tacked about and hit them first in one place and then in another. Drake justified his fame by boarding a great galleon, the mast of which was shot away, and taking her with 55,000 ducats on board. The Duke of Medina was compelled to heave-to till the jeopardised squadron could come up; but night set in, and there was seen another of the galleons blazing on the water, having, it was said, been purposely set on fire by a Flemish gunner, whom the captain had accused of cowardice or treachery. In the confusion the neighbouring vessels ran foul of each other, there being a heavy sea, and a third vessel was separated from the fleet, and captured near the French coast.

Lord Howard on the 23rd again came up with the Armada off Portland. He was now reinforced by forty fresh sail, and had on board this accession Sir Walter Raleigh. The weather was still adverse to the advance of the Spaniards, and the English kept them well engaged by pouring in ever and anon a broadside, and then dropping out of range. Sometimes, the wind lulling, they were compelled to stand the full fire of the great ships, and in one of these encounters Frobisher was surrounded in the Triumph, and had to sustain an unequal combat for two hours. By direction of the Admiral, however, a number of vessels moved to his rescue, and reserving their fire till they were close in with the enemy, they poured such a broadside into the Spaniards as turned the scale. Many of the Spanish ships were completely disabled in this day's fight, and a Venetian argosy and several transports remained in possession of the English.

The next day the English fleet could not renew the action, for they had burnt all their powder, and the time to prevent the junction of Medina with Parma was totally lost. The next, the 25th, having in the meantime procured a fresh supply of ammunition from shore, the Admiral renewed the fight off the Isle of Wight, where Hawkins took a large Portuguese galleon, and the Duke of Medina's ship had its mainmast shot away, and was much shattered; but in the midst of the engagement the powder of the English again failed, and they were obliged to draw off. Fortunately the Spanish admiral also found that he had expended his heavy shot, and sent to the Prince of Parma to hold himself in readiness and send him back some shot. On the 26th the Armada held on its way with a fair breeze up the Channel, and Howard, who had received fresh ammunition, besides continual reinforcements of small vessels and men from the ports as they passed, directly pursued. In the Straits of Dover he expected to be joined by a strong squadron under Lord Henry Seymour and Sir Thomas Winter, and, therefore, he reserved his fire. On the following day, the Duke of Medina, instead of making at once for Dunkirk, as he wished, was prevailed on to cast anchor before Calais. It was represented that there was a Dutch and English fleet blockading Newport and Dunkirk, the only outlets for Parma's flat-bottoms, and that the Armada would then be enclosed between the two hostile fleets. It was necessary first to beat off the fleet which hung on his rear, and he had already found it impracticable with his huge unwieldy vessels. He therefore despatched a messenger to the Prince of Parma over land, urging him to send him a squadron of fly-boats to beat off the English ships, and to be ready embarked, that he might land in England under his fire as soon as he could come up.

But Parma sent the discouraging news that it was impossible for him to move or even to transport his troops till the grand fleet came up to his assistance. Fourteen thousand troops, he informed him, had been embarked at Newport, and the other division at Dunkirk had been held in readiness for the word of command, in expectation of the arrival of the fleet; but having been so long delayed, their provisions were exhausted, the boats, which had been built in a hurry with green wood, had warped and become unseaworthy, and with the hot weather fever had broken out among his troops. Were he, however, otherwise able to stir, there lay a force of Dutch and English vessels at anchor large enough to send every boat to the bottom.

Under these circumstances there was nothing for it but to make for Dunkirk, force the blockades at the mouth of the Scheldt, and effect the junction with Parma. But now the expected junction of Winter and Lord Henry Seymour had taken place with the Lord Admiral's squadron, and the Spaniards found themselves closely hemmed in by 140 English sail, crowded with sailors and soldiers eager for the fray, and there was clearly no avoiding a general engagement. This being inevitable, the Spaniards placed their great ships in front, anchored the lesser between them and the shore, and awaited the next morning for the decisive battle. But such captains as Drake and Hawkins saw too well the strong position of the Armada to trust to their fighting, and they determined to throw the enemy into confusion by stratagem. They therefore prepared eight fire-ships, and the wind being in shore, they sent them, under the management of Captain Young and Prouse, at midnight, down towards the Spanish lines. The brave officers effected their hazardous duty, and took to their boats. Presently, there was a wild cry as the eight vessels in full blaze, and sending forth explosion after explosion, bore right down upon the Spaniards. Remembering the terrible fire-ships which the Dutch had formerly sent amongst them, the sailors shouted--"The fire of Antwerp! the fire of Antwerp!" and every vessel was put in motion to escape in the darkness as best it might. The confusion became terrible, and the ships were continually running foul of each other. One of the largest galeasses had her rudder carried away by coming in contact with her neighbour, and, floating at the mercy of the waves, was stranded. When the fire-ships had exhausted themselves, the Duke of Medina fired again to recall his scattered vessels; but few heard it, flying madly as they were in fear and confusion, and the dawn found them scattered along the coast from Ostend to Calais. A more horrible night no unfortunate creatures ever passed, for a tempest had set in, a furious gale blowing from the south-west, the rain falling in torrents, and the pitchy gloom being lit up only by the glare of lightning.

A loud cannonade in the direction of Gravelines announced that the hostile fleets were engaged there, and it became the signal for the fugitives to draw together, but all along the coast the active English commanders were ready to receive them, and Drake, Hawkins, Raleigh, Frobisher, Seymour, and Cumberland vied in their endeavours to win the highest distinction. Terrible scenes were presented at the different stranded galeasses. One was boarded off Calais after a desperate engagement, its crew and troops were cut to pieces or pushed overboard, and 50,000 ducats were taken out of her. Another galleon sank under the English fire; a third, the San Matteo, was compelled to surrender; and another, dismantled and in miserable plight, drifted on shore at Flushing and was seized by the sailors. Some of the battered vessels foundered at sea, and the duke, calling a council, proposed to return home. This was vehemently opposed by many officers and the seamen, who had fought furiously and now cried for revenge; but the admiral said that it was impossible long to hold out against such an enemy, and gave the order to make for Spain. But how? The English now swarmed in the narrow seas, and the issue of the desperate conflict which must attend the attempt the whole way was too clear. The only means of escape he believed was to sail northward, round Scotland and Ireland. Such a voyage, through tempestuous seas and along dangerous coasts, to men little, if at all, acquainted with them, was so charged with peril and hardships, that nothing but absolute necessity could have forced them to attempt it. The fragments of the Armada, no longer invincible, and already reduced to eighty vessels, were now, therefore, seen with a favourable wind in full sail northward. With such men as Drake and the rest it might have been safely calculated that not a ship would ever return to Spain. A strong squadron sent to meet the Spanish fleet on the west coast of Ireland, and another following in pursuit, would have utterly destroyed this great naval armament. But here again the parsimony of Elizabeth, and the strange want of providence in her Government, became apparent. Instead of pursuing, the English fleet returned to port on the 8th of August, for want of powder and shot, and, as if satisfied with getting rid of the enemy, no measures whatever were taken to intercept the fugitive fleet! "If," says Sir William Monson, "we had been so happy as to have followed their course, as it was both thought and discoursed of, we had been absolutely victorious over this great and formidable navy, for they were brought to that necessity that they would willingly have yielded, as divers of them confessed that were shipwrecked on the coast of Ireland."

This gross piece of misgovernment occasioned much disappointment amongst the brave seamen, both officers and men, a few ships only being able to follow the Spaniards as far as the Frith of Forth. Walsingham, in a letter to the Lord Chancellor at the time, said, "I am sorry the Lord Admiral was forced to leave the prosecution of the enemy through the want he sustains. Our half doings doth breed dishonour, and leaveth the disease uncured." But the winds and waves did for the English what they themselves had left undone. A terrible tempest assailed the flying Armada to the north of Scotland, and scattered its unhappy ships amongst the iron-bound islands of the Orkneys and Hebrides. To save themselves the Spaniards threw overboard their horses, mules, artillery, and baggage, and in many instances to no purpose. On many a wild spot of the shores of the Western Isles, and those of Scotland and Ireland, you are still told, "Here was stranded one of the great ships of the Invincible Armada." Innumerable summer tourists hear this at Tobermory, in the Isle of Mull; and the hosts of visitors to the Giant's Causeway are shown the terrible cliffs of Port-na-Spagna, whose very name commemorates the awful catastrophe which occurred there. More than thirty of these vessels were stranded on the Irish coast; others went down at sea, every soul on board perishing; and others were driven to Norway and stranded there.

Never was there so fearful a destruction; and well might the triumphant Protestants exult in the idea that the wrath of an avenging Deity was let loose against this devoted navy. No mercy was shown to the wretched sufferers in general who escaped to land. In Ireland the fear of their joining the natives made the Government scandalously cruel. Instead of taking those prisoners who came on shore they cut them down in cold blood, and upwards of 200 are said to have been thus mercilessly butchered. Some of the scattered vessels were compelled to fight their way back down the English Channel, and were the prey of the English, the Dutch, and of French Huguenots, who had equipped a number of privateers to have a share in the destruction and plunder of their hated enemies. The Duke of Medina eventually reached the port of St. Andero in September, with the loss of more than half his fleet, and of 10,000 men, those who survived looking more like ghosts than human beings.

Philip, though he must have been deeply mortified by this signal failure of his costly and ambitious enterprise, was too proud to show it. He received the news without a change of countenance, and thanked God that his kingdom was so strong and flourishing that it could well bear such a loss. He gave 50,000 crowns to relieve the sufferers; forbade any public mourning, assigning the mishap, not to the English, but the weather; and wrote to the Prince of Parma--whom the English Government had tempted at this crisis to throw off his allegiance, and make himself master of the Catholic provinces of the Netherlands, as the Prince of Orange had done of the Protestant ones--to thank him for his readiness to have carried out his design, and to assure him of his unshaken favour.

In following the fate of the Spanish fleet, and the bravery and address of England's naval commanders, we have left unnoticed the less striking proceedings of the army on shore. The chief camp at Tilbury, which would have come first into conflict with the Spanish army had it effected a landing, was put under the command of Leicester--a man who had been tried in the Netherlands, and found wanting in every qualification of a general. There, a few days after the defeat of the Armada, Elizabeth held a grand review. Leicester and the new stripling favourite, Essex, led her bridle rein, whilst she is said to have delivered this fine speech: "My loving 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 I assure you I do not desire to live to distrust my faithful and loving people. Let tyrants 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 and 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, for my kingdom, and for my people, my honour and my blood, even in the dust. I know that I have but the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart of a king, and a King of England too, and think foul scorn that Parma, or Spain, or any prince of Europe, should dare to invade the borders of my realm: to which, rather than any dishonour should grow by me, I myself will take up arms--I myself will be your general--the judge and rewarder of every one of your virtues in the field. I already know by your forwardness that you have deserved rewards and crowns; and we do assure you, on the word of a prince, they shall be duly paid to you. In the meantime my lieutenant-general shall be in my stead--than whom never prince commanded a more noble or more worthy subject; nor will I suffer myself to doubt that, 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 my people."

On Lord Howard, as admiral of the fleet, rewards and favours were conferred; but neither he, nor the other heroes of his immortal contest at sea, received a tithe of the honour of Leicester, who had done nothing but write a love-letter to the queen from Tilbury camp. Nothing that she had done or could do appeared adequate to his incomprehensible merits. She determined to create a new and most invidious office in his favour; and the warrant for his creation of Lord Lieutenant of England and Ireland lay ready for the royal signature, when the remonstrances of Burleigh and Hatton delayed, and the sudden death of the favourite put an end to it. In ten days after the queen's visit to the camp he had disbanded the army, and was on his way to his castle of Kenilworth, when he was seized with sickness at Cornbury Park, in Oxfordshire, and died on the 4th of September, of a fever. His enemies declared he had been poisoned, and invented the following story:--He had discovered or suspected a criminal connection between his wife, the Countess of Essex, and Sir Christopher Blount. He had attempted to assassinate Blount, but failed; and his countess, profiting by his own instructions in getting rid of her former husband, administered the fatal dose. This and other stories against Leicester are now discredited.

The first use which Elizabeth made of her victory was to take vengeance on the Papists--not because they had done anything disloyal, but because they were of the same religion as the detested Spaniards. All their demonstrations of devotion to the cause of their country and their queen during the attempted invasion went for nothing. A commission was appointed to try those already in prison; and six priests, four laymen, and a lady of the name of Ward, for having harboured priests, other four laymen, for having been reconciled to the Roman Catholic Church, and fifteen persons, charged with being connected with them, in all thirty individuals, were, within a period of three months, condemned as traitors, and executed with all the disembowelling and other atrocities attending that sentence. Their only crime was the practice of their religion, or the succouring their clergymen. Elizabeth, however, treated their proceedings as political offences, and her efforts to dragoon the nation into conformity continued the greater part of her life; old age alone appearing to abate her virulence, as it dimmed her faculties and subdued her spirits. Sixty-one Roman Catholic clergymen, forty-seven laymen, and two ladies suffered death for their religion. The fines for recusancy were levied with the utmost rigour, £20 per lunar month being the legal sum, so that many gentlemen were fleeced of their entire income. Besides this, they were liable to a year's imprisonment and a fine of 100 marks every time they heard Mass. The search for concealed priests was carried on with great avidity, because it gave occasion for plunder, and on conviction of such concealment, forfeiture of the whole of their property followed, with ample gleaning to the informers. The poorer recusants were for some time imprisoned; but the prisons becoming full, officers were sent through the country, visiting all villages and remote places, and extorting what they could.

As Elizabeth grew in years she more and more resembled her father, and persecuted the Puritans as zealously as the Papists, and for similar reasons. In these Reformers, however, she found a sturdy class of men, who would not endure so quietly her oppressions. Hume blames the Nonconformists for not setting up separate congregations of their own; but he forgot the £20 a month, which would have been levied on every individual that could pay, and the imprisonments and harassing of others. Where, however, the Nonconformists could not preach, they printed. Books and pamphlets flew in all directions; and there was set up a sort of ambulatory press, which was conveyed from place to place, till at length it was hunted down and destroyed near Manchester. In 1590, Sir Richard Knightley, Hooles, of Coventry, and Wigmore and his wife, of Warwick, were fined, in the Star Chamber, as promulgators of a book called "Martin Marprelate," the first £2,000, the second 1,000 marks, the third 500, the fourth 100, and to be imprisoned during the queen's pleasure.

In 1591 Udal, a Nonconformist minister, was condemned to death for publishing a book called "A Demonstration of Discipline," but died in prison. Mr. Cartwright, fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, for pointing out defects in the system of the Church, was deprived of his fellowship, expelled the university, and in 1591 was summoned before the ecclesiastical commission with some of his friends, and committed to prison because they would not answer interrogatories on oath--a practice clearly contrary to law. In 1593 Barrow, Greenwood, and Penry, Independent ministers, or Brownists, were put to death for writings said to reflect on the queen. But no suppression produced the desired effect.

In the spring of 1589 Parliament and Convocation assembled, and Elizabeth laid before them a statement of the heavy expenses incurred in beating off the Spaniards. She had already levied a forced loan, to which the recusants had been made to contribute heavily, and she now received most liberal grants from both Parliament and Convocation. Having given this freely, the House of Commons prayed the queen to send out a strong force and take vengeance on the Spaniards for their attack on this country. Elizabeth was perfectly agreeable that they should punish Philip to their hearts' content, but not out of the supplies they had granted. She said there were great demands on her exchequer; that she could only furnish ships and soldiers, and they must pay the cost. The proposal of retaliation was so much to the taste of the public that an association was formed under the auspices of Drake and Norris, and very soon they had a fleet of 100 sail at Plymouth, carrying 21,000 men. Elizabeth had long been patronising Don Antonio, prior of Crato, an illegitimate branch of the Royal family of Portugal. This pretender was now sent out in this fleet in royal state, and the expedition was directed to land in Portugal, and call on the people to throw off the Spanish yoke, and restore their government under a native, and, as Elizabeth boldly asserted, legitimate prince. If the Portuguese would not receive Don Antonio, the fleet was then to scour the roads of Spain, and inflict on the territory of Philip all the damage possible.

The fascination of this expedition under so renowned a commander as Drake, seized on the fancy of a young noble, who had now become Elizabeth's prime favourite--the Earl of Essex. This was the son of the Countess of Essex whom Leicester had secretly married, much to Elizabeth's indignation, in 1578. Leicester introduced the young earl to Elizabeth, who, for a time, hated him on account of his mother, for the queen, in spite of her numerous quarrels with Leicester, was never able to free herself wholly from her early attachment to him. However, some time before Leicester's death, the graces and lively disposition of the young earl had made a strong impression on her heart or head, and she lavished blandishments on the handsome boy in public, even in the face of the camp at Tilbury, which must have been eminently ludicrous. After Leicester's death he was installed as the chief favourite, and she could scarcely bear him out of her sight. Her consternation was great when she found that he had slyly eloped, and had set off after the fleet bound for Spain.

Drake made first for Corunna, where he seized a number of merchantmen and ships of war, made himself master of the suburbs or marine part of the town, with large stores of oil and wine, but failed to take the town itself, though he succeeded in making a breach in the wall, at the cost of many lives. Norris, meantime, attacked the forces of the Condé d'Andrada, posted at the Puente de Burgos, and drove them before him for some miles; but sickness and shortness of powder compelled them to embark again. Drake and Norris, as famous for their bulletins as Napoleon in our day, wrote home that they had killed 1,000 of the enemy, with the loss of only three men! but Lord Talbot, writing at the same time to his father, said that they had lost a great number of men, quite as many as the Spaniards. From Corunna they coasted to Peniche, about thirty miles north of Lisbon. At Peniche the young Earl of Essex, who kept out at sea till the commanders could say in their dispatches that they had heard nothing of him, was the first to spring on shore, and showed great gallantry. They quickly took the castle, and the fleet then proceeded along the shore to the Tagus, while the army marched by land to Lisbon through Torres Vedras and St. Sebastian.

The garrison in Lisbon was but weak, and Essex knocked at the gates, and summoned the commander to surrender; but the Spaniards had taken the precaution to lay waste the neighbourhood and destroy all the provisions, or carry them into the city, so that famine, fever, and want of powder soon compelled the English to retire. They found that their pretender, Don Antonio, was everywhere treated as a pretender--not a man would own him; and they marched to Cascaes, which they found already plundered by Drake and his squadron. They there embarked for England, but were soon dispersed by a storm, and reached Plymouth in straggling disorder, one of the sections of the fleet having, before leaving Spain, plundered the town of Vigo. It was found that out of their 21,000 men, they had lost one-half. Out of the 1,100 gentlemen who accompanied the expedition one-third had perished. Elizabeth secretly grumbled at the expense and loss, but publicly boasted of the chastisement she had given to Philip.

On the death of Henry III. of France by assassination, as we have previously related, Henry of Navarre, a lineal descendant of St. Louis, by his youngest son Robert, Count of Clermont, assumed the crown as Henry IV. But Henry's known Protestantism placed him in extreme difficulty, even with those who had hitherto supported himself or the late king. The Papist followers of that monarch insisted that he should sign an engagement to maintain their worship, and that to the exclusion of every other, except in the places in which the Protestant form was already established. They bound Henry to hunt out and punish the murderers of the late king; to give no offices in the State, in cities or corporations, except to Papists, and to permit the nobles of the Roman Catholic league to defend to the Pope their proceedings. But by conceding these conditions, he mortally offended the Protestants, who had hitherto faithfully adhered to him, and who refused any longer to fight under the banners of a prince who had thus, as they deemed it, abandoned their cause. Nine regiments deserted his standard, whilst a regiment of Papists on the other side, not sufficiently satisfied with the concessions thus dearly purchased, also marched out of his camp.

Such was the extent of the disaffection, that instead of being able to take Paris, he was compelled to raise the siege and retreat into Normandy. Thither the Duke of Mayenne, the leader of the Guise party, and his fanatic rabble pursued him, but Henry, advantageously encamping his little army, which did not amount to a fourth of the enemy, on a slope opposite to the castle and village of Arques, a few miles from Dieppe, defeated his assailants with great slaughter. The battle was fought on the 21st of September, 1589, and the spot is now marked by a lofty column.

On the heels of this victory came a most timely aid from Elizabeth of England, of £20,000 in gold and 4,000 troops under Lord Willoughby. Henry now retraced his steps to Paris, where he made himself master of the suburbs on the left bank of the Seine, and continued to act on the offensive during the remainder of the year. At the commencement of 1591 the English army was dismissed, having suffered heavy losses, and displayed marked bravery.

But they only returned home for Henry to solicit fresh assistance; the Spaniards and the Duke of Mercoeur put in claims for the province of Brittany, and united their forces to obtain it. Elizabeth, who professed to desire the Protestant ascendency in France, sorely rued the expense of supporting that interest, and her old and cunning minister Burleigh, threw his weight into the scale of parsimony, because he delighted to see France depressed. But now that the hated Spaniards had actually landed in that country over against her very coasts, she was roused to do something. She advanced a fresh loan and sent over a small reinforcement of 3,000 men. Essex was impatient to have the command of this force, but the queen, listening to Burleigh, gave it to Sir John Norris, and Essex quitted the Court in a pet. Fresh forces were, however, solicited, and Essex, to his great delight, received the appointment. In August he landed at Dieppe, and finding Henry engaged in the distant Champagne, he pitched his tent at Arques, near the scene of Henry's triumph, and remained there for two months doing nothing but knighting his officers to keep them contented. His whole force consisted only of 300 horse, 300 gentlemen volunteers, and 3,000 infantry. On the king's arrival the siege of Rouen was begun, where the English army suffered terrible hardships, and in the spring of 1592, the siege having been raised on the approach of the Prince of Parma, Essex left his troops with Sir Roger Williams, having lost his brother, Walter Devereux, in the campaign.

This unsatisfactory state of things in France continued till the midsummer of 1593. Henry was continually demanding fresh aid, fresh advances of money, fresh troops, which he did not employ, as was stipulated with Elizabeth, solely against the Spaniards, but against his rebellious subjects. Elizabeth was greatly enraged at his breach of faith, but still found it impossible to refuse him, lest the Spaniards should get the upper hand, and Henry, calculating on this, went on doing with her troops just what he pleased. Elizabeth was further incensed, and went into the worst of tempers on this account, and for this cause not only dealt sharp words, but heavy blows about her on her attendants. But worst of all came the news that Henry IV. was about to embrace the Roman Catholic faith. The fact was he saw that it was impossible otherwise to maintain himself on the throne. She sent off a strong remonstrance composed by Burleigh, but before its arrival the deed was done, nor is it to be supposed that its arrival would have prevented it. Elizabeth's limited aid could not enable him to overcome the tremendous opposition arrayed against him. On the 15th of July, 1593, Henry publicly abjured the Protestant and embraced, if not the Roman Catholic faith, the profession of it. On hearing that this was done, Elizabeth burst into one of her violent passions, and heaped on him her choicest terms of abuse. She wrote to him after four months had somewhat abated her fury, but still in a strain of high remonstrance.

Elizabeth, after getting over her resentment against Henry IV. on account of his lapse of faith, found it convenient to make a league offensive and defensive with him against Philip. The consequence was that the Spaniards speedily poured into France from the Netherlands. Velasco, the constable of Castile, penetrated into Champagne, and directed his attack against Franche-Comté. Fuentes marched into Picardy, defeated Henry's army, took Dourlens and Cambray, and threw the King of France into the greatest alarm. In vain he sent to demand aid of Elizabeth: she had heard of preparations in the Spanish ports for a second invasion of her kingdom; and so far from aiding Henry, she withdrew her troops from Brittany, complaining dreadfully of all the money and men which she had foolishly wasted on the apostate monarch of France. In March, 1596, the Archduke Albert, who had become Governor of the Netherlands, suddenly marched on Calais, pretending that his object was to raise the siege of La Fere. By this ruse he was already under the walls of Calais with 15,000 men. The outstanding forts were soon won, and as Elizabeth was one Sunday at church at Greenwich, the distant report of the Archduke's cannonade on the walls of Calais was plainly heard. Elizabeth sprang up in the midst of the service, and vowed that she would rescue that ancient town. She sent off post-haste to order the Lord Mayor of London to immediately impress 1,000 men, and send them on to Calais; but the fit of enthusiasm was soon over, and the next morning she countermanded the order. When Henry's ambassadors urged her for assistance, she coolly proffered it on condition that she should garrison Calais with an English army. When the proposal was made to Henry, he was so incensed that he actually turned his back on her ambassador, Sir Robert Sidney, saying he would rather receive a box on the ear from a man than a fillip from a woman. In a few days--namely, on the 14th of April--the town was carried by storm, and Elizabeth had the mortification of seeing the Spaniards in possession of a port so calculated to enable them to invade England. Henry, on his part, was excessively enraged at her duplicity and selfishness, and spoke in no sparing terms of her. Nevertheless, his necessities soon compelled him to lower his tone, and even to condescend to flatter her in the most extravagant manner of the age, with the result that 2,000 troops were sent to garrison Boulogne.

The hostile preparations in the ports of Spain at this time occupied all the attention of Elizabeth and her Government, and the more so as during the past years she had lost her two famous commanders, Drake and Hawkins. They had been sent out on one of their predatory expeditions against the Spanish settlements in South America and the West Indies. But circumstances in these quarters had become greatly changed. The colonies had acquired population and strength: the former ravages of these commanders had put the people and the Government on their guard. Wherever the English fleet appeared, it found the ports and coasts well guarded and defended. Their attacks were repulsed, and such was the deplorable failure of the expedition, and the contrast of their former profitable and splendid exploits, that both commanders sank under their mortification. Hawkins died in 1595, and Drake in the following year. The survivors only returned to experience the anger of the queen, who felt with equal sensibility the loss of reputation and of the accustomed booty.

The Lord Howard of Effingham, the brave High Admiral who had so successfully commanded the fleet against the Armada, recommended at this crisis that the English Government should adopt the advice which he had given on the former occasion, to anticipate the intentions of Spain, and attack and destroy the menacing fleet ere it left the port. In this counsel he was ardently seconded by Essex, who loved above all things an expedition of a bold and romantic character, and the more so, because it was directly opposed to the cold and cautious policy of his enemies, the Cecils. He prevailed, and a fleet of 130 sail was fitted out to carry over an army of 14,000 land forces. The fleet was confided to the command of Lord Howard, the army to Essex; but to put some check on his fiery enthusiasm he was required to take, on all great occasions, the advice of a council of war consisting of the Lord Admiral, Lord Thomas Howard, Sir Walter Raleigh, Sir Francis Vere, Sir George Carew, and Sir Coniers Clifford.

On the 1st of June, 1596, the fleet issued from Plymouth, and being joined by twenty-two ships from Holland, it amounted to 150 sail, carrying 14,000 men. On the 20th the fleet cast anchor at the mouth of the harbour of Cadiz, and there discovered fifteen men-of-war, and about forty merchantmen. The next morning a fierce battle took place, which lasted from seven in the morning till one o'clock at noon. The English sailed right into the harbour, despite the fire from the ships and forts, and the Spaniards, finding the contest going against them, attempted to run their vessels ashore and burn them. The galleons got out to sea, while the merchantmen having reached Puerto Real, discharged their cargo and were burnt by order of the Duke of Medina. Two large ships with an argosy were taken, and much booty fell to the captors. The Earl of Essex displayed the utmost gallantry. Instead of remaining with the army, he went on board and fought in the thick of the danger. The sea-fight over, he landed 3,000 men and marched into Cadiz. A body of horse and foot was posted to oppose his progress, but fled at his approach; and, finding that the inhabitants in their terror had closed the gates, they made their way over a ruinous wall, and the English without delay followed them. In spite of the fire kept up from the tops of the houses, Essex led his men to the market-place, where they were speedily joined by the Lord Admiral, who had found his way through a portal. The city capitulated, paying 120,000 crowns for the lives of the people, the town and all its wealth being abandoned to the plunder of the troops.

Essex proposed to strike a great blow while the panic of their victory paralysed the country. He recommended that they should march into the heart of Andalusia; and such was the destitution of disciplined troops from the drain which the wars of France and the Netherlands had occasioned, such were the discontent of the nobles and the disaffection of the Moriscoes, that much mischief might have been done before they could have been successfully opposed. The plan, however, was resisted by the other commanders, and Essex then offered to remain in the Isla de Leon with 4,000 men, and defend it against the whole force of the enemy. But the other leaders would hear of nothing but hastening home. They had laid the town in ruins, with the exception of two or three churches; they had nearly annihilated the fleet, had collected a vast booty, and inflicted on the Spaniards a loss of 20,000,000 ducats.

The conquerors returned home, having dealt the severest blow at Spain that it had received for generations. They had raised the prestige of the English arms, amply avenged the attempt at the invasion of their country, and sunk the reputation of Spain in no ordinary degree. Foreigners regarded the exploit with wonder, and the people raised thunders of acclamations as the victorious vessels sailed into port. But the gallant and magnanimous deeds of Essex had been gall and wormwood to the Cecils, and they had neglected no means of injuring him in his absence. Essex had succeeded ever since the death of Walsingham--that is, for six years--in preventing the dearest wish of Burleigh's heart, to see his son, Sir Robert, established in his post. While Essex was away he carried this point with the queen; and the courtiers, now auguring the ascendency of the Cecils, united in defaming Essex to win favour with them. They talked freely of his vainglory, rashness, extravagance, and dissipation.

Day after day the queen subjected Essex to the scrutiny and cross-questioning of his enemies in the Council, till, luckily for him, there came the news that the Spanish treasures from the New World had just arrived safely in port with 20,000,000 of dollars. This put the climax to Elizabeth's exasperation; and Essex, who, since his return from the expedition, as if to take away every ground for the censure of the courtiers, had assumed a totally new character, and was no longer the gay and pleasure-seeking young nobleman, but the grave and religious man; who lived at home with his countess, attended her to church, and exhibited the most pious demeanour; who, instead of his haughty and irritable temper, had displayed the utmost patience and forbearance under the galling examination of the Council, now broke out at once with the declaration that he had done everything in his power to persuade his colleagues to permit him to sail to Terceira to intercept this very fleet; that the creatures of the Cecils had opposed him resolutely, defeated the enterprise, and robbed the queen of this princely treasure.

Instantly the whole current of Elizabeth's feelings underwent a change. It was deemed necessary to send out an expedition to Spain to hunt up the hostile fleet and destroy it as before. Essex stood undoubted in the queen's confidence, and she gave him the command of the fleet for this purpose, with Lord Thomas Howard and Sir Walter Raleigh under him. This time there was no subjection to a council of war. On the 11th of July, 1597, the fleet set sail; but had not sailed more than forty leagues when it was driven back by a tempest, which raged for four days. Essex himself disdained to turn back, but, with his utter contempt of danger and dogged obstinacy, he, to use his own words, beat up his ship in the teeth of the storm, till it was actually falling asunder, having a leak which obliged them to pump eight tons of water per day out of her; her main and foremast being cracked, and most of her beams broken and reft. The gentlemen volunteers were so completely satisfied with sailing with such a man, that on reaching land at Falmouth they all stole away home. But Essex himself was as resolved as ever to prosecute the voyage, though the queen would advance nothing more for refitting the fleet. He got as many of his ships into order as he could, and on the 17th of August was enabled to sail again, though the men by this time had consumed most of their provisions. He made now, not for the coast of Spain, but the Azores, where they took Fayal, Graciosa, and Flores--useless conquests, as they could not keep them, and which led to immediate quarrels, for Raleigh, with his indomitable ambition, took Fayal himself without orders, which Essex deeming an honour stolen from him, resented greatly. He ordered several of the officers concerned to be arrested; but when he was advised to try Raleigh by a court-martial, he replied, "So I would had he been one of my friends." What was worse than this dispute, however, was that the Spanish treasure vessels returning from America, which Elizabeth had expressly ordered them to lay wait for, had escaped into Terceira, and they were obliged to return with the capture of three Spanish ships and other plunder, valued at £100,000.

Essex, on landing, hastened to Court, but the queen was in the worst of humours at the missing of the treasure ships, and complained that he had done nothing to discharge the expenses of the expedition. She laid all the blame of failure on him, and gave all the credit to Sir Walter Raleigh, whom she accused him of oppressing and insulting. With his usual choleric petulance, he hastily left the Court and retired to his own house at Wanstead. He was so far from admitting that he was in the wrong, that he demanded satisfaction for the injuries which he considered had been done him in his absence. The Chancellorship of the Duchy of Lancaster, which he had asked for a dependent, had been conferred on Cecil, and the Lord Admiral Howard had been created Earl of Nottingham, and thus had obtained an official precedency over him. Worse still, and more unjust, the honour of the capture of Cadiz was allowed to be usurped by Lord Howard in his new patent, though it really belonged to Essex. The passionate favourite was so enraged that he offered to fight Nottingham in vindication of his claim, or one of his sons, or any gentleman of the name of Howard. However, he bridled his resentment, and on the 18th of December all was made smooth, and Essex again appeared at Court, being created Earl Marshal, by which he regained precedency over the new Earl of Nottingham.

The King of France, in the commencement of the year 1598, announced to the Queen of England his intention to seek peace with Spain. This was news by no means agreeable to Elizabeth, as such a peace would leave Philip at liberty to pursue his designs against her; and she endeavoured by her ambassador to dissuade Henry from such a measure. But Henry had now for thirteen years been harassed by the cares of a kingdom involved on two sides in war with Philip, and rent in every quarter by religious dissension. The death of the Guises had broken up, in a great measure, the Roman Catholic League, but the spirit of opposition was still as much alive as ever, and was fanned into flame by a Protestant League, formed on the same principles. He longed intensely for peace, that he might more fully exert himself to abate this religious discord. His anxiety for it had been doubled by the capture of Amiens by the Spaniards in February, 1597; and his recovery of it in the following September only rendered him the more willing to treat, because he could do it on better terms. It was necessary to send over Sir Robert Cecil as ambassador extraordinary, to attend the negotiations: and fearing the influence of Essex in his absence, the cunning minister had been induced to favour his advancement to the post of Earl Marshal, and he sought to win the Earl over more completely by moving the queen to present Essex with a cargo of cochineal worth £7,000, and a contract for the sale of a much larger amount out of the royal stores. Greatly pleased by these instances of Cecil's friendship, as he deemed it, Essex transacted the business of the Secretaryship for Sir Robert in his absence, and that politic gentleman took his departure for France on the 10th of February, 1598.

At the conference both Cecil and the Dutch deputies did everything in their power to prevent the peace, but in vain. Henry was resolved on giving tranquillity to his kingdom; and when reproached by Cecil for deserting Elizabeth, he replied that in aiding him she had served her own interests. On the 20th of April he published the edict of Nantes, giving security and toleration to the Protestants; and on May the 2nd he signed, at Vervins, the treaty with Spain, which was so advantageous that he recovered Calais and all places which had been taken during the war. Elizabeth was in reality a gainer, for she thus became free from a charge of £126,000 per annum in holding the cautionary towns; and the States gave an acknowledgment of a debt of £800,000, which they engaged to pay by instalments.

On the return of Cecil he submitted to the queen the proposals which Philip had made for the extension of the peace to England, and Burleigh and Sir Robert contended that Spain having made peace with France, it was wise for this kingdom to do the same. Essex, on the contrary, contended for war, and for still punishing the Spaniards for their attempt at invasion. In the midst of one of the debates in the Council, Burleigh put his pocket Bible gently before him, open at these words in the Psalms:--"Blood-thirsty men shall not live out half their days." Essex took no apparent notice of it, but after his death the circumstance came to be looked on as prophetic. The Council was in favour of peace. The nation sympathised with Essex, and especially the army and navy, who hated the Spaniards, and thought Essex stood up for the honour of the country. But if Essex's favour rose with the people, it was in utmost peril at Court.

A scene soon occurred in the Council chamber which hastened the rupture. There was a warm debate on the appointment of a new Lord Deputy for Ireland. That country was in such a cruelly distracted state, and the population, both English and Irish, so hostile to the English Government, that no one would willingly accept the office. At this moment the Cecils were warmly recommending Sir William Knollys to that unenviable post, Essex still more vehemently urging the appointment on Sir George Carew. But each party was not striving to confer the post as a favour, but as an annoyance. Sir William Knollys was the uncle of Essex, and, therefore, when the queen named him, the Cecils supported the nomination; and Essex, on the contrary, named Sir George Carew as a partisan of the Cecils. The debate grew vehement, and Essex, without regard to the wishes of the queen, spoke violently against the appointment of Sir William. The queen made a sarcastic observation on Essex's advocacy, and the petted favourite turned his back upon her with an expression neither respectful nor prudent. The soul of the great queen rose in all its Tudor fury, and she fetched the rash and forgetful youth a sound buffet on the ear. Instead of being called to his senses by this action, the fiery Earl started to his feet and clapped his hand on his sword; but the Lord Admiral threw himself between the ungallant Earl and the queen; and Essex exclaiming that "it was an insult which he would not have taken from her father, much less from a king in petticoats," rushed out of the room.

The rupture took place in June, and not till the 6th of November did the haughty favourite and the offended queen become reconciled; and it is not probable that the reconciliation was ever sincere on the part of Elizabeth. Meanwhile, death had removed two persons of great consequence in the history of Elizabeth--her aged minister Burleigh, and Philip of Spain (1598). Sir Robert Cecil, Burleigh's son, succeeded him in the councils of the queen, much to the disgust of Essex, and perpetuated his father's cautious principles.

Ireland was now at such a pitch of confusion that the English Government was at its wit's end about it, and no one liked to undertake its vice-royalty. It was come to such a pass that it was even worse than when Walsingham wished it four-and-twenty hours under water. The Lord Grey, though eulogised by Spenser, had left it with the character of a cruel and rapacious tyrant. Sir John Perrot, reputed to be an illegitimate brother of Elizabeth, succeeded him, and dispensed justice with a stern hand. He was as ready to punish the English for their excesses as to do justice to the Irish under their wrongs; and the enmity of his own domineering and avaricious countrymen became much more effective than the respect of the natives. In 1592 the clamours and intrigues of his enemies occasioned his recall. At home, however, he suffered himself to speak incautiously of the queen and of Chancellor Hatton, and a secret inquiry was instituted into his late administration of Ireland. All sorts of charges of a treasonable nature were advanced against him by those whose rapacity he had punished during his deputyship--such as favouring the Roman Catholic clergy, plotting with Parma and the Spaniards, and encouraging the insurrections of the O'Rourkes and the Burkes. They could establish none of these, but they managed to touch him in a still more dangerous quarter. They proved that in his irritation at the obstructions thrown in his way by the Court, he had spoken sometimes freely of the queen and her ministers. Essex, whose sister Perrot's son had married, exerted all his influence in his favour; but where Elizabeth's vanity was wounded she was unforgiving. Sir John was condemned to death, and soon after died in the Tower from chagrin at his unjust treatment, or, as was suspected, from poison.

The most formidable Irish chieftain with whom the English had to contend was Hugh, the son of the late Baron of Dungannon. This active and ambitious chief, who had been rewarded for his services in the war against the Earl of Desmond with the earldom of Tyrone, soon proclaimed himself not merely the successor to the earldom of O'Neil, but the genuine O'Neil himself. The natives of Ulster, in need of such a champion, admitted his claims, and were ready to support him in all his pretensions. As these were not admitted by the English, he became their enemy, and by his military talents proved a terrible thorn in their side. He demanded for the natives liberty of conscience and all their old lands, rights, and privileges; and the successive deputies found themselves engaged in a most harassing and destructive war with this subtle chief and his followers, in which he wore them out by constant skirmishes and surprises amongst the woods, bogs, and mountains of his wild territories. Sir John Norris, who had served with so much honour in the Netherlands and France, sank under it; and in August of 1598 Sir Henry Bagenal was defeated and slain in a pitched battle at Blackwater, in Tyrone, his baggage and artillery being lost, and 1,500 men killed. The consequence of this victory was that nearly all Ireland rushed into a state of open rebellion, and the great question in the English cabinet was, who was the man capable of reducing the insurgents. It required no common man; for the Irish everywhere proclaimed the Earl of Tyrone the saviour of his country, and looked to him to drive the English wholly out of Ireland. The Earl of Essex dwelt so much in the Council on the necessary bravery and address of the man who should be appointed, that the Cecils, anxious to remove him to a distance from the Court, declared that he himself was by far the most fitting for the office. His friends warned him of the dangers and difficulties of a Government which had been the ruin of so many; but the queen, seconding the recommendations of the Cecils, to induce him to accept the post, remitted him a debt of £8,000, and made him a present of nearly three times that sum. He was furnished with an army of 18,000 men, many of them veteran troops who had fought in the Netherlands, and with the fullest powers that had ever been conferred on any Irish Deputy. He had full authority to continue the war or to make peace; to pardon all crimes and treasons at his pleasure, and to determine all his own appointments.

Such were the terms of his commission; but in one particular the queen had laid a strict injunction upon him, in conversation, which was, that he should not give the command of the cavalry, as he wished, to his friend and the friend of Shakespeare, the Earl of Southampton, with whom Elizabeth had the old cause of quarrel, that of presuming to marry without her consent. In March, 1599, Essex marched out of London, surrounded by the flower of the young nobility, and followed by the acclamations and good wishes of the populace, of whom he was the idol for his military reputation and his frank and generous disposition.

No sooner did he arrive in Ireland than he set at defiance the orders of the queen, and placed Southampton at the head of the horse. Elizabeth sent an angry command for his removal, and Essex reminded her of the terms of his commission, and wished to know whether she meant to revoke it. Worse was to follow. Sickness, from the wretched and unwholesome supplies of provisions--the worst enemy of the British soldier in all ages being frequently the commissariat officers--soon decimated them; and by the month of August his 18,000 men showed no more than 3,500 foot, and 300 horse. He was compelled to demand a reinforcement of 2,000 men before he could march into Ulster, the chief seat of the rebellion. The queen sent the soldiers, but accompanied the order by very bitter letters, complaining of his waste of her troops, her money, and of her time, which was so precious. Essex defended himself by representing the difficulties of the task which he had to encounter, and which had mastered so many before him. He assured her that he acted entirely by the advice of the Lords of the Irish Council; but "these rebels," he said, "are far more numerous than your Majesty's army, and have--though I do unwillingly confess it--better bodies, and more perfect use of their arms, than those men your Majesty sends over." He added, that for his part he received nothing from home but "discomfort and soul-wounds."

When he came up with Tyrone on the 5th of September, encamped with his whole army in the county of Louth, that chief demanded a parley, and instead of a battle, as was expected, an armistice was agreed upon for six weeks, which was to be renewed from six weeks to six weeks till the following May, to give time for full inquiry. His enemies thereupon insinuated that Essex was at heart a traitor, and was in collusion with the Irish to betray his trust and make himself independent. Still worse, they declared that he was waiting for a descent of the Spaniards on the island to assist in the design. Certain that his destruction was determined upon by his foes, and that no justice was to be expected whilst he was at such a distance, he formed the sudden resolve to hasten to London and defend his policy in person. His first idea was to take with him such a body of troops as should overawe the adverse party, and secure his own person; but Sir Christopher Blount, who had now married the mother of Essex, convinced him of the fatality of such a proceeding. He departed, therefore, with a small attendance; and arriving in London on the 28th of September, 1599, and finding the queen was at Nonsuch, he lost no time in hastening thither, to prevent any one from prejudicing her against him. But he found that, quick as he had been, his enemies had been quicker, and that one of the most hostile of them, Lord Grey of Wilton, was on the way at full speed. Essex knew what the effect would be if Cecil got the news before his arrival, that he had left his government contrary to the positive order of the queen; and if time were allowed to excite the queen's resentment, he would undoubtedly be arrested the moment of his arrival. For this reason he rode like a madman, through mud and mire, but hate travelled faster, and Grey had been closeted a good quarter of a hour with Cecil when he reached the palace.

Without pausing to alter his dress, Essex rushed into the queen's privy chamber, and not finding her there, did not hesitate to rush into her bed-chamber, though it was only ten o'clock in the morning. The queen was just up, and sat with her hair all about her face in the hands of her tire-woman. She was naturally excessively astonished at this unexpected apparition; but Essex threw himself on his knees before her, covered her hands with kisses, and did not rise till she had given him evidence of her good-will. He retired to make his toilet in such good humour at his reception that he thanked God that after so many troublous storms abroad, "he found a sweet calm at home." Within an hour he returned, and had a long interview with her Majesty, who was so kind and gracious, that the courtiers, who had carefully watched how this rude entrance would be taken, persuaded themselves that love would carry the day against duty with the queen; and they all, except the Cecil party, were very courteous towards him. But by the evening the poison of the venomous minister had been instilled and done its work. Essex was received by the queen with a stern and distant air, and she began to demand of him why he had thus left Ireland without her permission, affairs being in so disordered and dangerous a state. He received an order at night to consider himself a prisoner in his room; and the next day, at two o'clock in the afternoon, he was summoned to give an account of himself to the Council. On entering the Council the lords arose and saluted him, but reseated themselves, leaving him standing at the end of the board. It was demanded why he had left his charge in Ireland without leave; why he had made so many knights there, contrary to the express desire of the queen; why he had written such presumptuous letters to her Majesty; and how he had dared to enter her Majesty's bedroom. After awhile he was allowed a certain amount of freedom, but the queen never saw him again.

In June of 1600 she put Essex on his trial before a court of eighteen commissioners, whom she empowered to pass "censure," but not judgment. The result of this trial was that Essex was condemned to forfeit every office which he held by patent from the Crown, and to remain a prisoner at the royal pleasure. Elizabeth trusted that now she had broken the proud spirit of the Lord Deputy, and that the sentence of the court would bring him humbly to sue for forgiveness. But the great failing of Essex was his high spirit, his indignant sense of wrong, and his obstinate refusal to surrender his own will when he felt himself right, though there was no other way of appeasing his equally self-willed sovereign. He only begged to be dismissed, and that she "would let her servant depart in peace." He declared that all the pleasures and ambitions of this world had palled upon his mind; that he saw their vanity, and desired only to live in retirement with his wife, his friends, and his books in the country. Had that wish been real, few men were better qualified, by their refined and elevated taste and their love of literature, to have adorned such a life; but Essex, if he truly longed for private and domestic life, did not know himself, for he was one of those restless and quick spirits of whom the poet said "quiet is a hell." However, on the 26th of August he was released from custody, but informed that he must not appear at Court.

Essex, once at large, cast off his pretences of retirement and contempt of the world, and petitioned the queen for a continuation of his patent for a monopoly of sweet wines. Elizabeth replied that she would first inquire into the value of this privilege, which she understood was worth £50,000 per annum. She accompanied this message with an ominous remark that when horses became unmanageable it was necessary to stint them in their corn. Accordingly, she refused his request, and appointed commissioners to manage the tax for herself.

Essex now became beside himself. Hitherto he had lived in privacy, but now he came to Essex House, in the Strand, where he gave free entertainment to all sorts of people. His secretary Cuffe and other dangerous persons encouraged him in the belief that by his popularity with the people it would be no difficult matter to force Cecil, Raleigh, and his other enemies from office; and that once removed from the queen, all would be right. He therefore kept open house, and was soon surrounded by crowds of military men and adventurers, by Roman Catholics and Puritans. His military friends formed themselves into a sort of guard; and it was remarked that many of the nobility also visited him, as the Earls of Worcester, Southampton, Sussex, Rutland, and Bedford. There were daily preachings in his house, and he proposed to some of the theologians the question whether it were not lawful, in case of mal-administration, to compel a sovereign to govern according to law. He moreover sent to the king of Scotland, assuring him that there was a design at Court to exclude him in favour of the Infanta of Spain, and urged James to send an ambassador to demand a distinct declaration of his right to the succession. James, who was in great anxiety on this head already, appears to have listened to the advice of Essex, and to have taken measures to act upon it.

Essex was now stimulated by his passions into a most perilous position. He was actively engaged in dangerous courses; and though some pains were taken to conceal his real designs, by the chief coadjutors in the conspiracy meeting at the Earl of Southampton's, and communicating privately by letter with Essex, the proceedings could not escape the ever-open ears of Cecil and his party. The conspirators had concluded that the safest thing to do in the first instance was for Sir Christopher Blount, Sir John Davis, and Sir Charles Davers to head three parties, and to take possession of the gate of Westminster palace, the guard, and the presence chamber, whilst Essex threw himself on his knees before the queen, and refused to rise till she had complied with his petition, and dismissed the obnoxious ministers. But while they were planning, Cecil and his friends acted. The secretary Herbert arrived with a summons for Essex to appear before the Council. He replied that he was too unwell to attend; and while he was thus evading the summons, he received an anonymous note warning him to escape as he valued his life; and this was immediately followed by the intelligence that the guard had been doubled at the palace. It was high time now to act, as his arrest was certain. In the night he despatched messages to collect his friends; and it was resolved that the next morning, which was Sunday, the 8th of February, 1601, the Earls of Southampton and Rutland, the Lords Sandys and Mounteagle, and about 600 gentlemen, should enter the City with Essex during sermon time, and assembling at St. Paul's Cross, where the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and Companies were wont to attend, to call upon them to accompany them to the palace to assist in obtaining the removal of the pernicious advisers of the Crown.

When they were on the point of executing this plan they were interrupted by a visit from the Lord Keeper Egerton, the Earl of Worcester, Knollys, the comptroller of the household, and the Lord Chief Justice. Essex ordered them to be admitted through the wicket, but without any of their attendants, except the purse-bearer. When the officers of the Crown found themselves in the midst of an armed company, Egerton demanded what was the meaning of it; on which Essex replied in a loud and excited tone, "There is a plot laid for my life. Letters have been counterfeited in my name; men have been hired to murder me in my bed. We are met to defend our lives, since my enemies cannot be satisfied without sucking my blood."

"If such be the case," said the Lord Chief Justice Popham, "let it be proved. We will relate it fairly, and the queen will do impartial justice." "Impartial justice!" said the Earl of Southampton; "then why is it not done on Lord Grey?" Grey had attacked Southampton in the Strand with a number of followers on account of an old grudge, Southampton having only a foot-boy with him, whose hand was struck off, and Southampton himself was in great danger, till a number of people with clubs came to his help. Popham replied that Grey was imprisoned for the offence; and Egerton desired Essex to explain his grievances in private, when there was a cry of "They abuse you, my lord; they are undoing you; you lose your time!" Egerton put on his cap, and commanded every man, in the queen's name, to lay down his arms and depart. The crowd outside continued to shout, "Kill them, kill them! Keep them for hostages! Throw the great seal out of the window!" The queen's officers, being shown into a back room guarded by musketeers, Essex begged them to have patience for half an hour and locking the door upon them, left them. Sir John Davis, Sir Gilly Merrick, Francis Tresham, and Owen Salisbury were left in charge of them.

Then Essex, rushing into the street, drew his sword, and followed by Southampton, Rutland, Sandys, Mounteagle, and most of the knights and gentlemen, he made for the City. They were joined on the way by the Earl of Bedford and Lord Cromwell, with 200 others. At Ludgate the guard suffered them to pass, Essex declaring that he was endeavouring to save his life from Raleigh, Cobham, and their accomplices. To their great disappointment they found nobody at St. Paul's Cross, the queen having warned the Corporation to keep away, and to see that the people remained within their houses. Essex rode along shouting, "For the queen, my mistress! a plot is laid for my life!" and called upon the citizens to come and follow him. He had relied on his popularity with the masses; but he now found himself miserably deceived. The common people shouted "God bless your honour!" but no man joined him. He returned crestfallen to his house; but it was presently surrounded by a military force with a battering train, and not a soul rose in his defence. The case was hopeless, and about ten o'clock at night Essex and Southampton held a parley from the top of the house with Sir Robert Sidney, and surrendered on promise of a fair trial. They were conveyed for the night to Lambeth Palace. The next day Essex and Southampton were committed to the Tower, and the other prisoners to different gaols in London and Westminster. Essex was tried, and on the whole fairly, for his technical guilt was obvious; and, after the usual hesitation on the part of Elizabeth, suffered the penalty of the law on the 25th of February, 1601. Southampton was imprisoned for life.

Lord Mountjoy, the friend of Essex, though advanced to the deputyship of Ireland in his room, knew that Elizabeth had become aware of his offer to attempt a release of Essex from his confinement before his last rash outbreak, and he was prepared to escape to the Continent on the first symptom of an attempt to arrest him; but to his agreeable surprise he received a very gracious letter from Elizabeth, in which she stated that the defection and death of Essex had caused her deep grief, but his, Mountjoy's, loyalty and success in Ireland had been a comfort to her. This had been done at the suggestion of Cecil, who represented to her that Mountjoy's loyalty might be secured by not seeming to doubt it, and it was a great consequence to have so able a general in Ireland, as the Spaniards were now meditating a descent on the coast of that island. Indeed, in September, 4,000 Spaniards landed at Kinsale, under Don Juan D'Aguilar, fortified the town, and called on the people to join them against the heretic and excommunicated Queen of England, their oppressor. Whilst Mountjoy marched his forces to Kinsale and shut up the Spaniards in their own lines, Elizabeth summoned her last Parliament. She opened it in person on the 27th of October, 1601, but she was now so enfeebled that she was actually sinking under the weight of the robes of State, when the nobleman who stood nearest to her caught her in his arms and supported her. Notwithstanding this exhibition of her weakness, her determined will enabled her to rally and to go through the ceremony. The Session was a very stormy one. The great object of calling it together was to obtain money. Money the House of Commons expressed its willingness to grant, but at the same time called for the abolition of a number of monopolies which were sapping the very vitals of the nation. These monopolies were patents granted to her courtiers, for the exclusive sale of some article of commerce. It was a custom which had commenced in the seventeenth year of her reign, and by the greediness of her favourites had grown into a monstrous abuse. Scarcely a man about her but had one or more of these monopolies in his hand, by which the price of all sorts of the necessities of life was doubled, or more than doubled. Sometimes the patentee exercised the monopoly himself, sometimes he farmed it out to others, whose only object was to screw as much as possible out of it. The members for counties and boroughs had been repeatedly called on by their constituents to demand the abolition of these detestable abuses; but they had always been silenced by Ministers, on the ground that the queen would highly resent any interference with her prerogatives.

On the 18th of November a motion to put an end to these monopolies was made, which received the regular Ministerial answer, with the addition that it was useless to endeavour to tie the Royal hands, because, even if it were done by both Houses, the queen could loose them at her pleasure. Cecil said that the Speaker was very much to blame to admit of such a motion at the commencement of a Session, knowing that it was contrary to the Royal command. But, nothing daunted, the members of the Commons replied that they had found, however useless it was to petition for the removal of these grievances, that the remedy lay in their own hands, and the patentees were such blood-suckers of the commonwealth, that the people would no longer bear the burden of them. When the list of the monopolies was read over, a member asked if bread were not amongst them. The House appeared amazed at the question. "Nay," said he, "if no remedy be found for these, bread will be there before next Parliament." Bacon and Cecil still talked loudly of prerogative, but the House went on with so much resolution that the favourites began to tremble, and Raleigh, who had monopolies of tar and various other commodities, saw such a storm brewing that he offered to give them all up. For four days the debate continued with such an agitation as had not been witnessed through the whole reign; and Cecil found it necessary to give way, and the monopolies were withdrawn. On the 25th the queen sent for the Speaker, and in the presence of the Council, addressed him in a truly noble speech, saying that she had rather her heart and hand should perish than that either heart or hand should allow such privileges to monopolists as might injure her people.

While these events had been taking place in Parliament, Mountjoy had defeated the queen's enemies in Ireland. He had united his forces with those of the President of Munster, and kept the Spaniards shut up in Kinsale. On Christmas Eve the Earl of Tyrone advanced to the assistance of the besieged, with 6,000 Irish and 200 fresh Spaniards, who had landed at Castlehaven under the command of Ocampo. His plan was to surprise the English before daylight, and to have a second division of his army ready with a supply oprovisions to throw into the town. But Mountjoy was already aware of his approach, which was delayed by the fears of Ocampo--only too well founded--of the fatal want of discipline amongst the natives, and by his endeavours to bring them into some regularity. Mountjoy surprised these wild hordes as they were crossing a stream, and thoroughly routed them. The Spaniards, left on the field alone, surrendered, and Tyrone retreated northwards with the remnant of his army. About 500 Irish were killed.

The Spaniards in Kinsale yielded the place on this defeat of their allies, on condition of being allowed to return home with their arms and ammunition. Tyrone was then pursued by Mountjoy with great vigour, and after a number of defeats retired still more northward. Munster was reduced, and Tyrone offered to submit on favourable terms; but Mountjoy could obtain no such terms from the queen; she insisted on unconditional surrender. Her ministers strongly advised her to concede and settle the state of Ireland, which was now costing her £300,000 a year to defend it against the natives. Sometimes she appeared disposed to comply, and then again was as obstinate as ever; and matters remained in this position till 1603, when Mountjoy, hearing that the queen was not likely to live long, agreed to receive Tyrone's submission, to grant him and his followers a full pardon, and restore the whole of his territories, with some few exceptions. Tyrone then accompanied Mountjoy to Dublin, where they heard of the death of Elizabeth; and Tyrone burst into tears and regretted his too hasty surrender. The deed, however, was done, and tranquillity ensured to Ireland for a short time.

The last warlike demonstration of the reign of Elizabeth was an expedition to the coast of Spain to prevent the passage of fresh fleets to Ireland. Admirals Levison and Monson proceeded thither with a fleet; but, tempted by a carrack of immense value in the harbour of Sesimbria, they seized it and returned home. This desertion of their duty to satisfy their greed of prize-money, would, in Elizabeth's days of vigour, have cost the commanders dearly. While they were guarding their treasure homewards the Spanish fleet might have made sail. Therefore no time was lost in sending back the fleet under Monson, who found six Spanish galleys out, and stealing along the French coast. Before he could pursue them they were met by a squadron of Dutch and English ships, and after some hard fighting three of them were sunk, and three escaped into Sluys.

The reign of Queen Elizabeth was now drawing to a close. She was approaching her seventieth year, and till lately had still listened to the voice of flattery as if she were yet in the glory of her youth. But nature had begun to give her stern warnings, and the failing of her strength brought deep melancholy. At one time she affected an unnatural gaiety; at another she withdrew into solitude, and was often found in tears. One of her household says in a letter--"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."

Yet she still strove against the advancing infirmities of age. She would insist to the last on making her annual progress and on hunting. Only five months before her death Lord Henry Howard wrote to the Earl of Mar--"The queen our sovereign was never so gallant many years, nor so set upon jollity." A letter of April 7th, 1602, says--"The queen walks often on Richmond Green with greater show of ability than can well stand with her years. Mr. Secretary sways all of importance, albeit of late much absent from the Court and about London, but not omitting in his absence daily to present Her Majesty with some jewel or toy that may be acceptable. The other of the Council or nobility estrange themselves from Court by all occasions, so as, besides the master of the horse, vice-chamberlain, and comptroller, few of account appear there."

When Cecil was present it required all his art to conceal his correspondence with the King of Scotland. One day a packet was delivered to him from James in the queen's presence. She ordered him instantly to open it, and show its contents to her. It was a critical moment, and none but a long-practised diplomatist could have escaped the exposure which it would probably occasion; but recollecting her excessive dislike of bad smells and terror of contagion, he observed as he was cutting the string that "it had a strange and evil smell," and hinted that it might have been in contact with infected persons or goods. Elizabeth immediately ordered the cunning Minister to take it away and have it purified, and no doubt he did purify it of any dangerous contents before displaying them to Her Majesty.

Meanwhile, not only Cecil and Howard, but another clique, was busy paying court to James. These were Raleigh, Cobham, and the Earl of Northumberland. They met at Durham House, and kept up a warm correspondence with James; but they were as zealously counteracted by Cecil and Howard, who warned James of all things not to trust to them, Howard declaring that as for Raleigh and Cobham, "hell did never spew up such a couple when it cast up Cerberus and Phlegethon."

While these self-seeking courtiers were thus anxiously labouring to stand first with the heir, Elizabeth was sinking fast into a most pitiable condition. She was weighed down by a complication of complaints, and her mind was affrighted by strange spectres. When the Lord Admiral urged her to go to bed, she said, "No, no; there were spirits there that troubled her;" and added that, "if he were in the habit of seeing such things in his bed as she did in hers, he would not try to persuade her to go there." Cecil hearing this, asked if Her Majesty had seen any spirits. At this she cast one of her old lightning flashes at him, and said, "I shall not answer you such a question." Cecil then said she must go to bed to content the people. "Must," she said, smiling scornfully; "must is a word not to be used to princes;" adding, "Little man! little man! if your father had lived you durst not have said so much, but you know I must die, and that makes you so presumptuous." She now saw Cecil's real character, and ordering him and all the rest except the Lord Admiral out of her chamber, she said, "My lord, I am tied with a chain of iron round my neck." He endeavoured to dissipate the idea, but she only said, "I am tied! I am tied! and the case is altered with me."

"The queen," says Lady Southwell, "kept her bed fifteen days, besides the three days she sat upon a stool, and one day, when, being pulled up by force, she obstinately stood upon her feet for fifteen hours." What a most miserable scene was the death-bed of this glorious woman! Surely nothing was ever more melancholy and terrible in its mixture of mental decay, dark remorse, and indomitable hardiness and self-will. At one and the same time around her bed were men urging her to take broth, to name her successor, and to hear prayers. The kings of France and Scotland were mentioned to her, but without eliciting the slightest notice; but when they named Beauchamp, the son of the Earl of Hertford and Catherine Grey, one of Elizabeth's victims, she fired up and exclaimed, "I will have no rascal's son in my nest, but one worthy to be a king!"

At length they persuaded her to listen to a prayer by the Archbishop of Canterbury, and when he had once begun she appeared unwilling to let him leave off; half-hour after half-hour she kept the primate on his knees. She then sank into a state of insensibility, and died at three o'clock in the morning of the 24th of March, 1603, in the seventieth year of her age, and the forty-fifth of her reign. Robert Carey, afterwards Earl of Monmouth, was anxiously waiting under the window of Elizabeth's room at Richmond Palace for the first news of her death, which Lady Scrope, his sister, communicated to him by silently letting fall, as a signal, a sapphire ring, afterwards celebrated as "the blue ring," which he caught, and the moment after was galloping off towards Scotland to be the first herald of the mighty event to the expecting James. Three hours later Cecil, the Lord Keeper, and the Lord Admiral were with the Council in London, and it was resolved to proclaim James VI. of Scotland James I. of England.

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