and the state, had deserved no absolution after so hard punishment, or so much as to answer in your fair presence, who would vouchsafe more justice and favour than he can expect of partial judges, or those combined enemies, that labour on false grounds to build his ruin, urging his faults as criminal to your divine honour, thinking it a heaven to blaspheme heaven."1

The unfortunate Essex, while he laboured to defend himself from his wily foes, had little idea whence the under-current flowed that had wrecked his fortunes, and for ever.

Lady Leicester, lady Essex, lord and lady Southampton, Mr. Greville, and Mr. Bacon, were, on the 15th of March, by her majesty's command, removed from Essex House; and on the 16th, Maunday Thursday, Essex was brought there as a prisoner, under the charge of sir Richard Berkeley, who took possession of all the keys of the house, and dismissed all the servants but one or two, who were permitted to attend to the diet and apparel of their unfortunate master. Lady Essex was allowed to visit him in the daytime.

Our indefatigable court-newsman, Rowland Whyte, records the following circumstance, soon after:-"Lady Leicester hath now a gown in hand to send the queen, will cost her 1007. at least. On the 30th of March the lady Scudamore presented it to the queen, who liked it well, but would neither accept nor reject it, and observed, that things standing as they did at present, it was not fit for her to desire what she did' namely, to come into her presence and kiss her majesty's hands."

The queen having formed an intention of bringing Essex before the Star-Chamber, opened her design to Mr. Francis Bacon, and said, "whatever she did should be for his chastisement, not for his destruction." Bacon, who was greatly averse to this method of proceeding, remonstrated playfully but strongly against it in these words: —“ Madam, if you will have me to speak to you in this argument, I must speak as Friar Bacon's head spake, that said, ' time is,' and then time was,' and 'time would never be again :' for certainly it is now far too late — the matter is old, and hath taken too much wind." Her majesty seemed offended at this, and rose up with the intention of pursuing her own plan.

In the beginning of Midsummer term, Bacon, finding her in the same mind, said to her, "Why, madam, if you needs must have a proceeding, it were best to have it in some such sort as Ovid spake of his mistress, est aliquid luce patente minus—to make a council-table matter of it, and end." The queen, however, determined to proceed; and Bacon, notwithstanding all his obligations to Essex, consented to lend the aid of his powerful pen in drawing up the declaration against him. His proper office would have been to defend his unfortunate friend, but he could not resist the temptations offered by the queen, who was determined to enlist his talents on her side. She directed every clause with vindictive care, and made several alterations with her own hand; and even after the paper was printed, "her majesty, who," as Bacon observes, "if she was excellent in great things, was exquisite in small,” noted that he had

1 1 Birch.

styled the unfortunate nobleman "my lord of Essex," objected to this courtesy, and would have him only called "Essex, or the late earl of Essex."

On the 12th of May, Elizabeth recreated herself with seeing a Frenchman perform feats upon a rope; and on the following day she commanded the bears, the bull, and an ape, to be baited in the tilt-yard; the day after, solemn dancing was appointed. Meantime, the unfortunate Essex wrote to her this touching letter:

"Vouchsafe, most dear and most admired sovereign, to receive this humblest acknowledgment of your majesty's most faithful vassal. Your majesty's gracious message staid me from death, when I gasped for life. Your princely and compassionate increasing of my liberty hath enabled me to wrestle with my many infirmities, which else long ere this had made an end of me. And now this farther degree of goodness, in favourably removing me to mine own house, doth sound in mine ears, as if your majesty spake these words, 'Die not Essex, for though I punish thine offence, and humble thee for thy good, yet I will one day be served again by thee.' And my prostrate soul makes this answer, I hope for that blessed day. All my afflictions of body or mind are humbly, patiently, and cheerfully borne by

"Your majesty's humblest vassal,

"ESSEX."

The queen then said, "that her purpose was to make him know himself, and his duty to her; and that she would again use his service.” On the 5th of June, Essex was examined before the commissioners appointed to try his cause. The earl kneeled at the end of the councilboard, and had a bundle of papers in his hand, which sometimes he put in his hat, which was on the ground by him. He defended himself very mildly and discreetly; ; but many, who were present, wept to see him in such misery. When he was accused of treason, he said, " he had been willing to admit all the errors of judgment and conduct into which he had fallen; but now his honour and conscience were called in question!" he added; "I should do God and mine own conscience wrong if I do not justify myself as an honest man;" then, taking his George in his hand, and pressing it to his heart, he said, "this hand shall pull out this heart when any disloyal thought shall enter it." The examination lasted from nine in the morning till eight at night; he sometimes kneeling, sometimes standing, and occasionally leaning against a cupboard, till at last he had a stool given him by desire of the archbishop of Canterbury.2

After Essex had gone through the mortifying scene before the council, he implored the lords to intercede with the queen, that she would be pleased to extend her grace to him. The next day, Francis Bacon, though employed to plead against him, attended her majesty with the earnest intention of moving her to forgiveness.3 "You have now, madamı," said he, "obtained the victory, over two things, which the greatest princes cannot at their wills subdue; the one is over fame-the other is over a great mind. For surely the world is now, I hope, reasonably satisfied; and for my lord, he did show that humiliation towards your majesty, as I am persuaded he was never in his lifetime more fit 'Sidney Papers.

Birch.

9 Bacon's Works.

for your majesty's favour than he is now." He then urged her majesty to forgive and receive him. She took Bacon's special pleading in good part, and ordered him to set down all the proceedings at York House in writing, which were afterwards read to her by him; and when he came to set forth Essex's answer, she was greatly touched with kindness and relenting towards him, and observed to Bacon "how well he had expressed that part," adding, that " she perceived old love would not easily be forgotten." Bacon said," he hoped by that she meant her own;" and strenuously advised her to let the matter go no further. Why," concluded he, "should you now do that popularly which you would not admit to be done judicially ?” 1

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While the fate of Essex yet hung on the balance, Elizabeth amused herself with presiding over the wedlock of her favourite maid of honour, Anne Russell. This marriage was attended with more gracious condescension than Elizabeth was wont to bestow on those of her household, who chose to enter into the pale of matrimony.

"Mrs. Anne Russell," says Whyte, "went from court upon Monday last with eighteen coaches; the like hath never been seen among the maids of honour. The queen in public used to her as gracious speeches as have been heard of any, and commanded all her maids to accompany her to London; so did all the lords of the court. Her majesty is to be at her marriage."

Every dell and hill about Greenwich and Blackheath is classic ground, trod by the footsteps of England's Elizabeth,-scenes where she walked, and meditated and resolved her great measures for public weal, or matured the little household plots which agitated the under-current of her domestic history. "The queen at Greenwich uses to walk much in the park, and takes great walks out of the park, and round about the park; and this," as Rowland Whyte observes, "while the poor earl of Essex was a prisoner in his own house, and she was debating his fate in her breast, but she seemed to think of nothing but Anne Russell's wedding with lord Herbert :"

"Her majesty is in very good health," pursues Whyte, "and purposes to honour Mrs. Anne Russell's marriage with her presence. My lord Cobham prepares his house for her majesty to lie (lodge) in, because it is near the bride's house. There is to be a memorable mask of eight ladies; they have a strange dance, newly invented; their attire is this:-each lady hath a skirt of cloth of silver, a rich waistcoat, wrought with silks and gold and silver, and their hair loose about their shoulders, curiously knotted. The maskers are my lady Dorothy, Mrs. Fitton, Mrs. Carey, Mrs. Bess Russell,' &c. These eight dance to the music Apollo brings; and there is a fine speech which mentions a ninth, much to her honour and praise."

The queen went to Blackfriars to preside over the wedding. The bride met her royal mistress by the water-side, where lord Cobham had provided a lectica, made half like a litter, wherein the queen was carried to lady Russell's, by six knights. Lady Russell was the bride's mother

1 Bacon's Apology.

This young lady, the sister of the bride, died in less than a fortnight after her splendid mask. She is the heroine of the prick of the needle, according to the legend in Westminster Abbey.

with whom the queen dined, and at night went, through Dr. Puddin's house, (who gave the queen a fan,) to my lord Cobham's, where she supped. After supper, the mask came in, and delicate it was to see eight ladies so prettily dressed. Mrs. Fitton led; and after they had done their own ceremonies, these eight lady-maskers chose eight ladies more to dance the measures. "Mrs. Fitton went to the queen, and wooed her to dance. Her majesty asked the name of the character she personified; she answered, Affection.' • Affection!' said the queen; 'affection's false;' yet her majesty rose and danced. The queen came back to court the next night; but the solemnities continued till Wednesday; and now lord Herbert and his fair bride are at court."

In July, Essex was delivered from the restraint of a keeper. He lived in great privacy, being sick of the ague. He petitioned for leave to retire into the country, only requested permission to kiss her majesty's hands once more ere he retired from the court for ever. His sister, lady Rich, was still under restraint; and the queen cherished the vengeful intention of bringing her before the council; but continued to treat the countess of Northumberland graciously. Essex wrote, from time to time, letters of the most submissive nature to the queen.

On the 26th of August, he was sent for to York House, where the lord-keeper, lord-treasurer, and Mr. Secretary, signified to him that it was her majesty's pleasure to restore him to liberty, save of access to court. His humble supplication to be permitted to kiss her hands, in order that he might, with the more contentment, betake himself to the retirement of the country, was met with a message, "that though her majesty was content that he should remain under no guard, save that of duty and discretion, yet he must in no sort suppose himself to be freed from her indignation; neither must he presume to approach her court or person.' Essex might now be regarded as a prisoner on his parole

of honour.

That summer, (1600,) the queen spent chiefly at Nonsuch and Oatlands. Bacon exerted all the energies of his mighty genius to work a revulsion in the royal mind, in favour of the discarded favourite, and found that his boldness gave no offence. There was, however, an undercurrent which silently worked against his eloquence, though he omitted no opportunity of insinuating a word, in season, in behalf of his unlucky friend. One day, speaking of a person who had undertaken to cure his brother Anthony of the gout, he said, "his brother at first received benefit, but now found himself the worse for his treatment," to which the queen replied, "I will tell you, Bacon, the error of it. The manner of these empirics is to continue one kind of medicine, which, at first, is proper to draw out the ill-humour, but after, they have not the discretion to change it, but still apply that drawing medicine, when they should rather attempt to cure and heal the part."

"Good Lord! madam," rejoined Bacon, "how wisely you can discern and speak of physic ministered to the body, and yet consider not, that there is like reason of the physic ministered to the mind. As now, 'Sidney Papers; Birch.

1

1 Sidney Papers, vol. ii., pp. 200-203.

in the case of my lord of Essex, your princely word ever was, that you intended to reform his mind, and not to ruin his fortunes. I know well you cannot but think you have drawn the humour sufficiently, and that it is time that you did apply strength and comfort to him, for these same gradations of yours are fitter to corrupt than to correct a mind of any greatness."

The queen appointed lord Mountjoye, the former rival, but now the generous and devoted friend of Essex, to the office of lord-deputy of Ireland. He endeavoured to excuse himself, from motives of delicacy towards the unfortunate earl; but Elizabeth would not permit her will to be trifled with. On her mentioning this appointment to Bacon, who appears, at this season, to have enjoyed her full confidence, he replied, Surely, madam, you cannot make a better choice, unless you send over my lord Essex.”

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"Essex!" exclaimed she, with great vehemence; "when I send Essex back into Ireland, I will marry you. Claim it of me."

Her majesty and her court amused themselves with hunting and hawking, in September, sometimes at Hanworth and sometimes in the New Forest. Elizabeth assumed an appearance of mirthfulness on these occasions, which must certainly have been far enough from her heart. On the 12th of September, Rowland Whyte gives this account of the proceedings of this aged Dian :-"Her majesty is very well, and exceedingly disposed to hunting, for every second day she is on horseback, and continues the sport long; it is thought she will remain at Oatlands till the foul weather drives her away. On Tuesday, she dined at Mr. Drake's; on Wednesday, the ambassador of Barbary had audience at Oatlands, and what he delivered was in private with the queen." 2

"My lord-admiral," pursues Whyte, "is a very heavy (sorrowful) man, for the loss of his brother, yet her majesty's sports draw him abroad; herself very graciously went from Oatlands to Hampton Court, to call him from his solitariness; never man was more bound to a sovereign than he is. My lord Harry Howard is much graced by the queen, for she hath much conference with him, and commanded his bed should be set up in the council-chamber, when it was ill lying in tents, by the storms and tempests we have had here." 3

Under all this semblance of mirth and jollity, the queen concealed a heavy heart and a weary spirit. The infirmities of her advanced period of life, malgré all her Spartan-like attempts to hide them, made themselves felt, and occasionally acknowledged. Sir Robert Sidney, in a confidential letter to Harrington, gives a melancholy account of Elizabeth's dejection in private, and this is followed by a characteristic detail of her struggle to go through a fatiguing state-visit, with which she

1 Birch's Memoirs of Elizabeth.

2 On the Moorish ambassador's return from Oatlands, he, with his companions, were brought to Hampton Court, where they saw and admired the richness of the furniture; and they demanded how many kings had built it, and how long it was doing.

Sidney Papers. When there was no lodging to be found at Hampton Court for the courtiers or their servants, they lived in tents pitched in the squares.